a large key
and cautiously unlocked it.

When we found ourselves in the forest, and I was about to inquire of
him the best road to the nearest town, he suddenly fell upon one knee
before me, raised a hand aloft, and began to curse and to swear in the
most horrible manner. I could not imagine what he wanted; I could
hear frequent repetitions of "_Iddio_" and "_cuore_" and "_amore_" and
"_furore_!" But when he began hobbling close up to me on both knees,
I grew positively terrified, I perceived clearly that he had lost his
wits, and I fled into the depths of the forest without looking back.

I heard the student behind me shouting like one possessed, and soon
afterward a rough voice from the castle shouting in reply. I was sure
they would pursue me. The road was entirely unknown to me; the night
was dark; I should probably fall into their hands. Therefore I climbed
up into a tall tree to await my opportunity to escape.

From here I could distinguish one voice after another calling in the
castle. Several links appeared in the garden, and cast a weird lurid
light over the old walls and down the mountain out into the black
night. I commended my soul to the Almighty, for the confused uproar
grew louder and nearer. At last the student, bearing aloft a torch,
ran past my tree below me so fast that the skirt of his surtout flew
out behind him in the wind. After this the tumult gradually retreated
to the other side of the mountain; the voices sounded more and more
distant, and at last the wind alone sighed through the silent forest.
I then descended from my tree and ran breathless down into the valley
and out into the night.

CHAPTER VII

I hurried on for the rest of the night and the next day, for there was
a din in my ears for a long time, as if all the people from the castle
were after me, shouting, waving torches, and brandishing long knives.
On the way I learned that I was only five or six miles from Rome,
whereat I could have jumped for joy. As a child at home I had heard
wonderful stories of gorgeous Rome, and as I lay on my back in the
grass on Sunday afternoons near the mill, and everything around was so
quiet, I used to picture Rome out of the clouds sailing above me, with
wondrous mountains and abysses, around the blue sea, with golden gates
and lofty gleaming towers, where angels in shining robes were singing.

The night had come again, and the moon shone brilliantly, when at
last I emerged from the for