'I am the servant placed here to serve you instead of Fabrizio. My name
is Fabio.'
'Your name is Fabio?' he asked, looking at me.
'Yes.'
'No, it is not! Why do you tell me your name is Fabio? I know your face.
You are not a serving-man.'
'You are mistaken,' I said.
'No, no. You are not Fabio. I know your face. Who are you?'
'I am Fabio.'
'Who are you?' he asked again querulously. 'I cannot remember whom you
are. Why don't you tell me? Can't you see that I am an old man? Why
don't you tell me?'
His voice broke into the moan, and I thought he would cry. He had only
seen me twice, but among his few visitors the faces of those he saw
remained with him, and he recognised me partly.
'I am Filippo Brandolini,' I said. 'I have remained here to look after
you and see that no harm happens. Checco wished to stay himself, but we
insisted on his going.'
'Oh, you are a gentleman,' he answered. 'I am glad of that.'
Then, as if the talk had tired him, he sank deeper down in his chair and
fell into a dose.
I sent Andrea, the steward's nephew, to see what was happening in the
town, and Pietro and I sat in the large window talking in undertones.
Suddenly Pietro stopped and said,--
'What is that?'
We both listened. A confused roar in the distance; it resembled the
raging of the sea very far away. I opened the window and looked out. The
roar became louder, louder, and at last we discovered that it was the
sound of many voices.
'What is it?' asked Pietro again.
There was a scrambling up the stairs, the noise of running feet. The
door was burst violently open, and Andrea rushed in.
'Save yourselves!' he cried. 'Save yourselves!'
'What is it?'
'They are coming to sack the Palace. The Countess has given them leave,
and the whole populace is up.'
The roar increased, and we could distinctly hear the shouting.
'Be quick!' cried Andrea. 'For God's sake be quick! They will be here in
a moment!'