"Has the sorceress put a spell on you?" swore the Calabrian. "Look you—you are safe to go to the gallows. Corpo di Christo!—it will be odds if his Grace do not think a quick twitch of the noose too gentle a punishment for you: Monsignore has a long arm and a heavy hand! You are a fine animal—it were a pity all that sinew should rot in quick lime; we will get your life saved somehow, if you put us this minute on the track of your mistress?"
He might never have spoken for aught by which he could tell that he was heard. The threat that his body would be given to slaughter had little import to the man in whom all life, save the mere breath of existence, had already been slain by worse than a thousand deaths.
"Have you no voice?" yelled the commandant, infuriated that his unwonted offer of mercy met no response. "We will find a way to make you speak, with your will or against it! Once for all—will you show US where this woman is sheltered?"
"No."
The Calabrian gnashed his glittering teeth.
"Altro! You defy us, you hound? We will see how long that obstinacy lasts. I have licence to deal with you as I see fit; to string you up by
