In Florence, a rich and famous city of Italy in the province called Tuscany, there lived two gentlemen of wealth and quality, Anselmo and Lothario, such great friends that by way of distinction they were called by all that knew them “The Two Friends.” They were unmarried, young, of the same age and of the same tastes, which was enough to account for the reciprocal friendship between them. Anselmo, it is true, was somewhat more inclined to seek pleasure in love than Lothario, for whom the pleasures of the chase had more attraction; but on occasion Anselmo would forego his own tastes to yield to those of Lothario, and Lothario would surrender his to fall in with those of Anselmo, and in this way their inclinations kept pace one with the other with a concord so perfect that the best regulated clock could not surpass it.
Anselmo was deep in love with a high-born and beautiful maiden of the same city, the daughter of parents so estimable, and so estimable herself, that he resolved, with the approval of his friend Lothario, without whom he did nothing, to ask her of them in marriage, and did so, Lothario being the bearer of the demand, and conducting the negotiation so much to the satisfaction of his friend that in a short time he was in possession of the object of his desires, and Camilla so happy in having won Anselmo for her husband, that she gave thanks unceasingly to heaven and to Lothario, by whose means such good fortune had fallen to her. The first few days, those of a wedding being usually days of merry-making, Lothario frequented his friend Anselmo’s house as he had been wont, striving to do honour to him and to the occasion, and to gratify him in every way he could; but when the wedding days were over and the succession of visits and congratulations had slackened, he began purposely to leave off going to the house of Anselmo, for it seemed to him, as it naturally would to all men of sense, that friends’ houses ought not to be visited after marriage with the same frequency as in their masters’ bachelor days: because, though true and genuine friendship cannot and should not be in any way suspicious, still a married man’s honour is a thing of such delicacy that it is held liable to injury from brothers, much more from friends. Anselmo remarked the cessation of Lothario’s visits, and complained of it to him, saying that if he had known that marriage was to keep him from enjoying his society as he used, he would have never married; and that, if by the thorough harmony that subsisted between them while he was a bachelor they had earned such a sweet name as that of “The Two Friends,” he should not allow a title so rare and so delightful to be lost through a needless anxiety to act circumspectly; and so he entreated him, if such a phrase was allowable between them, to be once more master of his house and to come in and go out as formerly, assuring him that his wife Camilla had no other desire or inclination than that which he would wish her to have, and that knowing how sincerely they loved one another she was grieved to see such coldness in him.
To all this and much more that Anselmo said to Lothario to persuade him to come to his house as he had been in the habit of doing, Lothario replied with so much prudence, sense, and judgment, that Anselmo was satisfied of his friend’s good intentions, and it was agreed that on two days in the week, and on holidays, Lothario should come to dine with him; but though this arrangement was made between them Lothario resolved to observe it no further than he considered to be in accordance with the honour of his friend, whose good name was more to him than his own. He said, and justly, that a married man upon whom heaven had bestowed a beautiful wife should consider as carefully what friends he brought to his house as what female friends his wife associated with, for what cannot be done or arranged in the market-place, in church, at public festivals or at stations (opportunities that husbands cannot always deny their wives), may be easily managed in the house of the female friend or relative in whom most confidence is reposed. Lothario said, too, that every married man should have some friend who would point out to him any negligence he might be guilty of in his conduct, for it will sometimes happen that owing to the deep affection the husband bears his wife either he does not caution her, or, not to vex her, refrains from telling her to do or not to do certain things, doing or avoiding which may be a matter of honour or reproach to him; and errors of this kind he could easily correct if warned by a friend. But where is such a friend to be found as Lothario would have, so judicious, so loyal, and so true?
Of a truth I know not; Lothario alone was such a one, for with the utmost care and vigilance he watched over the honour of his friend, and strove to diminish, cut down, and reduce the number of days for going to his house according to their agreement, lest the visits of a young man, wealthy, high-born, and with the attractions he was conscious of possessing, at the house of a woman so beautiful as Camilla, should be regarded with suspicion by the inquisitive and malicious eyes of the idle public. For though his integrity and reputation might bridle slanderous tongues, still he was unwilling to hazard either his own good name or that of his friend; and for this reason most of the days agreed upon he devoted to some other business which he pretended was unavoidable; so that a great portion of the day was taken up with complaints on one side and excuses on the other. It happened, however, that on one occasion when the two were strolling together outside the city, Anselmo addressed the following words to Lothario.
“Thou mayest suppose, Lothario my friend, that I am unable to give sufficient thanks for the favours God has rendered me in making me the son of such parents as mine were, and bestowing upon me with no niggard hand what are called the gifts of nature as well as those of fortune, and above all for what he has done in giving me thee for a friend and Camilla for a wife — two treasures that I value, if not as highly as I ought, at least as highly as I am able. And yet, with all these good things, which are commonly all that men need to enable them to live happily, I am the most discontented and dissatisfied man in the whole world; for, I know not how long since, I have been harassed and oppressed by a desire so strange and so unusual, that I wonder at myself and blame and chide myself when I am alone, and strive to stifle it and hide it from my own thoughts, and with no better success than if I were endeavouring deliberately to publish it to all the world; and as, in short, it must come out, I would confide it to thy safe keeping, feeling sure that by this means, and by thy readiness as a true friend to afford me relief, I shall soon find myself freed from the distress it causes me, and that thy care will give me happiness in the same degree as my own folly has caused me misery.”
The words of Anselmo struck Lothario with astonishment, unable as he was to conjecture the purport of such a lengthy preamble; and though be strove to imagine what desire it could be that so troubled his friend, his conjectures were all far from the truth, and to relieve the anxiety which this perplexity was causing him, he told him he was doing a flagrant injustice to their great friendship in seeking circuitous methods of confiding to him his most hidden thoughts, for be well knew he might reckon upon his counsel in diverting them, or his help in carrying them into effect.
