I N FLORENCE, a rich and celebrated city in Italy, in the province they call Tuscany, there lived Anselmo and Lotario, two rich and noble young men who were such close friends that they were nicknamed THE TWO FRIENDS by everyone. They were unmarried, young, and of the same age and upbringing, all of which was enough to account for the friendship between them. It’s true that Anselmo was a bit more inclined to amorous pastimes than Lotario, who preferred the hunt. But on occasion Anselmo would give up his pleasures to accompany Lotario, and Lotario would do the same for Anselmo. And in this way their inclinations were so similar that no clock ran smoother.
Anselmo was desperately in love with a high-born and beautiful maiden of the same city, the daughter of very respected parents—she was as respected as they—and he resolved, having solicited the opinion of Lotario, without whom he did nothing, to ask her parents for her hand in marriage. He thus decided to go ahead, and the person who delivered the message was Lotario. He handled the matter to the great pleasure of his friend, who in a short time found himself in possession of what he so wanted, and Camila was so glad to have gotten Anselmo for a husband that she gave unceasingly thanks to heaven and to Lotario, through whom all this benefit had come to her.
The first days, as all days of wedding festivities are, were merry, and Lotario continued to visit Anselmo’s house as was his custom, striving to honor, regale, and gladden him in any way he could. But when the festivities were over, and the stream of visitors and well-wishers waned, Lotario began to decrease the number of visits to Anselmo’s house on purpose, since it seemed to him—as it would to all men who were discreet—that one should not frequent the houses of married friends in the same way they used to when they were single, because, although good and true friendship cannot nor should not be suspect in anything, still, a married man’s honor is so very fragile, that it can be injured by his own brothers, not to mention friends.
Anselmo noticed Lotario’s reluctance, and he complained to him bitterly, telling him that if he’d known that getting married would mean they wouldn’t see each other as much as he was accustomed to, he wouldn’t have gotten married. And if the good relationship they had had while he was single had attained for them the agreeable nickname of THE TWO FRIENDS, he should not allow such a famous and gratifying title to be lost without any reason except that of being circumspect. So he begged him—if the use of that word is appropriate between friends such as they were—to be master of his house once again, and to come and go as before, assuring him that Camila had no wish nor preference other than what he wanted her to have, and that since she knew what good friends they were, she was perplexed to see such aloofness in him.
To all these words and many others that Anselmo said to Lotario to persuade him to come to his house as he used to, Lotario responded with so much circumspection, discretion, and forewarning, that Anselmo was quite satisfied about his friend’s good intentions, and they agreed that two days a week, and on all holidays, Lotario would join them for dinner. Although they had agreed to this schedule, Lotario planned to do no more than what he considered to be appropriate for the honor of his friend, whose good name meant more to him than his own. He said, and rightly so, that the married man to whom heaven had given a beautiful wife, ought to be as careful about which friends he brought home as with which women his wife socializes, because those things that are not done or arranged for in the markets, churches, public festivals, or devotions—things husbands can’t always deny their wives—are easily arranged for and managed in the home of a female friend or relative in whom she has most confidence.
Lotario also said that every married man needs to have a friend who will tell him about any negligent behavior that he might be guilty of, because it frequently happens that owing to the great love the husband has for his wife, either he doesn’t caution her, or—so as not to vex her—doesn’t tell her to do or not to do certain things, the doing or avoidance of which may be a matter of honor or censure to him; and errors of this kind can easily be corrected if advised by a friend. But where is a friend to be found who is so discreet and so loyal and true as Lotario was describing? I certainly don’t know unless it was Lotario himself, for with great care and vigilance he looked after the honor of his friend, and tried to reduce, decrease, and cut short the agreed upon days for visits to his house, so that it wouldn’t appear suspicious to the idle public and to malicious and roaming eyes that a rich, young, and well-born gentleman such as himself, frequented the house of a woman as beautiful as Camila, and although his goodness and worth might make mischievous tongues hesitate, still, he didn’t want to put either his friend’s or his own reputation at risk, and for this reason most of the days agreed upon, he kept away, saying he had other business he pretended was unavoidable, so that much of their time was taken up by complaints on one side and excuses on the other.
