all my stains should be done off, and that I should be marked by the
Guardian of the Gate. Well, here I bore my Sign--the only sign tolerable
for a Christian--and before I had reached the last ridge of the
mountains, before I could hope to look up to the shining eyes of my
Beatrice, my brands of sin must one by one be wiped out. Ah, that was
very true; and was proved to be so before I had done my journeyings; but
I knew not then in what manner.

A misfortune for me was that, playing a character, I could not refuse to
sell my wares. At Malalbergo, a small town between Ferrara and Bologna,
I came into a region where famine and pestilence between them had been
rife, stalking (dreadful reapers!) side by side, mowing as they went.
The people stormed the churches, and hung with wild cries for mercy
about the shrines on the wayside. They fell ravenously upon me--and as I
could not set a price upon my crucifixes, and it was soon known that I
had them to give away, it follows that within half an hour after
entering Malalbergo I was able to leave it with nothing to show for my
declared profession but the cross about my neck. So fearful was I of
losing that one, I concealed my passport, and travelled henceforward
under my own name and profession. I had very little money left--some
three or four ducats, I think. I determined to be careful of these, and
to endeavour after some employment in Bologna, at once congenial and
lucrative, which should not, however, deflect my designs from the speedy
accomplishment of my pilgrimage.




CHAPTER IX