Fear

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 18 of 529 · 20 per page

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Indeed, the lady came to rely so completely on the fellow’s talent for drinking himself unconscious that she made bold, not only to admit her lover to the premises, but on occasion to go and spend a goodly part of the night with him at his own house, which was no great distance away. The amorous lady had been doing this for quite some time when her unfortunate husband happened to notice that although she encouraged him to drink, she herself never drank at all, which made him suspect (as was indeed the case) that his wife was making him drunk so that she could do as she pleased when he was asleep. In order to prove whether this was so, he returned home one evening, having refrained from drinking for the whole day, and pretended to be as drunk as a lord, scarcely able to speak or stand on his feet. Being taken in by all this, and concluding that he would sleep like a log without imbibing any more liquor, his wife quickly put him to bed, then left the house and made her way, as on previous occasions, to the house of her lover, where she stayed for half the night. Hearing no sound from his wife, Tofano got up, went and bolted the door from the inside, and stationed himself at the window so that he would see her coming back and let her know that he had tumbled to her mischief; and there he remained until she returned. Great indeed was the woman’s distress when she came home to find that she was locked out, and she began to apply all her strength in an effort to force the door open. Tofano put up with this for a while, then he said: ‘You’re wasting your energies, woman. You can’t possibly get in. Go back to wherever it is that you’ve been until this hour of the night, and rest assured that you won’t return to this house till I’ve made an example of you in front of your kinsfolk and neighbours.’ Then his wife began to plead with him for the love of God to let her in, saying that she had not been doing anything wrong, as he supposed, but simply keeping vigil with a neighbour of hers, who could neither sleep the whole night because it was too long, nor keep vigil in the house by herself. Her pleas were totally unavailing, for the silly ass was clearly determined that all the Aretines should learn about his dishonour, of which none of them had so far heard anything.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  SEVENTH STORY Teodoro falls in love with Violante, the daughter of his master, Messer Amerigo. He gets her with child, and is sentenced to die on the gallows. But whilst he is being whipped along the road to his execution, he is recognized by his father and set at liberty, after which he and Violante become husband and wife . All the ladies were on tenterhooks, anxiously wondering whether the two lovers would be burnt, and on learning that they had escaped, they all rejoiced and offered thanks to God. Then, having heard the end of the story, the queen entrusted the telling of the next to Lauretta, who cheerfully began as follows: Fairest ladies, there once lived in the island of Sicily, during the reign of good King William, 1 a nobleman called Messer Amerigo Abate of Trapani, 2 who was blessed with many possessions, including a large number of children. He was therefore in need of servants, and when certain galleys arrived from the Levant belonging to Genoese pirates, 3 who had captured a great many children along the Armenian coast, he purchased a number of them, believing them to be Turkish. For the most part they appeared to be of rustic, shepherd stock, but there was one, Teodoro by name, who seemed gently bred and better looking than any of the others. Though he was treated as a servant, Teodoro was brought up in the house along with Messer Amerigo’s children, and as he grew older, being prompted by his innate good breeding rather than by the accident of his menial status, he’ acquired so much poise and so agreeable a manner that Messer Amerigo granted him his freedom. Supposing him to be a Turk, 4 Messer Amerigo had him baptized and re-named Pietro, and placed him in charge of his business affairs, taking him deeply into his confidence. Side-by-side with Messer Amerigo’s other children, there grew up a daughter of his called Violante, 5 a dainty young beauty who, as her father was not in a hurry to marry her off, chanced to fall in love with Pietro. But whilst she loved him, and held his conduct and achievements in high esteem, she was too shy to tell him so directly. Love spared her this trouble, however, for Pietro, having cast many a furtive glance in her direction, fell so violently in love with her that he felt unhappy whenever she was out of his sight. Since he could not help feeling that what he was doing was wrong, he was greatly afraid lest anyone should discover his secret; but the girl, who was by no means averse to his company, divined his feelings towards her, and, in order to bolster his confidence, she let it appear that she was delighted, as indeed she was. And on this footing their relationship rested for some considerable time, neither of them venturing to say anything to the other, much as they mutually desired to do so.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  Anaïs gave me a weak smile. “So, how did it go with Don afterwards? He’s terribly handsome.” “It didn’t go. He was definitely attracted to you but not me.” “Did you invite him to your room?” “No, you said to remain elusive.” “Elusive, yes. But you can’t expect him to be a mind reader.” My head fell into my hands with relief that her anger had moved to my failure to seduce Don. But I tried again to apologize for Clara’s attack. Anaïs put up an impatient hand. “Forget it. I have much bigger problems.” “What now?” Renate asked. “The I-R-S!” The way Anaïs said the initials made them sound truly frightening. “Oh no!” Renate shook her head. “I tried to warn you.” “I don’t understand,” I said. Renate explained, “Two husbands. Two joint tax returns. One IRS.” Her voice was somber when she turned to Anaïs. “You could be facing criminal charges. What if they put you in prison after all you’ve worked for?” “It would destroy my literary reputation!” “Well, maybe not,” Renate considered. “It didn’t hurt Jean Genet’s. But prison would be extremely unpleasant. No privacy at all. You have to get a lawyer.” A lawyer’s daughter even though I’d been estranged from my father for years, I echoed, “You have to get a lawyer!” CHAPTER 27 Los Angeles, California, 1966–71 ANAÏS RIGHT AFTER NEW YEAR’S, ANAÏS met with a woman attorney who advised her to divorce Rupert. Anaïs begged the lawyer for a different, “creative” solution because she was finally happy with Rupert. When the lawyer mentioned an annulment Anaïs grabbed that alternative because the word was softer than divorce. “Rupert,” she began after their punctual five o’clock dinner, as he was carrying their dishes to the sink. “Remember I asked you several times to drive me to an attorney’s office?” He gave her a distracted smile. “I showed her a notice I received from the IRS. It seems that there is some sort of problem.” Now she had his full attention. He came back to the table and sat opposite her. Anaïs said pleasantly, “We need to dissolve our marriage and sign an annulment, and after the lawyer has cleared up the paperwork, we can get married again.” “An annulment!” Rupert looked in shock. “On what basis?” “Fraud.” “What fraud?” She couldn’t, she just couldn’t go ahead with this. She couldn’t tell him she’d had another husband for the past seventeen years. But she was far out on the ice now. She had accused herself of deception and there was no going back. “I lied to you about my age. You thought I was just a few years older than you.” She reached and stroked his cheek, tenderly. “I’m really … I’m so ashamed to say it … I’m sixteen years older than you!”