In the square there was by now a seething, excited mob through which a little army of perhaps a thousand men of the town militia with their captain, da Terni, riding at their head, was forcing its way. And they were shouting “Duca!” and crying out that the castle had been seized by Spaniards--by which they meant the Emperor's troops. Galeotto dragged a chair to the window, and standing upon it, showed himself to the people. “Disperse!” he shouted to them. “To your homes! The Duke is dead!” But his voice could not surmount that raging din, above which continued to ring the cry of “Duca! Duca!” “Let me show them their Duca,” said a voice. It was Malvicini's. He had torn down a curtain-rope, and had attached an end of it to one of the dead man's legs. Thus he dragged the body forward towards the window. The other end of the rope he now knotted very firmly to a mullion. Then he took the body up in his arms, whilst Galeotto stood aside to make way for him, and staggering under his ghastly burden, Malvicini reached the window, and heaved it over the sill. It fell the length of the rope and there was arrested with a jerk to hang head downwards, spread-eagle against the brown wall; and the diamond buttons in his green velvet doublet sparkled merrily in the sunshine. At that sight a great silence swept across the multitude, and availing himself of this, Galeotto again addressed those Piacentini. “To your homes,” he cried to them, “and arm yourselves to defend the State from your enemies if the need should arise. There hangs the Duke--dead. He has been slain to liberate our country from unjust oppression.” Still, it seemed, they did not hear him; for though to us they appeared to be almost silent, yet there was a rustle and stir amongst them, which must have deafened each to what was being announced. They renewed their cries of “Duca!” of “Spaniards!” and “To arms!” “A curse on your 'Spaniards!'” cried Malvicini. “Here! Take your Duke. Look at him, and understand.” And he slashed the rope across, so that the body plunged down into the castle ditch. A few of the foremost of the crowd ran forward and scrambled down into the ditch to view the body, and from them the rumour of the truth ran like a ripple over water through that mob, so that in the twinkling of an eye there was no man in that vast concourse--and all Piacenza seemed by now to be packed into the square--but knew that Pier Luigi Farnese was dead. A sudden hush fell. There were no more cries of “Duca!” They stood silent, and not a doubt but that in the breasts of the majority surged a great relief. Even the militia ceased to advance. If the Duke was dead there was nothing left to do.