It happened, however, that one day, as the two were strolling through a meadow outside the city, Anselmo said words like these to Lotario: “You probably think, Lotario my friend, that I cannot begin to thank God sufficiently for the favors He’s done me in making me the son of such parents as mine were, and endowing me with abundant gifts of nature as well as those of wealth, and especially for the gift he gave me in making you my friend and Camila my wife, two treasures that I esteem, if not to the extent that I should, at least as much as I can. And yet with all these good things that are usually all that a man needs to live happily, I’m the most despairing and dissatisfied man in the whole world because I’ve been troubled and harassed I don’t know for how long by a desire that’s so strange that I’m astonished at myself, and I blame and scold myself when I’m alone, and I try to repress and hide it from my own thoughts, with no better success than if I’d deliberately tried to tell it to the whole world. And since it’s going to be revealed one way or another, I would prefer to entrust it to the secret archives of your heart, confident that if you know about it and use your cleverness as a true friend to help me, I’ll soon be free from the distress it causes me, and through your diligence, my happiness will rise to the same level that my misery has reached through my folly.”
Anselmo’s words struck Lotario with astonishment, and he couldn’t tell where that statement or preamble was leading, and although he mulled over what the desire might be that so bothered his friend, he was far from hitting the mark. To relieve himself of the anxiety caused by this suspense, he told Anselmo that he was doing a grave injustice to their great friendship by seeking a roundabout way to tell him his secret thoughts, since he was certain that he could count on his friend either for advice about how to alleviate his situation, or help to put his desire into effect.
“This is true,” said Anselmo, “and with that to rely on, I want you to know, Lotario, my friend, that what’s bothering me is I’m wondering if Camila, my wife, is as perfect as I think; and I cannot verify this truth unless I test her in such a way that it proves the purity of her virtue as fire proves that of gold. Because I believe, my friend, that a woman is virtuous only to the degree that she is or isn’t tempted, and that she alone is strong who doesn’t submit to promises, gifts, tears, and insistent requests by earnest lovers. What thanks,” he said, “does a woman deserve if no one incites her to misbehave? So what if she’s reserved and modest, if no opportunity is given to her to go astray and she knows that her husband will take her life upon her first shameless act? I therefore don’t esteem in the same way the woman virtuous through fear or lack of opportunity as the one who comes out of temptation and pursuit with the crown of victory. So, for these reasons and for many others that I could tell you to justify and support the opinion I hold, I would like Camila, my wife, to pass through these trials and be refined by the fire of temptation and solicitation, and by a person able to carry out his design. And if she winds up with the palm branch from this battle, I shall consider my good fortune to be unequaled. I’ll be able to say that the emptiness of my desires has been filled to the top. I’ll be able to say that I’ve been lucky to find the virtuous woman that the wise man wondered could be found. And if it works out the opposite of what I think, I’ll at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I was right in my opinion, and I shall bear without grief what such a costly experiment will cause me. And since nothing that you can tell me will dissuade me in my desire, I want you, my friend Lotario, to prepare yourself to be the instrument to bring about my wish. I’ll give you the opportunity to do it, including everything that I think necessary to woo a virtuous, honorable, modest, and unsuspecting woman.
“Among other reasons I’m led to confide to you such a delicate affair by the consideration that if Camila is conquered by you, the conquest will not be taken to the extreme limits, but rather, what is supposed to be done will be considered done, out of respect, and I shall thus be wronged no more than in intention, and my injury will be hidden by the virtue of your silence, and I know that everything that affects me will remain eternally as silent as death. So, if you want me to have a life worthy of the name, you must enter in this amorous battle, not in a lukewarm way, nor lazily, but rather with the energy and zeal that my desire requires and with the loyalty that your friendship assures me of.”
