of the City.

He had answered with mere smiling scorn to the questions of these
cobbler fellows and butchers. But when he heard his sentence of death
pronounced, he fell into ecstasy of deep astonishment, and was led away
to prison as if in a trance. No sooner was he locked up in his cell
than, awaking from his stupor, he began to regret the life he was to
lose with all the ardour of his young blood and impetuous character;
visions of all its pleasures, arms, women, horses, crowded before his
eyes, and at the thought he would never enjoy the delights more, he was
carried away by so furious a despair he beat with fists and forehead on
the walls of his dungeon, and gave vent to such wild howls as were
audible over all the neighbourhood, even in the burghers' houses and the
drapers' booths. The gaoler coming in to know the cause of the uproar,
found him covered with blood and foaming at the mouth.

Ser Niccola Tuldo never left off howling with rage for three days and
three nights.

The thing was reported to the _Mount of the Reformers_. The members of
the most august Signory, after despatching their more pressing business,
examined into the case of the unhappy man in the condemned cell.

Leone Rancati, brickmaker by trade, said:

"The man must pay with his head for his crime against the Commonwealth
of Sienna; and none can relieve him of this debt, without encroaching on
the sacred rights of the City our mother. He must needs die; but his
soul is his Maker's, and it is not meet that through our fault he die in
this sinful state of madness and despair. Therefore should we use all
the means within our competence to assure his eternal salvation."

Matteino Renzano, the baker, a man famed for his wisdom, rose in his
turn and said:

"Well spoken, Leone Rancati! The case demands we send to the condemned
man Catherine, the fuller's daughter."

The advice was approved by all the Signory, who resolved to invite
Catherine to visit Niccola Tuldo in his prison.

In those days Catherine, daughter of Giacomo the fuller, filled all the
city of Sienna with the perfume of her virtues. She dwelt in a little
cell in her father's house and wore the habit of the Sisters of
Penitence. She carried girt about her under her gown of white linen an
iron chain, and scourged herself an hour long every day. Then, showing
her arms covered with wounds, she would cry, "Behold my pretty red
roses!" She cultivated in her chamber lilies and violet