asleep. For five minutes after her disappearance no one spoke.
Francesco was the first. He groaned, "God have mercy upon me a sinner," between his hands. Then Baldinanza began to swear by all devils in Christendom and Jewry, not blasphemously, but in sheer desperate search for a little courage. Can Grande shook his head like a water-clogged hound, as if to get the ring of that hollow voice out of his ears. The first to rise was the eldest of the three. His eyes were very bright, and you could see the long scar plainly shining on his cheek.
"I am a sinner too," said he, "but this night I will sleep clean." He made to go.
"Do you desert me, comrade?" Can Grande asked.
The old dog turned upon his master.
"Mother of Pity!" he said in a whisper, "you are never going after this?"
"I am going, good sir. What of you?" Baldinanza blinked hard. "I am your servant, Can Grande," he said shortly; "where you go I follow. That is how I read the Book of the Law."
"Well, Checco," the tyrant went on, turning to the youngster still at the table, "what of you?"
Francesco threw up his arms. "Never, Excellency, never!" he groaned in his anguish. "I dare not, I dare not!" He concealed neither his tears, nor his despair, nor his bodily fear.
Can Grande shrugged. "Are you ready, Ubaldo?" he asked.
Baldinanza bowed his head. The two men
