WHEN the day dawned, the guard woke me up and said: “Oh, unfortunate but worthy man, you have no more time to go on sleeping, for one is waiting here to give you evil news.” I answered: “The sooner I escape from this earthly prison, the happier shall I be; especially as I am sure my soul is saved, and that I am going to an undeserved death. Christ, the glorious and divine, elects me to the company of His disciples and friends, who, like Himself, were condemned to die unjustly. I too am sentenced to an unjust death, and I thank God with humility for this sign of grace. Why does not the man come forward who has to pronounce my doom?” The guard replied: “He is too grieved for you, and sheds tears.” Then I called him by his name of Messer Benedetto da Cagli, [1] and cried: “Come forward, Messer Benedetto, my friend, for now, I am resolved and in good frame of mind; far greater glory is it for me to die unjustly than if I had deserved this fate. Come forward, I beg, and let me have a priest, in order that I may speak a couple of words with him. I do not indeed stand in need of this, for I have already made my heart’s confession to my Lord God; yet I should like to observe the ordinances of our Holy Mother Church; for though she has done me this abominable wrong, I pardon her with all my soul. So come, friend Messer Benedetto, and despatch my business before I lose control over my better instincts.” After I had uttered these words, the worthy man told the guard to lock the door, because nothing could be done without his presence. He then repaired to the house of Signor Pier Luigi’s wife, who happened to be in company with the Duchess of whom I spoke above. [2] Presenting himself before them both, he spoke as follows: “My most illustrious mistress, I entreat you for the love of God to tell the Pope, that he must send some one else to pronounce sentence upon Benvenuto and perform my office; I renounce the task, and am quite decided not to carry it through.” Then, sighing, he departed with the strongest signs of inward sorrow. The Duchess, who was present, frowned and said: “So this is the fine justice dealt out here in Rome by God’s Vicar! The Duke, my late husband, particularly esteemed this man for his good qualities and eminent abilities; he was unwilling to let him return to Rome, and would gladly have kept him close to his own person.” Upon this she retired, muttering words of indignation and displeasure. Signor Pier Luigi’s wife, who was called Signora Jerolima, betook herself to the Pope, and threw herself upon her knees before him in the presence of several cardinals. She pleaded my cause so warmly that she woke the Pope to shame; whereupon he said: “For your sake we will leave him quiet; yet you must know that we had no ill-will against him.” These words he spoke because of the cardinals who were around him, and had listened to the eloquence of that brave-spirited lady.