The blood
sang in his veins at the thought of facing it alone.

The silence lasted but a moment; then an image of the Mountain Virgin
was suddenly thrust in air, and a voice cried out: "Down with our Lady's
enemies! We want no laws against the friars!"

A howl caught up the words and tossed them to and fro above the seething
heads. Images of the Virgin, religious banners, the blue-and-white of
the Madonna's colours, suddenly canopied the crowd.

"We want the Barnabites back!" sang out another voice.

"Down with the free-thinkers!" yelled a hundred angry throats.

A stone or two sped through the air and struck the sculptures of the
porch.

"Your Highness!" cried the equerry who stood nearest, and would have
snatched the Duke back within doors.

For all answer, Odo stepped clear of the porch and advanced to the edge
of the steps. As he did so, a shower of missiles hummed about him, and a
stone struck him on the lip. The blood rushed to his head, and he swayed
in the sudden grip of anger; but he mastered himself and raised his lace
handkerchief to the cut.

His gentlemen had drawn their swords; but he signed to them to sheathe
again. His first thought was that he must somehow make the people hear
him. He lifted his hand and advanced a step; but as he did so a shot
rang out, followed by a loud cry. The lieutenant of the light-horse,
infuriated by the insult to his master, had drawn the pistol from his
holster and fired blindly into the crowd. His bullet had found a mark,
and the throng hissed and seethed about the spot where a man had fallen.
At the same instant Odo was aware of a commotion in the group behind
him, and with a great plunge of the heart he saw Fulvia at his side. She
still wore the academic dress, and her black gown detached itself
sharply against the bright colours of the ducal uniforms.

Groans and hisses received her, but the mob hung back, as though her
look had checked them. Then a voice shrieked out: "Down with the
atheist! We want no foreign witches!" and another caught it up with the
yell: "She poisoned the weaver's boy! Her father was hanged for
murdering Christian children!"

The cry set the crowd in motion again, and it rolled toward the line of
mounted soldiers at the foot of the steps. The men had their hands on
their holsters; but the Duke's call rang out: "No firing!" and drawing
their blades, they sat motionless to receive the shock.

It came, dashed against them and dispersed th