During the introduction to the Fourth Day of his much celebrated Decameron, Giovanni Boccaccio interjects a short and rather amusing anecdote which, to the profound distress of his readers, he never deigns to finish. As in many of the author’s other accounts, the partial story includes a humorous bit of double meaning (women are called "goslings") that we can only imagine and assume would yield all sorts of delicious mayhem, if it were only given the chance to do so. What, we wonder anxiously, our literary appetites thoroughly whetted, shall become of Filippo’s naïve son? What laughable disaster will ensue from his ridiculous misunderstanding?

Clearly, the tale begs to be finished, even if the hand to pen the final words is not Boccaccio’s. However, when attempting to pick up where the genius of another author has left off, the circumspect litterateur must first take into account several important considerations of stylistic approach. Most importantly, the prose supplement must strive to flow seamlessly from the primary text; it must preserve the basic elements of the original’s syntax, manner, and content, while at the same time pushing toward a new and believable conclusion of its own. In this case, therefore, the conscientious ghostwriter has been faced with the task of recounting her own discrete tale, but in the very peculiar voice of the Italian intellect.

The following rendition of the gosling narrative was written with the explicit intention to adopt and incorporate Boccaccio’s essential style and content. For this reason, it plays very heavily on his almost lewd penchant for discussions of sexual situations, as well as on his tendency to introduce funny and complex misunderstandings into the basic plot. Furthermore, Giuseppa’s clever solution to the problem of the tattling nurse might recall to the reader the inspired deceptions of other female characters in the Decameron (for instance, the lies of woman who has hidden her lover in a tub). Inversely, we find that the naïveté of the young man makes us think of such gullible illustrative figures as the innocent girl convinced by a monk to "put the devil back in Hell." Finally, Boccaccio’s air of satire with regards to religion is echoed in the personage of the nurse, who, like the nuns who have their way with the gardener Masetto, is a slave to both God and sex at once. The new text thus presents the supplementary subject matter in a manner which adheres relentlessly to the fundamental intentions and devices of Boccaccio’s creative spirit; its faithfulness to the original should make it seem like a natural outgrowth of the old literary mandates.

Now it so happened, as it happens to us all eventually, that the good lady departed this life, leaving nothing of herself to Filippo but their only son, who was then about two years old.

No man was ever more sorely distressed by the loss of the thing he loved than Filippo by the death of his wife. On finding himself bereft of the companion he adored, he firmly resolved to withdraw from the world and devote his life to the service of God, taking his little son with him. He therefore gave all he possessed to charity, and made his way forthwith to the slopes of Mount Asinaio, where he installed himself in a tiny little cave with his son, fasting and praying and living on alms. At all times, he took very great care not to let him see any worldly things, or even to mention their existence, lest they should distract him from his devotions. On the contrary, he was forever telling him about the glory of the life eternal, of God, and of the Saints, and all he taught him was to pray devoutly. He kept this up for a number of years, never permitting the boy to leave the cave or to see any living thing except for his father.

Every so often, the good man came to Florence, where various kindly people supplied him with things he needed, and then he returned to his cave. But one day, his son, who by this time was eighteen years old, happened to ask Filippo, who had reached a ripe old age, where he was going. Filippo told him he was going to Florence, whereupon the youth said:

‘Father, you are an old man now, and not as strong as you used to be. Why not take me with you on one of your excursions to Florence, introduce me to those charitable and devout people, and let me meet your friends? I am young, and stronger than you are, and if you do as I suggest, in future you’ll be able to send me to Florence whenever we need anything, and you can stay here.’

On reflecting that this son of his was now grown up and no longer likely to be attracted to worldly things because he was so inured to the service of God, the worthy man said to himself: ‘The fellow’s talking sense.’ And since he had to go to Florence anyway, he took him with him.

When the young man saw the palaces, the houses, the churches and all the other things that meet the eye in such profusion throughout the city, he could not recall ever having seen such objects before and was filled with amazement. He questioned his father about many of them and asked him what they were called.

