So Chiaro's model, when he awoke that morning on the hot pavement of
the Piazza Nunziata, and saw the hurry of people that passed him, got
up and went along with them; and Chiaro waited for him in vain.
For the whole of that morning, the music was in Chiaro's room from
the Church close at hand: and he could hear the sounds that the crowd
made in the streets; hushed only at long intervals while the
processions for the feast-day chanted in going under his windows.
Also, more than once, there was a high clamour from the meeting of
factious persons: for the ladies of both leagues were looking down;
and he who encountered his enemy could not choose but draw upon him.
Chiaro waited a long time idle; and then knew that his model was gone
elsewhere. When at his work, he was blind and deaf to all else; but
he feared sloth: for then his stealthy thoughts would begin, as it
were, to beat round and round him, seeking a point for attack. He now
rose, therefore, and went to the window. It was within a short space
of noon; and underneath him a throng of people was coming out through
the porch of San Rocco.
The two greatest houses of the feud in Pisa had filled the church for
that mass. The first to leave had been the Gherghiotti; who, stopping
on the threshold, had fallen back in ranks along each side of the
archway: so that now, in passing outward, the Marotoli had to walk
between two files of men whom they hated, and whose fathers had hated
theirs.
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