'Make way! Make way!'
A strident voice called out the words, and ushers pushed the people aside. A little troop of men appeared in the entrance, and as they sank back there stepped forward the Count. The Count! Checco started, but immediately recovering himself advanced to meet his visitor. Girolamo walked up to him, and taking him in his arms kissed him on the cheeks, and said,—
'My Checco! My Checco!'
We who knew and the others who suspected looked on with astonishment.
'As soon as I heard the terrible news I rushed to find you,' said the Count. 'Are you safe—quite safe?'
He embraced him again.
'You cannot think what agony I suffered when I heard you were wounded. How glad I am it was not true. Oh, God in Heaven, I thank Thee for my Checco!'
'You are very kind, my lord,' answered our friend.
'But it is some consolation that the miscreants have met the end which they deserved. We must take steps to free the town of all such dangerous persons. What will men say of my rule when it is known that the peaceful citizen cannot walk home at night without danger to his life? Oh, Checco, I blame myself bitterly.'
'You have no cause, my lord, but—would it not be well to examine the men to see if they are known in Forli? Perhaps they have associates.'
'Certainly; the idea was in my mind. Let them be laid out in the market-place so that all may see them.'
'Pardon, sir,' said one of his suite, 'but they were laid in the Church of San Spirito last night, and this morning they have disappeared.'
Matteo and I looked at one another. Checco kept his eyes fixed on the Count.
'Disappeared!' cried the latter, displaying every sign of impatience. 'Who is responsible for this? Offer a reward for the discovery of their bodies and of any accomplices. I insist on their being discovered!'
Shortly afterwards he took his leave, after repeatedly kissing Checco, and warmly congratulating Matteo and myself on the assistance we had given to our friend. To me he said,—
'I regret, Messer Filippo, that you are not a Forlivese. I should be proud to have such a citizen.'
Bartolomeo Moratini was still at the Palazzo Orsi, so, seizing my opportunity, I took him by the arm and walked with him to the statue gallery, where we could talk in peace.
'What do you think of all this?' I said.
He shook his head.
'It is the beginning of the end. Of course it is clear to all of us that the assassination was ordered by the Count; he will persuade nobody of his innocence by his pretended concern. All the town is whispering his name.
'Having made a first attempt and failed, he will not hesitate to make a second, for if he could forgive the injury which he has received from Checco, he can never forgive the injury which he himself has done him. And next time he will not fail.'
'I am terribly concerned,' I said. 'You know the great affection I have for both the Orsi.'
He stopped and warmly shook my hand.
'I cannot let Checco throw away his life in this way,' I said.
'What can be done?'
'Only one thing, and you suggested it.... Girolamo must be killed.'
'Ah, but Checco will never consent to that.'
'I am afraid not,' I said gravely. 'You know the delicacy of his conscience.'
'Yes; and though I think it excessive, I admire him for it. In these days it is rare to find a man so honest and upright and conscientious as Checco. But, Messer Filippo, one must yield to the ideas of the age one lives in.'
'I, too, am convinced of his noble-mindedness, but it will ruin him.'
'I am afraid so,' sighed the old man, stroking his beard.
'But he must be saved in spite of himself. He must be brought to see the necessity of killing the Count.' I spoke as emphatically as I could.
'He will never consent.'
'He must consent; and you are the man to make him do so. He would not listen to anything that Matteo or I said, but for you he has the greatest respect. I am sure if anyone can influence him it is you.'
'I have some power over him, I believe.'
'Will you try? Don't let him suspect that Matteo or I have had anything to do with it, or he will not listen. It must come solely from you.'
'I will do my best.'
'Ah, that is good of you. But don't be discouraged by his refusals; be insistent, for our sake. And one thing more, you know his unselfishness; he would not move his hand to save himself, but if you showed him that it is for the good of others, he could not refuse. Let him think the safety of us all depends on him. He is a man you can only move by his feeling for others.'
'I believe you,' he answered. 'But I will go to him, and I will leave no argument unused.'
'I am sure that your efforts will be rewarded.'
Here I showed myself a perfectly wise man, for I only prophesied because I knew.
XXI
In the evening Bartolomeo returned to the Palace and asked for Checco. At his request Matteo and I joined him in Checco's study, and besides there were his two sons, Scipione and Alessandro. Bartolomeo was graver than ever.
'I have come to you now, Checco, impelled by a very strong sense of duty, and I wish to talk with you on a matter of the greatest importance.'
He cleared his throat.
'Firstly, are you convinced that the attempt on your life was plotted by Girolamo Riario?'
'I am sorry for his sake, but—I am.'
'So are we all, absolutely. And what do you intend to do now?'
'What can I do? Nothing!'
'The answer is not nothing. You have something to do.'
'And that is?'
'To kill Girolamo before he has time to kill you.'
Checco started to his feet.
'They have been talking to you—Matteo and Filippo. It is they who have put this in your head. I knew it would be suggested again.'
'Nothing has given me the idea but the irresistible force of circumstances.'
'Never! I will never consent to that.'
'But he will kill you.'
'I can die!'
'It will be the ruin of your family. What will happen to your wife and children if you are dead?'
'If need be they can die too. No one who bears the name of Orsi fears death.'
'You cannot sacrifice their lives in cold blood.'
'I cannot kill a fellow-man in cold blood. Ah, my friend, you don't know what is in me. I am not religious; I have never meddled with priests; but something in my heart tells me not to do this thing. I don't know what it is—conscience or honour—but it is speaking clearly within me.'
He had his hand on his heart, and was speaking very earnestly. We followed his eyes and saw them resting on a crucifix.
'No, Bartolomeo,' he said, 'one cannot forget God. He is above us always, always watching us; and what should I say to Him with the blood of that man on my hands? You may say what you like, but, believe me, it is best to be honest and straight-forward, and to the utmost of one's ability to carry out the doctrines which