These were the words that Anselmo said to Lotario, who listened to them so carefully that he didn’t open his mouth until Anselmo had stopped, and seeing that he was not going to say any more, after staring at him fixedly for a good while, as if he were examining something he’d never seen before that had caused him wonder and astonishment, he said: “I cannot persuade myself, Anselmo my friend, that what you’ve told me is anything more than a jest, for if I really thought it to be the truth I wouldn’t have allowed you to go on, because by not listening to you I would have prevented your long speech. Without a doubt I suspect that you don’t know me or I don’t know you. But no—I know that you’re Anselmo and I’m Lotario. The trouble is that I think that you’re not the Anselmo you used to be because the things you’ve told me are not those of my friend Anselmo, nor what you ask me to do should not be asked of the Lotario that you know. Good friends ought to test and use their friends only as far, as the poet says, usque ad aras, by which he meant that they shouldn’t use their friendship for anything that might offend God. So, if a heathen felt this about friendship, how much more should a Christian who already knows that he should not for any human friendship forsake the divine. And when the friend goes to such extremes that he puts aside his duty to heaven to fulfill his duty as a friend, it should not be for trifles and inconsequential things, but rather for those that affect the life and honor of his friend. Now tell me, Anselmo, which of these two things threatens you so that I should risk myself in order to gratify you by doing such a detestable thing as you ask? Neither, to be sure. You ask me, rather, the way I see it, to try to take away your honor and your life, and mine as well, because if I endeavor to take away your honor, it’s very clear that I’m taking away your life since a man without honor is worse than dead; and I, being the instrument, as you want me to be, of so much wrong to you, won’t I be just as dishonored and consequently as lifeless? Listen, Anselmo, my friend, and don’t say anything until I finish saying what has occurred to me about what your request implies, for there will be time for your to respond and for me to listen.”
“All right,” said Anselmo, “tell me whatever you want.”
And Lotario went on saying: “It seems to me, Anselmo, that your state of mind is just like the Moors’, whom you cannot convince of the error of their religion by quoting scripture, or by reasoning involving rational speculation, or by those founded on the articles of faith, but you have to bring in examples that are palpable, easy to understand, intelligible, able to be proven, with mathematical demonstrations that cannot be denied, as when you say: «If equals are taken from equals, the remainders are equal». And if they don’t understand it through words—which in effect they don’t—you must show them with your hands and place it before their eyes, and even with all of this, no one can finally persuade them of the truths of my sacred religion. I’ll have to use this same procedure with you because your wish is so far from everything that has a shadow of reason to it that it seems to me that it would waste my time to try to make you see your simple-mindedness, which for the time being deserves no other name, and I’m of a mind to leave you with your folly, as punishment for your wicked desire. But the friendship I have for you doesn’t allow me to use these severe means with you, and this same friendship doesn’t consent for me to leave you in such manifest peril of your own undoing.
“And so you can see clearly, tell me, Anselmo, didn’t you say to me that I have to woo a modest woman, decoy one who is virtuous, make overtures to one who is unsuspecting, court one who is discreet? Yes, you told me all that. But if you know that you have a woman who is modest, virtuous, unsuspecting, and discreet, what more could you want? And if you believe that she’ll come out victorious from all of my attacks, as she certainly will, what higher rank can you give her other than what she already has? Or in what way will she be better than she is now? Either you don’t believe her to be what you say about her or you don’t realize what you’re asking. If you don’t believe her to be what you say about her, why bother to test her—why not, if she’s bad, do with her what you think best? But if she’s as virtuous as you say, it’s very ill-advised to make a trial of truth itself since after the trial it will have the same appraisal as before. So, one must conclude that attempting to do things from which harm rather than profit must spring is irrational and reckless, and especially when you try to do things that you are neither forced nor obliged to do, which show from far away that attempting them is demonstrably foolish.
