The one cord vibrated to its utmost. Baldassarre clutched his own palms, driving his long nails into them, and burst into a sob with the rest.
CHAPTER XXV.
Outside the Duomo.
While Baldassarre was possessed by the voice of Savonarola, he had not noticed that another man had entered through the doorway behind him, and stood not far off observing him. It was Piero di Cosimo, who took no heed of the preaching, having come solely to look at the escaped prisoner. During the pause, in which the preacher and his audience had given themselves up to inarticulate emotion, the new-comer advanced and touched Baldassarre on the arm. He looked round with the tears still slowly rolling down his face, but with a vigorous sigh, as if he had done with that outburst. The painter spoke to him in a low tone—
“Shall I cut your cords for you? I have heard how you were made prisoner.”
Baldassarre did not reply immediately; he glanced suspiciously at the officious stranger. At last he said, “If you will.”
“Better come outside,” said Piero.
Baldassarre again looked at him suspiciously; and Piero, partly guessing his thought, smiled, took out a knife, and cut the cords. He began to think that the idea of the prisoner’s madness was not improbable, there was something so peculiar in the expression of his face. “Well,” he thought, “if he does any mischief, he’ll soon get tied up again. The poor devil shall have a chance, at least.”
“You are afraid of me,” he said again, in an undertone; “you don’t want to tell me anything about yourself.”
Baldassarre was folding his arms in enjoyment of the long-absent muscular sensation. He answered Piero with a less suspicious look and a tone which had some quiet decision in it.