CHAPTER 34
IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE NOVEL OF “THE ILL-ADVISED CURIOSITY”
“It is commonly said that an army looks ill without its general and a cas-
tle without its castellan, and I say that a young married woman looks still
worse without her husband unless there are very good reasons for it. I find
myself so ill at ease without you, and so incapable of enduring this separa-
tion, that unless you return quickly I shall have to go for relief to my par-
ents’ house, even if I leave yours without a protector; for the one you left
me, if indeed he deserved that title, has, I think, more regard to his own
pleasure than to what concerns you: as you are possessed of discernment I
need say no more to you, nor indeed is it fitting I should say more.”
Anselmo received this letter, and from it he gathered that Lothario had
already begun his task and that Camilla must have replied to him as he
would have wished; and delighted beyond measure at such intelligence he
sent word to her not to leave his house on any account, as he would very
shortly return. Camilla was astonished at Anselmo’s reply, which placed her
in greater perplexity than before, for she neither dared to remain in her own
house, nor yet to go to her parents’; for in remaining her virtue was imper-
illed, and in going she was opposing her husband’s commands. Finally she
decided upon what was the worse course for her, to remain, resolving not to
fly from the presence of Lothario, that she might not give food for gossip to
her servants; and she now began to regret having written as she had to her
husband, fearing he might imagine that Lothario had perceived in her some
lightness which had impelled him to lay aside the respect he owed her; but
confident of her rectitude she put her trust in God and in her own virtuous
intentions, with which she hoped to resist in silence all the solicitations of
Lothario, without saying anything to her husband so as not to involve him
in any quarrel or trouble; and she even began to consider how to excuse
Lothario to Anselmo when he should ask her what it was that induced her to
write that letter. With these resolutions, more honourable than judicious or
effectual, she remained the next day listening to Lothario, who pressed his
suit so strenuously that Camilla’s firmness began to waver, and her virtue
had enough to do to come to the rescue of her eyes and keep them from
showing signs of a certain tender compassion which the tears and appeals of
Lothario had awakened in her bosom. Lothario observed all this, and it in-
flamed him all the more. In short he felt that while Anselmo’s absence af-
forded time and opportunity he must press the siege of the fortress, and so
he assailed her self-esteem with praises of her beauty, for there is nothing
that more quickly reduces and levels the castle towers of fair women’s vani-
ty than vanity itself upon the tongue of flattery. In fact with the utmost as-
siduity he undermined the rock of her purity with such engines that had
Camilla been of brass she must have fallen. He wept, he entreated, he
promised, he flattered, he importuned, he pretended with so much feeling
and apparent sincerity, that he overthrew the virtuous resolves of Camilla
and won the triumph he least expected and most longed for. Camilla yield-
ed, Camilla fell; but what wonder if the friendship of Lothario could not
stand firm? A clear proof to us that the passion of love is to be conquered
only by flying from it, and that no one should engage in a struggle with an
enemy so mighty; for divine strength is needed to overcome his human
power. Leonela alone knew of her mistress’s weakness, for the two false
friends and new lovers were unable to conceal it. Lothario did not care to
tell Camilla the object Anselmo had in view, nor that he had afforded him
the opportunity of attaining such a result, lest she should undervalue his
love and think that it was by chance and without intending it and not of his
own accord that he had made love to her.
A few days later Anselmo returned to his house and did not perceive
what it had lost, that which he so lightly treated and so highly prized. He
went at once to see Lothario, and found him at home; they embraced each
other, and Anselmo asked for the tidings of his life or his death.
“The tidings I have to give thee, Anselmo my friend,” said Lothario, “are
that thou dost possess a wife that is worthy to be the pattern and crown of
all good wives. The words that I have addressed to her were borne away on
the wind, my promises have been despised, my presents have been refused,
such feigned tears as I shed have been turned into open ridicule. In short, as
Camilla is the essence of all beauty, so is she the treasure-house where puri-
ty dwells, and gentleness and modesty abide with all the virtues that can
confer praise, honour, and happiness upon a woman. Take back thy money,
my friend; here it is, and I have had no need to touch it, for the chastity of
Camilla yields not to things so base as gifts or promises. Be content, Ansel-
mo, and refrain from making further proof; and as thou hast passed dryshod
through the sea of those doubts and suspicions that are and may be enter-
tained of women, seek not to plunge again into the deep ocean of new em-
barrassments, or with another pilot make trial of the goodness and strength
of the bark that Heaven has granted thee for thy passage across the sea of
this world; but reckon thyself now safe in port, moor thyself with the an-
chor of sound reflection, and rest in peace until thou art called upon to pay
that debt which no nobility on earth can escape paying.”
