“Recall thy sentence.  This person is innocent; I killed the man!”

Gisippus turned round in astonishment, and seeing Titus, he concluded that he was trying to save him for friendship’s sake.  But he was determined that he would not accept the sacrifice.

“Do not believe him, sir.  I was the murderer.  Let the punishment fall on me,” he said to the judge.

The judge was amazed to see two men contending for the torture of crucifixion with as much eagerness as if it had been the highest honour in the world; and suddenly a notorious thief, who had been standing in the court, came forward and made this surprising declaration: 

“This strange debate has so moved me that I will confess everything,” he said.  “You cannot believe, sir, that either of these men committed the murder.  What should a man of the rank and wealth of Titus have to do in a thieves’ cavern?  He was never there.  But this poor, ragged stranger was sleeping in a corner when I and my fellow entered.  Thieves, you know, sometimes fall out, especially over their booty.  This was what happened last night; and, to put an end to the quarrel, I used a knife.”

The appearance of a third self-accuser so perplexed the judge that he put the case before Octavius Caesar, and Caesar called the three men up before him.  Thereupon Titus and Gisippus related to him at length the strange story of their friendship, and he set the two friends at liberty, and even pardoned the thief for their sakes.

Titus then took Gisippus to his house and forced him to accept a half of his great wealth, and married him to his sister Fulvia, a very charming and lovely young noblewoman.

For the rest of their lives Titus and Sophronia, and Gisippus and Fulvia, lived very happily together in the same palace in Rome, and every day added something to their contentment and felicity.

The Three Rings:  A Tale of Ingenuity

It was now Neifile’s turn to tell a story, and she said that as there had been much controversy at Florence during the plague concerning religion, this had put her in mind of the tale of Melchizedeck.

This man was a very rich Jew, who lived at Alexandria in the reign of great Sultan Saladin.  Saladin, being much impoverished by his wars, had a mind to rob Melchizedeck.  In order to get a pretext for plundering the Jew, he sent for him.

“I hear that thou art very wise in religious matters,” said Saladin, “and I wish to know which religion thou judgest to be the true one—­the Jewish, the Mohammedan, or the Christian?”

The Jew saw that Saladin wanted to trap him.  If he said that the Jewish or the Christian faith was the true one, he would be condemned as an infidel.  If, on the other hand, he agreed that the Mohammedan religion was preferable to the others, the sultan would say that a wealthy believer ought to contribute largely to the expenses of the state.  After considering how best to avoid the snare, the wise Jew replied: