'Samudradatta ... being bound by the necessity of keeping his word ... gave her leave to go where she would; and she rose up, and left her husband's house....
'A certain thief saw Madanasená, as she was going along alone at night, and rushing upon her, seized her by the hem of her garment.... The helpless merchant's daughter told him her story, and entreated him as follows: "Excuse me for a moment that I may keep my word, and as soon as I have done that, I will quickly return to you, if you remain here. Believe me, my good man, I will never break this true promise of mine." When the thief heard that, he let her go.... She, for her part, went to the merchant Dharmadatta. And when he saw that she had come to that wood, he asked how it happened; and then, though he had longed for her, he said to her, "I am delighted at your faithfulness to your promise: What have I to do with you, the wife of another? So go back, as you came, before any one sees you."... [Then] she went to the thief, who was waiting for her in the road.... She told him how the merchant let her go. Then the thief said: "Since this is so, then I also will let you go, being pleased with your truthfulness: return home with your ornaments."
'So he, too, let her go, and ... [she] went delighted to her husband, and ... she told him the whole story. And Samudradatta, perceiving that his good wife had kept her word without losing her honour, ... welcomed her as a pure-minded woman, who had not disgraced her family, and lived happily with her ever afterwards.
'When the Vétála had told this story ... to king Trivikramasena, he went on to say to him: "So tell me, King, which was the really generous man of those three—the two merchants and the thief?"... The king said to him: "Of those three the thief was the only really generous man.... For of course her husband let her go ... how could a gentleman desire to keep a wife that was attached to another? And the other resigned her because his passion was dulled by time, and he was afraid that her husband, knowing the facts, would tell the king the next day. But the thief, a reckless evil-doer, working in the dark, was really generous to let go a lovely woman, ornaments and all."'
The resemblance of this to Chaucer's story is certainly striking. The chief variation is in changing the thief into a magician who performs wonders for a large sum of money.
Mr. Clouston subjoins many variants of the story. One, originally in Burmese, is from Captain Sparks' translation of the Decisions of Princess Thoodhamma Tsari. A Persian analogue is given from Sir John Malcolm's Sketches of Persia, chap. xx.; and another from the celebrated Persian collection, entitled Tútí Náma, or Parrot-Book. A somewhat different version follows, from the Bahár-i-Dánush, or Spring of Knowledge, a translation of which was given by Dr. Jonathan Scott in 1799. The story is also known to the Jews; and two Hebrew versions are given, both from a Parisian journal entitled Mélusine; 1885, tome ii. c. 542-6. A Siberian version follows, from Radloff's Proben der Volksliteratur der türkischen Stämme des Süd-Siberiens, vol. iii. s. 389; and next, a Turkish version, from Mr. Gibb's translation of the Forty Vazírs, London, 1886; p. 105. Curiously enough, a very similar version is found in Gaelic, and was probably introduced into the Highlands by the Norsemen; see Campbell's Popular Tales of West Highlands, vol. ii. p. 16. Mr. Clouston next discusses the European versions of the story. Of these, the most important is that in Boccaccio's Decamerone[[160]], Day 10. nov. 5, of which Professor Morley has the following epitome:—
'Dianora, the wife of the rich Gilberto, being immodestly affected by Messer Ansaldo, to free herself from his tedious importunity, she appointed him to perform, in her judgment, an act of impossibility—namely, to give her a garden as plentifully stored with fragrant flowers in January as in the flourishing month of May. Ansaldo, by means of a bond which he made to a magician, performed her request. Messer Gilberto, the lady's husband, gave consent that his wife should fulfil her promise made to Ansaldo; who hearing the bountiful mind of her husband released her of her promise, and the magician likewise discharged Ansaldo, without taking aught of him.'
We may be sure that Boccaccio and Chaucer drew their versions from very similar sources, as shewn by the introduction of the magician. At the same time, we not only notice how Boccaccio has given Italian names to his characters, but has even altered the chief circumstance on which the story depends, by substituting a flower-garden in January for the removal of the rocks. This notion he found ready to hand in the legend of St. Dorothea, familiar to all readers of Massinger and Dekker's Virgin Martyr.
Beaumont and Fletcher dramatised Chaucer's story in their one-act play called The Triumph of Honour, which forms one of the set entitled Four Plays in One. They preserve the name Dorigen, though the husband is Sophocles, duke of Athens, and the lover is Martius, a Roman general. They also retain the notion of the removal of the rocks; for Dorigen exclaims:—
'For here I vow unto the gods, these rocks,