SignUp for the Classics Club
Mon  Tue  Wed  Thu  Fri   Book Info

CHAPTER ONE

Calisto ran into the garden in pursuit of his falcon, saw Melibea and immediately felt love stirring.

'Melibea, I look at you and see why God is great.'

'Why, Calisto?'

'Because he let nature endow you with such perfect beauty, and granted a mere mortal like me the chance to meet you in this timely spot and declare my secret yearning. My good fortune goes far beyond any pledges, sacrifice, devotion or pious works I ever offered God to this end. What man's body was blessed in this life as mine is now? The holy saints' bliss when enjoying the vision of the divine is surely less than mine when I gaze at you. The abyss separating us is that they glory in it and never fear their bliss will fade whereas my happiness walks in the shadow of the insidious torture inflicted by your absence.

'Have you really been granted so much, Calisto?'

I'm sure of that. I couldn't be happier if God had given me pride of place among his saints in heaven.'

'Well, you'll get an even greater reward from me, if you don't stop.'

'My ears are blessed to hear those words on your lips!'

'They'll feel less than blessed when you hear what I'm about to say, because you're about to get the reward your rash words deserve. Why do you scheme to bring ruin upon yourself by pursuing a virtuous woman like me? Be gone, you selfish fool. I can't bear to think a man felt it right in his heart to tell me of the delights of forbidden love.'

'I leave devastated by this cruel twist in my fortunes.'

*      *      *

'Sempronio, Sempronio, where the hell are you, Sempronio?'

'I'm here, Master Calisto, I've been seeing to the horses.'

'In that case, why do you come from the dining-room?'

'The falcon fell off its perch and someone had to put it back.'

'The devil take you. I hope you die a violent death followed by perpetual torture that's even more painful. Off to my bedroom, sly wretch, and make my bed!'

'Right away, master. Right away.'

Now shut my window and let darkness accompany this sad, blinded soul! My disappointment doesn't deserve to see the light of day. Death that gives relief to sorrow is so welcome. If those doctors of old, Galen and Crato, came back now, they'd soon diagnose my illness! I beg the heavens to take pity on me and encourage her father, Pleberio, not to send my spirit, now wandering and terminally sick, to join the wretched souls of Piramis and hapless Thisbe!'

'What are you talking about, master?'

'Clear off! Don't talk to me! Or my hands will throttle you before rage kills me.'

'I'll be off then as you prefer to suffer on your own.'

'Yes, I do. And the devil go with you!'

*      *      *

'He'll more likely stay here and not come with me. Such bad luck! And all so sudden! What setback has so quickly blighted my master's good fortune, and, worse still, addled his brain? Should I let him be or should I go in? If I let him be, he'll kill himself. If I go in, he'll kill me. I'll stay put. Why should I worry? Let him die if he's so fed up with life. Why should I die? I'm having too much of a good time. I live to see my Elicia and I should keep out of harm's way. But if he dies and I'm the only witness, I'll be the one the law will call in to make a statement. I should go in. Though if I do, he won't want any sympathy or advice from me. It's bad enough he doesn't want a cure. I should let him come to his senses by himself. As people say, lancing ripe boils is a recipe for disaster. Let him wallow. Let him weep. A good weep and sigh soothes the sorrowing heart. If I'm with him, he'll get angrier and angrier, because the sun loves to shine when it sees a chink in the clouds. Eyes ache when they see nothing and brighten only when something shows on the horizon. I'll bide my time. If he kills himself, too bad. I might be better off. You never know. Still it's wrong to put all your hopes in someone else's death. The devil may even be setting me a trap, and if he dies, they'll kill me, and that'll be goodbye to all this. On the other hand, wise men say that if the lovesick can talk through their sorrows, relief is round the corner, and that a pain repressed hurts twice as much. I'm caught between two extremes. The sensible thing would be to go in, placate and console him. He might sort himself out, but a little of my knowledge won't do him any harm.'

*      *      *

Mon  Tue  Wed  Thu  Fri   Book Info