I.

An astronomer whose home is in Florence, is now in Rome called before the Tribunal
of the (Holy) inquisition, because of a book he has written.
II. He had promised the church that he would insist no more in the idea that the Earth
revolved around the Sun. For having sustained that idea, he found himself dragged
into a controversy from which he had emerged severely admonished. But, in that
book, he goes back to making statements (which are) no less serious.
III. “Deny this impossible theory that the Sun is immobile and the Earth revolves around
it,” ordered the judges clothed in authority and majesty, who are seated around him.
No scientist stands to support him. The world remains indifferent, convinced that he
is nothing but a lunatic with a tendency to pronounce heresies that can only lead him
to the tortures of the Inquisition.
IV. The man recognizes his solitude, he realizes that he is absolutely defenseless, and,
kneeling down, denies what he has said. But he knows that none of his denials can
annul the truth. He hears how the judges condemn him to recite seven psalms once
a week for a period of three years in penitence for his heresy. The man who is
kneeling down looks over his shoulder at the Sun shining through the window and
then looks at the ground under his feet.

_“Eppur si muove,” he whispers. “And yet it moves”

The man is Galileo.