NEXT day there was a secret meeting of the council, of which neither Checco nor his friends knew anything. But it leaked out that they had been discussing terms which Lodovico had offered. And the Duke's proposal was that Riario's children should be surrendered to him and the town ruled by a commission, appointed partly by him, partly by the Forlivesi. About mid-day a servant came and told us that Niccolo Tornielli and the other members of the council were below, seeking admission. Checco went down, and as soon as he saw him Niccolo said,—

'Checco, we have decided that it will be better for us to have charge of the children of Count Girolamo; and therefore we have come to summon you to give them into our hands.'

Checco's answer was short and pointed.

'If that is all you came for, Niccolo, you can go.' ...

At this Antonio Sassi broke in,—

'We shall not go without the children.'

'I imagine that depends on me; and I intend to keep the children.'

'Take care, Checco; remember that you are not our master.'

'And who are you, Antonio, I should like to know?'

'I am a member of the council of Forli, just as you are; no more, no less.'

'No,' said Checco, furiously; 'I will tell you whom you are. You are the miserable cur who pandered to the tyrant and helped him to oppress the people which I liberated; and the people spat upon you! You are the miserable cur who fawned upon me when I had killed the tyrant, and in your slavish adulation you proposed to make me ruler in his stead; and I spat upon you! And now you are afraid again and you are trying to make peace with the Duke by betraying me, and it is from you that come the propositions to give me up to Lodovico. That is what you are! Look at yourself and be proud!'

Antonio was about to give a heated answer, but Niccolo interrupted him.

'Be quiet, Antonio! Now, Checco, let us have the children.'

'I will not, I tell you! I saved their lives, and they are mine by right. They are mine because I killed the Count; because I took them prisoners; because I hold them; and because they are necessary for my safety.'

'They are necessary for our safety, too, and we, the council of Forli, summon you, Checco d'Orsi, to surrender them.'

'And I, Checco d'Orsi, refuse!'

'Then we shall take them by force.'

Niccolo and Antonio stepped forward. Checco whipped out his sword.

'By God, I swear I will kill the first man who crosses this threshold!'

Gradually the people had collected, till behind the councillors there was a formidable crowd. They watched with eagerness the dispute, hailing with joy the opportunity of humiliating their old hero. They had broken out in mocking laughter while Checco was railing at Antonio, now they shouted,—

'The children! Surrender the children!'

'I will not, I tell you!'

They began to hoot and hiss, calling Checco foul names, accusing him of causing all their troubles, naming him tyrant and usurper. Checco stood looking at them, trembling with rage. Niccolo stepped forward once more.

'Give them up, Checco, or it will be the worse for you.'

'Advance one step further and I will kill you!'

The people grew suddenly exasperated; a shower of stones fell on us, and one, striking Checco, caused a long streak of blood to flow down his forehead.

'Give us the children! Give us the children!'

'We will call the guard,' said Antonio.

'The children!' shouted the mob. 'He will kill them. Take them from him.'

There was a rush from behind; the councillors and their supporters were driven forward; they were met by our drawn swords; in another moment it would have been too late, and against two hundred we should have been helpless. Suddenly Bartolomeo appeared at the head of the great staircase with the boys.

'Stop!' he cried. 'Here are the children. Stop!'

Checco turned round to him.

'I will not have them given up. Take them away!'

'I have never asked you anything before, Checco,' said Bartolomeo; 'I have always done as you commanded; but this time I implore you to give way.'

I joined my words to his.

'You must give way. We shall all be massacred.'

Checco stood for a moment undecided, then, without speaking, he turned into a room looking on the court. We took it for consent, and Bartolomeo handed the frightened children to the councillors. A shout of joy broke from the people and they marched off with their prize in triumph....

I sought Checco and found him alone. As he heard the shouts of the people, a sob came from him in the misery of his humiliation.

But Jacopo Ronchi and the two sons of Bartolomeo were sent out to discover what was going on. We could not think what had driven the council to their step; but we felt sure they must have good reasons for acting so courageously. We felt also that we had lost all power, all hope. The wheel had turned, and now we were at the bottom. After several hours, Alessandro Moratini came back and said,—

'The council has been meeting again, and it has been receiving messengers; but that is all I know. Everyone looks upon me with an evil eye and becomes silent at my approach. I ask questions and they say they know nothing, have seen nothing, heard nothing.'

'Brutes!' said Matteo.

'And for these people we risked our lives and fortunes!' said Bartolomeo.

