The man who had been thrown into the shallow canal got upon
his feet, standing up to his waist in the water, sputtering and coughing
from the ducking. Before he tried to gain the shore, he crossed himself
three times and repeated all the prayers he could remember, in a great
hurry, for he was of opinion that Satan must still be in the
neighbourhood. It was not possible that any earthly being should have
picked him up like a puppy and flung him fully ten feet from the spot
where he had been standing. He struggled to the bank, his feet sinking
at each step in the slimy bottom; and after that he was forced to wade
some thirty yards to the stairs in front of San Piero before he could
get out of the water, a miserable object, drenched from head to foot and
coated with black mud from his knees down. Yet he was in a better case
than his companions.
They came to themselves slowly, the officer last of all, for
Aristarchi's blow under the jaw had nearly killed him, whereas the other
five men had only received stunning blows on different parts of their
thick skulls. In half an hour they were all on their feet, though some
of them were very unsteady, and in a forlorn train they made the best of
their way back to the Governor's palace. Their discomfiture had been so
sudden and complete that none of them had any idea as to the number of
their assailants; but most of them agreed that as they came within sight
of the church, Zorzi had slackened his pace, and that an unholy fire
had issued from his eyes, his mouth and his nostrils, while he made
strange signs in the air with his crutch, and suddenly grew to a
gigantic stature.
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