"O thou that comest to the abode of pain!" Minos bellowed, his voice vibrating in Dante's very marrow. "Look how thou enterest, and in whom thou trustest!"
Like two doves returning to their nest, the pair descended from the gale. They were and Paolo Malatesta . Francesca spoke, her voice weeping even as she found words. She told of a book—the story of Lancelot—that they had read together one afternoon. Inferno Episodio 2 di 7
This was , the dread judge of the underworld. He didn't look like a king; he looked like a nightmare. With a tail that coiled around his massive torso like a whip of scales, he snarled at the approaching poets. "O thou that comest to the abode of pain
Among the blurred shapes, two shadows caught his eye. They flew together, buffeted by the wind but never drifting apart. Francesca spoke, her voice weeping even as she found words
"A Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it," she whispered. "That day, we read no further."
"Keep your head down," Dante shouted over the roar, though the words were instantly snatched from his lips. Virgil, composed even in the face of the tempest, merely pointed toward a massive, jagged throne of rock where a figure loomed, colossal and grotesque.
The weight of their tragedy, the realization that their eternal togetherness was actually their eternal punishment, became too much for Dante. The wind, the weeping, and the sheer pity for their lost souls crushed his spirit. His knees buckled, the world turned to ink, and he fell to the rocky floor like a dead body falls.