'Seize him, men!'
Carlo panted up, and Jacopo recognised him on the moment.
'Messer Lanti! Death of the Cross! Is this the Duke's order?'
'Christ's, old fool!' gasped the cavalier. 'Touch him, I say, and die.
I neither know nor care.'
His great chest was heaving; he whipped out his sword, and stood glaring
and at bay. Bembo had thrown himself between the upraised thong and its
quivering victim. He, too, faced the stricken mob.
'Christ is coming! Christ is coming!' he shrieked. 'Prepare ye all to
answer to Him for this!'
A dead silence fell. Some turned their faces in terror. Here and there
a woman cried out. In the midst, Messer Jacopo raised his eyes to the
battlements, and saw a white hand lifted against the blue. He shrugged
round grumpily on his fellows.
'Unbind him,' he said; and the whip was lowered.
The poor body sunk beside the post. Bembo knelt, with a sob of pity, to
whisper to it--
'Courage, sad heart! He comes indeed.'
The livid and suffering face was twisted to view its deliverer.
'Escape, then,' the blue lips muttered, 'while there is time.'