XXXIII
When I opened my eyes I found myself on a bed in a darkened room. By myside was sitting a woman. I looked at her, and wondered who she was.
'Who the devil are you?' I asked, somewhat impolitely.
At the words someone else stepped forward and bent over me. I recognisedAndrea; then I recollected what had occurred.
'Where is the Orso?' I asked. 'Is he safe?'
'Do you feel better?' he said.
'I am all right. Where is the Orso?' I tried to sit up, but my headswam. I felt horribly sick and sank back.
'What is the matter?' I moaned.
'Only a broken head,' said Andrea, with a little smile. 'If you had beena real serving-man, instead of a fine gentleman masquerading, youwouldn't think twice about it.'
'Have pity on my infirmities, dear boy,' I murmured faintly. 'I don'tpretend that my head is as wooden as yours.'
Then he explained.
'When you were beaten down they made a rush for the old master and borehim off.'
'Oh!' I cried. 'I promised Checco to look after him. What will hethink!'
'It was not your fault.' At the same time he renewed the bandages roundmy head and put cooling lotions on.
'Good boy!' I said, as I enjoyed the cold water on my throbbing head.
'When I saw the blows come down on your head, and you fall like a stone,I thought you were killed. With you soft-headed people one never knows!'
'It appears to amuse you,' I said. 'But what happened afterwards?'
'In the excitement of their capture they paid no attention to us, and myuncle and I dragged you through the little door, and eventually carriedyou here. You are a weight!'
'And where am I?'
'In my mother's house, where you are requested to stay as long as itsuits your convenience.'
'And Orso?'
'My uncle went out to see, and reports that they have put him in prison.As yet no harm has been done him. The palace has been sacked; nothingbut the bare walls remain.'
At that moment Pietro came in panting.
'Two of the conspirators have been taken.'
'My God, not Checco or Matteo!'
'No; Pietro Albanese and Marco Scorsacana.'
'How did the others escape?'
'I don't know. All I heard was that the horse of Marco broke down, andPietro refused to leave him. At a village close to the frontier Pietrowas recognised, and they were both arrested and sent here for the sakeof the reward.'
'My God!'
'They were brought into the town on asses, with their hands tied behindtheir backs, and the mob yelled with derision, and threw stones andrefuse at them.'
'And now?'
'They have been taken to the prison, and--'
'Well?'
'The execution is to take place to-morrow.'
I groaned. Pietro Albanese and Marco had been like Damon and Pythias. Ishuddered as I thought of the fate in store for them. They had beenconspicuous in their hatred of the Count, and it was they who had helpedto throw the body into the piazza. I knew there would be no forgivenessin Caterina's heart, and all the night I wondered what vengeance she wasmeditating.
The Making of a Saint Page 34
