He stood on the threshold, leaning on his crutch.
"I am Zorzi," he said quietly.
"Zorzi the Dalmatian, called the Ballarin?" asked the lieutenant.
"Yes, yes!" cried Giovanni, anxious to hasten matters, "They call him
the dancer because he is lame. This is that foreign liar, that thief,
that assassin! Take him quickly!"
The archers, who in the changes of time had become halberdiers, had
dropped the bundle of spears they had made for a battering-ram. Two of
them took Zorzi by the arms roughly, and prepared to drag him along with
them. He made no resistance, but objected quietly.
"I can walk better, if you do not hold me," he said. "I cannot run away,
as you see."
"Let him walk between you," ordered the officer. "Good night, sir," he
said to Giovanni.
Two of the men lifted the bundle of halberds and began to carry it
between them, trying to undo the straps as they walked, for they could
not stay behind. Giovanni saluted the officer and stood aside for the
party to pass. The two men who had looked on had separated, and one had
already gone forward and disappeared beyond the bridge. The other
lingered, apparently still interested in the proceedings. Pasquale, dumb
with rage at last, stood in the doorway.
"Let me pass," said Giovanni, as soon as the archers had gone on a few
steps, surrounding Zorzi.
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