“Constanza,” the girl replied.
“And I am Constanzo,” he cried; “and as our names so our hearts shall be—one made for the other!”
“But you are a rich lord, and I am a poor girl,” she slowly answered, “so it can never be.”
But as both had loved at sight, and sincerely, it was soon arranged, and the end was that the pair were married, and Constanza became a signora and went to live in the castle with her lord. His mother, who was more his enemy than ever, and ten times that of his wife, made no sign of anger, but professed love and devotion, expressing delight every day and oftener that her son had chosen so fair a wife, and one so worthy of him.
It came to pass that Constanza was about to become a mother, and at this time her husband was called to the wars, and that so far away that many days must pass before he could send a letter to his home. But his mother showed herself so kind, though she had death and revenge at her heart, that Constanzo was greatly relieved, and departed almost light of heart, for he was a brave man, as well as good, and such people borrow no trouble ere it is due.
But the old signora looked after him with bitterness, saying, “Thou shalt pay me, and the hour is not far off.” And when she saw his wife she murmured:
“Now revenge shall take its shape;
Truly thou canst not escape;
Be it death or be it dole,
I will sting thee to the soul.”
Then when the hour came that the countess was to be confined, the old woman told her that she herself alone would serve and attend to all—e che avrebbe fatto tutto da se. But going forth, she found a pine-tree and took from it a cone, which she in secret set to boil in water, singing to it:
“Bolli, bolli!
Senza posa.
Che nel letto
Vi é la sposa,
Un fanciullo
Alla luce mi dara,
E una pina diventera!“Bolli, bolli!
Mio decotto
Bolli, bolli!
Senza posa!
Il profumo
Che tu spandi,
Si spanda
In corpo alla
Alla sposa e il figlio,
Il figlio che fara
Pina d’ oro diventera!”“Boil and boil,
Rest defying!
In the bed
The wife is lying;
Soon her babe
The light will see,
But a pine-cone
It shall be!“Boil and boil,
And well digest!
Boil and boil,
And never rest!
May the perfume
Which you spread
Thrill the body
To the head,
And the child
Which we shall see,
A golden pine-cone
Let it be!”
And soon the countess gave birth to a beautiful daughter with golden hair, but the old woman promptly took the little one and bathed it in the water in which she had boiled the pine-cone, whereupon it became a golden pine-cone, and the poor mother was made to believe that this was her first-born; and the same was written to the father, who replied to his wife that, whatever might happen, he would ever remain as he had been.