“That is the truth,” replied Anselmo, “and relying upon that I will tell thee, friend Lothario, that the desire which harasses me is that of knowing whether my wife Camilla is as good and as perfect as I think her to be; and I cannot satisfy myself of the truth on this point except by testing her in such a way that the trial may prove the purity of her virtue as the fire proves that of gold; because I am persuaded, my friend, that a woman is virtuous only in proportion as she is or is not tempted; and that she alone is strong who does not yield to the promises, gifts, tears, and importunities of earnest lovers; for what thanks does a woman deserve for being good if no one urges her to be bad, and what wonder is it that she is reserved and circumspect to whom no opportunity is given of going wrong and who knows she has a husband that will take her life the first time he detects her in an impropriety? I do not therefore hold her who is virtuous through fear or want of opportunity in the same estimation as her who comes out of temptation and trial with a crown of victory; and so, for these reasons and many others that I could give thee to justify and support the opinion I hold, I am desirous that my wife Camilla should pass this crisis, and be refined and tested by the fire of finding herself wooed and by one worthy to set his affections upon her; and if she comes out, as I know she will, victorious from this struggle, I shall look upon my good fortune as unequalled, I shall be able to say that the cup of my desire is full, and that the virtuous woman of whom the sage says ‘Who shall find her?’ has fallen to my lot. And if the result be the contrary of what I expect, in the satisfaction of knowing that I have been right in my opinion, I shall bear without complaint the pain which my so dearly bought experience will naturally cause me. And, as nothing of all thou wilt urge in opposition to my wish will avail to keep me from carrying it into effect, it is my desire, friend Lothario, that thou shouldst consent to become the instrument for effecting this purpose that I am bent upon, for I will afford thee opportunities to that end, and nothing shall be wanting that I may think necessary for the pursuit of a virtuous, honourable, modest and high-minded woman. And among other reasons, I am induced to entrust this arduous task to thee by the consideration that if Camilla be conquered by thee the conquest will not be pushed to extremes, but only far enough to account that accomplished which from a sense of honour will be left undone; thus I shall not be wronged in anything more than intention, and my wrong will remain buried in the integrity of thy silence, which I know well will be as lasting as that of death in what concerns me. If, therefore, thou wouldst have me enjoy what can be called life, thou wilt at once engage in this love struggle, not lukewarmly nor slothfully, but with the energy and zeal that my desire demands, and with the loyalty our friendship assures me of.”
Such were the words Anselmo addressed to Lothario, who listened to them with such attention that, except to say what has been already mentioned, he did not open his lips until the other had finished. Then perceiving that he had no more to say, after regarding him for awhile, as one would regard something never before seen that excited wonder and amazement, he said to him, “I cannot persuade myself, Anselmo my friend, that what thou hast said to me is not in jest; if I thought that thou wert speaking seriously I would not have allowed thee to go so far; so as to put a stop to thy long harangue by not listening to thee I verily suspect that either thou dost not know me, or I do not know thee; but no, I know well thou art Anselmo, and thou knowest that I am Lothario; the misfortune is, it seems to me, that thou art not the Anselmo thou wert, and must have thought that I am not the Lothario I should be; for the things that thou hast said to me are not those of that Anselmo who was my friend, nor are those that thou demandest of me what should be asked of the Lothario thou knowest. True friends will prove their friends and make use of them, as a poet has said, usque ad aras; whereby he meant that they will not make use of their friendship in things that are contrary to God’s will. If this, then, was a heathen’s feeling about friendship, how much more should it be a Christian’s , who knows that the divine must not be forfeited for the sake of any human friendship? And if a friend should go so far as to put aside his duty to Heaven to fulfil his duty to his friend, it should not be in matters that are trifling or of little moment, but in such as affect the friend’s life and honour. Now tell me, Anselmo, in which of these two art thou imperilled, that I should hazard myself to gratify thee, and do a thing so detestable as that thou seekest of me? Neither forsooth; on the contrary, thou dost ask of me, so far as I understand, to strive and labour to rob thee of honour and life, and to rob myself of them at the same time; for if I take away thy honour it is plain I take away thy life, as a man without honour is worse than dead; and being the instrument, as thou wilt have it so, of so much wrong to thee, shall not I, too, be left without honour, and consequently without life? Listen to me, Anselmo my friend, and be not impatient to answer me until I have said what occurs to me touching the object of thy desire, for there will be time enough left for thee to reply and for me to hear.”
“Be it so,” said Anselmo, “say what thou wilt.”
Lothario then went on to say, “It seems to me, Anselmo, that thine is just now the temper of mind which is always that of the Moors, who can never be brought to see the error of their creed by quotations from the Holy Scriptures, or by reasons which depend upon the examination of the understanding or are founded upon the articles of faith, but must have examples that are palpable, easy, intelligible, capable of proof, not admitting of doubt, with mathematical demonstrations that cannot be denied, like, ‘If equals be taken from equals, the remainders are equal:’ and if they do not understand this in words, and indeed they do not, it has to be shown to them with the hands, and put before their eyes, and even with all this no one succeeds in convincing them of the truth of our holy religion. This same mode of proceeding I shall have to adopt with thee, for the desire which has sprung up in thee is so absurd and remote from everything that has a semblance of reason, that I feel it would be a waste of time to employ it in reasoning with thy simplicity, for at present I will call it by no other name; and I am even tempted to leave thee in thy folly as a punishment for thy pernicious desire; but the friendship I bear thee, which will not allow me to desert thee in such manifest danger of destruction, keeps me from dealing so harshly by thee. And that thou mayest clearly see this, say, Anselmo, hast thou not told me that I must force my suit upon a modest woman, decoy one that is virtuous, make overtures to one that is pure-minded, pay court to one that is prudent? Yes, thou hast told me so. Then, if thou knowest that thou hast a wife, modest, virtuous, pure-minded and prudent, what is it that thou seekest? And if thou believest that she will come forth victorious from all my attacks — as doubtless she would — what higher titles than those she possesses now dost thou think thou canst upon her then, or in what will she be better then than she is now? Either thou dost not hold her to be what thou sayest, or thou knowest not what thou dost demand. If thou dost not hold her to be what thou why dost thou seek to prove her instead of treating her as guilty in the way that may seem best to thee? but if she be as virtuous as thou believest, it is an uncalled-for proceeding to make trial of truth itself, for, after trial, it will but be in the same estimation as before. Thus, then, it is conclusive that to attempt things from which harm rather than advantage may come to us is the part of unreasoning and reckless minds, more especially when they are things which we are not forced or compelled to attempt, and which show from afar that it is plainly madness to attempt them.
“Difficulties are attempted either for the sake of God or for the sake of the world, or for both; those undertaken for God’s sake are those which the saints undertake when they attempt to live the lives of angels in human bodies; those undertaken for the sake of the world are those of the men who traverse such a vast expanse of water, such a variety of climates, so many strange countries, to acquire what are called the blessings of fortune; and those undertaken for the sake of God and the world together are those of brave soldiers, who no sooner do they see in the enemy’s wall a breach as wide as a cannon ball could make, than, casting aside all fear, without hesitating, or heeding the manifest peril that threatens them, borne onward by the desire of defending their faith, their country, and their king, they fling themselves dauntlessly into the midst of the thousand opposing deaths that await them. Such are the things that men are wont to attempt, and there is honour, glory, gain, in attempting them, however full of difficulty and peril they may be; but that which thou sayest it is thy wish to attempt and carry out will not win thee the glory of God nor the blessings of fortune nor fame among men; for even if the issue he as thou wouldst have it, thou wilt be no happier, richer, or more honoured than thou art this moment; and if it be otherwise thou wilt be reduced to misery greater than can be imagined, for then it will avail thee nothing to reflect that no one is aware of the misfortune that has befallen thee; it will suffice to torture and crush thee that thou knowest it thyself. And in confirmation of the truth of what I say, let me repeat to thee a stanza made by the famous poet Luigi Tansillo at the end of the first part of his ‘Tears of Saint Peter,’ which says thus:
The anguish and the shame but greater grew In Peter’s heart as morning slowly came; No eye was there to see him, well he knew, Yet he himself was to himself a shame; Exposed to all men’s gaze, or screened from view, A noble heart will feel the pang the same; A prey to shame the sinning soul will be, Though none but heaven and earth its shame can see.