Anselmo was completely satisfied by the words of Lothario, and believed
them as fully as if they had been spoken by an oracle; nevertheless he
begged of him not to relinquish the undertaking, were it but for the sake of
curiosity and amusement; though thenceforward he need not make use of
the same earnest endeavours as before; all he wished him to do was to write
some verses to her, praising her under the name of Chloris, for he himself
would give her to understand that he was in love with a lady to whom he
had given that name to enable him to sing her praises with the decorum due
to her modesty; and if Lothario were unwilling to take the trouble of writing
the verses he would compose them himself.
“That will not be necessary,” said Lothario, “for the muses are not such
enemies of mine but that they visit me now and then in the course of the
year. Do thou tell Camilla what thou hast proposed about a pretended amour
of mine; as for the verses will make them, and if not as good as the subject
deserves, they shall be at least the best I can produce.” An agreement to this
effect was made between the friends, the ill-advised one and the treacher-
ous, and Anselmo returning to his house asked Camilla the question she al-
ready wondered he had not asked before—what it was that had caused her
to write the letter she had sent him. Camilla replied that it had seemed to
her that Lothario looked at her somewhat more freely than when he had
been at home; but that now she was undeceived and believed it to have been
only her own imagination, for Lothario now avoided seeing her, or being
alone with her. Anselmo told her she might be quite easy on the score of
that suspicion, for he knew that Lothario was in love with a damsel of rank
in the city whom he celebrated under the name of Chloris, and that even if
he were not, his fidelity and their great friendship left no room for fear. Had
not Camilla, however, been informed beforehand by Lothario that this love
for Chloris was a pretence, and that he himself had told Anselmo of it in or-
der to be able sometimes to give utterance to the praises of Camilla herself,
no doubt she would have fallen into the despairing toils of jealousy; but be-
ing forewarned she received the startling news without uneasiness.
The next day as the three were at table Anselmo asked Lothario to recite
something of what he had composed for his mistress Chloris; for as Camilla
did not know her, he might safely say what he liked.
“Even did she know her,” returned Lothario, “I would hide nothing, for
when a lover praises his lady’s beauty, and charges her with cruelty, he casts
no imputation upon her fair name; at any rate, all I can say is that yesterday
I made a sonnet on the ingratitude of this Chloris, which goes thus:
SONNET
At midnight, in the silence, when the eyes
Of happier mortals balmy slumbers close,
The weary tale of my unnumbered woes
To Chloris and to Heaven is wont to rise.
And when the light of day returning dyes
The portals of the east with tints of rose,
With undiminished force my sorrow flows
In broken accents and in burning sighs.
And when the sun ascends his star-girt throne,
And on the earth pours down his midday beams,
Noon but renews my wailing and my tears;
And with the night again goes up my moan.
Yet ever in my agony it seems
To me that neither Heaven nor Chloris hears.”
The sonnet pleased Camilla, and still more Anselmo, for he praised it and
said the lady was excessively cruel who made no return for sincerity so
manifest. On which Camilla said, “Then all that love-smitten poets say is
true?”
“As poets they do not tell the truth,” replied Lothario; “but as lovers they
are not more defective in expression than they are truthful.”
“There is no doubt of that,” observed Anselmo, anxious to support and
uphold Lothario’s ideas with Camilla, who was as regardless of his design
as she was deep in love with Lothario; and so taking delight in anything that
was his, and knowing that his thoughts and writings had her for their object,
and that she herself was the real Chloris, she asked him to repeat some other
sonnet or verses if he recollected any.
“I do,” replied Lothario, “but I do not think it as good as the first one, or,
more correctly speaking, less bad; but you can easily judge, for it is this.
SONNET
I know that I am doomed; death is to me
As certain as that thou, ungrateful fair,
Dead at thy feet shouldst see me lying, ere
My heart repented of its love for thee.
If buried in oblivion I should be,
Bereft of life, fame, favour, even there
It would be found that I thy image bear
Deep graven in my breast for all to see.
This like some holy relic do I prize
To save me from the fate my truth entails,
Truth that to thy hard heart its vigour owes.
