she will follow thee forthwith, and do whatever thou shalt wish.  Wherefore, should Filippo go abroad to-day, get thee somehow up to her, and touch her; and then go into the barn that is hereby—­’tis the best place we have, for never a soul goes there—­and thou wilt see that she will come there too.  When she is there, thou wottest well what to do.”  Calandrino, overjoyed as ne’er another, took the scroll, saying only:—­“Comrade, leave that to me.”

Now Nello, whom Calandrino mistrusted, entered with no less zest than the others into the affair, and was their confederate for Calandrino’s discomfiture; accordingly by Bruno’s direction he hied to Florence, and finding Monna Tessa:—­“Thou hast scarce forgotten, Tessa,” quoth he, “what a beating Calandrino gave thee, without the least cause, that day when he came home with the stones from Mugnone; for which I would have thee be avenged, and, so thou wilt not, call me no more kinsman or friend.  He is fallen in love with a lady up there, who is abandoned enough to go closeting herself not seldom with him, and ’tis but a short while since they made assignation to forgather forthwith:  so I would have thee go there, and surprise him in the act, and give him a sound trouncing.”  Which when the lady heard, she deemed it no laughing matter; but started up and broke out with:—­“Alas, the arrant knave! is’t thus he treats me?  By the Holy Rood, never fear but I will pay him out!” And wrapping herself in her cloak, and taking a young woman with her for companion, she sped more at a run than at a walk, escorted by Nello, up to Camerata.  Bruno, espying her from afar, said to Filippo:—­“Lo, here comes our friend.”  Whereupon Filippo went to the place where Calandrino and the others were at work, and said:—­“My masters, I must needs go at once to Florence; slacken not on that account.”  And so off he went, and hid himself where, unobserved, he might see what Calandrino would do.  Calandrino waited only until he saw that Filippo was at some distance, and then he went down into the courtyard, where he found Niccolosa alone, and fell a talking with her.  She, knowing well what she had to do, drew close to him, and shewed him a little more familiarity than she was wont:  whereupon Calandrino touched her with the scroll, and having so done, saying never a word, bent his steps towards the barn, whither Niccolosa followed him, and being entered, shut the door, and forthwith embraced him, threw him down on the straw that lay there, and got astride of him, and holding him fast by the arms about the shoulders, suffered him not to approach his face to hers, but gazing upon him, as if he were the delight of her heart:—­“O Calandrino, sweet my Calandrino,” quoth she, “heart of my body, my very soul, my bliss, my consolation, ah! how long have I yearned to hold thee in my arms and have thee all my own!  Thy endearing ways have utterly disarmed me; thou hast made prize of my heart with thy rebeck.  Do I indeed hold thee in mine embrace?” Calandrino, scarce able to move, murmured:—­“Ah! sweet my soul, suffer me to kiss thee.”  Whereto:—­“Nay, but thou art too hasty,” replied Niccolosa.  “Let me first feast mine eyes on thee; let me but sate them with this sweet face of thine.”