When Renzo evinced a desire to enter, he looked at him fixedly without moving; of this, the young man, wishing to decline all conversation, took no notice, but, beckoning to his companions to follow his example, slid between the figure and the door-post. Having gained an entrance, he beheld the other two bravoes with a large mug between them, seated at play; they stared at him with a look of enquiry, making signs to each other, and then to their comrade at the door. This was not unobserved by Renzo, and his mind was filled with a vague sentiment of suspicion and alarm. The innkeeper came for his orders; which were, "a private room, and supper for three."
"Who are those strangers?" asked he of the landlord, when he came in to set the table.
"I do not know them," replied he.
"How! neither of them?"
"The first rule of our trade," said he, spreading the cloth, "is, not to meddle with the affairs of others; and, what is wonderful, even our women are not curious. It is enough for us that customers pay well; who they are, or who they are not, matters nothing. And now, I will bring you a dish of polpette, the like of which you have never eaten."
When he returned to the kitchen, and was employed in taking the polpette from the fire, one of the bravoes approached, and said, in an under tone, "Who are those men?"
"Good people of this village," replied the host, pouring the mince meat into a dish.
"Well; but what are their names? Who are they?" insisted he, in a rough voice.
"One is called Renzo," replied the host; "esteemed a good youth, and an excellent weaver of silk. The other is a peasant, whose name is Tony; a jovial fellow,—it is a pity he has no more money, for he would spend it all here. The other is a simpleton, who eats when they feed him. By your leave" So saying, he slipped past him, with the dish in his hand, and carried it to the place of its destination.
"How do you know?" said Renzo, continuing the con-