Alas for him that under lowering skies,
In peril o’er a trackless ocean sails,
Where neither friendly port nor pole-star shows.”
Anselmo praised this second sonnet too, as he had praised the first; and
so he went on adding link after link to the chain with which he was binding
himself and making his dishonour secure; for when Lothario was doing
most to dishonour him he told him he was most honoured; and thus each
step that Camilla descended towards the depths of her abasement, she
mounted, in his opinion, towards the summit of virtue and fair fame.
It so happened that finding herself on one occasion alone with her maid,
Camilla said to her, “I am ashamed to think, my dear Leonela, how lightly I
have valued myself that I did not compel Lothario to purchase by at least
some expenditure of time that full possession of me that I so quickly yield-
ed him of my own free will. I fear that he will think ill of my pliancy or
lightness, not considering the irresistible influence he brought to bear upon
me.”
“Let not that trouble you, my lady,” said Leonela, “for it does not take
away the value of the thing given or make it the less precious to give it
quickly if it be really valuable and worthy of being prized; nay, they are
wont to say that he who gives quickly gives twice.”
“They say also,” said Camilla, “that what costs little is valued less.”
“That saying does not hold good in your case,” replied Leonela, “for love,
as I have heard say, sometimes flies and sometimes walks; with this one it
runs, with that it moves slowly; some it cools, others it burns; some it
wounds, others it slays; it begins the course of its desires, and at the same
moment completes and ends it; in the morning it will lay siege to a fortress
and by night will have taken it, for there is no power that can resist it; so
what are you in dread of, what do you fear, when the same must have be-
fallen Lothario, love having chosen the absence of my lord as the instru-
ment for subduing you? and it was absolutely necessary to complete then
what love had resolved upon, without affording the time to let Anselmo re-
turn and by his presence compel the work to be left unfinished; for love has
no better agent for carrying out his designs than opportunity; and of oppor-
tunity he avails himself in all his feats, especially at the outset. All this I
know well myself, more by experience than by hearsay, and some day,
senora, I will enlighten you on the subject, for I am of your flesh and blood
too. Moreover, lady Camilla, you did not surrender yourself or yield so
quickly but that first you saw Lothario’s whole soul in his eyes, in his sighs,
in his words, his promises and his gifts, and by it and his good qualities per-
ceived how worthy he was of your love. This, then, being the case, let not
these scrupulous and prudish ideas trouble your imagination, but be assured
that Lothario prizes you as you do him, and rest content and satisfied that as
you are caught in the noose of love it is one of worth and merit that has tak-
en you, and one that has not only the four S’s that they say true lovers ought
to have, but a complete alphabet; only listen to me and you will see how I
can repeat it by rote. He is to my eyes and thinking, Amiable, Brave, Cour-
teous, Distinguished, Elegant, Fond, Gay, Honourable, Illustrious, Loyal,
Manly, Noble, Open, Polite, Quickwitted, Rich, and the S’s according to the
saying, and then Tender, Veracious: X does not suit him, for it is a rough
letter; Y has been given already; and Z Zealous for your honour.”
Camilla laughed at her maid’s alphabet, and perceived her to be more ex-
perienced in love affairs than she said, which she admitted, confessing to
Camilla that she had love passages with a young man of good birth of the
same city. Camilla was uneasy at this, dreading lest it might prove the
means of endangering her honour, and asked whether her intrigue had gone
beyond words, and she with little shame and much effrontery said it had; for
certain it is that ladies’ imprudences make servants shameless, who, when
they see their mistresses make a false step, think nothing of going astray
themselves, or of its being known. All that Camilla could do was to entreat
Leonela to say nothing about her doings to him whom she called her lover,
and to conduct her own affairs secretly lest they should come to the knowl-
edge of Anselmo or of Lothario. Leonela said she would, but kept her word
in such a way that she confirmed Camilla’s apprehension of losing her repu-
tation through her means; for this abandoned and bold Leonela, as soon as
she perceived that her mistress’s demeanour was not what it was wont to be,
had the audacity to introduce her lover into the house, confident that even if
her mistress saw him she would not dare to expose him; for the sins of mis-
tresses entail this mischief among others; they make themselves the slaves
of their own servants, and are obliged to hide their laxities and depravities;
as was the case with Camilla, who though she perceived, not once but many
times, that Leonela was with her lover in some room of the house, not only
did not dare to chide her, but afforded her opportunities for concealing him
