HAD Tirola, with his expression of good-nature, possessed a less roguish
look, had there been something a little more dignified in his aspect, I
should have tried to make him my ambassador; for perhaps a brief
communication, if in time, might prevent my friend committing some fatal
error, perhaps save him, poor fellow; besides several others, including
myself: and too much was already known. Patience! it was fated to be
thus.
I was here recalled to be examined anew. The process continued through
the day, and was again and again repeated, allowing me only a brief
interval during dinner. While this lasted, the time seemed to pass
rapidly; the excitement of mind produced by the endless series of
questions put to me, and by going over them at dinner and at night,
digesting all that had been asked and replied to, reflecting on what was
likely to come, kept me in a state of incessant activity. At the end of
the first week I had to endure a most vexatious affair. My poor friend
Piero, eager as myself to have some communication, sent me a note, not by
one of the jailers, but by an unfortunate prisoner who assisted them. He
was an old man from sixty to seventy, and condemned to I know not how
long a period of captivity. With a pin I had by me I pricked my finger,
and scrawled with my blood a few lines in reply, which I committed to the
same messenger. He was unluckily suspected, caught with the note upon
him, and from the horrible cries that were soon heard, I conjectured that
he was severely bastinadoed. At all events I never saw him more.
On my next examination I was greatly irritated to see my note presented
to me (luckily containing nothing but a simple salutation), traced in my
blood. I was asked how I had contrived to draw the blood; was next
deprived of my pin, and a great laugh was raised at the idea and
detection of the attempt. Ah, I did not laugh, for the image of the poor
old messenger rose before my eyes. I would gladly have undergone any
punishment to spare the old man. I could not repress my tears when those
piercing cries fell upon my ear. Vainly did I inquire of the jailers
respecting his fate. They shook their heads, observing, “He has paid
dearly for it, he will never do such like things again; he has a little
more rest now.” Nor would they speak more fully. Most probably they
spoke thus on account of his having died under, or in consequence of, the
punishment he had suffered; yet one day I thought I caught a glimpse of
him at the further end of the court-yard, carrying a bundle of wood on
his shoulders. I felt a beating of the heart as if I had suddenly
recognised a brother.