'Here is your enemy!' I cried.
Then hoisting him, we pushed him out, and he fell on the stones with a great, dull thud. A mighty shout burst from the mob as they rushed at the body. One man tore the chain off his neck, but as he was running away with it another snatched at it. In the struggle it broke, and one got away with the chain, the other with the jewel. Then, with cries of hate, they set on the corpse. They kicked him and slapped his face and spat on him. The rings were wrenched off his fingers, his coat was torn away; they took his shoes, his hose; in less than a minute everything had been robbed, and he was lying naked, naked as when he was born. They had no mercy those people; they began to laugh and jeer, and make foul jokes about his nakedness.
The piazza was thronged, and every moment people entered; the women of the lower classes had come, joining their shrill cries to the shouts of the men. The noise was stupendous, and above all rang the cries of Liberty and Death.
'The Countess! The Countess!'
It became the general cry, drowning the others, and from all quarters.
'Where is the Countess? Bring her out. Death to the Countess!'
A cry went up that she was in the Palace, and the shout became,—
'To the Palace! To the Palace!'
Checco said to us,—
'We must save her. If they get hold of her she will be torn to pieces. Let her be taken to my house.'