Thus by keeping it secret thou wilt not escape thy sorrow, but rather thou wilt shed tears unceasingly, if not tears of the eyes, tears of blood from the heart, like those shed by that simple doctor our poet tells us of, that tried the test of the cup, which the wise Rinaldo, better advised, refused to do; for though this may be a poetic fiction it contains a moral lesson worthy of attention and study and imitation. Moreover by what I am about to say to thee thou wilt be led to see the great error thou wouldst commit.
“Tell me, Anselmo, if Heaven or good fortune had made thee master and lawful owner of a diamond of the finest quality, with the excellence and purity of which all the lapidaries that had seen it had been satisfied, saying with one voice and common consent that in purity, quality, and fineness, it was all that a stone of the kind could possibly be, thou thyself too being of the same belief, as knowing nothing to the contrary, would it be reasonable in thee to desire to take that diamond and place it between an anvil and a hammer, and by mere force of blows and strength of arm try if it were as hard and as fine as they said? And if thou didst, and if the stone should resist so silly a test, that would add nothing to its value or reputation; and if it were broken, as it might be, would not all be lost? Undoubtedly it would, leaving its owner to be rated as a fool in the opinion of all. Consider, then, Anselmo my friend, that Camilla is a diamond of the finest quality as well in thy estimation as in that of others, and that it is contrary to reason to expose her to the risk of being broken; for if she remains intact she cannot rise to a higher value than she now possesses; and if she give way and be unable to resist, bethink thee now how thou wilt be deprived of her, and with what good reason thou wilt complain of thyself for having been the cause of her ruin and thine own. Remember there is no jewel in the world so precious as a chaste and virtuous woman, and that the whole honour of women consists in reputation; and since thy wife’s is of that high excellence that thou knowest, wherefore shouldst thou seek to call that truth in question? Remember, my friend, that woman is an imperfect animal, and that impediments are not to be placed in her way to make her trip and fall, but that they should be removed, and her path left clear of all obstacles, so that without hindrance she may run her course freely to attain the desired perfection, which consists in being virtuous. Naturalists tell us that the ermine is a little animal which has a fur of purest white, and that when the hunters wish to take it, they make use of this artifice. Having ascertained the places which it frequents and passes, they stop the way to them with mud, and then rousing it, drive it towards the spot, and as soon as the ermine comes to the mud it halts, and allows itself to be taken captive rather than pass through the mire, and spoil and sully its whiteness, which it values more than life and liberty. The virtuous and chaste woman is an ermine, and whiter and purer than snow is the virtue of modesty; and he who wishes her not to lose it, but to keep and preserve it, must adopt a course different from that employed with the ermine; he must not put before her the mire of the gifts and attentions of persevering lovers, because perhaps — and even without a perhaps — she may not have sufficient virtue and natural strength in herself to pass through and tread under foot these impediments; they must be removed, and the brightness of virtue and the beauty of a fair fame must be put before her. A virtuous woman, too, is like a mirror, of clear shining crystal, liable to be tarnished and dimmed by every breath that touches it. She must be treated as relics are; adored, not touched. She must be protected and prized as one protects and prizes a fair garden full of roses and flowers, the owner of which allows no one to trespass or pluck a blossom; enough for others that from afar and through the iron grating they may enjoy its fragrance and its beauty. Finally let me repeat to thee some verses that come to my mind; I heard them in a modern comedy, and it seems to me they bear upon the point we are discussing. A prudent old man was giving advice to another, the father of a young girl, to lock her up, watch over her and keep her in seclusion, and among other arguments he used these:
Woman is a thing of glass; But her brittleness ’tis best Not too curiously to test: Who knows what may come to pass?
Breaking is an easy matter, And it’s folly to expose What you cannot mend to blows; What you can’t make whole to shatter.
This, then, all may hold as true, And the reason’s plain to see; For if Danaes there be, There are golden showers too.
“All that I have said to thee so far, Anselmo, has had reference to what concerns thee; now it is right that I should say something of what regards myself; and if I be prolix, pardon me, for the labyrinth into which thou hast entered and from which thou wouldst have me extricate thee makes it necessary.
“Thou dost reckon me thy friend, and thou wouldst rob me of honour, a thing wholly inconsistent with friendship; and not only dost thou aim at this, but thou wouldst have me rob thee of it also. That thou wouldst rob me of it is clear, for when Camilla sees that I pay court to her as thou requirest, she will certainly regard me as a man without honour or right feeling, since I attempt and do a thing so much opposed to what I owe to my own position and thy friendship. That thou wouldst have me rob thee of it is beyond a doubt, for Camilla, seeing that I press my suit upon her, will suppose that I have perceived in her something light that has encouraged me to make known to her my base desire; and if she holds herself dishonoured, her dishonour touches thee as belonging to her; and hence arises what so commonly takes place, that the husband of the adulterous woman, though he may not be aware of or have given any cause for his wife’s failure in her duty, or (being careless or negligent) have had it in his power to prevent his dishonour, nevertheless is stigmatised by a vile and reproachful name, and in a manner regarded with eyes of contempt instead of pity by all who know of his wife’s guilt, though they see that he is unfortunate not by his own fault, but by the lust of a vicious consort. But I will tell thee why with good reason dishonour attaches to the husband of the unchaste wife, though he know not that she is so, nor be to blame, nor have done anything, or given any provocation to make her so; and be not weary with listening to me, for it will be for thy good.
“When God created our first parent in the earthly paradise, the Holy Scripture says that he infused sleep into Adam and while he slept took a rib from his left side of which he formed our mother Eve, and when Adam awoke and beheld her he said, ‘This is flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone.’ And God said ‘For this shall a man leave his father and his mother, and they shall be two in one flesh; and then was instituted the divine sacrament of marriage, with such ties that death alone can loose them. And such is the force and virtue of this miraculous sacrament that it makes two different persons one and the same flesh; and even more than this when the virtuous are married; for though they have two souls they have but one will. And hence it follows that as the flesh of the wife is one and the same with that of her husband the stains that may come upon it, or the injuries it incurs fall upon the husband’s flesh, though he, as has been said, may have given no cause for them; for as the pain of the foot or any member of the body is felt by the whole body, because all is one flesh, as the head feels the hurt to the ankle without having caused it, so the husband, being one with her, shares the dishonour of the wife; and as all worldly honour or dishonour comes of flesh and blood, and the erring wife’s is of that kind, the husband must needs bear his part of it and be held dishonoured without knowing it. See, then, Anselmo, the peril thou art encountering in seeking to disturb the peace of thy virtuous consort; see for what an empty and ill-advised curiosity thou wouldst rouse up passions that now repose in quiet in the breast of thy chaste wife; reflect that what thou art staking all to win is little, and what thou wilt lose so much that I leave it undescribed, not having the words to express it. But if all I have said be not enough to turn thee from thy vile purpose, thou must seek some other instrument for thy dishonour and misfortune; for such I will not consent to be, though I lose thy friendship, the greatest loss that I can conceive.”
