The man who would know what were my feelings at all this must have been
in a similar situation to my own. In the first gush of feeling I forgave
my oppressors, and was on the point of giving up the idea of escape; so
easily shall you move a man that you have brought low and overwhelmed
with misfortune. Lawrence told me that M. de Bragadin had come before the
three Inquisitors, and that on his knees, and with tears in his eyes, he
had entreated them to let him give me this mark of his affection if I
were still in the land of the living; the Inquisitors were moved, and
were not able to refuse his request.

I wrote down without delay the names of the books I wanted.

One fine morning, as I was walking in the garret, my eyes fell on the
iron bar I have mentioned, and I saw that it might very easily be made
into a defensive or offensive weapon. I took possession of it, and having
hidden it under my dressing-gown I conveyed it into my cell. As soon as I
was alone, I took the piece of black marble, and I found that I had to my
hand an excellent whetstone; for by rubbing the bar with the stone I
obtained a very good edge.

My interest roused in this work in which I was but an apprentice, and in
the fashion in which I seemed likely to become possessed of an instrument
totally prohibited under the Leads, impelled, perhaps, also by my vanity
to make a weapon without any of the necessary tools, and incited by my
very difficulties (for I worked away till dark without anything to hold
my whetstone except my left hand, and without a drop of oil to soften the
iron), I made up my mind to persevere in my difficult task. My saliva
served me in the stead of oil, and I toiled eight days to produce eight
edges terminating in a sharp point, the edges being an inch and a half in
length. My bar thus sharpened formed an eight-sided dagger, and would
have done justice to a first-rate cutler. No one can imagine the toil and
trouble I had to bear, nor the patience required to finish this difficult
task without any other tools than a loose piece of stone. I put myself,
in fact, to a kind of torture unknown to the tyrants of all ages. My
right arm had become so stiff that I could hardly move it; the palm of my
hand was covered with a large scar, the result of the numerous blisters
caused by the hardness and the length of the work. No one would guess the
sufferings I underwent to bring my work to completion.

Proud of what I had done, without thin