and removed all difficulties, lest he should be seen by her husband. She was
unable, however, to prevent him from being seen on one occasion, as he sal-
lied forth at daybreak, by Lothario, who, not knowing who he was, at first
took him for a spectre; but, as soon as he saw him hasten away, muffling his
face with his cloak and concealing himself carefully and cautiously, he re-
jected this foolish idea, and adopted another, which would have been the
ruin of all had not Camilla found a remedy. It did not occur to Lothario that
this man he had seen issuing at such an untimely hour from Anselmo’s
house could have entered it on Leonela’s account, nor did he even remem-
ber there was such a person as Leonela; all he thought was that as Camilla
had been light and yielding with him, so she had been with another; for this
further penalty the erring woman’s sin brings with it, that her honour is dis-
trusted even by him to whose overtures and persuasions she has yielded;
and he believes her to have surrendered more easily to others, and gives im-
plicit credence to every suspicion that comes into his mind. All Lothario’s
good sense seems to have failed him at this juncture; all his prudent maxims
escaped his memory; for without once reflecting rationally, and without
more ado, in his impatience and in the blindness of the jealous rage that
gnawed his heart, and dying to revenge himself upon Camilla, who had
done him no wrong, before Anselmo had risen he hastened to him and said
to him, “Know, Anselmo, that for several days past I have been struggling
with myself, striving to withhold from thee what it is no longer possible or
right that I should conceal from thee. Know that Camilla’s fortress has sur-
rendered and is ready to submit to my will; and if I have been slow to reveal
this fact to thee, it was in order to see if it were some light caprice of hers,
or if she sought to try me and ascertain if the love I began to make to her
with thy permission was made with a serious intention. I thought, too, that
she, if she were what she ought to be, and what we both believed her, would
have ere this given thee information of my addresses; but seeing that she
delays, I believe the truth of the promise she has given me that the next time
thou art absent from the house she will grant me an interview in the closet
where thy jewels are kept (and it was true that Camilla used to meet him
there); but I do not wish thee to rush precipitately to take vengeance, for the
sin is as yet only committed in intention, and Camilla’s may change perhaps
between this and the appointed time, and repentance spring up in its place.
As hitherto thou hast always followed my advice wholly or in part, follow
and observe this that I will give thee now, so that, without mistake, and with
mature deliberation, thou mayest satisfy thyself as to what may seem the
best course; pretend to absent thyself for two or three days as thou hast been
wont to do on other occasions, and contrive to hide thyself in the closet; for
the tapestries and other things there afford great facilities for thy conceal-
ment, and then thou wilt see with thine own eyes and I with mine what
Camilla’s purpose may be. And if it be a guilty one, which may be feared
rather than expected, with silence, prudence, and discretion thou canst thy-
self become the instrument of punishment for the wrong done thee.”
Anselmo was amazed, overwhelmed, and astounded at the words of
Lothario, which came upon him at a time when he least expected to hear
them, for he now looked upon Camilla as having triumphed over the pre-
tended attacks of Lothario, and was beginning to enjoy the glory of her vic-
tory. He remained silent for a considerable time, looking on the ground with
fixed gaze, and at length said, “Thou hast behaved, Lothario, as I expected
of thy friendship: I will follow thy advice in everything; do as thou wilt, and
keep this secret as thou seest it should be kept in circumstances so unlooked
for.”
Lothario gave him his word, but after leaving him he repented altogether
of what he had said to him, perceiving how foolishly he had acted, as he
might have revenged himself upon Camilla in some less cruel and degrad-
ing way. He cursed his want of sense, condemned his hasty resolution, and
knew not what course to take to undo the mischief or find some ready es-
cape from it. At last he decided upon revealing all to Camilla, and, as there
was no want of opportunity for doing so, he found her alone the same day;
but she, as soon as she had the chance of speaking to him, said, “Lothario
my friend, I must tell thee I have a sorrow in my heart which fills it so that
it seems ready to burst; and it will be a wonder if it does not; for the audaci-
ty of Leonela has now reached such a pitch that every night she conceals a
gallant of hers in this house and remains with him till morning, at the ex-
pense of my reputation; inasmuch as it is open to anyone to question it who
may see him quitting my house at such unseasonable hours; but what dis-
tresses me is that I cannot punish or chide her, for her privity to our intrigue
bridles my mouth and keeps me silent about hers, while I am dreading that
some catastrophe will come of it.”
