But the Duke, turning his horse, rode on, stately and silent. Three of his men instantly snatched up the girls, and followed, surrounded by the rest in such wise that they hid the captives pretty well from sight.
None of the girls made a sound. Rose and Ruth were too astounded by this bold kidnapping to do more than gasp, and Romola, pale and dignified, seemed frozen.
Through the gay streets they rode, and everywhere the crowd saluted, bowing low. The clatter of the horses’ hoofs made a prodigious din, and Rose and Ruth, even when they got back their breath after the first shock of astonishment, felt that a scream would scarcely be heard, and if heard it didn’t look as though anybody would pay attention.
They reached a square decorated with statues, and here Lorenzo rode out alone into the centre, while a crowd, quickly growing in numbers, pressed about him in a circle. Rose and her sister thought he meant to make a speech, but what was their astonishment when he suddenly began to sing. His voice was fine and resonant, and apparently his song amusing, for shouts of laughter and approval greeted him at the conclusion of each verse.
“He often sings songs of his own composition to the populace,” explained Romola, and then she leaned nearer Rose.
The men who guarded the girls had placed them behind them on their horses, and paid slight attention to them. As the interest in the Duke’s performance increased, their captors, leaning forward, and shouting with laughter, gave the youngsters a chance to escape which Romola was quick to see.
“Try to slip off your horse, and tell Ruth to do the same when you see me doing so,” she whispered. “They are all intent on the singing, and once in the crowd we can easily escape.”
Rose nodded, and watching her chance, spoke to Ruth. The two kept their eyes on Romola. The ring of men that had surrounded them was now broken, and several spectators were looking curiously up at the girls.
Lorenzo had just finished a verse which brought a perfect storm of applause, when Romola, with a movement cat-like and quick, slipped to the ground. With thumping hearts the sisters followed. But Ruth, not so tall as the others, slipped her hold and fell. The slight commotion attracted the attention of her captor, who instantly gave a shout.
Ruth was up at once, and the three girls dashed into the crowd, crouching low and slipping in and out like eels. The men, attempting to run them down, were checked by the crowd, too jammed to give way. Panting, the three reached a corner. Here a boy of sixteen or so leaned against the wall, sombrely watching the thronged square with its brilliant central figure.