In the barracks itself loud curses were heard—Count San Pietro had discovered that the white flag had been hoisted, and was heaping insults upon the officers. No one admitted having given the order. Benedetto, though, did not look kindly upon the proposition of an old colonel to have the flag removed. With a diabolical smile he said:
"If the patriots have any confidence in the flag then it's their own fault. Follow my commands punctually, and I will forget your stupidity."
A few minutes later a terrible crash was heard, followed by a loud cry. From all the windows the bullets flew; the cannons threw death and destruction into the ranks of the trusting patriots.
The confusion only lasted a moment.
"Surround the rat-hole! Not a single one must escape—down with the poliziotti!" exclaimed the Italians, wildly.
In firm columns they advanced against the barracks, and then they paused. Suppose treachery was in store for them?
The patriots now retreated to the right and left, to make room for two persons: a white-haired old man and a handsome dark-featured boy. The old man turned to the Italians, and said in a loud voice:
"Friends and brothers! The barracks of San Francisco, San Vittore and the military hospital are in our possession. Radetzky's palace has been stormed, and the marshal's baton has fallen into the hands of the conquerors. Forward, with God! We two, an old man and a weak child, will show you the way!"
Proudly erect, the old man strode toward the door, and Spero walked hurriedly behind him, and a fanatical, enthusiastic crowd followed.