ABSTRACT
Behold Bruno landed in France in as bad plight as ever, or worse; robbed, homeless, his whilom patron no longer able to help or protect him and with no prospect of better things. Like Dante he was “a wanderer, almost a beggar” and like Dante he might have exclaimed: “Verily have I been as a ship without sail or rudder, drifted hither and thither on different refuges, straits and shores by the bitter blast, the breath of which is wretched poverty.” 1
