He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on the grass.
“Is he dead?” the colonel asked under his breath; and the doctor, kneeling down, with a hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly:
“I think so—God be praised!”
“God be praised!” the colonel repeated. “At last!”
His nephew was touching him on the arm.
“Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate and wants to come in.”
“What? He can't come in—I won't have it! What are the guards about? Your Eminence——”
The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli was standing in the courtyard, looking before him with still and awful eyes.
“Your Eminence! I must beg of you—this is not a fit sight for you! The execution is only just over; the body is not yet——”
“I have come to look at him,” Montanelli said. Even at the moment it struck the Governor that his voice and bearing were those of a sleep-walker.