As Camilla said this Lothario at first imagined it was some device to de-
lude him into the idea that the man he had seen going out was Leonela’s
lover and not hers; but when he saw how she wept and suffered, and begged
him to help her, he became convinced of the truth, and the conviction com-
pleted his confusion and remorse; however, he told Camilla not to distress
herself, as he would take measures to put a stop to the insolence of Leonela.
At the same time he told her what, driven by the fierce rage of jealousy, he
had said to Anselmo, and how he had arranged to hide himself in the closet
that he might there see plainly how little she preserved her fidelity to him;
and he entreated her pardon for this madness, and her advice as to how to
repair it, and escape safely from the intricate labyrinth in which his impru-
dence had involved him. Camilla was struck with alarm at hearing what
Lothario said, and with much anger, and great good sense, she reproved him
and rebuked his base design and the foolish and mischievous resolution he
had made; but as woman has by nature a nimbler wit than man for good and
for evil, though it is apt to fail when she sets herself deliberately to reason,
Camilla on the spur of the moment thought of a way to remedy what was to
all appearance irremediable, and told Lothario to contrive that the next day
Anselmo should conceal himself in the place he mentioned, for she hoped
from his concealment to obtain the means of their enjoying themselves for
the future without any apprehension; and without revealing her purpose to
him entirely she charged him to be careful, as soon as Anselmo was con-
cealed, to come to her when Leonela should call him, and to all she said to
him to answer as he would have answered had he not known that Anselmo
was listening. Lothario pressed her to explain her intention fully, so that he
might with more certainty and precaution take care to do what he saw to be
needful.
“I tell you,” said Camilla, “there is nothing to take care of except to an-
swer me what I shall ask you;” for she did not wish to explain to him be-
forehand what she meant to do, fearing lest he should be unwilling to fol-
low out an idea which seemed to her such a good one, and should try or de-
vise some other less practicable plan.
Lothario then retired, and the next day Anselmo, under pretence of going
to his friend’s country house, took his departure, and then returned to con-
ceal himself, which he was able to do easily, as Camilla and Leonela took
care to give him the opportunity; and so he placed himself in hiding in the
state of agitation that it may be imagined he would feel who expected to see
the vitals of his honour laid bare before his eyes, and found himself on the
point of losing the supreme blessing he thought he possessed in his beloved
Camilla. Having made sure of Anselmo’s being in his hiding-place, Camilla
and Leonela entered the closet, and the instant she set foot within it Camilla
said, with a deep sigh, “Ah! dear Leonela, would it not be better, before I do
what I am unwilling you should know lest you should seek to prevent it,
that you should take Anselmo’s dagger that I have asked of you and with it
pierce this vile heart of mine? But no; there is no reason why I should suffer
the punishment of another’s fault. I will first know what it is that the bold
licentious eyes of Lothario have seen in me that could have encouraged him
to reveal to me a design so base as that which he has disclosed regardless of
his friend and of my honour. Go to the window, Leonela, and call him, for
no doubt he is in the street waiting to carry out his vile project; but mine,
cruel it may be, but honourable, shall be carried out first.”
“Ah, senora,” said the crafty Leonela, who knew her part, “what is it you
want to do with this dagger? Can it be that you mean to take your own life,
or Lothario’s? for whichever you mean to do, it will lead to the loss of your
reputation and good name. It is better to dissemble your wrong and not give
this wicked man the chance of entering the house now and finding us alone;
consider, senora, we are weak women and he is a man, and determined, and
as he comes with such a base purpose, blind and urged by passion, perhaps
before you can put yours into execution he may do what will be worse for
you than taking your life. Ill betide my master, Anselmo, for giving such
authority in his house to this shameless fellow! And supposing you kill him,
senora, as I suspect you mean to do, what shall we do with him when he is
dead?”
“What, my friend?” replied Camilla, “we shall leave him for Anselmo to
bury him; for in reason it will be to him a light labour to hide his own in-
famy under ground. Summon him, make haste, for all the time I delay in
taking vengeance for my wrong seems to me an offence against the loyalty I
owe my husband.”
Anselmo was listening to all this, and every word that Camilla uttered
made him change his mind; but when he heard that it was resolved to kill
Lothario his first impulse was to come out and show himself to avert such a
disaster; but in his anxiety to see the issue of a resolution so bold and virtu-
ous he restrained himself, intending to come forth in time to prevent the
deed. At this moment Camilla, throwing herself upon a bed that was close
by, swooned away, and Leonela began to weep bitterly, exclaiming, “Woe is
me! that I should be fated to have dying here in my arms the flower of
virtue upon earth, the crown of true wives, the pattern of chastity!” with
more to the same effect, so that anyone who heard her would have taken her
for the most tender-hearted and faithful handmaid in the world, and her mis-
tress for another persecuted Penelope.
Camilla was not long in recovering from her fainting fit and on coming to
herself she said, “Why do you not go, Leonela, to call hither that friend, the
falsest to his friend the sun ever shone upon or night concealed? Away, run,
haste, speed! lest the fire of my wrath burn itself out with delay, and the
righteous vengeance that I hope for melt away in menaces and
maledictions.”
“I am just going to call him, senora,” said Leonela; “but you must first
give me that dagger, lest while I am gone you should by means of it give
cause to all who love you to weep all their lives.”
“Go in peace, dear Leonela, I will not do so,” said Camilla, “for rash and
foolish as I may be, to your mind, in defending my honour, I am not going
to be so much so as that Lucretia who they say killed herself without having
done anything wrong, and without having first killed him on whom the guilt
of her misfortune lay. I shall die, if I am to die; but it must be after full
vengeance upon him who has brought me here to weep over audacity that
no fault of mine gave birth to.”
Leonela required much pressing before she would go to summon
Lothario, but at last she went, and while awaiting her return Camilla contin-
ued, as if speaking to herself, “Good God! would it not have been more pru-
dent to have repulsed Lothario, as I have done many a time before, than to
allow him, as I am now doing, to think me unchaste and vile, even for the
short time I must wait until I undeceive him? No doubt it would have been
better; but I should not be avenged, nor the honour of my husband vindicat-
ed, should he find so clear and easy an escape from the strait into which his
depravity has led him. Let the traitor pay with his life for the temerity of his
wanton wishes, and let the world know (if haply it shall ever come to know)
that Camilla not only preserved her allegiance to her husband, but avenged
him of the man who dared to wrong him. Still, I think it might be better to
disclose this to Anselmo. But then I have called his attention to it in the let-
ter I wrote to him in the country, and, if he did nothing to prevent the mis-
chief I there pointed out to him, I suppose it was that from pure goodness of
heart and trustfulness he would not and could not believe that any thought
against his honour could harbour in the breast of so stanch a friend; nor in-
deed did I myself believe it for many days, nor should I have ever believed
it if his insolence had not gone so far as to make it manifest by open
presents, lavish promises, and ceaseless tears. But why do I argue thus?
Does a bold determination stand in need of arguments? Surely not. Then
traitors avaunt! Vengeance to my aid! Let the false one come, approach, ad-
vance, die, yield up his life, and then befall what may. Pure I came to him
whom Heaven bestowed upon me, pure I shall leave him; and at the worst
bathed in my own chaste blood and in the foul blood of the falsest friend
that friendship ever saw in the world;” and as she uttered these words she
paced the room holding the unsheathed dagger, with such irregular and dis-
ordered steps, and such gestures that one would have supposed her to have
lost her senses, and taken her for some violent desperado instead of a deli-
cate woman.
Anselmo, hidden behind some tapestries where he had concealed himself,
beheld and was amazed at all, and already felt that what he had seen and
heard was a sufficient answer to even greater suspicions; and he would have
been now well pleased if the proof afforded by Lothario’s coming were dis-
pensed with, as he feared some sudden mishap; but as he was on the point
of showing himself and coming forth to embrace and undeceive his wife he
paused as he saw Leonela returning, leading Lothario. Camilla when she
saw him, drawing a long line in front of her on the floor with the dagger,
said to him, “Lothario, pay attention to what I say to thee: if by any chance
thou darest to cross this line thou seest, or even approach it, the instant I see
thee attempt it that same instant will I pierce my bosom with this dagger
that I hold in my hand; and before thou answerest me a word desire thee to
listen to a few from me, and afterwards thou shalt reply as may please thee.
First, I desire thee to tell me, Lothario, if thou knowest my husband Ansel-
mo, and in what light thou regardest him; and secondly I desire to know if
thou knowest me too. Answer me this, without embarrassment or reflecting
deeply what thou wilt answer, for they are no riddles I put to thee.”