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  I only mentioned it for your own good, and once again I advise you to stay at home today, or at any rate to keep well away from those woods of ours.’ ‘Very well,’ said the woman, ‘I’ll do as you say.’ But then she began to think to herself: ‘Here’s a crafty fellow! Do you see how he tries to frighten me out of going near the woods today? He’s doubtless made an appointment there with some strumpet or other, and doesn’t want me to find him. Ah, he’d do well for himself at a supper for the blind, but knowing him as I do, I should be a great fool to take him at his word. He certainly won’t get away with this. I shall find out what business takes him to those woods, even if I have to wait there the whole day.’ No sooner had she reached the end of these deliberations than her husband left the house, whereupon she too left the house by a separate door and made her way to the woods without a moment’s delay, keeping out of sight as much as possible. On entering the woods, she concealed herself in the thickest part she could find, and kept a sharp lookout on all sides so that she could see if anyone was coming. Nothing was further removed from her thoughts than the prospect of seeing any wolves, but all of a sudden, whilst she was standing there in the way we have described, a wolf of terrifying size leapt out from a nearby thicket; on seeing which, she scarcely had time to exclaim ‘Lord, deliver me!’ before the wolf hurled itself at her throat, seized her firmly in its jaws, and began to carry her off as though she were a new-born lamb. So tightly was the wolf holding on to her throat that she was unable to scream for help, nor was there anything else she could do; and hence the wolf, as it bore her away, would assuredly have strangled her but for the fact that it ran towards some shepherds, who yelled at the beast and forced it to release her. The poor, unfortunate woman was recognized by the shepherds, who carried her back to her house, and after long and intensive treatment at the hands of various physicians, she recovered. Her recovery was not complete, however, for the whole of her throat and a part of her face were so badly disfigured that whereas she was formerly a beautiful woman, she was thenceforth deformed and utterly loath-some to look upon. Hence she was ashamed to show herself in public, and shed many a bitter tear for her petulant ways and her refusal to give credence, when it would have cost her nothing, to her husband’s prophetic dream.

• From Moral Man and Immoral Society: A Study in Ethics and Politics (1932)

  If economic interests do not conflict too sharply, if the spirit of accommodation partially resolves them, and if the democratic process has achieved moral prestige and historic dignity, the coercive factor in politics may become too covert to be visible to the casual observer. Nevertheless, only a romanticist of the purest water could maintain that a national group ever arrives at a “common mind” or becomes conscious of a “general will” without the use of either force or the threat of force. This is particularly true of nations, but it is also true, though in a slighter degree, of other social groups. Even religious communities, if they are sufficiently large, and if they deal with issues regarded as vital by their members, resort to coercion to preserve their unity. Religious organisations have usually availed themselves of a covert type of coercion (excommunication and the interdict) or they have called upon the police power of the state. The limitations of the human mind and imagination, the inability of human beings to transcend their own interests sufficiently to envisage the interests of their fellow men as clearly as they do their own makes force an inevitable part of the process of social cohesion. But the same force which guarantees peace also makes for injustice. “Power,” said Henry Adams, “is poison”; and it is a poison which blinds the eyes of moral insight and lames the will of moral purpose. The individual or the group which organises any society, however social its intentions or pretensions, arrogates an inordinate portion of social privilege to itself. The two most obvious types of power are the military and the economic, though in primitive society the power of the priest, partly because he dispenses supernatural benefits and partly because he establishes public order by methods less arduous than those of the soldier, vies with that of the soldier and the landlord. The chief difference between the agrarian civilisations, which lasted from the rise of ancient Babylon and Egypt to the fall of European feudalism, and the commercial and industrial civilisations of today is that in the former the military power is primary, and in the latter it has become secondary, to economic power. In agrarian civilisations the soldier becomes the landlord. In more primitive periods he may claim the land by his own military prowess. In later periods a grateful sovereign bestowed land upon the soldiers who defended his realm and consolidated his dominion. The soldier thus gained the economic security and the social prestige which could be exploited in further martial service to his sovereign. The business man and industrial overlord are gradually usurping the position of eminence and privilege once held by the soldier and the priest. In most European nations their ascendancy over the landed aristocrat of military traditions is not as complete as in America, which has no feudal traditions. In present-day Japan the military caste is still so powerful that it threatens to destroy the rising power of the commercial groups.