Once his father had answered one of his questions, his curiosity was satisfied and he went on to ask about something else. And so they went along, with the son asking questions and the father replying, until they chanced upon a party of elegantly dressed and beautiful young ladies, who were coming away from a wedding; and no sooner did the young man see them, than he asked his father what they were.

‘My son,’ replied his father, ‘keep your eyes fixed on the ground and don’t look at them, for they are evil.’

‘But what are they called, father?’ inquired his son.

Not wishing to arouse any idle longings in the young man’s breast, his father avoided calling them by their real name, and instead of telling him that they were women, he said:

‘They are called goslings.’

Now, the extraordinary thing about it was that the young man, who had never set eyes on one of these objects before, took no further interest in the palaces, the oxen, the horses, the asses, the money, or any of the other things he had encountered, and promptly replied:

‘Oh, father, do please get me one of those goslings.’

‘Alas, my son, hold your tongue,’ said his father. ‘I tell you they are evil.’

‘Do you mean to say evil looks like this?’

‘Yes.’

‘You can say what you like, father, but I don’t see anything evil about them. As far as I am concerned, I don’t think I have ever in my whole life seen anything so pretty or attractive. They are more beautiful than the painted angels that you have taken me to see so often. O alas! if you have any concern for my welfare, do make it possible for us to take one of these goslings back with us, and I will pop things into its bill.’

‘Certainly not,’ said his father. ‘Their bills are not where you think, and require a special sort of diet.’ But no sooner had he spoken than he realized that his wits were no match for Nature, and regretted having brought the boy to Florence in the first place.

‘Dear father, might we not take just one of these lovely creatures back with us? It is so dark and dull in the mountains, and though I love you dearly and with all my heart, you are not as young as once you were. Whereas we used to walk together amongst the trees and tall grasses, talking at length about the goodness of the Lord and listening to the little sparrows that merrily sing His praises, now you are so weak with age that you are barely able to take even ten steps before you tire and ask if we might sit down and rest for a bit. Do let me have one of these goslings, father, that I might keep it as a pet for my amusement when you are not able to spend time with me, and in this way I shall no longer feel compelled to beat my head against the walls out of boredom.’

Although he felt a good deal of pity for the headstrong boy (who, at such a youthful and virile age, must surely have sensed the stirrings of his budding manhood), Filippo was thoroughly unwilling to educate his son in the ways of the world. ‘After all,’ the old man reasoned, ‘what good can a woman do him? He is untrained in any profession other than that of the pious hermit, which, though a most noble occupation to be sure, has not prepared him to earn the money which he would need to keep any wife happy. As it is, we are barely able to sustain ourselves on the alms that the good Florentine citizens offer us when we descend into town. How, then, could he possibly afford the satin dresses and jewels that women crave night and day? No, it is better that he think these bothersome creatures are mere goslings, and perhaps in considering them in this way he will come to realize they are no more deserving of his private affections than ducks or pigeons.’ So saying, he took the boy by the wrist and dragged him out of town, up the long road that wound across the pale blue ridge of the mountains, and back to their dank little cave.

Nevertheless, the young man could not stop thinking about the many fabulous goslings he had beheld on his first trip to Florence. Every night he lay awake on his cot made from sycamore branches and a bit of hay, listening to his father’s loud snores and imagining how wonderful it would be to have one of these animals for his very own. ‘What strange birds these goslings are!’ he would mutter to himself while drawing water from the stream or hunting wild game for supper. ‘They wear flounces of lace and ribbon in place of feathers, and their language sounds more like mine and father’s than like the cries of the eagle or the crow. On their faces they have soft lips like ours instead of bills, and yet father has told me that they do indeed have bills which are located elsewhere, where I cannot see them. Oh, I would love to have one for a pet all my own! I could stroke it gently, as I saw some men in town do with dogs and cats, and I would slip a little worm into its bill whenever it cried out for such a thing. How very peculiar, and yet how marvelous and enchanting!’

