I alone should be the loser, for nought would ever be heard of it, so that they would escape scot-free.  Or how know I but that ’tis some machination of one of my ill-wishers, whom perchance she loves, and is therefore minded to abet?  And again quoth he to himself:—­But allowing that ’tis neither the one nor the other, and that her kinsmen are really to carry me to her house, I scarce believe that ’tis either that they would fain embrace Scannadio’s corpse themselves, or let her do so:  rather it must be that they have a mind to perpetrate some outrage upon it, for that, perchance, he once did them an evil turn.  She bids me say never a word, no matter what I may hear or be otherwise ware of.  Suppose they were to pluck out my eyes, or my teeth, or cut off my hands, or treat me to some other horse-play of the like sort, how then? how could I keep quiet?  And if I open my mouth, they will either recognize me, and perchance do me a mischief, or, if they spare me, I shall have been at pains for nought, for they will not leave me with the lady, and she will say that I disobeyed her command, and I shall never have aught of her favours.

As thus he communed with himself, he was on the point of turning back; but his overmastering love plied him with opposing arguments of such force that he kept on his way, and reached the tomb; which having opened, he entered, and after stripping Scannadio, and wrapping himself in the grave-clothes, closed it, and laid himself down in Scannadio’s place.  He then fell a thinking of the dead man, and his manner of life, and the things which he had heard tell of as happening by night, and in other less appalling places than the houses of the dead; whereby all the hairs of his head stood on end, and he momently expected Scannadio to rise and cut his throat.  However, the ardour of his love so fortified him that he overcame these and all other timorous apprehensions, and lay as if he were dead, awaiting what should betide him.

Towards midnight Rinuccio, bent likewise upon fulfilling his lady’s behest, sallied forth of his house, revolving as he went divers forebodings of possible contingencies, as that, having Scannadio’s corpse upon his shoulders, he might fall into the hands of the Signory, and be condemned to the fire as a wizard, or that, should the affair get wind, it might embroil him with his kinsfolk, or the like, which gave him pause.  But then with a revulsion of feeling:—­ Shall I, quoth he to himself, deny this lady, whom I so much have loved and love, the very first thing that she asks of me?  And that too when I am thereby to win her favour?  No, though ’twere as much as my life is worth, far be it from me to fail of keeping my word.  So on he fared, and arrived at the tomb, which he had no difficulty in opening, and being entered, laid hold of Alessandro, who, though in mortal fear, had given no sign of life, by the feet, and dragged him forth, and having hoisted him on to his shoulders, bent his steps towards the lady’s