“Difficult things are attempted for the sake of God or for the secular world or for both. Those undertaken for the sake of God are those done by saints, trying to live the lives of angels in human bodies; those done for the world’s sake are done by men who traverse bodies of water, suffer different climates, and meet many strange peoples, to attain what are called blessings of Fortune. And those that are done for the sake of both together are those of valiant soldiers, who—as soon as they see a breach in the enemy’s wall as wide as a cannonball can make, casting aside all fear, without reasoning or heeding the danger that threatens them, borne on the wings of the desire to battle for their faith, for their country and for their king—catapult themselves intrepidly into the midst of a thousand different kinds of death that lurk in wait of them. These things are those that men typically attempt, and there is honor, glory, and profit in attempting them, even though they’re laden with obstacles and dangers.
“But what you’re saying you want to do and carry out, will win neither the glory of God, the blessings of Fortune, nor fame among men, because, although things may turn out as you wish, you won’t be any happier, richer, or more honored than you are now. And if it turns out differently, you’ll be in greater misery than you can imagine, because it will do no good to think that no one knows about the misfortune that will have befallen you—because just the fact that you know it yourself will be enough to torture and crush you. And to confirm this truth, I want to recite a stanza that the famous poet Luigi Tansillo wrote at the end of the first part of his Tears of Saint Peter, which goes like this:
“Thus, keeping it a secret you’ll not relieve your grief, but rather you’ll shed tears constantly, tears of blood from your heart, like those shed by the simple doctor whom our poet sings about, who performed the ‘test of the goblet’ that the prudent Rinaldo refused to do. And although it’s poetic fiction, it embraces a moral lesson worthy of being noted, understood, and imitated. Moreover, with what I plan to tell you now, you’ll finally be led to understand the nature of the great error that you want to commit.
“Tell me, Anselmo, if heaven, or good luck, had made you the legitimate owner of a very fine diamond, the worth and purity of which satisfied all the gem cutters who saw it, and all of them in a single voice and of the same opinion stated that it was of the highest level of purity, quality, and fineness, and you yourself agreed, finding nothing to the contrary, would it be reasonable for you to take that diamond and put it between an anvil and a hammer and there, by dint of blows, prove it as hard and fine as they said? And if you did, and if the stone withstood such a foolish test, it would add nothing to its value or renown, but if it got smashed to bits, which could easily happen, wouldn’t everything be lost? Yes, certainly, and it would leave its owner such that everyone would consider him a fool. Anselmo, my friend, consider that Camila is a very fine diamond, in your estimation, as well as in that of others, and that it’s contrary to all reason to take the risk that she’ll break, since although she may remain intact, she can’t rise to a higher value than she now has, whereas if she fails and doesn’t resist, just consider now how you’ll be deprived of her, and with what good reason you would have to complain about yourself for having been the cause of her ruination and of your own.
“Remember that there is no jewel in the world worth more than a chaste and honored woman, and that the honor of women consists of the good opinion in which they’re held, and since your wife is such that she reaches the extreme of goodness, why do you want to put this truth in question? Look, my friend, woman is an imperfect creature, and one shouldn’t put impediments in her path to make her stumble and fall, but rather they should be removed and the path made clear of any obstacle, so that without hindrance she may endeavor to run her course to try to attain the desired perfection, which consists of being virtuous.
“Naturalists tell us that the ermine is an animal that has very white fur, and that when hunters want to capture one, they use this device: knowing the path the ermines usually take, they cover it with mud, and then they shoo and drive them toward that place, and as soon as the ermine arrives at the mud, it stops and lets itself be captured rather than going through the mud and dirtying its whiteness, which it holds in greater esteem than its freedom or its life. The virtuous and chaste woman is an ermine, and her chastity is whiter and purer than driven snow. The person who wants her not to lose it, but rather to keep and conserve it, must not treat her like the hunted ermine—he shouldn’t place before her the mire of gifts and wooing of importunate lovers, because perhaps—and even without perhaps—she may not have enough natural virtue and strength that she can, all by herself, overcome and avoid these impediments, which have to be taken away and replaced by the purity of virtue and beauty, for a good reputation embraces these qualities.
