Next day, as I was going to pay my court to the Pope, I saw Momolo in the first ante-chamber, and I took care to remind him of the polenta for the evening.
As soon as the Pope saw me, he said,—
“The Venetian ambassador has informed us that if you wish to return to your native land, you must go and present yourself before the secretary of the Tribunal.”
“Most Holy Father, I am quite ready to take this step, if Your Holiness will grant me a letter of commendation written with your own hand. Without this powerful protection I should never dream of exposing myself to the risk of being again shut up in a place from which I escaped by a miracle and the help of the Almighty.”
“You are gaily dressed; you do not look as if you were going to church.”
“True, most Holy Father, but neither am I going to a ball.”
“We have heard all about the presents being sent back. Confess that you did so to gratify your pride.”
“Yes, but also to lower a pride greater than mine.”
The Pope smiled at this reply, and I knelt down and begged him to permit me to present the volume of Pandects to the Vatican Library. By way of reply he gave me his blessing, which signifies, in papal language, “Rise; your request is granted.”
“We will send you,” said he, “a mark of our singular affection for you without your having to pay any fees.”