When I was reduced to a mere chrysalis, having cords wound all over my body which glued my arms to my flanks, I was lifted like a bundle and lowered by a rope through the window to the ground.  The descent—­for I spun round and round with horrible velocity—­made me extremely giddy; probably I lost my senses for a time.  My next discovery was of being carried swiftly over the ground by one who ran rather than walked; of my captor mounting what I supposed to be the city wall, with me on his back, dropping lightly on the other side and running again, on and on.  The river was crossed, for I heard the pounding and splashing, the bank was mounted; I was now crossing furrowed ground, Heaven knew whither!  I was a long time; the thief climbed a hill; I heard him labouring his breath, and felt the heat come up from his body like the sun in the dog-days from a paved courtyard.  I was too uncomfortable, too perturbed, too much enraged over the fact to spend much thought on what the fact might mean.  Was I taken for a soldier?  Then why such a mystery about it?  I had seen men crimped in the open piazza, out of wine-shops, from the steps of churches.  What then was my fate?  I was soon to learn.

After what I think to have been an hour and a half’s journey, my captor, puffing for breath, stopped and put me down on grass.

“Porca Madonna!” cried a strident voice, “I’m not so young as I was, or you have grown fat in Pistoja.  The fatter the better for me.”

Then I knew that I had been kidnapped by Fra Palamone.

CHAPTER XV

I AM IN BONDAGE

The woolly gag removed, I said, in the dark, “Fra Palamone, so sure as God lives and reigns, you shall pay me for this.”

He replied, “My dear lad, I am paid already, and twice paid.  It is the certain conviction that I am hereafter to be much blessed in your society that has forced me to take this liberty.  May I now have the pleasure of setting you free?  It wounds me in my tenderest part to know how these cords must bruise you.  Your aching wounds—­my aching heart.  Come, a fair exchange!  Be free, and set me free.”  A great shadow of him settled down over my eyes, the impending bulk of his huge body; heat and garlic came in waves about me, his furnace breath.

“Not yet, Fra Palamone,” I said firmly.  “You will do well to leave me as I am until I know more of your intentions.  You used the word ‘freedom’ just now:  how am I to understand it?  I warn you that, so far as I know, the first use I shall make of my freedom will be to kill you.”  I meant it at the time, for I was beside myself with rage.

He began to swear gently to himself, walking to and fro before my feet, coupling (as his manner was) the names of his Maker, Redeemer and Divine Advocate with those of dishonourable animals.  Having thus eased himself, as a pump gets rid of foul water in the pipes before its uses can begin, he began to answer my objections.  “If to have the play of young limbs, the prerogative of two-footed creation, be not liberty,” said he, “then there is no liberty in the world.  And if to be loosed from sin and shame, by means however abrupt, be not liberty of the most exalted, spiritual kind, then, young man, you are a bondslave indeed, to your own ignoble desires.”