Imprimatur by Rita Monaldi, Francesco Sorti

so crude. It all depends on the intention. Sin is delib­erate detachment from the Word of God," intoned Robleda solemnly. "If, however, one commits it only in appearance, but without real intent, then one will be saved."
    I left Robleda's chamber, vacillating between disquiet and pros­tration. Thanks to the learning of the Jesuits, I thought, Pellegrino had good chances of saving his soul. But from this discourse it seemed almost as though white were black, truth the same as lies, and good and evil one and the same thing.
    Perhaps Abbot Melani was not as upright as he would wish one to believe. But, I thought, Robleda was even less to be trusted.
    Luncheon was already late, and our guests, who had fasted since the evening before, descended rapidly to the kitchen. After hastily regaling themselves with my broth containing little dumplings and hop shoots, which no one cared for, it was Cristofano who called our attention to what was to be done next. The men-at-arms would soon be calling us to appear at the windows. The presence of another sick person would surely cause the Congregation for Public Health to decree there was a danger of pestilence and the quarantine would then be maintained and strengthened. Perhaps a pest-house might be improvised to which we would all sooner or later be transferred. Such a possibility was enough to make even brave men tremble.
    "Then, our only hope is to try to escape," gasped the glass-blower Brenozzi.
    "It would not be possible," observed Cristofano. "They will already have erected gates and closed off the road, and even if we were to succeed in getting past them, we would be hunted down throughout the Papal States. We could try to cross the territory in the direction of Loreto, fleeing through the woods, and to embark on the Adriatic and flee by sea. But I have no sure friends along that way, nor do I think that any of us is better off in that respect. We would be reduced to begging strangers to take us in, always running the risk of betrayal by whoever offers us hospitality. Otherwise, we could try to take refuge in the Kingdom of Naples, travelling by night and sleeping by day. I am certainly no longer of an age to support such heavy exertions; and there are others among you who have perhaps not been favoured by nature. Besides, we would, of course, need a guide, a shepherd or a villager, who would not be so easy to persuade, to lead us through the hills and vales, and who must above all not guess that we are hunted fugitives, or he would hand us over to his master without thinking twice. Lastly, we are too numerous to escape, and none of us bear certificates of health: so we would all be stopped at the first border post. Our chances of success would, in other words, be negligible. And all that without counting the fact that, even were we to succeed, we would be doomed never to return to Rome."
    "And so what?" rejoined Bedfordi, snorting disdainfully and let­ting his hands dangle ridiculously from his wrists in a gesture of im­patience.
    "And so, Pellegrino will reply to the roll-call," replied Cristofano without the slightest loss of composure.
    "But if he cannot even stand on his feet," I objected.
    "He will," replied the physician. "He must."
    When he had finished, he retained us yet longer and proposed, in order to strengthen us against any possible infection, that we should take physick to modify the humours. Some remedies were, he said, already prepared, others he would make ready with the herbs and essences which he carried with him, and drawing upon Pellegrino's well-stocked pantry.
    "You will like neither the taste nor the smell. But they are prepared with great authority," and here he stared significantly in Bedfordi's direction. "They include the elixir vitae, the quinte essence, second water and prepared mother of balsam, oleumphilosophorum , the great liquor, caustic, diaromatic, the angelic electuary, oil of vitriol, oil of sulphur, imperial musk tablets and a whole series