Having said this, the wise and virtuous Lothario was silent, and Anselmo, troubled in mind and deep in thought, was unable for a while to utter a word in reply; but at length he said, “I have listened, Lothario my friend, attentively, as thou hast seen, to what thou hast chosen to say to me, and in thy arguments, examples, and comparisons I have seen that high intelligence thou dost possess, and the perfection of true friendship thou hast reached; and likewise I see and confess that if I am not guided by thy opinion, but follow my own, I am flying from the good and pursuing the evil. This being so, thou must remember that I am now labouring under that infirmity which women sometimes suffer from, when the craving seizes them to eat clay, plaster, charcoal, and things even worse, disgusting to look at, much more to eat; so that it will be necessary to have recourse to some artifice to cure me; and this can be easily effected if only thou wilt make a beginning, even though it be in a lukewarm and make-believe fashion, to pay court to Camilla, who will not be so yielding that her virtue will give way at the first attack: with this mere attempt I shall rest satisfied, and thou wilt have done what our friendship binds thee to do, not only in giving me life, but in persuading me not to discard my honour. And this thou art bound to do for one reason alone, that, being, as I am, resolved to apply this test, it is not for thee to permit me to reveal my weakness to another, and so imperil that honour thou art striving to keep me from losing; and if thine may not stand as high as it ought in the estimation of Camilla while thou art paying court to her, that is of little or no importance, because ere long, on finding in her that constancy which we expect, thou canst tell her the plain truth as regards our stratagem, and so regain thy place in her esteem; and as thou art venturing so little, and by the venture canst afford me so much satisfaction, refuse not to undertake it, even if further difficulties present themselves to thee; for, as I have said, if thou wilt only make a beginning I will acknowledge the issue decided.”
Lothario seeing the fixed determination of Anselmo, and not knowing what further examples to offer or arguments to urge in order to dissuade him from it, and perceiving that he threatened to confide his pernicious scheme to some one else, to avoid a greater evil resolved to gratify him and do what he asked, intending to manage the business so as to satisfy Anselmo without corrupting the mind of Camilla; so in reply he told him not to communicate his purpose to any other, for he would undertake the task himself, and would begin it as soon as he pleased. Anselmo embraced him warmly and affectionately, and thanked him for his offer as if he had bestowed some great favour upon him; and it was agreed between them to set about it the next day, Anselmo affording opportunity and time to Lothario to converse alone with Camilla, and furnishing him with money and jewels to offer and present to her. He suggested, too, that he should treat her to music, and write verses in her praise, and if he was unwilling to take the trouble of composing them, he offered to do it himself. Lothario agreed to all with an intention very different from what Anselmo supposed, and with this understanding they returned to Anselmo’s house, where they found Camilla awaiting her husband anxiously and uneasily, for he was later than usual in returning that day. Lothario repaired to his own house, and Anselmo remained in his, as well satisfied as Lothario was troubled in mind; for he could see no satisfactory way out of this ill-advised business. That night, however, he thought of a plan by which he might deceive Anselmo without any injury to Camilla. The next day he went to dine with his friend, and was welcomed by Camilla, who received and treated him with great cordiality, knowing the affection her husband felt for him. When dinner was over and the cloth removed, Anselmo told Lothario to stay there with Camilla while he attended to some pressing business, as he would return in an hour and a half. Camilla begged him not to go, and Lothario offered to accompany him, but nothing could persuade Anselmo, who on the contrary pressed Lothario to remain waiting for him as he had a matter of great importance to discuss with him. At the same time he bade Camilla not to leave Lothario alone until he came back. In short he contrived to put so good a face on the reason, or the folly, of his absence that no one could have suspected it was a pretence.
Anselmo took his departure, and Camilla and Lothario were left alone at the table, for the rest of the household had gone to dinner. Lothario saw himself in the lists according to his friend’s wish, and facing an enemy that could by her beauty alone vanquish a squadron of armed knights; judge whether he had good reason to fear; but what he did was to lean his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his cheek upon his hand, and, asking Camilla’s pardon for his ill manners, he said he wished to take a little sleep until Anselmo returned. Camilla in reply said he could repose more at his ease in the reception-room than in his chair, and begged of him to go in and sleep there; but Lothario declined, and there he remained asleep until the return of Anselmo, who finding Camilla in her own room, and Lothario asleep, imagined that he had stayed away so long as to have afforded them time enough for conversation and even for sleep, and was all impatience until Lothario should wake up, that he might go out with him and question him as to his success. Everything fell out as he wished; Lothario awoke, and the two at once left the house, and Anselmo asked what he was anxious to know, and Lothario in answer told him that he had not thought it advisable to declare himself entirely the first time, and therefore had only extolled the charms of Camilla, telling her that all the city spoke of nothing else but her beauty and wit, for this seemed to him an excellent way of beginning to gain her good-will and render her disposed to listen to him with pleasure the next time, thus availing himself of the device the devil has recourse to when he would deceive one who is on the watch; for he being the angel of darkness transforms himself into an angel of light, and, under cover of a fair seeming, discloses himself at length, and effects his purpose if at the beginning his wiles are not discovered. All this gave great satisfaction to Anselmo, and he said he would afford the same opportunity every day, but without leaving the house, for he would find things to do at home so that Camilla should not detect the plot.
Thus, then, several days went by, and Lothario, without uttering a word to Camilla, reported to Anselmo that he had talked with her and that he had never been able to draw from her the slightest indication of consent to anything dishonourable, nor even a sign or shadow of hope; on the contrary, he said she would inform her husband of it.
“So far well,” said Anselmo; “Camilla has thus far resisted words; we must now see how she will resist deeds. I will give you to-morrow two thousand crowns in gold for you to offer or even present, and as many more to buy jewels to lure her, for women are fond of being becomingly attired and going gaily dressed, and all the more so if they are beautiful, however chaste they may be; and if she resists this temptation, I will rest satisfied and will give you no more trouble.”
