“Do your duty,” said he to the men, who attempted to draw Renzo from the bed.
“Oh! don’t touch me! I can dress myself.”
“Dress yourself, then, and get up,” said the notary.
“I will,” said Renzo, and he gathered his clothes, scattered here and there on the bed, like the fragments of a shipwreck on the coast. Whilst engaged in the act of dressing, he continued, “but I will not go to the Capitano di Giustizia; I have nothing to do with him: since you put this affront on me, I wish to be conducted to Ferrer; I am acquainted with him; I know he is an honest man, and he is under obligations to me.”
“Yes, yes, my good fellow, you shall be conducted to Ferrer,” replied the notary.
In other circumstances he would have laughed heartily at the absurdity of such a proposition, but he felt that this was not a moment for merriment. On his way to the inn, he had perceived so many people abroad, such a stirring—some collecting in small quantities, others gathering in crowds—that he was not able to determine whether they were the remnants of the old insurrection not entirely suppressed, or the beginnings of a new one. And now, without appearing to do so, he listened, and thought the buzzing increased. He felt haste to be of importance; but he did not dare to take Renzo against his will, lest, finding himself in the street, he might take advantage of public sympathy, and endeavour to escape from his hands. He made a sign to his officers to be patient, and not exasperate the youth; whilst he himself sought to appease him with fair words.
Renzo meanwhile began to have a confused recollection of the events of the preceding day, and to comprehend that the proclamations, name, and surname, were the cause of all this trouble; but how the devil did this man know his name? And what the devil had happened during the night, that they should come to lay hands on one, who, the day before, had such a voice in the assembly, which could not be yet dispersed, because he also heard a growing murmur in the street. He perceived also the agitation which the notary vainly endeavoured to conceal; therefore, to feel his pulse, and clear up his own conjectures, as well as to gain time, he said, “I comprehend the cause of all this, it is on account of the name and surname. Last night, ’tis true, I was a little merry; these hosts have such treacherous wine and, you know, often when wine passes through the channel of speech, it will have its say too. But if that is all the difficulty, I am ready to give you every satisfaction. Besides, you know my name already. Who the devil told it to you?”
“Bravo! my good fellow, bravo!” replied the notary in a tone of encouragement. “I see you are in the right, and you must believe that I am also. I am only following my trade. You are more tractable than others. It is the easiest way to get out of the difficulty quickly. With such an accommodating spirit, you will soon be set at liberty; but my hands are tied, and I cannot release you now, although I would wish to do so. Be of good courage, and come on boldly. When they see who you are—and I will tell—Leave it to me—quick, quick, my good fellow!”
“Ah! you cannot! I understand,” said Renzo. “Shall we pass by the square of the cathedral?”
“Where you choose. We will go the shortest road, that you may be the sooner at liberty,” said he, inwardly cursing his stars at being unable to follow up this mysterious demand of Renzo’s, which might have been made the subject of a hundred interrogatories. “Miserable that I am!” thought he, “here is a fellow fallen into my hands, who likes no better fun than to prate. Were there but a little time, he would confess all in the way of friendly discourse, without the aid of rope. Ay! and without perceiving it too. But that he should fall into my hands at such an unlucky moment.—Well, it can’t be helped,” thought he, while turning his head and listening to the noise without, “there is no remedy: this will be a hotter day than yesterday!”