Two or three great mastiffs ran up and worried him but he beat them off with his dagger and crawled on. It was now broad daylight and he happened upon a water carrier who, at his entreaty, lifted him on his ass’s back and took him as far as the steps of St. Peter’s. Here he was fortunately found by a servant of his friend Cardinal Cornaro, who conveyed the news to his master and was desired to bring the wounded man into the cardinal’s apartments, where he was put to bed and a surgeon summoned. His leg was set and he was bled, then the cardinal hastened to the Vatican to intercede for Cellini with the pope. Another friend accompanied him. They were well received; “I know what you want,” cried the pope. “I am concerned to hear of Benvenuto’s sufferings, but bid him take care of his health and when he is thoroughly recovered it shall be my study to make him some amends for his past sufferings.” Only the constable of the castle made a great outcry and declared that he would be disgraced if his prisoner were not sent back to him, adding that Cellini had promised on his honour not to fly away and he had flown notwithstanding. The pope was still well disposed, however. “This Benvenuto is a brave fellow,” he said, “and his exploit is very extraordinary. Yet when I was a young man I descended from the very same place.” This was true enough. He had himself been a prisoner in the castle of St. Angelo, confined by Pope Alexander VI, for forging a papal brief, and fully expected sentence of death. But execution was delayed and Farnese (Paul III) bribed some of his guard to put him into a basket and let him down from the tower. Still Cellini was the hero of the hour. Numbers of the nobility and gentlefolk called upon him and honoured him as a man that had performed miracles. He writes: “Some of them made me promises, whilst others made me presents.” One enemy was still bitter and implacable. This was Pier Luigi, now duke of Parma, who strongly opposed his pardon, protesting that if this man were liberated, he would do something still more daring for he was “one of the boldest and most audacious of mortals.” At this time Cardinal Cornaro was intriguing to get a bishopric for one of his gentlemen, and the pope was willing to make a bargain with him,--the bishopric in exchange for Cellini, “and so,” says Cellini, “I was sold by a Venetian cardinal to a Roman of the Farnese family, both of whom in so doing violated the most sacred laws.” Cellini was on the point of getting himself smuggled out of Rome concealed inside a mattress, but he was suddenly seized by the pope’s order, and Cardinal Cornaro’s consent, and carried first to the Tor di Nona and lodged in the place assigned to condemned criminals; thence he was conveyed back to the castle in a litter, on account of his broken leg, and was very civilly treated.