Checco understood at once. 'Friends,' he said, 'let me pass quietly, for the love of God, and do you return to your work in peace. Let me pass!'
Moving forward, the crowd opened to him, and still shouting, yelling and gesticulating, allowed him to go through. When we arrived at the gate of his palace, he turned to me and said,—
'By God! Filippo, this is life. I shall never forget this day!'
The crowd had followed to the door, and would not go away. Checco had to appear on the balcony and bow his thanks. As he stood there, I could see that his head was whirling. He was pale, almost senseless with his great joy.
At last the people were persuaded to depart, and we entered the house.
We were in Checco's private room. Besides the cousins and myself were present Bartolomeo Moratini and his two sons, Fabio Oliva and Cesare Gnocchi, both related on the mother's side to the Orsi. We were all restless and excited, discussing the events that had occurred; only Bartolomeo was quiet and grave. Matteo, in the highest of spirits, turned to him.
'Why so silent, Messer Bartolomeo?' he said. 'You are like the skeleton at the banquet.'
'It is a matter for gravity,' he answered.
'Why?'
'Why! Good God, man, do you suppose nothing has happened!'