Lothario was not so dull but that from the first moment when Camilla di-
rected him to make Anselmo hide himself he understood what she intended
to do, and therefore he fell in with her idea so readily and promptly that be-
tween them they made the imposture look more true than truth; so he an-
swered her thus: “I did not think, fair Camilla, that thou wert calling me to
ask questions so remote from the object with which I come; but if it is to
defer the promised reward thou art doing so, thou mightst have put it off
still longer, for the longing for happiness gives the more distress the nearer
comes the hope of gaining it; but lest thou shouldst say that I do not answer
thy questions, I say that I know thy husband Anselmo, and that we have
known each other from our earliest years; I will not speak of what thou too
knowest, of our friendship, that I may not compel myself to testify against
the wrong that love, the mighty excuse for greater errors, makes me inflict
upon him. Thee I know and hold in the same estimation as he does, for were
it not so I had not for a lesser prize acted in opposition to what I owe to my
station and the holy laws of true friendship, now broken and violated by me
through that powerful enemy, love.”
“If thou dost confess that,” returned Camilla, “mortal enemy of all that
rightly deserves to be loved, with what face dost thou dare to come before
one whom thou knowest to be the mirror wherein he is reflected on whom
thou shouldst look to see how unworthily thou him? But, woe is me, I now
comprehend what has made thee give so little heed to what thou owest to
thyself; it must have been some freedom of mine, for I will not call it im-
modesty, as it did not proceed from any deliberate intention, but from some
heedlessness such as women are guilty of through inadvertence when they
think they have no occasion for reserve. But tell me, traitor, when did I by
word or sign give a reply to thy prayers that could awaken in thee a shadow
of hope of attaining thy base wishes? When were not thy professions of
love sternly and scornfully rejected and rebuked? When were thy frequent
pledges and still more frequent gifts believed or accepted? But as I am per-
suaded that no one can long persevere in the attempt to win love unsus-
tained by some hope, I am willing to attribute to myself the blame of thy
assurance, for no doubt some thoughtlessness of mine has all this time fos-
tered thy hopes; and therefore will I punish myself and inflict upon myself
the penalty thy guilt deserves. And that thou mayest see that being so re-
lentless to myself I cannot possibly be otherwise to thee, I have summoned
thee to be a witness of the sacrifice I mean to offer to the injured honour of
my honoured husband, wronged by thee with all the assiduity thou wert ca-
pable of, and by me too through want of caution in avoiding every occasion,
if I have given any, of encouraging and sanctioning thy base designs. Once
more I say the suspicion in my mind that some imprudence of mine has en-
gendered these lawless thoughts in thee, is what causes me most distress
and what I desire most to punish with my own hands, for were any other
instrument of punishment employed my error might become perhaps more
widely known; but before I do so, in my death I mean to inflict death, and
take with me one that will fully satisfy my longing for the revenge I hope
for and have; for I shall see, wheresoever it may be that I go, the penalty
awarded by inflexible, unswerving justice on him who has placed me in a
position so desperate.”
As she uttered these words, with incredible energy and swiftness she flew
upon Lothario with the naked dagger, so manifestly bent on burying it in his
breast that he was almost uncertain whether these demonstrations were real
or feigned, for he was obliged to have recourse to all his skill and strength
to prevent her from striking him; and with such reality did she act this
strange farce and mystification that, to give it a colour of truth, she deter-
mined to stain it with her own blood; for perceiving, or pretending, that she
could not wound Lothario, she said, “Fate, it seems, will not grant my just
desire complete satisfaction, but it will not be able to keep me from satisfy-
ing it partially at least;” and making an effort to free the hand with the dag-
ger which Lothario held in his grasp, she released it, and directing the point
to a place where it could not inflict a deep wound, she plunged it into her
left side high up close to the shoulder, and then allowed herself to fall to the
ground as if in a faint.
