In spite of this, the marquis did not yet believe in the constancy and fidelity of his wife, and about sixteen years after their marriage he resolved to put her to a test.

“Woman,” he said, “I am going to take another wife.  I shall send you back to your father’s cottage in the same state as I brought you from it, and choose a young lady of my own rank in life.”

With the utmost difficulty Griselda kept back her tears, and humbly consented to be divorced.  The marquis stripped her of her fine raiment, and sent her back to her father’s hut dressed in a smock.  Her husband then gave it out that he was about to espouse the daughter of the Count of Panago; and, sending for Griselda, he said: 

“I am about to bring home my new bride, but I have no woman with me to set out the rooms and order the ceremony.  As you are well acquainted with the government of my palace, I wish you to act as mistress for a day or two.  Get everything in order, and invite what ladies you will to the festival.  When the marriage is over, you must return to your father’s hut.”

These words pierced like daggers to the heart of Griselda.  She was unable to part with her love for her husband as easily as she had parted with her high rank and great fortune.

“My lord,” said Griselda, “I swore that I would be obedient to you, and I am ready to fulfil all your commands.”

She went into the palace in her coarse attire and worked with the servants, sweeping the rooms and cleaning the furniture.  After this was done, she invited all the ladies in the country to come to the festival.  And on the day appointed for the marriage she received them, still clad in her coarse attire, but with smiling and gentle looks.  At dinner-time the marquis arrived with his new lady—­who was indeed a very beautiful girl.  After presenting her to all the guests, many of whom congratulated him on making so good an exchange, he said, with a smile, to Griselda: 

“What do you think of my bride?”

“My lord,” she replied, “I like her extremely well.  If she is as wise as she is fair, you may be the happiest man in the world with her.  But I very humbly beg that you will not take with this lady the same heart-breaking measures you took with your last wife, because she is young and tenderly educated, while the other was from a child used to hardship.

“Pardon me!  Pardon me!  Pardon me!” said the marquis.  “I know I have tried you harshly, Griselda.  But I did not believe in the goodness and constancy of woman, and I would not believe in them until you proved me in the wrong.  Let me restore, in one sweet minute, all the happiness that I have spent years in taking away from you.  This young lady, my dear Griselda, is your daughter and mine!  And look!  Here is our son waiting behind her.”

He led Griselda, weeping for joy, to her children.  Then all the ladies in the hall rose up from the tables, and taking Griselda into a chamber, they clothed her in fine and noble raiment, and stayed with her many days, feasting and rejoicing.  And the marquis sent for Griselda’s father, the poor shepherd, and gave him a suite of rooms in the palace, where he lived in great happiness with his daughter and his grandchildren and his noble son-in-law.