I knew him in spite of his dress. The prisoner, however, submitted more quietly than was anticipated. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. “My Mom never gets a good night’s sleep. The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague.
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