One day not long after their trip to Florence, the two men realized it was time to celebrate the Easter holiday. As they usually took holy days such as these as an excuse to eat and drink large quantities of fine foodstuffs, which they rarely chanced upon in the normal course of their rigorous and ascetic lifestyle, Filippo sent his son into the woods to hunt a wild goose for supper, while he himself stayed at home to fill barrels of homemade wine into sheepskin flasks. So the boy set off, walking cheerfully along the dirt path that he and his father had long ago cleared, which led from their little cave dwelling all through the thick woods and briar patches, finally coming to an abrupt stop at the magnificent gates of the Florentine city. As he walked, he whistled a merry tune and swung his arms gaily, thinking how splendid it would be to sink his teeth into a succulent morsel of wildfowl that evening.

He had barely ventured a half-hour’s distance from the cave’s entrance when, cocking his ear to listen for the unmistakable squawk of a goose to trap for the night’s repast, he heard a soft and silvery music which sounded as though it was coming from a short way down the path. Never, the young man thought, had he heard any sounds so lovely and enchanting as these. Even the lark at daybreak did not seem capable of chirping such an utterly bewitching hymn. He therefore quickened his pace a bit, resolved to find out what sort of remarkable animal could, through its voice alone, make his heart leap to his throat in this curious fashion.

Now, it so happened that the bird which sang so winsomely was none other than Giuseppa Fiorentina, the youngest daughter of a very rich Florentine nobleman and widely renowned for her beauty and charm. Out for her usual Sunday stroll in the countryside, the girl was escorted by her nurse, a rather amiable and pleasant-looking woman of middle age, and by her father’s chief huntsman, who was not a bit less amiable in disposition. The two servants tarried several hundred yards behind their mistress, flirting and dallying with one another at every opportunity along the woodland pass. The young lady did not seem to notice, lightheartedly filling her wicker basket with pink and yellow wildflowers as she stepped delicately along the rough-hewn trail and hummed her pretty tunes.

When the young man saw her walking along, he immediately caught his breath and hastened to hide himself behind a clump of nearby shrubbery. She was, without a doubt, one of those spectacular goslings he had seen in town! Immediately, his heart was filled with an intense longing and he vowed to have her for his own.

‘After all,’ he asked himself as he drew ever nearer to his prey, ‘did father not send me out to trap a bird? I have read that goslings are the offspring of geese, and though I do not think that this one looks good to eat, still I might ensnare it and take it home as a pet. I am certain that father would grow to love it, if he would only let me keep it for a while.’ So, convinced that the aristocratic lady was indeed some sort of marvelous bird, he leapt out from the greenery that was his hiding place and wrapped both arms tightly around her, exclaiming, ‘Ha! I have finally trapped a gosling!’

More than a little surprised by the abrupt attack, the girl shrieked in fear and struggled to free herself. Her two attendants, who had stopped to trifle with one another quite a while back, heard nothing of her cries as they covered themselves in a sea of passionate embraces. However, this is a matter of little real concern to us since the young lady, upon turning around to face her captor, suddenly noticed that he was truly a rather attractive young man, and that it was not at all unpleasant to be caught in his firm embrace. She therefore ceased her attempts to alert the nurse and the hunter and spoke softly to him instead:

‘Dear sir, has there not been some mistake? Who are you, pray tell, that you would so boldly approach a woman of my high breeding and take me into your arms as though I were a helpless beast in a trap?’

The boy replied, ‘A woman, you say? What sort of nonsense language is this? I have never heard of such a thing. No, you are the animal my father has told me to call a gosling, and I shall take you back to my cave with me at once and have you as my pet.’

The young lady paused to consider for a bit. Her many suitors had often called her by pet names, addressing their love poems to ‘Giuseppa, my dove’ or ‘my little skylark’ or ‘my bird of Paradise.’ However, in all her life, she had never heard anyone refer to his beloved as a gosling. Nonetheless, she took the address as a term of endearment and was flattered that such a handsome fellow should wish her to be his plaything. Therefore, thinking that the two of them might have a bit of fun before nightfall, she spoke again:

‘Gladly, sir, would I be your pet, though I do not think I should like to go to a place so disagreeably damp as a cave. Might we not rest here awhile instead, under the shade of the trees?’

