"But if I speak, I die. Must I not preserve my life?"
"Speak, then."
The manner of Renzo was so threatening and decided, that Don Abbondio felt there was no possibility of disobeying him. "Promise me—swear," said he, "never to tell"
"Tell me, tell me quickly his name, or"
At this new adjuration, the poor curate, with the trembling look of a man who feels the instrument of the dentist in his mouth, feebly articulated, "Don"
"Don?" replied Renzo, inclining his ear towards him, eager to hear the rest. "Don?"
"Don Roderick!" muttered he hastily, trembling at the sound that escaped his lips.
"Ah! dog!" shouted Renzo; "and how has he done it? what has he said to you to"
"What? what?" said Don Abbondio, in an almost contemptuous tone, already gaining confidence by the sacrifice he had made. "I wish you were like myself, you would then meddle with nothing, and certainly you would not have had so many whims in your head." He, however, related in terrible colours the ugly encounter; his anger, which had hitherto been subdued by fear, displayed itself as he proceeded; and perceiving that Renzo, between rage and astonishment, remained motionless, with his head bent down, he continued in a lively manner, "You have made a pretty business of it, indeed! You have rendered me a notable service. Thus to attack an honest man, your curate, in his own house! in a sacred place! You have done a fine thing, truly. To wrest from my mouth, that which I concealed, from prudence, for your own good. And now that you know it, what will you do? When I gave you good advice this morning, I had judgment for you and me; but believe me, this is no jesting matter, no question of right or wrong, but superior power. At all events, open the door; give me the key."
"I may have been to blame," replied Renzo with a softened voice, but in which might be perceived smothered anger towards his concealed enemy, "I may have been to blame, but if you had been in my situation" He