“The good woman is also like a mirror of clear and shining crystal, but is subject to being tarnished and dulled by every breath that touches it. A chaste women should be treated like relics—adored but not touched. The good woman should be kept and esteemed in the same way one keeps and esteems a garden filled with flowers and roses, whose owner doesn’t allow anyone to traipse through it or touch the blooms. It’s enough that, from a distance and through the iron grating, its fragrance and beauty is enjoyed. Finally, I want to recite some verses to you that have just come to mind that I heard in a modern play, and that, it seems to me, apply to what we’re talking about. A prudent old man was giving advice to another, the father of a maiden, to lock her up, watch over her, and keep her secluded, and among other arguments, he used these:
“Everything I’ve said up to now, Anselmo, has been what has to do with you, and now I should say something that regards me, and if I’m longwinded, pardon me, because the labyrinth that you’ve entered and from which you want me to extricate you requires it. You want me as a friend and yet you want to take away my honor, something that is contrary to friendship; and in addition to that, you also are trying to fix it so I’ll take away your honor. That you want to take away my honor is obvious since when Camila sees me trying to woo her as you ask, it’s certain she’ll take me for a man without honor and badly thought of, since I’d be trying to do something very contrary to what I am and what your friendship demands. That you want me to take away your own honor, there is no doubt, because when Camila sees that I’m pressing suit on her, she’ll think that I’ve found something frivolous in her that makes me bold enough to reveal my base desire to her, and since she’ll consider herself dishonored, her dishonor will reflect on you. And from there arises what commonly happens: the husband whose wife is adulterous—even though he knows nothing about it, nor has he given any reason to be unfaithful, nor has it been in his power to prevent his humiliation by care and prudence—people will still consider him reproachful and vile, and to a certain extent he’s looked upon by those who know of his wife’s depravity with eyes of contempt rather than compassion, even though they see his misfortune is not his fault, but rather due to the lewdness of his guilty wife.
“But I’ll tell you why with good reason the husband of the bad woman is dishonored, even though he doesn’t know that she’s bad nor is he to blame, nor has had anything to do with it, nor has given any cause for her bad behavior. And don’t get tired of listening, because everything I say will redound to your advantage. When God created our first father in the earthly paradise, Holy Scripture says that God made Adam go to sleep and He took a rib from his left side from which He made our mother Eve. And as soon as Adam woke up and saw her, he said: ‘This is flesh of my flesh and bone of my bones.’ And God said: ‘For this woman a man will leave his father and mother, and the two will be the same flesh.’ And then the divine sacrament of marriage was instituted, with such ties that only death can undo. This miraculous sacrament has such force and power that it makes two different persons to be of the same flesh. And more so in the case of those who are happily married, for even though they have two souls, they have only one will. So it follows that since the flesh of the wife is the same as that of her husband, any disgraces that come to her, of the injuries that she procured for herself, fall upon the flesh of the husband, even though he, as has been said, has given no cause for the wickedness. As the pain of the foot or of any other part of the human body, is felt by the whole body, because it’s all one flesh, and the head feels the pain in the ankle without having caused it, so the husband is a participant in the dishonor of the wife since he’s one with her. And since all worldly honors and dishonors derive from and are born of flesh and blood, as those of the adulterous woman are, the husband will share in them and is considered dishonored, even though he’s not aware of it.
“So, beware, Anselmo, of the danger in which you’re putting yourself by wanting to disturb the peaceful life of your wife. Reflect how, on account of this futile and ill-advised curiosity, you want to rouse the passions that now lie dormant in the heart of your chaste wife. Be advised that you cannot gain very much but you can lose so much that I’ll leave it unexpressed, not having the right words to describe it. But if everything I’ve said is not enough to turn you away from your vile purpose, you can try to find another means for your dishonor and misfortune, because I’ll not consent to it, though I risk losing your friendship, which is the greatest loss I can imagine.”