Checco looked at him curiously; and, like him, I thought of our disinterestedness! Alessandro, having given his news, filled a glass with wine and sat down. We all kept silence. The time went on, and the afternoon began to close; the hours seemed interminable. At last Jacopo Ronchi came panting.

'I have discovered everything,' he said. 'The council has resolved to surrender the town to the Duke, who promises, in return for the children, to forgive everything and allow them to rule themselves, with half the council appointed by him.'

We sprang up with a cry.

'I will not allow it,' said Checco.

'If the conspirators make any disturbance, they are to be outlawed and a price set upon their heads.'

'How far have the negotiations gone?' I asked.

'The messengers have been sent to the Duke now.'

'In that case there is no time to lose,' I said.

'What do you mean?' said Checco.

'We must escape.'

'Escape!'

'Or we shall be taken alive; and you know what to expect from Caterina and Lodovico. Do not think of their promises of pardon.'

'I put no trust in their promises,' said Checco, bitterly.

'Filippo is right,' said Bartolomeo. 'We must escape.'

'And quickly!' I said.

'I cannot throw up the game,' said Checco. 'And without me, what will happen to my supporters?'

'They may find forgiveness in submission. But you can do no good here. If you are in safety, you may be of some assistance. Anyhow, you will have life.'

Checco buried his face in his hands.

'I cannot, I cannot.'

The Moratini and I insisted. We adduced every argument. Finally he consented.

'We must go together,' I said; 'we may have to fight our way through.'

'Yes,' said Scipione. 'Let us meet at the gate by the river—at two.'

'But go there separately. If the people find we are attempting to escape, they will set upon us.'

'I wish they would,' said Matteo. 'It would give me such satisfaction to put my sword into half a score of their fat bellies!'

'There is no moon.'

'Very well; at two!'

The night was cloudy, and if there had been a moon, it would have been covered. A thin, cold rain was falling, and it was pitch dark. When I got to the river gate, four or five of them were already there. We felt too cold and miserable to speak; we sat on our horses, waiting. As new arrivals came, we peered into their faces, and then, on recognising them, bent back and sat on silently. We were all there but Checco. We waited for a time. At last Bartolomeo Moratini whispered to Matteo,—

'Where did you leave Checco?'

'In the house. He told me to go on, saying he would follow shortly. Two horses were saddled besides mine.'

'Whom was the second for?'

'I don't know!'

We waited on. The rain fell thin and cold. It struck half-past two. Immediately afterwards, we heard the sound of hoofs, and through the mist saw a black form coming towards us.

'Is it you, Checco?' we whispered, for the guard of the gate might have heard us. We were standing in a little plot of waste ground, ten yards from the walls.

'I cannot go with you,' said Checco.

'Why?' we cried.

'Ssh!' said Checco. 'I intended to bring my father, but he will not come.'

None of us had thought of old Orso Orsi.

'He says he is too old, and will not leave his native town. I did all I could to persuade him, but he bade me go, and said they would not dare to touch him. I cannot leave him; therefore go, all of you, and I will remain.'

'You must come, Checco; without you we are helpless.'

'And what of your wife and children?'

'Your presence will exasperate the tyrants. You can do no good, only harm.'

'I cannot leave my father unprotected.'

'I will stay, Checco,' I said. 'I am not well known as you are. I will take care of your father, and you can watch over your family and your interests in safety.'

'No, you must go. It is too dangerous for you.'

'Not half so dangerous as for you. I will do my best to preserve him. Let me stay.'

'Yes,' said the others, 'let Filippo stay. He may escape detection, but you would have no chance.'

The clock struck three.

'Come, come; it is getting late. We must be thirty miles away before daybreak.'

We had already arranged to go to CittÀ di Castello, which was my native place, and in case of accident I had given them letters, so that they might be housed and protected for the present.

'We must have you, Checco, or we will all stay.'

'You will take care of him?' said Checco to me at last.

'I swear it!'

'Very well! Good-bye, Filippo, and God bless you!'

They advanced to the gate, and Checco summoned the captain.

'Open the gate,' he said shortly.

The captain looked at them undecisively. I stood behind in the shade, so that I could not be seen.

'If you make a sound, we will kill you,' said Checco.

They drew their swords. He hesitated, and Checco repeated,—

'Open the gate!'

Then he brought out the heavy keys; the locks were turned, the gate growled on its hinges, and one by one they filed out. Then the gate swung back behind them. I heard a short word of command, and the clatter of horses' hoofs. I put the spurs to my own, and galloped back into the town.

In half an hour the bells were ringing furiously; and it was announced from house to house that the conspirators had fled and the town was free.