With a cry and a sob that shook his whole being, Francesco covered his face with his hands.
For a moment the duke stared blankly at the speaker.
"And the Frangipani?" he asked, his features ashen-gray and drawn.
The messenger pointed to Astura.
"There is feasting and high glee: the Pontiff's bribe was large."—
Francesco trembled in every limb.
"Such a day was never seen in Naples," the messenger concluded with a shudder. "To a man they died under the axe—the soil was dyed crimson with their blood."
There was a silence.
The messenger pointed to the sea, which had melted into the indefinite background of the night.