Master Francis. Well, then, Master Francis, when he was let down, turned
to the right and saw a door, which he opened, and found himself in
darkness that you could cut. He turned to the left, the same; he went
forward, the same; he turned once more and when he opened the door what
did he see? He saw a man seated before a table; before him, pen, ink,
and a written paper that he was reading; and when he finished it he
began over again, and never raised his eyes from the paper. Master
Francis, who was of incomparable courage, went up to him and said: "Who
are you?" The man made no answer, but continued to read. "Who are you?"
said Master Francis again; but not a word. The third time, the man said:
"Turn around, open your shirt, and I will write who I am on your back.
When you leave this place, go to the Pope and make him read who I am.
Remember, however, that the Pope alone must read it." Master Francis
turned about, opened his shirt, the man wrote on his back, and then sat
down again. Master Francis was courageous, it is true; but he was not
made of wood, and in that moment he was frightened to death. He fixed
his shirt and then asked: "How long have you been here?" but could get
no answer from him. Seeing that it was time lost to question him, he
gave the signal to those outside and was drawn up. When they saw him
they did not recognize him; he had grown entirely white and seemed like
an old man of ninety. "What was it? What happened?" they all began to
say. "Nothing, nothing," he replied; "take me to the Pope, for I must
confess." Two of those who were present conducted him to the Pope. When
he was with him he related what had happened and taking off his shirt,
said to him: "Read, your Holiness!" His Holiness read: "I AM PILATE."
And as he uttered these words the poor carter became a statue. And it is
said that that man was Pilate, who was condemned to stay in a cave,
always reading the sentence that he had pronounced on Jesus Christ,
without ever being able to take his eyes from the paper. This is the
story of Pilate who is neither saved nor damned.[7]

* * * * *

Judas is believed to have hanged himself on a tamarind-tree, which,
before that time, was a tall, beautiful tree. After Judas's death it
became the diminutive, shapeless shrub called _vruca_, which is a
synonym for all that is worthless. The soul of the traitor is condemned
to wander through the air, and every time it sees this