Leonela and Lothario stood amazed and astounded at the catastrophe, and
seeing Camilla stretched on the ground and bathed in her blood they were
still uncertain as to the true nature of the act. Lothario, terrified and breath-
less, ran in haste to pluck out the dagger; but when he saw how slight the
wound was he was relieved of his fears and once more admired the subtlety,
coolness, and ready wit of the fair Camilla; and the better to support the part
he had to play he began to utter profuse and doleful lamentations over her
body as if she were dead, invoking maledictions not only on himself but
also on him who had been the means of placing him in such a position: and
knowing that his friend Anselmo heard him he spoke in such a way as to
make a listener feel much more pity for him than for Camilla, even though
he supposed her dead. Leonela took her up in her arms and laid her on the
bed, entreating Lothario to go in quest of some one to attend to her wound
in secret, and at the same time asking his advice and opinion as to what they
should say to Anselmo about his lady’s wound if he should chance to return
before it was healed. He replied they might say what they liked, for he was
not in a state to give advice that would be of any use; all he could tell her
was to try and stanch the blood, as he was going where he should never
more be seen; and with every appearance of deep grief and sorrow he left
the house; but when he found himself alone, and where there was nobody to
see him, he crossed himself unceasingly, lost in wonder at the adroitness of
Camilla and the consistent acting of Leonela. He reflected how convinced
Anselmo would be that he had a second Portia for a wife, and he looked
forward anxiously to meeting him in order to rejoice together over false-
hood and truth the most craftily veiled that could be imagined.
Leonela, as he told her, stanched her lady’s blood, which was no more
than sufficed to support her deception; and washing the wound with a little
wine she bound it up to the best of her skill, talking all the time she was
tending her in a strain that, even if nothing else had been said before, would
have been enough to assure Anselmo that he had in Camilla a model of pu-
rity. To Leonela’s words Camilla added her own, calling herself cowardly
and wanting in spirit, since she had not enough at the time she had most
need of it to rid herself of the life she so much loathed. She asked her atten-
dant’s advice as to whether or not she ought to inform her beloved husband
of all that had happened, but the other bade her say nothing about it, as she
would lay upon him the obligation of taking vengeance on Lothario, which
he could not do but at great risk to himself; and it was the duty of a true
wife not to give her husband provocation to quarrel, but, on the contrary, to
remove it as far as possible from him.
Camilla replied that she believed she was right and that she would follow
her advice, but at any rate it would be well to consider how she was to ex-
plain the wound to Anselmo, for he could not help seeing it; to which
Leonela answered that she did not know how to tell a lie even in jest.
“How then can I know, my dear?” said Camilla, “for I should not dare to
forge or keep up a falsehood if my life depended on it. If we can think of no
escape from this difficulty, it will be better to tell him the plain truth than
that he should find us out in an untrue story.”
“Be not uneasy, senora,” said Leonela; “between this and to-morrow I
will think of what we must say to him, and perhaps the wound being where
it is it can be hidden from his sight, and Heaven will be pleased to aid us in
a purpose so good and honourable. Compose yourself, senora, and endeav-
our to calm your excitement lest my lord find you agitated; and leave the
rest to my care and God’s, who always supports good intentions.”
Anselmo had with the deepest attention listened to and seen played out
the tragedy of the death of his honour, which the performers acted with such
wonderfully effective truth that it seemed as if they had become the realities
of the parts they played. He longed for night and an opportunity of escaping
from the house to go and see his good friend Lothario, and with him give
vent to his joy over the precious pearl he had gained in having established
his wife’s purity. Both mistress and maid took care to give him time and op-
portunity to get away, and taking advantage of it he made his escape, and at
once went in quest of Lothario, and it would be impossible to describe how
he embraced him when he found him, and the things he said to him in the
joy of his heart, and the praises he bestowed upon Camilla; all which
Lothario listened to without being able to show any pleasure, for he could
not forget how deceived his friend was, and how dishonourably he had
wronged him; and though Anselmo could see that Lothario was not glad,
still he imagined it was only because he had left Camilla wounded and had
been himself the cause of it; and so among other things he told him not to
be distressed about Camilla’s accident, for, as they had agreed to hide it
from him, the wound was evidently trifling; and that being so, he had no
cause for fear, but should henceforward be of good cheer and rejoice with
him, seeing that by his means and adroitness he found himself raised to the
greatest height of happiness that he could have ventured to hope for, and
desired no better pastime than making verses in praise of Camilla that
would preserve her name for all time to come. Lothario commended his
purpose, and promised on his own part to aid him in raising a monument so
glorious.
And so Anselmo was left the most charmingly hoodwinked man there
could be in the world. He himself, persuaded he was conducting the instru-
ment of his glory, led home by the hand him who had been the utter de-
struction of his good name; whom Camilla received with averted counte-
nance, though with smiles in her heart. The deception was carried on for
some time, until at the end of a few months Fortune turned her wheel and
the guilt which had been until then so skilfully concealed was published
abroad, and Anselmo paid with his life the penalty of his ill-advised
curiosity.
