she dwelt, which is called Avorio, being scarce inhabited, was to come into the house as soon as her husband was well out of it; and so times not a few they did.  But on one of these occasions it befell that, the good man being gone forth, and Giannello Sirignario—­such was the gallant’s name—­being come into the house, and being with Peronella, after a while, back came the good man, though ’twas not his wont to return until the day was done; and finding the door locked, he knocked, and after knocking, he fell a saying to himself:—­O God, praised be Thy name forever; for that, albeit Thou hast ordained that I be poor, at least Thou hast accorded me the consolation of a good and honest girl for wife.  Mark what haste she made to shut the door when I was gone forth, that none else might enter to give her trouble.

Now Peronella knew by his knock that ’twas her husband; wherefore:—­“Alas, Giannello mine,” quoth she, “I am a dead woman, for lo, here is my husband, foul fall him! come back!  What it may import, I know not, for he is never wont to come back at this hour; perchance he caught sight of thee as thou camest in.  However, for the love of God, be it as it may, get thee into this tun that thou seest here, and I will go open to him, and we shall see what is the occasion of this sudden return this morning.”  So Giannello forthwith got into the tun, and Peronella went to the door, and let in her husband, and gave him black looks, saying:—­“This is indeed a surprise that thou art back so soon this morning!  By what I see thou hast a mind to make this a holiday, that thou returnest tools in hand; if so, what are we to live on? whence shall we get bread to eat?  Thinkest thou I will let thee pawn my gown and other bits of clothes?  Day and night I do nought else but spin, insomuch that the flesh is fallen away from my nails, that at least I may have oil enough to keep our lamp alight.  Husband, husband, there is never a woman in the neighbourhood but marvels and mocks at me, that I am at such labour and pains; and thou comest home to me with thy hands hanging idle, when thou shouldst be at work.”  Which said, she fell a weeping and repeating:—­“Alas, alas, woe ’s me, in what evil hour was I born? in what luckless moment came I hither, I, that might have had so goodly a young man, and I would not, to take up with one that bestows never a thought on her whom he has made his wife?  Other women have a good time with their lovers, and never a one have we here but has two or three; they take their pleasure, and make their husbands believe that the moon is the sun; and I, alas! for that I am an honest woman, and have no such casual amours, I suffer, and am hard bested.  I know not why I provide not myself with one of these lovers, as others do.  Give good heed, husband, to what I say:  were I disposed to dishonour thee, I were at no loss to find the man:  for here are gallants enough, that love me, and court me, and have sent me many an offer of money—­no stint—­or dresses or jewels, should I prefer them; but my pride would never suffer it, because I was not born of a woman of that sort:  and now thou comest home to me when thou oughtest to be at work.”