The climb from the broken bridge is genuinely difficult — a strenuous physical ascent that leaves Dante panting and Virgil urging him on. The work is deliberate: even in Hell, motion requires effort, and lethargy is a sin that extends into the act of witness. They reach the seventh bolgia and look down into a ditch writhing with serpents of every kind — the memory of Libya's famous snake population, which Lucan catalogued, pales beside this. Naked shades run through the snakes, their hands bound behind their backs by serpents that knot through their loins. A snake bites one shade in the neck; it catches fire and burns to ash; then the ash reconstitutes itself into the same shade. A man whose identity is perpetually destroyed and reconstituted: his self is stolen from him as he stole from others.
Dante recognizes a Pistoian, Vanni Fucci — a man of blood and rage, a thief of the sacristy of San Zeno. He is deeply ashamed to be seen here and reluctant to speak — a proud and violent man brought low. He gives his name and his crime (theft of treasure from Pistoia's cathedral) with bitter brevity. Then, to wound Dante, he delivers a political prophecy against the White Guelphs (Dante's faction): they will be driven from Florence. He makes an obscene gesture at God and is immediately attacked by serpents. The exchange is precise: Vanni Fucci stole sacred things; now his identity itself is endlessly stolen and restored.