Again the Duke gave the signal, and again they let him go.

This time they allowed him a longer drop, so that the wrench with which they arrested it was more severe than had been the first.
Peppe felt his bones starting from their joints, and it was as if a burning iron were searing him at shoulder, elbow and wrist.
"Merciful God!" he screamed.

"Oh, have pity, noble lord." But the noble lord had him hoisted anew to the canopy.

Writhing there in the extremity of his anguish, the poor hunchback poured forth from frothing lips a stream of curses and imprecations, invoking Heaven and hell to strike his tormentors dead.
But the Duke, from whose demeanour it might be inferred that he was inured to the effect produced by this form of torture, looked on with a cruel smile, as of one who watches the progress of events towards the end that he desires and has planned.

He was less patient, and his signal came more quickly now.