So struck was the young man by this gosling’s beauty that he would have been perfectly willing to do anything she requested, and spending time with her beneath the forest’s canopy certainly seemed like a pleasant way to pass the afternoon. So they sat down together on a patch of green clover, and after a few moments the young man said:

‘I have seen the men in the village stroking their cats and dogs all along the length of their lean bodies as they sit together in a chair. Since you are to be my pet, should I not do the same?’

Delighted at his straightforwardness, the girl took the boy’s hand and placed it on her heaving breast, which he proceeded to caress gleefully, as though it were a kitten. After a few minutes of this, he spoke again:

‘It is also true that the men in the village feed the animals they keep in their homes. Therefore, since you are now my pet, I should very much like to feed you a worm, as that is what I have heard birds like to eat. But my father has told me that the beaks of goslings are hidden beneath their feathers, and I haven’t any idea where. Oh, my little gosling, would you please show me the opening, that I might drop something in it?’

Amused by the young man’s words, the girl shed her dress of pleated fabric and lace and, without her bulky feathers, seemed even more beautiful than she was when decked in her fine plumage. Naked before him, she indicated the orifice that very soon he was to feed. Then, telling him to disrobe also, she showed him the worm which stuck out from his front, which he had never known to call a worm. With a good deal of excitement and enthusiasm, he slipped it into her open beak, all the while exclaiming, ‘How pleasant it is to feed one’s cherished pet!’

Once the gosling had eaten her fill, she dressed again and told her unworldly lover that it was time for her to go back to town. Since the young man was by now utterly exhausted from the strenuous afternoon activity, he did not try to stop her as she set on her way down the path to find her amorous servants, who had taken full advantage of their mistress’ long absence. So, his head full of agreeable thoughts and good humor, he stood and began to walk in the opposite direction, back to his father’s cave.

When he arrived, the sun had already set and the first stars were showing their bright faces in the black sky. His father hobbled to meet him at the entrance to the grotto. Somewhat irked by his son’s long delay, he called:

‘Well, boy, I’m famished! I hope you were able to trap us a juicy bird, since all this time without eating has magnified my appetite tenfold! What took you so long?’

Realizing that he had come home empty-handed, the young man hung his head in shame and said, ‘I am afraid I did not remember to bring us anything to eat for our supper, since I became distracted by a gosling I encountered early this afternoon.’

The dilapidated man had become a bit forgetful in his old age, sometimes not even knowing his own good name, and he did not recall what his naïve son thought goslings were. He therefore exclaimed irately:

‘What is this! You trapped a gosling, and yet did not bring it back for us? True, a goose would have been better to eat, since it is larger, but at least a young bird has a more tender flesh. I would gladly have taken one of those small tidbits over nothing at all!’

Saddened by the notion that he had so sorely disappointed his father, the boy resolved to go out once more into the woods. This time, he assured the hungry old man, he would not return until he had a juicy sweetmeat in his possession. Annoyed by the postponement of his evening meal, but realizing that he could do nothing more than wait, the cranky Filippo sat down on the cave’s floor with a crossed expression on his face and a flask of hooch in his hand, complaining bitterly all the while.

Meanwhile, his determined son dashed down the rocky path that led to Florence, saying to himself, ‘It has only been a few minutes since my gosling and I parted ways, and she takes such tiny steps that I am sure I will still be able to catch her. True, I haven’t the heart to roast her and eat her as we do other birds. But perhaps she might lead me to some other geese from her brood, since I have heard that feathered creatures often flock together.’ Barely had he uttered these words when he spied the girl walking a few steps ahead of him and trying desperately to make peace between the nurse and the huntsman, who were in the midst of a heated argument.

‘Do you mean to tell me that you are already married?’ the woman, who was pious to a fault, shrieked. ‘May God strike you down for your falsehood! Had I known this, I should never have allowed you to take advantage of me in the woods.’

‘Come, come,’ stammered her red-faced paramour. ‘It is not so grave a crime to amuse ourselves on a lazy afternoon. My wife certainly does not need to know of it. Why, even our good young mistress, if I might be so bold as to mention the incident, did the very same thing with that ruffian she encountered today! So you see, there is no harm.’

