'Who is it? What hath he done?' he roared of one. 'Trampled on the Host? Defiled a virgin of the mother? Murdered a priest?'
The face puckered and grinned.
'Worse, Messer Cavalier. He once whipped the Duke when his tutor.'
Bembo's whole little body braced itself to the spring.
'Tutor!' he cried: 'is that, then, Cola Montano?'
The gross eye winked—
'What is left of it.'
He was answered with a leap and rush. The mob at that point staggered, and bellowed, and fell away from the hoofs of a furious assailant. Carlo, pre-admonished, was already on the boy's flank. 'Stop, little lunatic!' he shouted, sweating and spurring to intervene. He had no concern for the feet he trampled or the ribs he bruised. He stooped and snatched at the struggling horse's bridle. 'It is the Duke's vengeance!' he panted. 'See him there above! Art mad?'
A face, flushed as the face of Him who scourged the hucksters from the temple, was turned upon him.
'Art thou? Strike for retaliation by love, or get behind!'