"I have had it, thank Heaven! I comein search ofLucy."
"Lucy! Is Lucy here?"
"Yes. At least I hope so."
"Is she thy wife?"
"My dear father! alas! no, she is not my wife. Do you know nothing, then, of what has happened?"
"No, my son. Since God removed me from you, I have heard nothing. But now that he sends you to me, I wish much to know. And your banishment?"
"You know, then, what they did to me?"
"But you, what did you do?"
"My father, if I were to say I was prudent on that day at Milan, I should tell a falsehood; but I committed no bad action wilfully."
"I believe you; I have always thought so."
"Now then I will tell you all."
"Wait a moment."
He approached a cabin, and called "Father Victor."
In a few moments a young capuchin appeared. "Do me the favour, Father Victor," said he, "to take my place in watching over our poor patients for a little while. If, however, any should particularly ask for me, be so good as to call me."
The young friar complied, and Father Christopher, turning to Renzo, "Let us enter here," said he. "But," added he, "you appear much exhausted, you have need of food."
"It is true. Now that you make me think of it, I have not tasted any thing to-day."
"Wait, then, a moment." He soon brought Renzo a bowl of broth, from a large kettle, the common property of the establishment, and making him sit down on his bed, the only seat his cabin afforded, and placing some wine on a little table by his side, he seated himself next him. "Now tell me about my poor child," said he, "and be in haste, for time is precious, and I have much to do, as you perceive."
Renzo related the history of Lucy; that she had been