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  On hearing the tomb being opened, Alessandro was filled with terror, but managed none the less to remain perfectly still. Rinuccio clambered in, and thinking he was taking up the body of Scannadio, seized Alessandro by the feet, dragged him out, hoisted him on to his shoulders, and set off in the direction of the gentlewoman’s house. It was such a dark night that he couldn’t really see where he was going, and being none too particular about his burden, he frequently banged Alessandro’s body against the edges of certain benches that were set at intervals along the side of the street. The gentlewoman, being eager to see whether Rinuccio would fetch Alessandro, was standing with her maidservant at the window, forearmed with a suitable pretext for sending them both packing. But just as Rinuccio came up to her front door, he was challenged by the officers of the watch, who happened to be lying in ambush for an outlaw in that very part of the city. On hearing the sound of Rinuccio’s laboured tread, they promptly produced a lantern to see what was afoot, and seizing their shields and their lances, they called out: ‘Who goes there?’ Rinuccio realized at once who it was, and not having time to stop and compose his thoughts, he dropped Alessandro like a sack of coal and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. Meanwhile Alessandro scrambled quickly to his feet, and though he was encumbered by the dead man’s garments, which were inordinately long, he too took to his heels. By the light of the officers’ lantern, the lady had plainly observed Rinuccio carrying Alessandro on his shoulders, dressed in Scannadio’s clothes, and was greatly amazed by this evident proof of their courage. But for all her amazement, she was convulsed with laughter when she saw Alessandro being dropped, and when she saw them running away. Delighted at the turn which events had taken, and giving thanks to God for ridding her from their tiresome attentions, she withdrew from the window and retired to her room, declaring to her maidservant that her two suitors must without a doubt be very much in love with her, as it seemed they had followed her instructions to the letter. Rinuccio was heartbroken over what had happened, and cursed his evil luck, but instead of going home, he waited till the officers had gone, and returned to the place where he had dumped Alessandro. He then began to grope about on hands and knees in search of the body so that he could carry out the rest of his assignment, but being unable to find it, he assumed it had been taken away by the officers, and sadly made his way back home. Not knowing what else he could do, Alessandro likewise returned home without ever having discovered who had fetched him from the tomb, feeling bitterly disappointed that things should have turned out so disastrously. Next morning, when Scannadio’s tomb was found open and there was no sign of the corpse (Alessandro having rolled it down into the lower depths), the whole of Pistoia was alive with rumours as to what exactly had happened, the more simple-minded concluding that Scannadio had been spirited away by demons. Each of the lady’s suitors informed her what he had done and what had happened, and, apologizing on this account for not carrying out her instructions to the full, demanded her forgiveness and her love. But she pretended not to believe them, and by curtly replying that she wanted no more to do with either of them, as they had failed to carry out her bidding, she neatly rid herself of both.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And out of fear lest they should make a public laughing-stock of him, from that day forth he pampered and fêted them on a much more lavish scale than ever before. So now you have heard how wisdom is imparted to anyone who has not acquired much of it in Bologna.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  FIRST STORY Gianni Lotteringhi hears a tapping at his door in the night; he awakens his wife, and she leads him to believe it is a werewolf, whereupon they go and exorcize it with a prayer, and the knocking stops . My lord, I should have counted myself very fortunate if you had chosen some person other than myself to introduce so splendid a topic as the one on which we are called upon to speak; but since you desire me to set a reassuring example to the other ladies, I shall willingly do so. I shall endeavour, dearest ladies, to say something that might prove useful to you in the future, for if other women are no different from myself, we are easily frightened, and in particular by werewolves. 1 Heaven knows that I am unable to explain what these creatures might be, nor have I ever found any woman who could, but we are frightened of them just the same. However, if you should ever encounter one, you will henceforth be able to drive it away, for by listening carefully to my story you will learn a fine and godly prayer which is tailored to the purpose. There once lived in Florence, in the quarter of San Pancrazio, 2 a master-weaver whose name was Gianni Lotteringhi, a man more successful in his calling than sensible in other matters, for although he was a simple sort of fellow, he was regularly elected as the leader of the laud-singers at Santa Maria Novella, and had to conduct their rehearsals, and he was often given other such trifling little duties, so that all in all he had a mighty high opinion of himself; yet the only reason these functions were entrusted to him was that, being comfortably off, he frequently used to supply the friars with a good meal. These latter, since they often wrung a pair of hose or a cloak or a scapular out of him, taught him some good prayers and gave him copies of the Paternoster in the vernacular and the song of Saint Alexis 3 and the lament of Saint Bernard 4 and the laud of Lady Matilda 5 and a whole lot of other drivel, all of which he greatly prized, and preserved with the greatest of loving care for the good of his soul. Now, this man had a most charming and beautiful wife, a woman of great intelligence and perspicacity, whose name was Monna Tessa, the daughter of Mannuccio dalla Cuculia.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  If we had the misfortune to be invaded by one of these bands whilst you were here, on seeing what a pretty young woman you are they would affront and manhandle you, and we could not lift a finger to help. We want you to know about this so that if such a thing were to happen, you would harbour no resentment against us.’ The old man’s words filled the girl with alarm, but seeing that the hour was so late, she replied: ‘God willing, we shall all be spared from any such calamity, but even if such a fate were to befall me, it is a much lesser evil to be misused by men than to be torn to pieces by wild beasts in the forest.’ And so saying, she dismounted and went inside the poor man’s dwelling, where she supped frugally with them on what little food they had in the house, after which, still fully clothed, she settled down exhausted with the others on their tiny little bed. And there she lay, sobbing the whole night long and bewailing the misfortunes of herself and Pietro, to whom she could only suppose that the worst must have happened. A little before dawn, she heard a loud trampling of horses’ hooves, so she got up and made her way into a spacious yard at the rear of the cottage. Along one of its sides, she saw a great pile of hay, in which she decided to hide, so that if these strangers came to the cottage, she would not be so easily found. No sooner had she finished concealing herself, than the horsemen, a large band of marauders, arrived at the door of the cottage. Having forced the old people to open the door, they pushed their way inside, where they found the girl’s nag still fully saddled, and demanded to know who was there. Seeing no sign of the girl, the good man replied: ‘There is no one here apart from ourselves. But this nag, whoever it ran away from, turned up here yesterday evening, and we brought it into the house so that it would not be devoured by wolves.’ ‘In that case,’ the gang’s leader replied, ‘since he doesn’t belong to anyone we shall take him along with us.’ The bandits dispersed through the cottage, and some of them found their way into the yard, where they put off their lances and wooden shields. But one of their number, having nothing better to do, happened to hurl his lance into the hay, coming within an ace of killing the hidden girl, who all but gave herself away as the head of the lance skimmed her left breast, passing so close to her body that it tore through her clothes. She very nearly let out a great scream, fearing that she would come to serious harm, but remembered just in time where she was and kept quiet, trembling from head to foot.

• From Moral Man and Immoral Society: A Study in Ethics and Politics (1932)

  It is difficult to prevent such social justifications of self-assertion from being made prematurely and from destroying the check upon selfish impulse which reason has established from the inner perspective. Rationalism in morals may persuade men in one moment that their selfishness is a peril to society and in the next moment it may condone their egoism as a necessary and inevitable element in the total social harmony. The egoistic impulses are so powerful and insistent that they will be quick to take advantage of any such justifications. The utilitarian movement of the nineteenth century had the laudable purpose of persuading men to achieve a decent harmony between selfish and social impulse by diverting egoistic impulse to the most inclusive possible social objectives. It was significant that it merely provided the rising middle class with a nice moral justification for following its own interests. Reason may not only justify egoism prematurely but actually give it a force which it does not possess in non-rational nature. Human self-consciousness is the fruit of reason. Men become conscious of themselves as they see themselves in relation to other life and to their environment. This self-consciousness increases the urge to preserve and to extend life. In the animal the instincts of self-preservation do not extend beyond the necessities provided by nature. The animal kills when it is hungry and fights or runs when it is in danger. In man the impulses of self-preservation are transmuted very easily into desires for aggrandisement. There is a pathetic quality in human self-consciousness which accentuates this tendency. Self-consciousness means the recognition of finiteness within infinity. The mind recognises the ego as an insignificant point amidst the immensities of the world. In all vital self-consciousness there is a note of protest against this finiteness. It may express itself in religion by the desire to be absorbed in infinitude. On the secular level it expresses itself in man’s effort to universalise himself and give his life a significance beyond himself. The root of imperialism is therefore in all self-consciousness. Once the effort to gain significance beyond himself has succeeded, man fights for his social eminence and increased significance with the same fervor and with the same sense of justification, with which he fights for his life. The economy of nature has provided that means of defense may be quickly transmuted into means of aggression. There is therefore no possibility of drawing a sharp line between the will-to-live and the will-to-power. Even in the emotions, attitudes of defense and aggression are so compounded that fear may easily lead to courage, and the necessity of consolidating the triumph won by courage may justify new fears. France, seeking to maintain her hegemony in Europe, speaks with monotonous reiteration of her need of security. She typifies the human spirit with its curious mixture of fear of extinction and love of power.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  A little before dawn, she heard a loud trampling of horses’ hooves, so she got up and made her way into a spacious yard at the rear of the cottage. Along one of its sides, she saw a great pile of hay, in which she decided to hide, so that if these strangers came to the cottage, she would not be so easily found. No sooner had she finished concealing herself, than the horsemen, a large band of marauders, arrived at the door of the cottage. Having forced the old people to open the door, they pushed their way inside, where they found the girl’s nag still fully saddled, and demanded to know who was there. Seeing no sign of the girl, the good man replied: ‘There is no one here apart from ourselves. But this nag, whoever it ran away from, turned up here yesterday evening, and we brought it into the house so that it would not be devoured by wolves.’ ‘In that case,’ the gang’s leader replied, ‘since he doesn’t belong to anyone we shall take him along with us.’ The bandits dispersed through the cottage, and some of them found their way into the yard, where they put off their lances and wooden shields. But one of their number, having nothing better to do, happened to hurl his lance into the hay, coming within an ace of killing the hidden girl, who all but gave herself away as the head of the lance skimmed her left breast, passing so close to her body that it tore through her clothes. She very nearly let out a great scream, fearing that she would come to serious harm, but remembered just in time where she was and kept quiet, trembling from head to foot. The men roamed freely about the house in small groups, and having cooked themselves some goat’s meat and one or two other things they had brought with them, they ate and drank to their hearts’ content. They then went about their business, taking the girl’s nag with them, and when they were at a safe distance from the cottage, the good man turned to his wife, and said: ‘Whatever became of the young woman who came to us yesterday evening? I haven’t set eyes on her from the time we got up.’ The good woman said she had no idea, and went off to look for her. On realizing that the men had gone away, the girl clambered out of the hay. The old man was greatly relieved to discover that she had not fallen into their clutches, and since it was now growing light he said to her: ‘Now that the day is breaking, we shall go with you, if you like, to a castle which is only five miles away, where you will find yourself in good hands.

