Galeotto dragged a chair to the window, and standing upon it, showed himself to the people.
“Disperse!” he shouted to them. “To your homes! The Duke is dead!”
But his voice could not surmount that raging din, above which continued to ring the cry of “Duca! Duca!”
“Let me show them their Duca,” said a voice. It was Malvicini's.
He had torn down a curtain-rope, and had attached an end of it to one of the dead man's legs. Thus he dragged the body forward towards the window. The other end of the rope he now knotted very firmly to a mullion. Then he took the body up in his arms, whilst Galeotto stood aside to make way for him, and staggering under his ghastly burden, Malvicini reached the window, and heaved it over the sill.
It fell the length of the rope and there was arrested with a jerk to hang head downwards, spread-eagle against the brown wall; and the diamond buttons in his green velvet doublet sparkled merrily in the sunshine.
At that sight a great silence swept across the multitude, and availing himself of this, Galeotto again addressed those Piacentini.
“To your homes,” he cried to them, “and arm yourselves to defend the State from your enemies if the need should arise. There hangs the Duke—dead. He has been slain to liberate our country from unjust oppression.”
Still, it seemed, they did not hear him; for though to us they appeared to be almost silent, yet there was a rustle and stir amongst them, which must have deafened each to what was being announced.
They renewed their cries of “Duca!” of “Spaniards!” and “To arms!”