Now such being the enamoured lady’s constant practice, it so befell that the dishonoured husband took note that, while she egged him on to drink, she herself drank never a drop; whereby he came to suspect the truth, to wit, that the lady was making him drunk, that afterwards she might take her pleasure while he slept.  And being minded to put his surmise to the proof, one evening, having drunken nought all day, he mimicked never so drunken a sot both in speech and in carriage.  The lady, deeming him to be really as he appeared, and that ’twas needless to ply him with liquor, presently put him to bed.  Which done, she, as she at times was wont, hied her forth to her lover’s house, where she tarried until midnight.  Tofano no sooner perceived that his wife was gone, than up he got, hied him to the door, locked it, and then posted himself at the window to observe her return, and let her know that he was ware of her misconduct.  So there he stood until the lady returned, and finding herself locked out, was annoyed beyond measure, and sought to force the door open.  Tofano let her try her strength upon it a while, and then:—­“Madam,” quoth he, “’tis all to no purpose:  thou canst not get in.  Go get thee back thither where thou hast tarried all this while, and rest assured that thou shalt never recross this threshold, until I have done thee such honour as is meet for thee in the presence of thy kinsfolk and neighbours.”  Thereupon the lady fell entreating him to be pleased to open to her for the love of God, for that she was not come whence he supposed, but had only been passing the time with one of her gossips, because the nights were long, and she could not spend the whole time either in sleep or in solitary watching.  But her supplications availed her nothing, for the fool was determined that all Arezzo should know their shame, whereof as yet none wist aught.  So as ’twas idle to entreat, the lady assumed a menacing tone, saying:—­“So thou open not to me, I will make thee the saddest man alive.”  Whereto Tofano made answer:—­“And what then canst thou do?” The lady, her wits sharpened by Love, rejoined:—­“Rather than endure the indignity to which thou wouldst unjustly subject me, I will cast myself into the well hard by here, and when I am found dead there, all the world will believe that ’twas thou that didst it in thy cups, and so thou wilt either have to flee and lose all that thou hast and be outlawed, or forfeit thy head as guilty of my death, as indeed thou wilt be.”  But, for all she said, Tofano wavered not a jot in his foolish purpose.  So at last:—­“Lo, now,” quoth the lady, “I can no more abide thy surly humour:  God forgive thee:  I leave thee my distaff here, which be careful to bestow in a safe place.”  So saying, away she hied her to the well, and, the night being so dark that wayfarers could scarce see one another as they passed, she took up a huge stone that was by the well, and ejaculating, “God forgive me!” dropped it therein.  Tofano, hearing the mighty splash