Though Giuseppa nodded in hearty agreement, the righteous nurse was convinced that she had been duped into committing a rather grave sin. So dismayed was she at the unholy situation that she began to hiss and spit at her young mistress as well, crying:

‘Miss, I shall tell your father what you have done! Yes, I shall tell him all about that young roughneck! Right after I tell your wife, sir, exactly what kind of a husband you are! Oh, the deception, the sin!’

Giuseppa and the hunter exchanged worried looks, wondering what could be done about the irate maid. If she uttered her heated accusations when they reached the mansion’s gate, all would be lost; each would certainly be cast into the street without a penny to live by. Just then, however, Filippo Balducci’s son came running up to them with a shout:

‘Ho, there, gosling!’ he bellowed. ‘Not so fast! Father says I must bring a goose home for supper. Do you know where I might find one?’

As it so happened, the hardy poacher had managed to kill three or four geese with his bow and arrow during the long walk back to Florence. Now an idea hatched in Giuseppa’s head, which she prepared to put into effect:

‘Young man, my servant has here some fowl that he would be more that happy to give you, if you are prepared to do us one favor. You see, we have with us this other gosling who of late has become a bit of a nuisance for us to mind. Since I am of the age where I must soon raise a brood of my own, I do not wish to be burdened with her presence anymore, and would therefore be most obliged if you could take the bird back with you.’

This sounded to the young man like a very reasonable request, and it was getting so dark outside that he saw little other way of securing an animal for his father’s supper. Besides, he thought, a gosling was a gosling, no matter how bothersome and ill-tempered. Though Giuseppa would have been a much fairer pet to keep in his home, the nurse was not without her own peculiar charms. Her flesh was smooth and silky, her hair was like a golden rainfall, and her soft bosom looked as comfortable to rest upon as a down pillow. Yes, perhaps she would make a fine plaything in the end. He could stroke her like a puppy, and might even like to feed his worm every now and again.

So he accepted the generous offer and took the hunter’s fresh-killed game into his hand. Over his brawny shoulder he hoisted the nurse, who all the while kicked and screamed in outrage at the clever trick that Giuseppa and her erstwhile lover had played. Delighted to be bringing home both goose and gosling at once and altogether happy about his excellent fortune, the young man set off on his way. The huntsman and the young noblewoman laughed at the success of their ruse and at the calamity they had so narrowly avoided, and so they went back home in good spirits. That night they informed the noble household that, much to their chagrin, the poor nurse had been kidnapped by a band of vicious thieves, and for all their deceit no one was ever the wiser.

When the young man arrived back at the cave with the geese and the nurse, he found his father completely intoxicated from the large quantity of bootleg wine he had consumed on an empty stomach. ‘Son!’ he exclaimed drunkenly. ‘What have you got over your shoulder?’

‘A gosling,’ the boy replied. ‘I brought her here to keep as my pet, but I also have obtained some geese to cook for supper.’ At this, Filippo’s mouth began to water, and he clapped like an eager child awaiting a birthday gift. They stuck a wooden spit through one of the hunter’s victims and roasted it on the campfire they always kept burning, taking it off the flame once it had turned golden-brown. By this time the nurse had calmed down a good deal and even started to fancy her handsome kidnapper, who was kind despite his rough manner. So she helped him to carve the animal into neat slices, and father, son, and gosling ate voraciously till none could eat a bite more. The worthy woman even helped the old fellow, who had lost all semblance of coordination after the fifth flask of wine he had swallowed down, to place the food into his drooling mouth.

‘What a clever gosling!’ cheered Filippo. ‘My son, she is a most extraordinary pet! But she should not be eating the meat of geese, since she is herself a bird. Have you not a caterpillar or some such thing to feed her instead?’

Needing no further encouragement than this, the young man drew his gosling to him and fed his worm into her beak, as he had done with her pretty mistress that afternoon. His father was a bit surprised at first, but soon recovered when he realized how useful it would be to have such a fine woman looking after the household affairs, for which he had heretofore been responsible. From then on they lived together in pleasant company, and there remained happy and satisfied for the rest of their many days.