and years after, when the poisoners were talked of, the poor man maintained the truth of the fact, as "he had had ocular proof."
Renzo was far from suspecting the danger he had escaped; and, reflecting on this reception, he was more angry than fearful. "This is a bad beginning," thought he; "my star always seems unpropitious when I enter Milan. To enter is easy enough, but, once here, misfortunes thicken. However—by the help of God—if I find—if I succeed in finding—all will be well."
The streets were silent and deserted; no human being could he see; a single disfigured corpse met his eye in the channel between the street and the houses. Suddenly he heard a cry, which appeared addressed to him; and he perceived, not far off, on the balcony of a house, a woman, surrounded by a group of children, making a sign to him to approach. As he did so, "O good young man!" said she, "do me the kindness to go to the commissary, and tell him that we are forgotten here. They have nailed up the house as suspected, because my poor husband is dead; and since yesterday morning no one has brought us any thing to eat, and these poor innocents are dying of hunger."
"Of hunger!" cried Renzo. "Here, here," said he, drawing the two loaves from his pocket. "Lower something in which I may put them."
"God reward you! wait a moment," said the woman, as she went in search of a basket and cord to suspend it.
"As to the commissary, my good woman," said he, putting the loaves in the basket, "I cannot serve you, because, to tell truth, I am a stranger in Milan, and know nothing of the place. However, if I meet any one a little humane and tractable, to whom I can speak, I will tell him."
The woman begged him to do so, and gave him the name of the street in which she lived.
"You can also render me a service, without its costing you any thing," said Renzo. "Can you tell me where there is a nobleman's house in Milan, named * * *?"
"I know there is a house of that name, but I do not
