THE CASTELLAN, meanwhile, ill and afflicted as he was, had himself
transported to my prison, and exclaimed: “You see that I have recaptured
you!” “Yes,” said I, “but you see that I escaped, as I told you I would.
And if I had not been sold by a Venetian Cardinal, under Papal
guarantee, for the price of a bishopric, the Pope a Roman and a Farnese
(and both of them have scratched with impious hands the face of the most
sacred laws), you would not have recovered me. But now that they have
opened this vile way of dealing, do you the worst you can in your turn;
I care for nothing in the world.” The wretched man began shouting at the
top of his voice: “Ah, woe is me! woe is me! It is all the same to this
fellow whether he lives or dies, and behold, he is more fiery than when
he was in health. Put him down there below the garden, and do not speak
to me of him again, for he is the destined cause of my death.”
So I was taken into a gloomy dungeon below the level of a garden, which
swam with water, and was full of big spiders and many venomous worms.
They flung me a wretched mattress of course hemp, gave me no supper, and
locked four doors upon me. In that condition I abode until the
nineteenth hour of the following day. Then I received food, and I
requested my jailers to give me some of my books to read. None of them
spoke a word, but they referred my prayer to the unfortunate castellan,
who had made inquiries concerning what I said. Next morning they brought
me an Italian Bible which belonged to me, and a copy of the Chronicles
of Giovanni Villani. [1] When I asked for certain other of my books, I
was told that I could have no more, and that I had got too many already.
Thus, then, I continued to exist in misery upon that rotten mattress,
which in three days soaked up water like a sponge. I could hardly stir
because of my broken leg; and when I had to get out of bed to obey a
call of nature, I crawled on all fours with extreme distress, in order
not to foul the place I slept in. For one hour and a half each day I got
a little glimmering of light, which penetrated that unhappy cavern
through a very narrow aperture. Only for so short a space of time could
I read; the rest of the day and night I abode in darkness, enduring my
lot, nor ever without meditations upon God and on our human frailty. I
thought it certain that a few more days would put an end of my unlucky
life in that sad place and in that miserable manner. Nevertheless, as
well as I was able, I comforted my soul by calling to mind how much more
painful it would have been, on passing from this life, to have suffered
that unimaginable horror of the hangman’s knife. Now, being as I was, I
should depart with the anodyne of sleepiness, which robbed death of half
its former terrors. Little by little I felt my vital forces waning,
until at last my vigorous temperament had become adapted to that
purgatory. When I felt it quite acclimatised, I resolved to put up with
all those indescribable discomforts so long as it held out.
Note 1. This mention of an Italian Bible shows that we are still in the
days before the Council of Trent.