Lothario replied that now he had begun he would carry on the undertaking to the end, though he perceived he was to come out of it wearied and vanquished. The next day he received the four thousand crowns, and with them four thousand perplexities, for he knew not what to say by way of a new falsehood; but in the end he made up his mind to tell him that Camilla stood as firm against gifts and promises as against words, and that there was no use in taking any further trouble, for the time was all spent to no purpose.
But chance, directing things in a different manner, so ordered it that Anselmo, having left Lothario and Camilla alone as on other occasions, shut himself into a chamber and posted himself to watch and listen through the keyhole to what passed between them, and perceived that for more than half an hour Lothario did not utter a word to Camilla, nor would utter a word though he were to be there for an age; and he came to the conclusion that what his friend had told him about the replies of Camilla was all invention and falsehood, and to ascertain if it were so, he came out, and calling Lothario aside asked him what news he had and in what humour Camilla was. Lothario replied that he was not disposed to go on with the business, for she had answered him so angrily and harshly that he had no heart to say anything more to her.
“Ah, Lothario, Lothario,” said Anselmo, “how ill dost thou meet thy obligations to me, and the great confidence I repose in thee! I have been just now watching through this keyhole, and I have seen that thou has not said a word to Camilla, whence I conclude that on the former occasions thou hast not spoken to her either, and if this be so, as no doubt it is, why dost thou deceive me, or wherefore seekest thou by craft to deprive me of the means I might find of attaining my desire?”
Anselmo said no more, but he had said enough to cover Lothario with shame and confusion, and he, feeling as it were his honour touched by having been detected in a lie, swore to Anselmo that he would from that moment devote himself to satisfying him without any deception, as he would see if he had the curiosity to watch; though he need not take the trouble, for the pains he would take to satisfy him would remove all suspicions from his mind. Anselmo believed him, and to afford him an opportunity more free and less liable to surprise, he resolved to absent himself from his house for eight days, betaking himself to that of a friend of his who lived in a village not far from the city; and, the better to account for his departure to Camilla, he so arranged it that the friend should send him a very pressing invitation.
Unhappy, shortsighted Anselmo, what art thou doing, what art thou plotting, what art thou devising? Bethink thee thou art working against thyself, plotting thine own dishonour, devising thine own ruin. Thy wife Camilla is virtuous, thou dost possess her in peace and quietness, no one assails thy happiness, her thoughts wander not beyond the walls of thy house, thou art her heaven on earth, the object of her wishes, the fulfilment of her desires, the measure wherewith she measures her will, making it conform in all things to thine and Heaven’s . If, then, the mine of her honour, beauty, virtue, and modesty yields thee without labour all the wealth it contains and thou canst wish for, why wilt thou dig the earth in search of fresh veins, of new unknown treasure, risking the collapse of all, since it but rests on the feeble props of her weak nature? Bethink thee that from him who seeks impossibilities that which is possible may with justice be withheld, as was better expressed by a poet who said:
’Tis mine to seek for life in death,
Health in disease seek I,
I seek in prison freedom’s breath,
In traitors loyalty.
So Fate that ever scorns to grant
Or grace or boon to me,
Since what can never be I want,
Denies me what might be.
The next day Anselmo took his departure for the village, leaving instructions with Camilla that during his absence Lothario would come to look after his house and to dine with her, and that she was to treat him as she would himself. Camilla was distressed, as a discreet and right-minded woman would be, at the orders her husband left her, and bade him remember that it was not becoming that anyone should occupy his seat at the table during his absence, and if he acted thus from not feeling confidence that she would be able to manage his house, let him try her this time, and he would find by experience that she was equal to greater responsibilities. Anselmo replied that it was his pleasure to have it so, and that she had only to submit and obey. Camilla said she would do so, though against her will.
Anselmo went, and the next day Lothario came to his house, where he was received by Camilla with a friendly and modest welcome; but she never suffered Lothario to see her alone, for she was always attended by her men and women servants, especially by a handmaid of hers, Leonela by name, to whom she was much attached (for they had been brought up together from childhood in her father’s house), and whom she had kept with her after her marriage with Anselmo. The first three days Lothario did not speak to her, though he might have done so when they removed the cloth and the servants retired to dine hastily; for such were Camilla’s orders; nay more, Leonela had directions to dine earlier than Camilla and never to leave her side. She, however, having her thoughts fixed upon other things more to her taste, and wanting that time and opportunity for her own pleasures, did not always obey her mistress’s commands, but on the contrary left them alone, as if they had ordered her to do so; but the modest bearing of Camilla, the calmness of her countenance, the composure of her aspect were enough to bridle the tongue of Lothario. But the influence which the many virtues of Camilla exerted in imposing silence on Lothario’s tongue proved mischievous for both of them, for if his tongue was silent his thoughts were busy, and could dwell at leisure upon the perfections of Camilla’s goodness and beauty one by one, charms enough to warm with love a marble statue, not to say a heart of flesh. Lothario gazed upon her when he might have been speaking to her, and thought how worthy of being loved she was; and thus reflection began little by little to assail his allegiance to Anselmo, and a thousand times he thought of withdrawing from the city and going where Anselmo should never see him nor he see Camilla. But already the delight he found in gazing on her interposed and held him fast. He put a constraint upon himself, and struggled to repel and repress the pleasure he found in contemplating Camilla; when alone he blamed himself for his weakness, called himself a bad friend, nay a bad Christian; then he argued the matter and compared himself with Anselmo; always coming to the conclusion that the folly and rashness of Anselmo had been worse than his faithlessness, and that if he could excuse his intentions as easily before God as with man, he had no reason to fear any punishment for his offence.
In short the beauty and goodness of Camilla, joined with the opportunity which the blind husband had placed in his hands, overthrew the loyalty of Lothario; and giving heed to nothing save the object towards which his inclinations led him, after Anselmo had been three days absent, during which he had been carrying on a continual struggle with his passion, he began to make love to Camilla with so much vehemence and warmth of language that she was overwhelmed with amazement, and could only rise from her place and retire to her room without answering him a word. But the hope which always springs up with love was not weakened in Lothario by this repelling demeanour; on the contrary his passion for Camilla increased, and she discovering in him what she had never expected, knew not what to do; and considering it neither safe nor right to give him the chance or opportunity of speaking to her again, she resolved to send, as she did that very night, one of her servants with a letter to Anselmo, in which she addressed the following words to him.
在意大利托斯卡纳省著名的繁华城市佛罗伦萨，有两位有钱有势的年青人安塞尔莫和洛塔里奥。两人亲密无间，所有认识他们的人都称他们为“朋友俩”。他们都是单身，年龄相仿，情趣相同、所以你来我往，友谊与日俱增。安塞尔莫比洛塔里奥喜欢谈情说爱，洛塔里奥则更愿意打猎。不过，安塞尔莫常常撇下自己的志趣去服从洛塔里奥的爱好，洛塔里奥也常常让自己的爱好顺应安塞尔莫的志趣。两人总是心心相印，形同一人。
安塞尔莫后来迷上了该城一位门第高贵、美丽漂亮的姑娘。姑娘的父母和姑娘本人都很不错。安塞尔莫同洛塔里奥商量，他凡事都同洛塔里奥商量，然后决定向姑娘的父母提亲，而且他也确实去提亲了。出主意想办法的是洛塔里奥，结果使安塞尔莫很称心，他很快就如愿以偿了。卡米拉也很高兴安塞尔莫做她的丈夫，而且一直感谢老天和洛塔里奥给她带来了如此好运。婚礼很热闹。最初几天，洛塔里奥还像以往一样，常常到安塞尔莫家去，尽自己所能为安塞尔莫增加些热闹气氛。可是婚礼结束后，来祝贺的人逐渐少了，洛塔里奥也就不太常去安塞尔莫家了。他觉得，所有谨慎的人都会这样认为，不应该再像朋友单身时那样常去已婚朋友的家了。他觉得虽然他们之间的友谊很真诚，但还是不应该让人引起任何怀疑。结了婚的人名声很重要。即使在兄弟之间也会发生误会，更何况是在朋友之间呢。
安塞尔莫发现洛塔里奥在疏远他，便对洛塔里奥大发牢骚，说如果自己早知道结婚会妨碍他们两人之间的交往，他就不结婚了。他还说自己单身时，两人来往甚密，以至于获得了“朋友俩”的美称，他不愿意仅仅因为出于谨慎就失去这个美称。如果他们之间可以使用“请求”这个词的话，他请求洛塔里奥像以前一样把这个家当作自己的家，随便出入。他还向洛塔里奥保证，他的妻子卡米拉同他的意见一致，她知道他们两人以前情谊甚笃，因此看到洛塔里奥躲避他们，颇为迷惑不解。
安塞尔莫对洛塔里奥苦口婆心，劝他同以前一样常到自己家去。洛塔里奥很有节制地答应了，安塞尔莫对朋友的好意表示感谢。两人商定，洛塔里奥每星期去两次，再加上节假日，都要到安塞尔莫家吃饭。虽然两人是这么商定的，洛塔里奥还是说，看在朋友的面子上，他仅此而已。他把朋友的声誉看得比自己的声誉还重要。他说得对，既然家有娇妻，就必须对到家里来的朋友加以选择，即使对妻子的女友也得注意，因为有些在广场、教堂、公共节日或去做私人祈祷时不便做的事情，在最信任的朋友或亲戚家里却可以做到。当然，丈夫也不应该一味地禁止妻子到那些公共场合去。
洛塔里奥还说，每个结了婚的人都需要有朋友指出自己行为上的疏忽。因为丈夫常常对妻子过分宠爱，或者他自己并没有意识到这点，怕妻子生气，就不去告诉她应该做什么，不应该做什么；而这却是牵涉到人的名誉或是否会遭人指责的事情。如果有朋友提醒，就可以及时预防。可是有谁能找到像洛塔里奥要求的那样明智而又忠实的知心朋友呢？我实在不知道。只有洛塔里奥才称得上是这样的人。他关注自己朋友的名誉，即使在约定的日期去朋友家时，也把在那儿停留的时间尽量缩短。他知道自己有些优越条件，因而在一些游手好闲、别有用心的小人看来，一位如此富有、英俊而又出身高贵的小伙子出入一位像卡米拉这样漂亮女人的家，一定是件很有意思的事。虽然他的人品可以让那些恶意的中伤不攻自破，可他还是不想让人们对他自己以及他朋友的信誉产生怀疑。因此，他常常在约定去安塞尔莫家的那天忙于其他一些似乎不可推托的事情。就这样，一个人埋怨不止，另一个人借口躲避，过了很长时间。有一天，他们在城外的草地上散步，安塞尔莫对洛塔里奥说了下面这番话：
“洛塔里奥朋友，你以为上帝赐福于我，让我有了这样的父母，手头阔绰，给了我财富，人们称我为天生富贵命，我就会感恩不尽吧。其实，我还有你做我的朋友，有卡米拉做我的妻子。这两样宝贝我也十分看重。要是别人有了这些，肯定会欢天喜地，可是我却苦恼极了，可以说是世界上最沮丧的人。也不知道是从什么时候开始，总有一个超乎常情的怪诞念头困扰着我，连我自己都感到奇怪。我暗暗自责，力图隐匿我的这种想法。现在我要把这个秘密说出来，似乎我必须把这个想法说出来，让大家都知道才行，而且这个想法确实也该说出来了。我想让它埋藏在你的内心深处，我相信只有这样，再加上你的聪明才智，作为我的真心朋友，你才有可能帮助我，使我从这种痛苦中迅速解脱出来。我的癫狂给我带来惆怅，你的关心一定会给我带来快乐。”
洛塔里奥被安塞尔莫的话弄得莫名其妙，不知道安塞尔莫这番长长的开场白究竟用意何在。他努力猜测究竟是什么念头让他这位朋友如此局促，可是都觉得不着边际。洛塔里奥不愿意再绞尽脑汁猜测了，对安塞尔莫说，这样转弯抹角地说自己的内心秘密是对他们之间深厚友谊的公然侮辱。他保证劝说安塞尔莫消除烦恼，或者帮助他实现自己的想法。
“确实如此，”安塞尔莫说，“正是出于信任，我才告诉你，洛塔里奥朋友，一直让我困惑的想法，就是我想知道我的妻子卡米拉是否像我想的那样善良完美。如果没有证据证明她的优良品德，就像烈火见真金那样，我就不能肯定这一点。噢，朋友，我觉得仅凭一个女人是否有人追求，还不能判断她是否是一个完美的女人。只有在追求者的许诺、馈赠、眼泪和不断骚扰下不屈服的女人，才算是坚强的女人。
“如果一个女人没有人引诱她学坏，她就是再好又有什么可庆幸的呢？”安塞尔莫说，“如果她没有机会放纵自己，而且她知道她的丈夫一旦发现她放荡，就会杀了她，那么她就是再深居简出、安分守己，又算得了什么呢？因此，我对由于惧怕或者没有机会才老实的女人看不上，我倒更看得上那种受到追求并战胜了这种追求的女人。出于这些原因以及其他原因，我可以告诉你，以便进一步说明我的想法，那就是我想让我的妻子卡米拉经受这种考验，在被追求的火焰中接受锻炼，而且得找一个有条件考验她的意志的人。如果她能像我认为的那样，经受得住考验，我就会觉得我幸运无比，我才可以说，我的猜测落空了，我有幸得到了一个坚强的女人，就像圣人说的，这样的人上哪儿去找呀。可是事情如果与我期望的相反，我也很高兴我的猜测得到了证实，我虽然为这次考验付出了沉重的代价，也决不后悔。无论你怎样说，都不能阻止我将我的这个想法付诸实施。我现在需要的是，洛塔里奥朋友，让你充当我实现这个想法的工具。我会给你创造机会，以及其它各种必要的条件，让你去追求一个正派、规矩、安分、无私的女人。