After he said this, the virtuous and wise Lotario stopped talking, and Anselmo was so troubled and deep in thought, that for a good while he couldn’t say a single word, but he finally said: “You’ve seen how carefully I’ve listened to everything you’ve tried to tell me, Lotario, my friend, and through your words, examples, and comparisons I’ve seen the great intelligence you have and the extent your true friendship has reached, and I see and confess as well that if I don’t follow your advice and I do what I want to, I’m fleeing from what’s good and am chasing after what’s bad. Having said this, you must consider that I’m suffering from a sickness some women have, where their craving causes them to eat dirt, plaster, coal, and other worse things, revolting to look at, and much more so to eat. Help me to be cured, and this can be easily done if only you would just begin to court Camila, even in a lukewarm and feigned way. She won’t be so frail as to surrender her virtue at the first encounter, and with this beginning I’ll be content, and you’ll have done what our friendship calls for, not only restoring my life, but convincing me my honor is intact. You’re obliged to do this for just one reason, and that is since I’m as determined as I am to do this test, you mustn’t allow me to tell my folly to someone else, because that would risk the honor that you’re striving for me not to lose, and if your honor should suffer in the opinion of Camila while you’re courting her, it matters little or not at all, since very soon, when you see in her the integrity we expect, you’ll be able to tell her the pure truth about our stratagem, so she can recover her former high esteem of you. And since you’re venturing so little and you can make me so happy by initiating it, don’t refuse to do it, even though further difficulties present themselves, since, as I told you, just by initiating it, I’ll consider the whole thing concluded.”
When Lotario saw the determination of Anselmo, and not knowing what other examples to tell him so he wouldn’t follow through, and seeing that he threatened to confide his damaging scheme to another person, in order to avoid a greater injury, he resolved to gratify him and do what he asked, intending to guide the affair so as to satisfy Anselmo without corrupting the mind of Camila. So he told him not to communicate his thought to anyone else, and that he would undertake the task himself, and would begin as soon as Anselmo pleased. Anselmo embraced him warmly and affectionately, and thanked him for his offer, as if he’d done him an enormous favor. The two agreed that the very next day they would begin the undertaking, and that Anselmo would give Lotario time and opportunity so he could speak alone with Camila, and he would also give him money and jewelry to give to her. He also suggested to him that he provide music for her and that he write verses in her praise—and if Lotario didn’t want to take the trouble to write them, Anselmo would compose them himself. Lotario agreed to everything, but with a much different intention from what Anselmo supposed.
And with this understanding, they returned to Anselmo’s house where they found Camila anxious and fretful, awaiting her husband, who arrived later than usual. Lotario returned to his house, and Anselmo remained at home, as contented in his mind as Lotario was troubled in his, not knowing what plan he could use to get out of that ill-advised business unscathed. But that night he thought of a way he could deceive Anselmo without offending Camila. The next day he went to eat dinner with his friend, and was welcomed by Camila, who treated him very cordially since she understood that was what her husband wanted.
When dinner was finished and the tablecloth removed, Anselmo told Lotario he should stay with Camila while he attended to some pressing matter, and he would return in an hour and a half. Camila begged him not to go, and Lotario volunteered to go with him, but it was of no avail with Anselmo, who insisted that he stay and wait for him since he had a very important matter to discuss with him. He also told Camila not to leave Lotario alone until he came back. In short, he pretended the need (or foolishness) of his absence so well that no one could tell it was just invented. Anselmo went away, and Camila and Lotario stayed at the table since the household staff had gone off to eat. Lotario found himself on the point of this duel, as his friend had wanted, and facing an opponent who by her beauty alone could conquer a squadron of knights in full armor, you can see he had good reason to be afraid.
