Petrarca. No indeed: my eyes and ears were wide open.
Boccaccio. The little parlour opens into your room. But what priest could that be? Canonico Casini? He only comes when we have a roast of thrushes, or some such small matter, at table: and this is not the season; they are pairing. Plover eggs might tempt him hitherward. If he heard a plover he would not be easy, and would fain make her drop her oblation before she had settled her nest.
Petrarca. It is right and proper that you should be informed who the clergyman was, to whom you are under an obligation.
Boccaccio. Tell me something about it, for truly I am at a loss to conjecture.
Petrarca. He must unquestionably have been expressing a kind and ardent solicitude for your eternal welfare. The first words I heard on awakening were these:
‘Ser Giovanni, although the best of masters ...’
Boccaccio. Those were Assuntina’s.
Petrarca. ‘... may hardly be quite so holy (not being priest or friar) as your Reverence.’
She was interrupted by the question: ‘What conversation holdeth he?’
She answered: