He lifted one foot to be ready; a great sweat broke out on his
forehead--would this silence never end? He dared not stir until there
should be words to hold the crowd; for if he should be caught----
Were they speaking?--His heart thumped so that he could not hear. Santa
Maria!--death could not be worse!
"Thou art summoned; they are calling thee," said Fra Giulio, close
beside him, in a low, hard voice that changed to one more compassionate
as the friar turned his livid face toward him. "I know not thy fault,
but Fra Paolo will plead for thee; for thou art ill, verily."
"Fra Paolo is no man of mercy."
"Nay, but of justice. He will not remember thy discourtesies."
"_Discourtesies_!" ay, it was true; Fra Giulio did not know--nobody
knew; he would take courage and plead to be forgiven his manifold
"discourtesies" toward this idol of the Servi; it was for this that he
was summoned! The palace guards were approaching the low passage, and
the extremity of his need steadied him; he rallied all his powers for a
last effort, and, shaking off their touch, advanced into the court--his
face, withered and pain-stricken, might have plead for him but for the
strange hardness of the lines.
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