'What shall I do?'
'Insist.'
She solemnly repeated her request, and he solemnly made his reply.
'It is no good,' she said, 'I know him too well. He thinks I am speaking
under compulsion. He does not know that I am acting of my own will, for
the great love I bear the Pope and the Church.'
'We must have the citadel,' said Savello, emphatically. 'If we do not
get it, I cannot answer for your safety.'
She looked at him; then an idea seemed to occur to her.
'Perhaps if I went in and spoke to him he would consent to surrender.'
'We cannot allow you out of our power,' said Checco.
'You would have my children as hostages.'
'That is true,' mused Savello; 'I think we can let her go.'
Checco disapproved, but the priest overruled him, and the Castellan was
summoned again, and ordered to admit the Countess. Savello warned her,--
'Remember that we hold your children, and shall not hesitate to hang
them before your eyes if--'
'I know your Christian spirit, Monsignor,' she interrupted.
* * * * *
But when she was inside she turned to us, and from the ramparts
addressed us with mocking laughter. The fury which had been boiling
within her burst out. She hurled at us words of foul abuse, so that one
might have thought her a fishwife; she threatened us with death, and
every kind of torture, in revenge for the murder of her husband....
We stood looking up at her with open mouths, dumbfounded. A cry of rage
broke from the people; Matteo uttered an oath. Checco looked angrily at
Savello, but said nothing. The priest was furious; his big red face grew
purple, and his eyes glistened like a serpent's.
'Bastard!' he hissed. 'Bastard!'
Trembling with anger, he ordered the children to be sent for, and he
cried out to the Countess,--
'Do not think that we shall hesitate. Your sons shall be hanged before
your very eyes.'
'I have the means of making more,' she replied scornfully.
She was lion-hearted. I could not help feeling admiration for the
extraordinary woman. Surely she could not sacrifice her children! And I
wondered if a man would have had the courage to give that bold answer to
Savello's threats.
Savello's expression had become fiendish. He turned to his assistants.
'Let a double scaffold be erected here, at once and quickly.'
The chiefs of the conspiracy retired to a sheltered place, while the mob
gathered in the piazza; and soon the buzz of many voices mingled with
hammering and the cries of workmen. The Countess stood above looking at
the people, watching the gradual erection of the scaffold.
In a little while its completion was announced. Savello and the others
came forward, and the priest once more asked her whether she would
surrender. She did not deign to answer. The two boys were brought
forward--one was nine, the other seven. As the people looked upon their
youth a murmur of pity passed through them. My own heart began to beat a
little. They looked at the scaffold and could not understand; but
Cesare, the younger, seeing the strange folk round him and the angry
faces, began to cry. Ottaviano was feeling rather tearful too; but his
superior age made him ashamed, and he was making mighty efforts to
restrain himself. All at once Cesare caught sight of his mother, and he
called to her. Ottaviano joined him, and they both cried out,--
'Mother! Mother!'
She looked at them, but made not the slightest motion, she might have
been of stone.... Oh, it was horrible; she was too hard!
'Once more, I ask you,' said Savello, 'will you surrender the castle?'
'No--no!'
Her voice was quite steady, ringing clear as a silver bell.
Savello made a sign, and two men approached the boys. Then suddenly they
seemed to understand; with a shriek they ran to Checco, and, falling at
his feet, clasped his knees. Ottaviano could hold out no longer; he
burst into tears, and his brother, at the elder's weakness, redoubled
his own cries.
'Oh, Checco, don't let them touch us!'
Checco took no notice of them; he looked straight in front of him. And
even when the Count had just fallen under his dagger he had not been so
ghastly pale.... The children were sobbing desperately at his knees. The
men hesitated; but there was no pity in the man of God; he repeated his
sign more decisively than before, and the men advanced. The children
clung to Checco's legs, crying,--
'Checco, don't let them touch us!'
He made no sign. He held his eyes straight in front of him, as if he saw
nothing, heard nothing. But his face! Never have I seen such agony....
The children were torn from him, their hands bound behind their backs.
How could they! My heart was bursting within me, but I dared say
nothing. They were led to the scaffold. A sobbing cry came from the
people and wailed through the heavy air.
The Countess stood still, looking at her children. She made not the
slightest motion; she might have been of stone.