Not far from the palace of the Marquis stood a village, pleasantly situated, which supplied ample provision both for the inhabitants and cattle in its neighbourhood. Among the poor folk of this village lived one, named Janicola, who was accounted the poorest of them all, and he had a fair daughter, called Griselda. Fair she was to behold; but if I were to speak of virtuous beauty, then was she the fairest under the sun. Poorly and humbly brought up, her wants were all of the simplest nature. Simple was her diet, and constantly laborious was her life. Yet, though this young creature was of a tender age, within her virgin breast was enclosed a grave and mature spirit. Her poor old father she cherished with great love and reverence; she tended his sheep in the field, and her only hours of idleness were her hours of sleep.
The Marquis, as he rode out hunting, had frequently fixed his eyes upon Griselda; not in an idle or wanton humour, but with a grave and musing look; commending in his heart her womanly air and modest demeanour, her goodness and dutiful conduct as a daughter:
