We issued out into the silence of the night. There had been a little
rain during the day, and the air in consequence was fresh and sweet; the
light breeze of the spring made one expand one's lungs and draw in long
breaths. One felt the trees bursting out into green leaves, and the buds
on the plants opening their downy mantles and discovering the flower
within. Light clouds were wandering lazily along the sky, and between
them shone out a few dim stars. Checco and Matteo walked in front, while
I lingered enjoying the spring night; it filled me with a sweet sadness,
a reaction from the boisterous joy of the evening, and pleasant by the
contrast.
When Matteo fell behind and joined me, I received him a little
unwillingly, disappointed at the interruption of my reverie.
'I asked Checco what the Count had said to him of the taxes, but he
would not tell me; he said he wanted to think about the conversation.'
I made no answer, and we walked on in silence. We had left the piazza,
and were going through the narrow streets bordered by the tall black
houses. It was very late, and there was not a soul about; there was no
sound but that of our own footsteps, and of Checco walking a few yards
in front. Between the roofs of the houses only a little strip of sky
could be seen, a single star, and the clouds floating lazily. The warm
air blew in my face, and filled me with an intoxication of melancholy. I
thought how sweet it would be to fall asleep this night, and never again
to wake. I was tired, and I wanted the rest of an endless sleep....
Suddenly I was startled by a cry.
I saw from the shadow of the houses black forms spring out on Checco. An
arm was raised, and a glittering instrument flashed in the darkness. He
staggered forward.
'Matteo,' he cried. 'Help! Help!'
We rushed forward, drawing our swords. There was a scuffle, three of us
against four of them, a flash of swords, a cry from one of the men as he
reeled and fell with a wound from Matteo's sword. Then another rush, a
little band of men suddenly appeared round the corner, and Ercole
Piacentini's voice, crying,--
'What is it? What is it?'