Taken very much by surprise the Duke was at first perplexed. But Carletto Grua, noticing the smoke coming in, and hearing that singular roar which the flames make by feeding themselves, began to cry so loudly, and to make such maddened gestures, that Don Filippo awoke from the half drowsiness into which he had fallen, on beholding death.
Death was unavoidable. The fire, owing to the strong wind, was spreading with stupendous speed through the whole edifice, devouring everything in flames. These flames ran up the walls, hugging the tapestries, hesitating an instant over the edge of the cloth, with clear and changeable yet vague tints penetrating through the weave, with a thousand thin, vibrating tongues, seeming to animate, in an instant, the mural figures, with a certain spirit, by lighting up for a second a smile never before seen upon the mouths of the nymphs and the Goddess, by changing in an instant their attitudes and their motionless gestures.
Passing on, in their still increasing flight, they would wrap themselves around the wooden carvings, preserving to the last their shapes, as though to make them appear to be manufactured of fiery substance when they were suddenly consumed, turning to Cinders, as if by magic. The voices of the flames were forming a vast choir, a profound harmony, like the rustling of millions of weeds. At intervals, through the roaring openings, appeared the pure sky with its galaxy of stars.
Now the entire palace was a prey of the fire.
“Save me! Save me!” cried the old man, attempting in vain to get up, already feeling the floor sinking beneath him, and almost blinded by the implacable reddish glare.
“Save me! Save me!”
With a supreme effort he succeeded in rising and began to run, the trunk of his body leaning forward, moving with little hopping steps, as if pushed by an irresistible progressive impulse, waving his shapeless hands, until he fell overpowered—the victim of the fire—collapsing and curling up like an empty bladder.
By this time the cries of the people increased and at intervals arose above the roar of the fire. The servants, crazed with terror and pain, jumped out of the windows, falling upon the ground dead, where if not entirely dead they were instantly killed. With every fall a greater clamour arose.
“The Duke! The Duke!” the unsatisfied barbarians were crying as if they wanted to see the little tyrant jump out with his cowardly protégé.
“Here he comes! Here he comes! Is it he?”