left alone with Don Abbondio and the Unknown. The former, who had kept himself aloof, regarding with eager curiosity the faces of the Unknown and the cardinal, now came forward, saying, "I was told that your illustrious lordship wished to see me; but I suppose it was a mistake."
"There is no mistake;" replied Frederick, "I have both a novel and agreeable commission to give you. One of your parishioners, whom you have regarded as lost, Lucy Mondella, is found; she is near this, in the house of my good friend here. I wish you to go with him, and a good woman whom the curate of this parish will provide, and bring the poor girl, who must be so dear to you, to this place."
Don Abbondio did his best to conceal the extreme alarm which such a proposition caused him; and bowed profoundly, in sign of obedience, first to the cardinal, and then to the Unknown, but with a piteous look, which seemed to say, "I am in your hands; be merciful: parcere subjectis."
The cardinal asked him of Lucy's relations.
"She has no near relation but her mother, with whom she lives," replied Don Abbondio.
"Is she at home?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Since," replied Frederick, "this poor child cannot yet go home, it would be a great consolation for her to see her mother; if the curate of this village does not return before I go to church, I beg you will desire him to send some prudent person to bring the good woman hither."
"Perhaps I had better go myself," said Don Abbondio.
"No, no; I have other employment for you."
"Her mother," resumed Don Abbondio, "is a very sensitive woman, and it will require a good deal of discretion to prepare her for the meeting."
"That is the reason that I have named some prudent person. You, however, will be more useful elsewhere," replied the cardinal. He could have added, had he not been deterred by a regard to the feelings of the Unknown—"This poor child needs much to behold some person