• From Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (1988)

  Earthly rule has been appointed by God for the benefit of nations, so that, under the fear of human rule, men may not devour one another like fishes, but, by means of the establishment of laws, may restrain an excess of wickedness among the nations.54 Finally, Justin and his Christian contemporaries, having found themselves, like the Jews, often the target of public violence, had come to appreciate the government’s role in preserving public order. So Athenagoras informs the emperors Marcus Aurelius and Commodus that Christians, like the Jews, pray for your government, that you may … receive the kingdom, son from father, and that your empire may receive increase and additions, and all people become subject to your rule, since … this is for our advantage, too, that we may lead peaceful and tranquil lives.55 Yet Justin, Irenaeus, and Athenagoras, each writing in full awareness of the imminent dangers of persecution, acknowledge that, if some human rulers may serve the purposes of God, others serve those of Satan. Athenagoras explains that because the demonic movements and functions proceeding from Satan … sometimes move men in one way and sometimes in another, as individuals and as nations, separately and collectively, some have thought that this universe is constituted without any definite order.56 Christians believe, nevertheless, that even at their worst, demonically inspired rulers, “in spite of their disobedience, cannot transgress the order prescribed for them.” God retains ultimate power over his universe and holds in his hands the final vindication of his servants and the coming destruction of his enemies. Meanwhile, like Socrates, who, freed from demonic deception, “tried to deliver people from the demons,”57 Christians maintain the truth of their freedom by repudiating pagan worship. So, Justin says, “you consecrate the images of your emperors when they die, and you call them gods; but we do not honor such deities as human beings have made and placed in shrines.”58 Justin admitted that he wrote in fear of his life, hoping desperately to change government policy, to convince the Roman authorities that Christians did not intend to be subversive; he himself, like the great majority of Christians, preferred to live quietly, and Christians did so wherever possible. In many cities Christian life continued uninterrupted, often for generations; yet many more than were persecuted must have nevertheless shared Justin’s apprehension. What sounded like arrogant defiance was the response of people forced against their will to make the terrible choice between pagan sacrifice and death—between denying Christ or bearing witness to their faith in him to the end of their lives: the term martyr, in Greek, means “witness.” Some Roman officials, for their part, may have realized that such Christian attacks upon the Roman gods—and thus upon the emperors—could undermine the state’s absolute claim upon its citizens and subjects; and that these inflammatory views, accompanied by passionate religious fervor, could catch fire among the disaffected and the restless, especially among subject nations and slaves. Thus Rome showed no toleration for these dangerous Christians.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  daughter and all their womenfolk, together with any other lady you care to invite, to join me in this place for breakfast. My reason for wanting this will become apparent to you on the day itself’.’ They thought this a very trifling commission for them to undertake, and promised him they would do it. On their return to Ravenna, they invited all the people he had specified. And although they had a hard job, when the time came, in persuading Nastagio’s beloved to go, she nevertheless went there along with the others. Nastagio saw to it that a magnificent banquet was prepared, and had the tables placed beneath the pine-trees in such a way as to surround the place where he had witnessed the massacre of the cruel lady. Moreover, in seating the ladies and gentlemen at table, he so arranged matters that the girl he loved sat directly facing the spot where the scene would be enacted. The last course had already been served, when they all began to hear the agonized yells of the fugitive girl. Everyone was greatly astonished and wanted to know what it was, but nobody was able to say. So they all stood up to see if they could find out what was going on, and caught sight of the wailing girl, together with the knight and the dogs. And shortly thereafter they came into the very midst of the company. Everyone began shouting and bawling at the dogs and the knight, and several people rushed forward to the girl’s assistance; but the knight, by repeating to them the story he had related to Nastagio, not only caused them to retreat but filled them all with terror and amazement. And when he dealt with the girl in the same way as before, all the ladies present (many of whom, being related either to the suffering girl or to the knight, still remembered his great love and the manner of his death) wept as plaintively as though what they had witnessed had been done to themselves. When the spectacle was at an end, and the knight and the lady had gone, they all began to talk about what they had seen. But none was stricken with so much terror as the cruel maiden loved by Nastagio, for she had heard and seen everything distinctly and realized that these matters had more to do with herself than with any of the other guests, in view of the harshness she had always displayed towards Nastagio; consequently, she already had the sensation of fleeing before her enraged suitor, with the mastiffs tearing away at her haunches. So great was the fear engendered within her by this episode, that in order to avoid a similar fate she converted her enmity into love; and, seizing the earliest opportunity (which came to her that very evening), she privily sent a trusted maidservant to Nastagio, requesting him to be good enough to call upon her, as she was ready to do anything he desired. Nastagio was overjoyed, and told her so in his reply, but added that if she had no objection he preferred to combine his pleasure with the preservation of her good name, by making her his lawful wedded wife. Knowing that she alone was to blame for the fact that she and Nastagio were not already married, the girl readily sent him her consent. And so, acting as her own intermediary, she announced to her father and mother, to their enormous satisfaction, that she would be pleased to become Nastagio’s wife. On the following Sunday Nastagio married her, and after celebrating their nuptials they settled down to a long and happy life together. Their marriage was by no means the only good effect to be produced by this horrible apparition, for from that day forth the ladies of Ravenna in general were so frightened by it that they became much more tractable to men’s pleasures than they had ever been in the past.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  So that, attended by a numerous throng of men and women, all encouraging her to protest her innocence, she went before the podestà, 2 looked him squarely between the eyes, and asked him in a firm voice what it was that he required of her. On gazing at this woman and observing that she was very beautiful and impeccably well-bred, to say nothing of the fortitude of spirit to which her words bore witness, the podestà was touched with compassion for her, being afraid lest she should confess and thus compel him, if he wished to preserve his authority, to have her put to death. Nevertheless, being unable to avoid questioning her about what she was alleged to have done, he said: ‘Madam, as you see, Rinaldo your husband is here, and he has lodged a complaint against you, claiming that he has taken you in adultery. He is therefore demanding that I should punish you, as prescribed by one of our statutes, by having you put to death. But this I cannot do unless you confess, and therefore I must warn you to be very careful how you answer. Now tell me, is your husband’s accusation true?’ Without flinching in the slightest, the lady replied in a most fetching sort of voice: ‘Sir, it is true that Rinaldo is my husband, and that he found me last night in Lazzarino’s arms, wherein, on account of the deep and perfect love I bear towards him, I have lain many times before; nor shall I ever deny it. However, as I am sure you will know, every man and woman should be equal before the law, and laws must have the consent of those who are affected by them. These conditions are not fulfilled in the present instance, because this law only applies to us poor women, who are much better able than men to bestow our favours liberally. Moreover, when this law was made, no woman gave her consent to it, nor was any woman even so much as consulted. It can therefore justly be described as a very bad law. ‘If, however, to the detriment of my body and your soul, you wish to give effect to this law, that is your own affair. But before you proceed to pass any judgement, I beseech you to grant me a small favour, this being that you should ask my husband whether or not I have refused to concede my entire body to him, whenever and as often as he pleased.’ Without waiting for the podestà to put the question, Rinaldo promptly replied that beyond any doubt she had granted him whatever he required in the way of bodily gratification. ‘Well then,’ the lady promptly continued, ‘if he has always taken as much of me as he needed and as much as he chose to take, I ask you, Messer Podestà, what am I to do with the surplus? Throw it to the dogs?

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘You will then go to Rinuccio Palermini and say to him: “Madonna Francesca says she is ready to grant your every wish, provided you do her a great favour, namely that just before midnight tonight you go to the tomb where Scannadio was buried this morning, and without saying a word about anything you may see or hear, fetch his body gently forth and take it to her house. There you will discover why she wants you to do her this service, and you will have all you desire of her. But if you should refuse to do it, she charges you here and now never to send her any further messages or entreaties” The maidservant called on each of the men in turn and delivered the two messages exactly as instructed, in each case receiving the same answer, namely that they would venture into Hell itself, let alone a tomb, if she wanted them to do so. So the maid conveyed this answer to her mistress, who waited to see whether they were mad enough to carry out her request. After dark, having waited until most people were asleep, Alessandro Chiarmontesi stripped down to his doublet and set forth from his house in order to take Scannadio’s place in the tomb. But as he was on his way to the graveyard, he began to feel very frightened, and to say to himself: ‘Why should I be such a fool? Where do I think I’m going? For all I know, her kinsfolk may have discovered I’m in love with her. Perhaps they think I’ve seduced her, and have forced her into this so that they can murder me inside the tomb. If that’s the case, I shan’t stand a dog’s chance, nobody will be any the wiser, and they’ll escape scot free. Or possibly, for all I know, it’s a trap prepared for me by some enemy of mine, who persuaded her to do him this favour because she’s in love with him.’ But then he thought: ‘Let’s suppose that neither of these things will happen, and her kinsfolk really do have to take me to her house. It’s hardly likely they would want Scannadio’s body in order to embrace it or put it to bed with the lady. On the contrary, one can only conclude that they want to wreak vengeance upon it in return for some wrong he has done them. She tells me not to make a sound, no matter what may happen; but what if they were to gouge my eyes out, or wrench out my teeth, or cut off my hands, or do me some other piece of mischief, where would I be then? How could I keep quiet? And yet if I open my mouth, they will recognize me and possibly give me a sound hiding. But even if they don’t, I shall have achieved precisely nothing, because they won’t leave me with the lady in any case.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Besides, she will say that I have disobeyed her instructions, and will never have anything to do with me again.’ So powerfully did these reflections prey upon his mind that he was on the point of turning round and going back home. But his great love spurred him on, suggesting counter-arguments that were so persuasive that they brought him at length to the tomb. Having opened it up, he stepped inside, stripped the corpse, and donned Scannadio’s clothes. Then, shutting himself inside the tomb, he lay down in the dead man’s place, and his mind began to dwell on the kind of man he had been, and upon the weird things that were said to have happened at night in various quite ordinary places, not to mention cemeteries. Every hair of his head stood on end, and he was convinced that Scannadio would rise to his feet at any moment and slit his throat on the spot. But drawing sustenance from his fervent love, he subdued these as well as other gruesome thoughts, and, lying perfectly still as if he were the corpse, settled down to wait and see what would happen. When midnight was approaching, Rinuccio set forth from his house to do the deed which his lady had commissioned him to perform. As he walked along, he was assailed by a multitude of thoughts on the various things that might happen to him, such as being caught red-handed by the watch with Scannadio’s corpse on his shoulders, and being condemned to the stake as a sorcerer, or of incurring the hatred of Scannadio’s kinsfolk if they should ever find out what he had done. And several other fears of a similar nature entered his head, by which he was all but deterred from going on. But he took a firm grip on himself, saying: ‘Here’s a pretty state of affairs! Am I to say nay to the first request I receive from this noble lady, when I have loved her so deeply and still do, and when, moreover, she offers me her favours as my reward? No, I shall proceed to honour the promise I have given her, even if it means my certain death.’ And so, putting his best foot forward, he came at length to the tomb, which he opened without any difficulty. On hearing the tomb being opened, Alessandro was filled with terror, but managed none the less to remain perfectly still. Rinuccio clambered in, and thinking he was taking up the body of Scannadio, seized Alessandro by the feet, dragged him out, hoisted him on to his shoulders, and set off in the direction of the gentlewoman’s house. It was such a dark night that he couldn’t really see where he was going, and being none too particular about his burden, he frequently banged Alessandro’s body against the edges of certain benches that were set at intervals along the side of the street.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But one thing I would ask you to remember, my child, and that is to offer me some token of your esteem, for I’m a poor old woman, and from now on I want you to have a share in my indulgences and all the paternosters I recite, so that God may look with favour on the souls of your departed ones.’ Having said her piece, she came to an understanding with the young lady that if she should come across a certain young man who frequently passed through that part of the city, and of whom she was given a very full description, she would take all necessary steps. The young woman then handed over a joint of salted meat, and they took their leave of one another. Within the space of a few days, the youth designated by the lady was ushered secretly into her apartments by the beldam, and thereafter, at frequent intervals, several others who had taken the young woman’s fancy were similarly introduced to her. And although she was in constant fear of being discovered by her husband, she made the fullest possible use of her opportunities. One evening, however, her husband having been invited to supper by a friend of his called Ercolano, the young woman commissioned the beldam to fetch her one of the prettiest and most agreeable youths in Perugia, and her instructions were duly carried out. But no sooner were she and the youth seated at the supper-table than her husband, Pietro, started clamouring at the door to be let in. The woman was convinced, on hearing this, that her final hour had come. But all the same she wanted to conceal the youth if possible, and not having the presence of mind to hide him in some other part of the house, she persuaded him to crawl beneath a chicken-coop in the lean-to adjoining the room where they were dining, and threw a large sack over the top of it, which she had emptied of its contents earlier in the day. This done, she quickly let in her husband, to whom she said as he entered the house: ‘You soon gobbled down that supper of yours.’ ‘We never ate a crumb of it,’ replied Pietro. ‘And why was that?’ said his wife. ‘I’ll tell you why it was,’ said Pietro. ‘No sooner had Ercolano, his wife and myself taken our places at table than we heard someone sneezing, close beside where we were sitting. We took no notice the first time it happened, or the second, but when the sneezing was repeated for the third, fourth and fifth times, and a good many more besides, we were all struck dumb with astonishment. Ercolano was in a bad mood anyway because his wife had kept us waiting for ages before opening the door to let us in, and he rounded on her almost choking with fury, saying: “What’s the meaning of this?

