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That same night there was heard in the Via Ripetta before Signor Pasquale's house such a chorus of fearful screams and of cursing and raving and abuse that all the neighbours were startled up out of their sleep, and a body of gendarmes, who had been pursuing a murderer as far as the Spanish Square, hastened up with torches, supposing that some fresh deed of violence was being committed.
All Pasquale's assurances that it was only Antonio Scacciati and Salvator Rosa who were behind those devil's masks were unavailing; for Pitichinaccio vowed, with many tears, that, notwithstanding his terror, he distinctly recognized the fiend Fanfarell, by his voice and appearance, and that said Fanfarell had beaten his stomach black and blue.
In half an hour the warrant was in the hands of the officer, who immediately called out half-a-dozen of his men and marched them down to the glass-house. Giovanni saw them stop and knock at the door, and he heard Pasquale's gruff inquiry. "In the Governor's name, open at once!" said the officer. "Any one can say that," answered the porter. "In the devil's name go home and go to bed!
She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs. Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harsh again. "Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely, offering a gauntleted hand. They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder of the Texan.
"I said I'd be the one to come," he told her as he leaned against the neck of his pony. "Oh, why did you do it?" And swiftly on the heels of that cry came the thought of relief for him. "I'll get you water. I'll bathe your wounds." "No. We've got to get out of here. Any time some of Pasquale's men may come. His camp is not far." "But you can't go like that. You're hurt." "That's all right.
To men of Pasquale's type, a woman ill is of no more use than a spavined horse or a broken-down motor-car. More than that, she becomes an infernal nuisance. It was in his temperament to perform sporadic acts of fantastic chivalry. It appealed to something romantic, theatrical, in his facile nature. But to devote himself to a woman in sickness that was different.
Two of you will have to carry him." "But if he tries to escape, señor " "Don't be a fool," snapped Holcomb curtly. The captain was troubled in his heart. Had he saved this fine young fellow to be the plaything of old Pasquale's vengeance? He knew well enough what would happen to the Arizonian if Ruth escaped. But as long as there was life there was a chance.
Oddly enough I am beginning to look forward to these evening hours. She is so docile, so good-humoured, so spontaneous. If she has a pain in her stomach, she says so with the most engaging frankness. Sometimes I think of her only, in Pasquale's words, as a bundle of fascination, and forget that she has no soul. Nearly always, however, something happens to remind me.
But for Pasquale's reassuring words, Marietta felt that she must have gone mad. Zorzi was safe, somewhere, and he was not in the Governor's prison, on the straw. She told herself so again and again as Nella went on. "There is one thing I did not tell you," said the latter, with a sudden increase of vigour at the thought. "I think you have told me enough, Nella," said Marietta wearily.
It turned out to be much easier to carry out his plan than he had expected. "My name is Zuan Venier," he said, in answer to Pasquale's gruff inquiry. Pasquale eyed him a moment through the bars, and immediately understood that he was not a person to be kicked into the canal or received with other similar amenities.
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