Dante comes where the water's din falls into the next round, like the hum of swarming bees. From a troop under the fire-storm, three spirits run toward them and cry to stay: by the fashion of his garb they deem him an inmate of their evil land. Wounds recent and old mark their limbs. Virgil pauses: wait now; our courtesy these merit well; were it not for the fiery darts, haste would have suited Dante better than them. The three whirl round in one restless wheel, like oiled champions watching for hold, each countenance kept opposite the twinkling feet.
One speaks: if misery call forth scorn, let our great renown incline thee to say who thou art, that imprints living feet unharmed on the soil of Hell. The man in whose track he runs is Guidoguerra, grandchild of chaste Gualdrada, noble in wisdom and sword. Next, Aldobrandi, a name of honour above. Himself is Rusticucci, brought to this evil more than aught beside by a wife of savage temper. Dante would have cast himself among them if the fire had not vanquished the desire. Not scorn, he says, but grief: he is their countryman; he goes leaving the gall for the sweet fruit, but must first tend downward to the centre. Then: do courtesy and valour still dwell in our city, or have they vanished clean? Borsiere's news grieves them. Dante cries with face upraised: an upstart multitude and sudden gains, pride and excess, O Florence, have in thee engendered, so that now in tears thou mourn'st. They look at each other as men look when truth comes to their ear. If thou escape this darksome clime, see that of us thou speak among mankind. They break the circle and flee so swift one might not have said Amen.
The water's sound grows so loud they can scarce hear speech. Virgil bids Dante unloose the cord that braced his girdle, once meant to take the painted leopard, and casts it into the abyss. A strange signal, Dante thinks, which the guide follows with earnest eye. Caution with those who spy into thoughts, not deeds alone. Quickly shall come what I expect. Through murky air a shape comes swimming up, that might have quelled the stoutest heart with wonder, like a man who has been down to loose an anchor and springs upward drawing in his feet.
Coming Up in Chapter 17
Virgil will name the fell monster with the deadly sting, who taints all the world. What rises will wear a just man's face, so kind in its outward cheer, and keep a serpent's train and a scorpion's fork in the void.