“还有，我把如此艰巨的事情委托给你，如果卡米拉败在你手里，你不要真的去征服她，还得尊重社会习俗，只当已经征服了她就行了。这样，我就不会再为我的想法所困扰。只要你不说，我的难堪永远不会被人知道，我的想法也就永远消失了。因此，你如果想让我堂堂正正地活着，就立刻开始这次情斗吧，别不慌不忙，慢吞吞的。你应该按照我的想法，心急如焚，快马加鞭，看在我们之间的友谊份上，我相信你会这样做。”
洛塔里奥全神贯注地听安塞尔莫讲完了这番话。除了刚才那几句插话，他一直缄口不言。安塞尔莫说完后，洛塔里奥又盯了他好一会儿，好像在看一件他从未见过而且令他感到惊恐的东西。他说：
“安塞尔莫朋友，我还是不能让我相信，你刚才说的那些话不是开玩笑。假如刚才我想到你说的是真的，就不会让你说下去了。我不听，你也就不会如此滔滔不绝了。我已经想象到了，或者是你还不了解我，或者是我还不了解你。我当然知道你是安塞尔莫，你也知道我是洛塔里奥。问题在于我觉得你已不是原来的安塞尔莫，你大概也觉得我不是原来的洛塔里奥了。你刚才说的那些话并不像我的朋友安塞尔莫说的，而且你要求我做的那些事也是你不该向你所了解的洛塔里奥要求的。好朋友之间应该彼此信任，就像一位诗人说的，光明磊落，不应该利用友谊做违反上帝意志的事情。
“如果连一个异教徒都能注意到友谊的这个方面，那么，深知应对所有人都保持圣洁友谊的基督教徒难道不应该做得更好吗？如果一个人竭尽所能，置天理于不顾，去满足朋友的要求，那么他肯定不是为了微小和暂时的事情，而只能是那些涉及朋友的名誉和生命的事情。现在请你告诉我，安塞尔莫，在这两方面，你哪一方面受到了威胁，以至于我得冒险做你让我做的那件缺德事，来满足你的要求？实际上，你没有一样东西受到威胁。而且我认为，你这是在让我毁掉你的名誉和生命，同时也毁掉我的名誉和生命。因为我如果毁掉了你的名誉，自然也就毁掉了你的生命。一个丧失了名誉的人就如同行尸走肉。我如果像你希望的那样，充当你作恶的工具，我同时不也就名誉扫地，虽生犹死了吗？你听着，安塞尔莫朋友，就你所要求我做的事情，我想谈谈我的想法，请你耐心听我说完，然后还有时间我再听你说吧。”
“我很高兴，”安塞尔莫说，“你随便说吧。”
洛塔里奥接着说：
“安塞尔莫，我觉得你的头脑现在就像摩尔人的头脑一样。如果想让摩尔人认识到他们的错误，不能靠引用《圣经》上的句子，不能靠思考道理或讲信条的办法，只能用显而易见、不容置疑的数学表示方法来让他们理解。比如说：‘两方相等，再去掉数量相同的部分，余下的部分仍然相等。’如果这样说他们还不能理解，你就得做手势或者把实物放在他们眼前。即使这样，还是不能够说服他们相信我们的神圣信仰的真理。你的情况也如此，因为你的想法太离谱、太不像话了。想让你认识到你的愚蠢恐怕是浪费时间，现在我只能说你愚蠢。我现在甚至想随你误入歧途，让你自作自受。可我不会采用这种有损我与你的友谊的方法，友谊不允许我让你去冒这种灭顶之灾的危险。
“为了让你看得更清楚，安塞尔莫，请你告诉我，你不是让我去追求一个深居简出的女人，向一个正派的女人献媚，向一个无私的女人讨好，向一个守规矩的女人献殷勤吗？是的，你对我说过。可你既然知道你有个深居简出、正派、无私、守规矩的妻子，你还想干什么呢？你既然知道她不会对我的进攻动心，是的，她肯定不为所动，除了你对她现有的赞美外，你还想给她什么荣誉呢？也许是你现在还没有把她看成你说的那种人，或者是你自己也不清楚自己想要什么，你为什么要考验她呢？你如果觉得她不好，那么你愿意怎么办就怎么办。如果你觉得她像你想象的那么好，那么考察其真假则完全是件不必要的事情，因为至多也只能证明你原来的看法而已。所以，简言之，做这种事可能会适得其反。这是一种欠考虑的鲁莽想法。做这种并不是非做不可的事情，非但不会有什么结果，只能说是一种疯狂的表现。
“奋争无非是为了上帝或为了世俗之事，再不然就是两者兼而有之。为上帝者就是那些追求人类过上天使般生活的圣人们；为世俗者就是那些涉水过河，忍受严寒酷暑，远离人烟，为所谓财富而奋斗的人；而同时为上帝又为世俗之事者则是那些勇敢的战士。他们只要看到前面的城墙上有一颗炮弹能够打开的那么大空隙，就会无所畏惧，不顾危险，为保卫他的信仰、民族和国王的意志所驱使，勇猛地向他们面临的死敌发起进攻。
“这些就是人们通常追求的东西，而追求它本身就是一种声誉、荣耀和裨益，尽管这里面充满了烦恼和危险。不过你追求和实施的东西，既不会给你带来上帝的荣耀，也不会带来人间的财富和名誉。因为即使你达到了你的目的，你也不会比现在更得意、更富有、更荣光。如果你没有达到目的，你反倒会陷入极大的痛苦，即使你以为别人不知道你的不幸对你也无济于事，只要你自己知道就足以让你痛苦不堪了。为了证明这点，我想给你念一段著名诗人路易斯·坦西洛①的诗。他的《圣彼得的眼泪》第一段末尾是这样写的：
天色将明，
佩德罗却
痛苦与羞辱俱增。
纵然无人知晓，
他已愧汗淋漓，
心地虽宽，羞惭难容，
即便唯有天地知，
终归难免赧赧情。
①路易斯·坦西塔是16世纪的意大利诗人。
