'We must save her. If they get hold of her she will be torn to pieces.
Let her be taken to my house.'
Matteo and Pansecchi took all the soldiers they could and entered the
Palace. In a few minutes they appeared with Caterina and her children;
they had surrounded her and were walking with drawn swords.
A yell broke from these thousands of throats, and they surged towards
the little band. Checco shouted out to them to let her go in peace, and
they held back a little; but as she passed they hissed and cursed and
called her foul names. Caterina walked proudly, neither turning to the
right nor to the left, no sign of terror on her face, not even a pallid
cheek. She might have been traversing the piazza amidst the homage of
her people. Suddenly it occurred to a man that she had jewels concealed
on her. He pushed through the guards and put his hand to her bosom. She
lifted her hand and hit him in the face. A cry of rage broke from the
populace, and they made a rush. Matteo and his men stopped, closing
together, and he said,--
'By God! I swear I will kill any man who comes within my reach.'
They shrank back frightened, and taking advantage of this, the little
band hurried out of the piazza.
Then the people looked at one another, waiting for something to do, not
knowing where to begin. Their eyes were beginning to flame, and their
hands to itch for destruction. Checco saw their feeling, and at once
pointed to the Palace.
'There are the fruits of your labours, your money, your jewels, your
taxes. Go and take back your own. There is the Palace. We give you the
Palace.'
They broke into a cheer, a rush was made, and they struggled in by the
great doors, fighting their way up the stairs in search of plunder,
dispersing through the splendid rooms....
Checco looked at them disappearing through the gateway.
'Now, we have them at last.'
In a few minutes the stream at the Palace gates became double, for it
consisted of those coming out as well as of those going in. The
confusion became greater and greater, and the rival bands elbowed and
struggled and fought. The windows were burst open and things thrown
out--coverlets, linen, curtains, gorgeous silks, Oriental brocades,
satins--and the women stood below to catch them. Sometimes there was a
struggle for possession, but the objects were poured out so fast that
everyone could be satisfied. Through the doors men could be seen coming
with their arms full, their pockets bulging, and handing their plunder
to their wives to take home, while they themselves rushed in again. All
the little things were taken first, and then it was the turn of the
furniture. People came out with chairs or coffers on their heads,
bearing them away quickly lest their claim should be disputed. Sometimes
the entrance was stopped by two or three men coming out with a heavy
chest or with the pieces of a bedstead. Then the shouting and pushing
and confusion were worse than ever.... Even the furniture gave out under
the keen hands, and looking round they saw that the walls and floors
were bare. But there was still something for them. They made for the
doors and wrenched them away. From the piazza we saw men tear out the
window frames, even the hinges were taken, and they streamed out of the
Palace heavily laden, their hands bloody from the work of destruction.
All over the town the bells were ringing, and still people surged into
the piazza. Thousands had got nothing from the Palace, and they cried
out in anger against their companions, envious at their good luck. Bands
had formed themselves with chiefs, and they were going about exciting
the others. Checco stood among them, unable to restrain them. Suddenly
another cry rose from a thousand throats,--
'The Treasury!'
And irresistible as the sea, they rushed to the Gabella. In a few
minutes the same ruin had overtaken it, and it was lying bare and empty.
Scarcely one of them remained in the piazza. The corpse was lying on the
cold stones, naked, the face close to the house in which the living man
had taken such pride; and the house itself, with the gaping apertures
from the stolen windows, looked like a building which had been burnt
with fire, so that only the walls remained. And it was empty but for a
few rapacious men, who were wandering about like scavengers to see
whether anything had been left unfound.
The body had done its work and it could rest in peace. Checco sent for
friars, who placed it on a stretcher, covering its nakedness, and bore
it to their church.
Night came, and with it a little peace. The tumult with which the town
was filled quietened down; one by one the sounds ceased, and over the
city fell a troubled sleep....