'Is he dead?'
A visible shudder passed through Checco, as if he had been struck by an
icy wind. He staggered to a chair and groaned,--
'Oh God!'
'I will go and see,' said Pansecchi, lifting the curtain and entering.
We stood still, waiting for him. We heard a heavy sound, and as he
appeared, he said,--
'There is no doubt now.'
There was blood on his hands. Going up to Checco, he handed him the
jewelled dagger.
'Take this. It will be more use to you than where you left it.'
Checco turned away in disgust.
'Here, take mine,' said Matteo. 'I will take yours. It will bring me
good luck.'
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a step was heard outside.
Scipione looked out cautiously.
'Andrea Framonti,' he whispered.
'Good luck, indeed!' said Matteo.
It was the captain of the guard. He was in the habit of coming every day
about this hour to receive the password from the Count. We had forgotten
him. He entered.
'Good-day to you, gentlemen! Are you waiting to see the Count?'
He caught sight of the corpse lying against the wall.
'Good God! what is this? What is--?'
He looked at us, and stopped suddenly. We had surrounded him.
'Treason!' he cried. 'Where is the Count?'
He looked behind him; Scipione and Matteo barred the door.
'Treason!' he shouted, drawing his sword.
At the same moment we drew ours and rushed for him. He parried a few of
our blows, but we were too many, and he fell pierced with a dozen
wounds.
The sight of the fray had a magical effect on Checco. We saw him
standing up, drawn to his full height, his cheeks aflame, his eyes
flashing.
'Good, my friends, good! Luck is on our side,' he said. 'Now we must
look alive and work. Give me my dagger, Matteo; it is sacred now. It has
been christened in blood with the name of Liberty. Liberty, my friends,
Liberty!'