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  As I drove us over the bumpy road to Renate’s, I only wanted out. I didn’t want to witness Renate’s tragedy. I didn’t want to be Peter’s replacement. It was enough that my own mother worried about me obsessively, and while I was drawn to Anaïs’s bright, light energy, the shroud of darkness surrounding Renate frightened me. “I’ll go walk on the beach while you talk with Renate,” I told Anaïs. She seized my forearm with the most commanding touch I’d ever felt. “No, I have this all planned.” After Renate answered the door in a pale negligee, she went directly back to her bed, waving a weak hand toward the room where she’d found Peter’s body. “I will never open that door again.” Her milky skin was translucent with a sickly pallor and, in a haunting way, she was more beautiful than before. I found myself visualizing her as Mary in Michelangelo’s Pieta, her dead son stretched over her lap, his knees slouched sideways, his head lolled back. Anaïs and I settled next to Renate’s bed as she reclined against a pile of pillows. On the bed stand were water, medicine bottles, and a small, framed photo of a fat-cheeked man in a monk’s robe and turban, whom I later learned was Swami Vivekananda. “We brought you a custard pie from Du Pars,” Anaïs chirped as she opened the cardboard box. Renate turned away as if the pie’s golden skin were offensive to look at. I was too uncomfortable to say anything, but Anaïs chatted away about women in New York wearing boots and heavy eye makeup and all the graffiti in the subways, about her nervous breakdown in Washington Square Park, her decision to break from both Hugo and Rupert, the various ways she’d thought of to make money to move to Paris, and about the artists she was going to look up when she got there. Tenderly she said, “Renate, you should come too. We’ll start over together.” Renate didn’t even acknowledge her presence, but Anaïs kept right on. “Tristine can come also if she wants, but I don’t know if she will because she has big news; she’s fallen in love.” Anaïs smiled at me encouragingly and put me on the spot. “Tell Renate what you said to Neal when he walked you to your car the first night.” “You mean, ‘Your place or mine?’” “She’s our daughter!” Anaïs lilted. Renate made a choking sound before turning her head away and staring into space. Anaïs continued on with tidbits of gossip about artists they both knew. Eventually, she came back to the topic of raising money and getting a film made of A Spy in the House of Love. Renate was unresponsive, nearly catatonic. “I heard that your screenwriter friend Jimmy Bridges is about to direct his first feature,” Anaïs said brightly. Renate set her icy eyes on Anaïs. “It’s a Western.” “But with Marlon Brando,” Anaïs said.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Well, he took a fancy to me, and what with my fear of him on the one hand and my love for him on the other, a month or two ago I was obliged to become his mistress. When he discovered you were not going to be here last night, he talked me into allowing him into your house to sleep with me in my room. He said he was thirsty, but I hadn’t a drop of wine or water to offer him. I couldn’t go downstairs without being seen by your good lady, who was in the drawing-room, but I remembered having seen a bottle of water in your bedroom, and so I ran to fetch it, gave it him to drink, and put the bottle back again where I had found it. They tell me you’ve been playing merry hell about it, and I freely confess that it was wrong of me to do it, but then everybody makes a blunder occasionally. I can only say that I am very sorry, not only for doing what I did, but also for Ruggieri’s sake, because he is about to lose his life over it. I therefore beseech you with all my heart to forgive me and let me go and see what I can do to help Ruggieri.’ Angry though he was to hear what she had done, the doctor had difficulty in keeping a straight face. ‘You have been hoist with your own petard,’ he replied. ‘For you thought you had a young man who would shake your skin-coat well and truly last night, instead of which you had a slug-abed. Now go and see about saving your lover, and take good care in future not to bring him into the house again, otherwise I shall make you pay for it twice over.’ Feeling that she had emerged with flying colours from the first of her engagements, the maid hurried round as quickly as possible to the prison and

• From The Decameron (1353)

  you’ll see how things will go, for this Countess has never set eyes on me yet, and she’s already so enamoured of me that she wants to make me a Knight of the Bath. Perhaps you think a knighthood wouldn’t suit me, and that I shan’t know what to do with it when I’ve got it; but leave it to me, and I’ll show you!’ ‘That’s all very well,’ said Buffalmacco, ‘but see that you don’t let us down, either by not coming or by not being there when we send for you. The reason I say this is that the weather is cold, and you medical men are very sensitive to the cold.’ ‘Heaven forbid,’ said the physician. ‘I’m not one of your coldblooded creatures; I don’t mind the cold. In fact, whenever I get up in the night to relieve nature, as we all do at times, I very rarely throw anything over my nightshirt other than a fur coat. So you may rest assured that I shall be there.’ Bruno and Buffalmacco then departed, and when darkness was beginning to fall, the Master invented some excuse for leaving his wife, and having smuggled his splendid gown out of the house, he duly put it on and made his way to one of the aforementioned tombs, where, since it was a bitterly cold evening, he sat huddled on the marble, and began to await the arrival of the mysterious beast. Buffalmacco, who was tall in stature and sturdy as an ox, had procured one of the masks that people used to wear at those special festivals that are nowadays no longer held; 22 and having donned a coat of black fur, he got himself up to look exactly like a bear, except that his mask had the face of the devil and was furnished with horns. In this strange garb, with Bruno following at a safe distance in order to observe the proceedings, he made his way to the new piazza at Santa Maria Novella. And no sooner did he perceive that the learned doctor was there than he began to dance and leap all over the piazza, hissing, screaming and shrieking like one possessed. When the Master saw and heard all this, every hair of his head stood on end and he began to tremble all over, just like a woman, except that he was far more frightened. He began to think he should have stayed at home, but now that he had come so far, he tried to put a bold face upon it, such was his eagerness to observe the marvels of which the two men had spoken. After cavorting madly for some little time in the manner we have described, Buffalmacco appeared to calm down, and coming over to the tomb on which the Master was seated, he stopped and stood perfectly still.