Boccaccio was escorted to a store of “noble manuscripts” in a doorless loft that was reached by a ladder. Inside, he found books white with dust; books with whole sheets ripped out; books with their margins cut away. A weeping Boccaccio demanded to know how such precious volumes could be so ill-used. A monk told him that whenever his brethren needed money, they would cut out enough parchment leaves from a Bible to make a little psalter, then sell it.
