CHAPTER VII.
"Peace be with you!" said the friar as he entered. "There is nothing more to hope from man: so much the greater must be our confidence in God; and I've already had a pledge of his protection." None of the three entertained much hope from the visit of Father Christopher: for it would have been not only an unusual, but an absolutely unheard-of fact, for a nobleman to desist from his criminal designs at the mere prayer of his defenceless victim. Still, the sad certainty was a painful stroke.
The women bent down their heads; but in the mind of Renzo anger prevailed over disappointment. "I would know," cried he, gnashing his teeth, and raising his voice as he had never done before in the presence of Father Christopher, "I would know what reasons this dog has given, that my wife should not be my wife?"
"Poor Renzo!" said the father, with an accent of pity, and with a look which greatly enforced moderation; "poor Renzo! if those who commit injustice were always obliged to give a reason for it, things would not be as they are!"
"He has said, then, the dog! that he will not, because he will not?"
"He has not even said so, poor Renzo! There would be something gained, if he would make an open confession of his iniquity."
"But he has said something; what has this firebrand of hell said?"
"I could not repeat his words. He flew into a passion at me for my suspicions, and at the same time confirmed me in them: he insulted me, and then called himself offended; threatened, and complained. Ask no farther. He did not utter the name of Lucy, nor even pretend to know you: he affected to intend nothing. In short, I heard enough to feel that he is inexorable. But confidence in God! Poor children! be patient, be submissive! And
