The Making of a Saint

by W. Somerset Maugham

'Filippo is right,' said Bartolomeo. 'We must escape.'

'And quickly!' I said.

'I cannot throw up the game,' said Checco. 'And without me, what will happen to my supporters?'

'They may find forgiveness in submission. But you can do no good here. If you are in safety, you may be of some assistance. Anyhow, you will have life.'

Checco buried his face in his hands.

'I cannot, I cannot.'

The Moratini and I insisted. We adduced every argument. Finally he consented.

'We must go together,' I said; 'we may have to fight our way through.'

'Yes,' said Scipione. 'Let us meet at the gate by the river—at two.'

'But go there separately. If the people find we are attempting to escape, they will set upon us.'