“By St. John!” said the last-comer, “I ought not to keep you longer in suspense—it is I. And since I see that you are in love with a woman who is not worth it, and if I had not more pity on you than you have on yourself I should leave you in your folly, but I cannot suffer such a wench to deceive you and me so long.”
If any one was astonished at this news it was the first-comer who believed himself firmly established in the good graces of the wench, and that she loved no one but him. He did not know what to say or think, and for a long time could not speak a word. When at last he spoke, he said,
“By Our Lady! they have given me the onion (*) and I never suspected it. I was easily enough deceived. May the devil carry away the wench, just as she is!”
(*) i.e. “they have made a fool of me.”
“She has fooled the two of us,” said the last-comer;
“at least she has begun well,—but we must even fool her.”
“Do so I beg,” said the first. “St. Anthony’s fire burn me if ever I see the jade again.”
“You know,” said the second, “that we go to her each in turn. Well, the next time that you go, you must tell her that you well know that I am in love with her, and that you have seen me enter her house at such an hour, and dressed in such a manner, and that, by heaven, if ever you find me there again you will kill me stone dead, whatever may happen to you. I will say the same thing about you, and we shall then see what she will say and do, and then we shall know how to act.”
“Well said, and just what I would wish,” said the first.
As it was arranged, so was it done, for some days later it was the last-comer’s turn to go and visit her; he set out and came to the place appointed.