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OR three days he let us stew; under the mask of clemency, and of giving us time to learn the edict for which disobedience was the pain of death, Mazzaleone let suspense have its way with us. His heralds cried the edict out through the town; through each little street went the command that on the third day, that being a Friday, all of us, noble and simple, men and women, young and old, should walk before the loggia. And for this no explanation was given; the bare command stripped down to its bone, and nothing more, was the edict of Egidio Mazzaleone—and it seemed to us that it was as menacing and as lean as himself. Behind it we felt that terror was lurking. Some said he would butcher us one by one; others said that our leaders and great men only would be slaughtered before our eyes; and again there were those with higher imaginations who hinted at torture and burnings. That it meant no good to us none of us doubted.

Meantime not a house was thrown down nor occupied by the soldiers of Mazzaleone;