Sophia shrank back into the cart, her heart quaking. She had seen mobs tear people to pieces. She said, "Tilia, that crowd frightens me, and the podesta's men may not be much protection. Let us get out of here, please." "I will show you what I think of that crowd," said Tilia. She pushed her way to the front of the cart and stood beside Riccardo with her hands on her hips. Sophia could see people gathered, white faces in the moonlight, red faces in the torchlight. "Ignoranti!" Tilia shouted. "Fannulloni! My house is the best on your street. The rest is one big, foul quintana. Where were you idlers when my men were murdered and my women were raped by a gang of foreigners? Home pissing in your pants, eh? Brave Orvietans you are. Get out of my way." Sophia heard a muttering from the crowd, but no one tried to answer Tilia. Sophia shook her head. _If I live to be a hundred, I don't think I could ever face down a mob like that._ Tilia turned to Riccardo, whose broad shoulders beside her had lent force to her words. "Drive on." The cart rolled forward, and the people fell back, squeezing against the housefronts to let it by. Sophia, devastated, sagged back against a great earthenware olive oil jar. She was too worn out even to cry anymore. LVI _Now, at last, this is the end_, thought Daoud as the door of the chamber of torment rasped open. He had been preparing himself for death, praying, commending himself to God. Now he hoped that without much more pain, God would take him. Erculio, who had been sitting with his back to the wall, pushed himself to his feet and scuttled forward. D'Ucello entered, followed by two guards in yellow and blue. "Welcome back, Signore," Erculio cried. "Shall we now roast this stubborn fellow's ballocks?" Erculio, Daoud sensed, enjoyed feigning the gleeful torturer precisely because it was a way of tormenting d'Ucello himself. D'Ucello walked over to where Daoud lay naked on the rack and glowered silently down at him, his lips pressed together under his thin mustache. The podesta glanced at the silver flask on the table, but made no move to pick it up. He seemed to be studying Daoud, searching for something as he looked into his eyes. He blinked and turned away. "Untie him." "What are we going to do to him now, Signore?" said Erculio, still all eagerness. He needed to know, Daoud thought, when it would be time for the poison ball. "Untie him and sit him up slowly," said d'Ucello. "Oh, Signore!" Erculio exclaimed. "May we not play with him some more?" D'Ucello's mouth twisted. "Enough of your infernal questions, pervertito! Do as I say." The impact of this surprise was like a rock smashing into Daoud's Face of Steel. What was happening? Was he not to have his manhood burned away? Was he not to die?