“保密并不能避免你的痛苦，你会不停地哭泣，如果不是眼睛流泪，那就是从心上流出血泪，就像我们的诗人所描述的那位用魔杯喝酒①的纯朴大夫那样流泪。经过好言劝说，机敏的利纳乌多斯终于避免了这次考验。虽然这只是诗人的杜撰，其中却包含着深刻的道德意义，值得人们借鉴、思考和学习。我现在还想对你说，你马上就会明白你犯了多么大的错误。你说，安塞尔莫，假如老天和命运让你拥有一颗无比珍贵的钻石，而这颗钻石的成色令所有见过它的钻石商人都感到满意，大家异口同声地说这颗钻石的重量、质量和雕琢水平都达到了无与伦比的程度，你自己也这样认为，可是又无缘无故地要把这颗钻石放到铁砧上用锤子砸，看看它是否像人们说的那样坚硬精细，你说这样做合理吗？即使你这样做了，那颗钻石经受住了这样的锤打，也并不能因此而增加它的价值和名气。如果它被砸碎了，而这是完全可能的，那不就全完了吗？结果只能是大家都认为，钻石的主人是个大傻瓜。
①据中世纪传说，用魔杯喝酒，若妻子不贞，酒会从杯中泼出来。
“你想想，安塞尔莫朋友，卡米拉就是一颗珍贵无比的钻石。让她面临破碎的可能性是不合理的。因为你即使能证明她洁身自好，她的名声也不会有所增加。如果她经受不住这样的考验，你现在就想想，失去了她，你会怎么样，你会如何因为毁了自己也毁了她而后悔。世界上没有任何珠宝比贞洁正派的女人更宝贵，而女人的清白都在于人们对她有个良好的看法。你既然知道你夫人的名声甚佳，为什么还要对这个事实产生怀疑呢？你看，朋友，女人并不是十全十美的动物，不应该为她们设置障碍，而应该为她们清除障碍，消除她们道路上的所有不利因素，使之完善，成为冰清玉洁的女人。
“自然学家们说，白鼬是一种皮毛极白的动物，猎人们想猎取它的时候就利用这点。他们知道白鼬从什么地方经过，就用淤泥把那个地方堵住，然后把白鼬驱赶到那个地方去。白鼬一到那个地方就不动了，宁可被捉住，也不愿意从淤泥那儿穿过去，弄脏自己的皮毛，它们把自己的皮毛看得比自由和生命还重要。清白的女人就像白鼬，她们的品行比白雪还要清白纯洁，不想失掉她的人就应该保护她，不应该使用对待白鼬的办法，不应该在她面前无中生有地设置情人的礼物与殷勤的淤泥。她自己也许或者肯定没有能力逾越这些障碍，因而有必要为她清除这些障碍，让她纯洁的美德为她带来良好的美名。
“一个善良的女人本身就是一面亮晶晶的镜子，只要对它呵一口气就可以使它变污。你应该像对待文物那样对待品行端正的女人，那就是只欣赏，不触摸。你应该像保护一个鲜花盛开的花园那样尊重一个清白的女人，花园的主人不会允许任何人进入花园摸他的花，只能从远处隔着铁栅栏享受花的芳香和美丽。我忽然想起几句诗来，现在想念给你听。这几句诗选自一部现代喜剧，我觉得很适合咱们说的这个题目。
“一个行为严谨的老人劝说另一个老人看管好自己的女儿，他的道理是：
女人仿佛玻璃，
不可考验其
是否易碎，因为
后果实难预计。
破碎容易，
修补难矣，
冒险从事，
明智者不可取。
众人如是说
我亦持此意。
世上若有达娜厄，
也会有金雨①。
①阿克里西俄斯从神谕中得知，女儿达娜厄日后所生之子会杀死他，就把她囚禁起来。但宙斯却化成一阵金雨，使达娜厄受孕，生下佩耳修斯。佩耳修斯后来在一次竞技会上掷铁饼，无意中将阿克里西俄斯打死。
“安塞尔莫啊，以上这些都是说你的。现在该说说我了。如果话说得长了些，请你原谅，这都是为了把你从你那迷宫里拉出来。你把我当作朋友，却要诋毁我，这是与友谊背道而驰的事情。你不仅想诋毁我，而且想让我诋毁你。你想诋毁我的名誉，这点很清楚，因为卡米拉一旦发现我像你要求我做的那样，向她献殷勤，肯定会把我当成一个厚颜无耻的人。因为我所追求的东西和我所做的事情，已经大大超出了我本人和你我之间的友谊所要求的范围。
“你想让我毁了你的名誉，这点已确切无疑。如果卡米拉发现我在追求她，肯定会以为我觉得她有些轻浮，才敢放肆地表达我的邪念。她把自己看成是轻浮的人，那也就是把你看成了轻浮的人，因为她是你的，这也是对你的侮辱。这就出现了常有的那种情况，虽然丈夫并不知道妻子偷情，并没有给妻子做出格事情的机会，也不是疏于防范造成了不幸，可人们还是叫他下贱人。有些人知道他妻子的行为，可是不仅不用怜悯的目光看待他，反而用鄙夷的目光看待他，虽然他们知道并不是由于丈夫的过错，而是由于妻子的不忠才造成了这场不幸。
“不过我想给你讲讲，为什么说妻子偷情，丈夫也耻辱，哪怕他并不知道，没有责任，没有参与，并没让妻子这样做。你别不爱听，这些话最终都会对你有利。《圣经》上说，上帝在伊甸园为我们创造了始祖亚当，并且让他睡觉，在他睡觉的时候，从他的左侧取下了一根肋骨，用它创造了我们的女始祖夏娃。亚当醒来后看到了她，说：‘这是我身上的肉，我身上的骨头。’上帝说：‘男人为了女人要离开自己的父母，两人结合成一个肉体。’为此，结成了神圣的婚姻，这种关系至死才能解除。
“这种神奇的姻缘功效极大，它使两个不同的人结为一体。两个美满的已婚者更是如此。他们有两个灵魂，却只有一个意志。所以说，妻子和丈夫已经结为一体，妻子身上的污点，或者她犯的错误，最终都会波及到丈夫身上，虽然并不是他造成了这种伤害。这就好比脚上或身体的任何一个部位上疼痛，全身都可以感觉到一样，因为它们都同属于一个肉体。头可以感觉到脚踝的疼痛，虽然头的疼痛并不是脚踝造成的。同样如此，丈夫也会为妻子的不忠蒙受耻辱，因为他们同属一体。世界上一切荣辱皆源于血肉之躯，风流荡妇的荣辱也属于这一类，而且必然会部分地影响到丈夫。妻子轻佻，做丈夫的即使不知道，也会被人看成无耻之徒。
“安塞尔莫，你想打破你善良妻子的平静生活，这是多么危险；你想扰乱你贤惠妻子的宁静心绪，又是多么无聊啊。你应该注意到，你如此冒险，得之甚少，失之甚多。我也只好随你去了，我已经没法再说了，不过，如果我说了这些还不足以打消你的可恶念头，你完全可以去另找一个让你出丑、让你冒险的工具，我不想充当这个工具，哪怕我会因此失掉同你的友谊，而失掉这种友谊自然是我莫大的损失。”
精明正直的洛塔里奥说到这儿不言语了；安塞尔莫也茫然地陷入了沉思。过了很长时间，他竟一句话也回答不出来。
最后，他说：
“洛