Scathed and weary, Bumba climbed the narrow stone staircase. The great evil was now below him. Still, the fires of hell continued to pulse and radiate their heat and stench upward toward him. He staggered and wended his way through the sulfurous pillars and crags of Gehenom. Bumba knew that he must not rest until he reached terra firma. Finally his hands grasped moist earth. He had arrived. He was in a glade, a wooded hillside. The cool shade and rich air of the forest was a blessing, a balm for his wounds. He felt a relief in all his body. Indeed, it was as if his body had returned to him. He lay down underneath an ancient oak. He slept and dreamt of Beatrice. Ah, Beatrice. He would see her in Rome. Bumba fell asleep in the cool oak forest of ancient Umbria. His story was just beginning.