'Good God! what is this? What is—?'
He looked at us, and stopped suddenly. We had surrounded him.
'Treason!' he cried. 'Where is the Count?'
He looked behind him; Scipione and Matteo barred the door.
'Treason!' he shouted, drawing his sword.
At the same moment we drew ours and rushed for him. He parried a few of our blows, but we were too many, and he fell pierced with a dozen wounds.
The sight of the fray had a magical effect on Checco. We saw him standing up, drawn to his full height, his cheeks aflame, his eyes flashing.
'Good, my friends, good! Luck is on our side,' he said. 'Now we must look alive and work. Give me my dagger, Matteo; it is sacred now. It has been christened in blood with the name of Liberty. Liberty, my friends, Liberty!'
We flourished our swords and shouted,—
'Liberty!'