But what he did was just to put his elbow on the arm of the chair and his open hand on his cheek, and, asking Camila’s pardon for his bad manners, said he wanted to have a rest while he waited for Anselmo to return. Camila told him that he’d rest better in the drawing room than on the chair, and begged him to go in and sleep there. Lotario refused, and there he remained asleep until Anselmo returned, who, finding Camila in her room and Lotario sleeping, thought that, since he’d delayed so long, there would have been time for the two of them to talk and for Lotario to have a rest, and he could hardly wait for Lotario to wake up so that he could accompany him home and talk about his undertaking.
Everything turned out as Anselmo wanted. Lotario woke up and the two left the house, and Anselmo asked him what he was anxious to find out. Lotario responded that it seemed to him that he shouldn’t reveal everything the first time, so he just praised Camila for her beauty, telling her that in the city people talked of nothing but her beauty and intelligence, and this seemed to him to be a good way to get in her good graces and make her willing to listen to him the next time, thus using the trick the devil uses when he wants to deceive someone who is already wary about looking out for himself, changing himself from the angel of darkness into the angel of light and putting forth a good appearance, so that when he finally reveals who he is, he gets his way, if his deceit is not found out at the beginning. All this pleased Anselmo, and he told Lotario that he would give him the same opportunity every day, although he wouldn’t leave the house, because in it he would find things to do so Camila wouldn’t come to know his deception.
It happened, then, that many days went by and Lotario, without uttering a single word to Camila, responded to Anselmo that he’d talked with her but had never been able to draw the slightest indication of any dishonorable intention, not even a sign of the shadow of hope. On the contrary, he said that she threatened him that if he didn’t cease his sinful idea, she would be forced to tell her husband.
“So far, so good,” said Anselmo. “Up to now Camila has resisted your words, so we need to show how she resists actions. Tomorrow I’ll give you two thousand escudos in gold to offer her, and even to give her, and an equal amount so you can buy jewelry to excite her passion—for women, no matter how chaste they are, if they’re pretty, they’re fond of dressing well and being fashionable. And if she resists this temptation, I’ll be satisfied, and I won’t bother you anymore.”
Lotario responded that since he’d begun it, he would carry through, although he thought he would come out of it weary and exhausted. The next day he got the four thousand escudos, and with them four hundred thousand perplexities, because he didn’t know how to lie once again, but he finally resolved to tell him that Camila was as firm against gifts as she was against words, and there was no further reason to bother anymore, for all this time was spent in vain.
But Fortune guided matters differently and arranged it so that once Anselmo left Lotario and Camila alone, as on other occasions, he locked himself in a room, and stayed there looking and listening to what went on between them through the keyhole, and he saw that for more than half an hour Lotario didn’t say a word to Camila, nor would he have uttered a word if he’d stayed there half a century. Anselmo then concluded that everything his friend had told him about the answers of Camila was fabrication and lies. And to find out if this was the case, he left the room, called Lotario over, and asked what news there was and what Camila’s disposition was. Lotario responded that he didn’t want to persist anymore in that affair because she reacted so sharply and bitterly, that he had no heart to say anything else to her.
“Ah!” said Anselmo, “Lotario, Lotario, you’ve not fulfilled your part of the bargain even though I put all my trust in you. I was looking at you through the keyhole and I saw that you didn’t say a word to Camila, which makes me believe that you haven’t told her anything yet, and if this is the case—which it must be—why are you deceiving me? Or, why do you want to deprive me of the means I would use to satisfy my longing?”
Anselmo said no more, but what he’d already said was enough to fill Lotario with shame and confusion, and taking his being caught in a lie as a point of honor, he swore to Anselmo that from that moment, he would take upon himself to satisfy him without further deception, as he would see if he chose to spy on them again; but it wouldn’t be necessary to take the trouble, because what he planned to do to satisfy him would remove all suspicion. Anselmo believed him, and to give him an opportunity that was more secure and free of interruption, he resolved to be absent from his house for a week by going to a friend’s house in a village not far from the city. He arranged for his friend to send for him urgently so that he would have an excuse for his departure.
