Near the mouth of a deep and narrow dungeon, which was more like a tomb than a prison to its wretched inmates, stood Corsicurbo, the barbarian. He shouted with a terrible voice, but, although the fearful clamour was heard far and near, none could hear his words distinctly, except the miserable Clelia, an unhappy captive, buried in this abyss. "Clelia," he said, "see that the boy who was committed to your custody two days ago, be bound fast to the cord I am about to let down; see that his hands are tied behind him, and make him ready to be drawn up here: also look well if among the women of the last prize there are any beautiful enough to deserve being brought amongst us, and to enjoy the light of the clear sky that is above us." So saying, he let down a strong hempen cord, and for some brief space he and four other barbarians pulled it, until, with his hands tied strongly behind him, they drew up a boy, seemingly about nineteen or twenty years of age, drest in linen like a mariner, but beautiful, exceedingly. The first thing the barbarians did was to investigate the manacles and cords with which his hands were tied behind his back; then they shook the locks of hair, which, like an infinity of rings of pure gold, covered his head. They cleaned his face, which had been obscured by dust, and revealed a beauty, so marvellous, that it softened and touched even the hearts of those who were carrying him to execution. The gallant boy showed no sort of affliction in his bearing, but with beaming eyes he uplifted his countenance, and looking round on every side, with a clear voice and firm accent, he cried, "I give thanks, O vast and pitying Heavens, that I have been brought out to die where your light will shine upon my death, and not where those dark dungeons, from which I have just arisen, would have covered me with their gloomy horrors; I would wish, because I am a Christian, not to die in despair at least, although my misfortunes are such as to make me almost desire it."