ma però che già mai di questo fondo
non torno vivo alcun, s’i’ odo il vero,
sanza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.’”
Julia began to stand a little taller.
“In this passage, Guido says he’s willing to tell the truth since he believes that Dante is one of the damned and thus wouldn’t be able to repeat the story. But Guido’s tale is self-serving. He blames everyone—the pope, the demon, and by implication, St. Francis—for his fate. There’s nothing in his account that he should be embarrassed about. If anything, the story he tells is one he would want to have repeated. He simply doesn’t want to tip his hand by saying so, which is why he gives the speech I just quoted.
“You’re also forgetting this line:
“‘Ora chi se’, ti priego che ne conte;
non esser duro più ch’altri sia stato,
se ‘l nome tuo nel mondo tegna fronte.’”
Growing in confidence, Julia resisted the urge to smile, choosing rather to meet Christa’s gaze gravely.
“Dante tells Guido that he intends to repeat his tale in the world. It’s only after Dante says this that Guido recounts his life story. Also, we know that Dante doesn’t resemble the other shades physically. So it’s likely that Guido recognized that Dante wasn’t dead.”
Christa began speaking, but Julia lifted a patient hand, indicating that she wasn’t finished.
“There’s textual evidence for my interpretation. There’s a parallel passage in the fifth canto of Purgatorio, in which Guido’s son talks about how an angel came for his soul at his death. Perhaps it’s the responsibility of angels and not saints to ferry souls to Paradise. Thus, Francis appears at Guido’s death for quite a different purpose.
“As for your last point, about Professor Hutton’s work. If you’re referring to Fire and Ice: Desire and Sin in Dante’s Inferno, then your characterization of his position is incorrect. Although I don’t have a copy of the book with me, there’s a footnote in chapter ten in which he states that he believed that Francis appeared, because he thinks the words of the demon were directed at someone other than Guido, himself. But Professor Hutton says he has doubts as to whether Francis appeared for Guido’s soul or for some other reason. That’s all he says on the matter.”
Christa stood up as if to argue, but before a word could exit her mouth, an aged professor dressed entirely in tweed turned around to face her. He looked at her contemptuously through his tortoiseshell glasses.
“Can we move on? You’ve asked your question and the speaker answered it. Adequately, I might add.”
Christa was taken aback, but she quickly regrouped, protesting that she should have an opportunity to ask a supplementary question.
Once again, the audience reacted with whispered words, but Julia noticed that the expressions on their faces had changed. Now they were looking at Julia with a kind of muted appreciation.
“Can we move on? I’d like the opportunity to ask a question.” The aged professor turned away from Christa and directed his gaze to the moderator, who stepped forward, clearing his throat.
“Ah, if there’s time we’ll come back to you, miss. But I believe Professor Wodehouse has the floor.”
The aged man in tweed muttered a thank-you and stood up. He removed his glasses and waved them in Julia’s direction.
“Donald Wodehouse of Magdalen.” He introduced himself.
Julia’s face paled, for Professor Wodehouse was a Dante specialist whose standing rivaled that of Katherine Picton’s.
“I’m familiar with the footnote you’re referring to in Old Hut’s book. You’ve summarized it correctly. A different view is taken by Emerson in his volume.” At this, Wodehouse gestured in Gabriel’s direction. “But I see you haven’t been swayed by him, despite the fact that you two share a last name.”
Laughter erupted from the crowd, and Gabriel winked at Julia proudly.
“As you point out, it’s perplexing to see why Francis would appear at the death of a false Franciscan, but we need to posit Francis’s appearance in order to make sense of the demon’s speech. So we’re left with half-and-half as the woman behind me mentioned. I don’t find that problematic. Half-truth, half-falsity seems to pervade all of Guido’s words. The ambiguity and rhetorical sophistry is what one would expect in a person guilty of fraudulent counsel. So I tend to agree with much of what you’ve said, and although I can’t speak for him, I surmise that Old Hut would too, if he were here.”
Julia exhaled slowly in relief, her fingers loosening their iron grip on the lectern. Her mind was bracing for his next words, but she felt vindicated by the professor’s remarks.
Professor Wodehouse glanced at his handwritten notes before continuing.