Unhappy, short-sighted Anselmo! What are you doing? What are you planning? What are you engineering? Watch out what you’re doing to yourself, plotting your own dishonor and devising your own ruination. Your wife, Camila, is good and you possess her in peace and quiet—no one tampers with your happiness, her thoughts don’t leave the walls of your house, you’re her heaven on earth, the object of her wishes, the fulfillment of her desires, and the yardstick by which she measures her will, adjusting it to your own and to that of heaven. So if the mine of her honor, beauty, virtue, and modesty gives to you, without toil, all the wealth it has, and all you could want, why do you want to dig further into the earth and look for new veins and unseen treasure, risking the collapse of it all, because it rests on the feeble supports of its weak nature? Think for a moment that he who looks for what is impossible may be justly denied what is possible, as a poet better expressed it, saying:
Anselmo went to the village leaving instructions with Camila that the whole time he was to be away Lotario was to come to look after the house and to eat dinner with her, and that she should treat him as she would himself. The order that her husband left with her distressed her, as a discreet and honored woman, and she told him he should remember it was not proper when he was not present, for anyone else to occupy his chair at dinner, and if he was doing it for lack of confidence that she would be able to manage his house, he should let her try this time, and he would see that she was up to greater responsibilities. Anselmo replied it was his pleasure to have it so, and she had only to submit and obey. Camila said she would do it, but against her will.
Anselmo went away, and the next day Lotario came to his house, where he was received by Camila with a warm and modest welcome. She never put herself in a position where Lotario saw her alone because she was always surrounded by her male and female servants, especially a handmaid of hers named Leonela, to whom she was greatly attached because they had grown up together in the home of Camila’s parents, and when she married Anselmo, she brought her along. In the first three days Lotario didn’t say anything to her, although he could easily have when the tablecloth was removed and the servants went off to eat their dinner as quickly as they could, because those were Camila’s orders. And Leonela was told to eat before Camila did, and never leave her side, but the girl had her own thoughts and ideas, and needed those hours and that opportunity for her own pleasure, and didn’t always obey her mistress’s commands. Sometimes she left them alone, as if they had ordered her to do so. But the virtuous presence of Camila, the seriousness in her face, the composure of her person were such that they restrained Lotario’s tongue. But the influence that the many virtues of Camila exerted in imposing silence on Lotario’s tongue proved mischievous for them both, because if his tongue was silent, his thoughts roamed, and he had the opportunity to contemplate, part by part, the perfections of goodness and beauty that Camila had, enough to cause a marble statue to fall in love with her, much less a heart of flesh and blood.
Lotario looked at her when he was speaking to her and he considered how worthy she was of being loved, and this consideration began to chip away at the allegiance he owed Anselmo. A thousand times he wanted to leave the city so Anselmo would never see him again and he would equally not see Camila, but the pleasure he got by looking at her made him hesitate and held him fast. He struggled and fought with himself to get rid of and repress the enjoyment he got by contemplating her. When he was alone, he blamed himself for his foolishness, he called himself a bad friend, and even a bad Christian. He argued the matter and compared himself with Anselmo, always concluding that the folly and rashness of Anselmo were greater than his own infidelity, and if he only had an excuse before God as well as men for what he intended to do, he wouldn’t fear punishment for his offense.
In short, the beauty and goodness of Camila, together with the opportunity the stupid husband had placed in his hands, overthrew Lotario’s loyalty, and without caring about anything else except the pleasure to which his inclinations were leading him, at the end of three days of Anselmo’s absence, in which he was in a continual battle to resist his temptations, he began to woo Camila with so much intensity and with such loving words that Camila was stunned, and could only rise from her place and go into her room without answering a word. But his hopes were not diminished by her abruptness, for hope is always borne with love, and he only prized her more. She, having seen in Lotario what she never would have suspected, didn’t know what to do. And since she thought it wouldn’t be safe or seemly to give him another opportunity to speak to her, she resolved to send a servant of hers that very night with a message for Anselmo, and it began with these words: