elling as a sculptor, modeller, and medallist, he was a
musician, an author, and an admirable swordsman; and popes, kings, and
other great princes eagerly employed him, and vied with each other to
secure his services. His name was Benvenuto Cellini.

Under Pope Clement VII. he took part in the defence of the Castle of St.
Angelo, when it was besieged by the Constable de Bourbon, and the Pope
reposed such confidence in Cellini that he was entrusted with the task
of removing all the gems in the treasury from their settings, and
concealing the stones in the thick folds of his clothing. However, I am
not going to enlarge on Benvenuto's many talents, but to tell you of a
wonderful adventure which befell him in the very Castle of St. Angelo he
had helped to defend.

Those were lawless days, and Cellini was a man of fiery temper, to whom
blows came more naturally than patience and forbearance. So it came to
pass that, being told that a certain goldsmith named Pompeo had been
spreading false reports about him, Benvenuto fell upon him one fine day
in the very midst of Rome, and promptly stabbed him to death.

This might possibly have been overlooked, but a workman, jealous of
Cellini's success and reputation, accused the artist to the reigning
Pope, Paul III., of having purloined some of the jewels entrusted to his
care during the siege, and Paul was not to be trifled with where the
affairs of the treasury were concerned. Moreover, a near relation of the
Pope's was Cellini's sworn enemy, and this sufficed to seal his fate.

So, when taking a walk one morning, Benvenuto suddenly found himself
face to face with Crespino, the sheriff, attended by his band of
constables. Crespino advanced, saying, 'You are the Pope's prisoner.'

'Crespino,' exclaimed Benvenuto, 'you must take me for some one else.'

'No, no,' replied Crespino, 'I know you perfectly, Benvenuto, and I have
orders to carry you to the Castle of St. Angelo, where great nobles and
men of talent like yourself are sent.'

Then he politely begged Benvenuto to give up his sword, and led him off
to the Castle, where he was locked up in a room above the keep.

It was easy enough for Benvenuto to refute the accusations brought
against him; nevertheless he was kept prisoner, in spite of the
intervention of the French ambassador, who demanded his liberty in the
name of Francis I.

The governor of the Castle was, like Cellini, a Florentine, and at first
showed himself full