“What shall I say to you? I have not now come of my own free will,” said Renzo; and he briefly, and with much emotion, related the mournful story.
“That’s another affair truly,” said Bartolo. “Poor Renzo! you have relied on me, and I will not abandon you. To say truth, workmen are not in much demand at present; and it is with difficulty that those already engaged are kept by their employers. But my master regards me, and he has money; and besides, without boasting, we are equally dependent on each other—he has the capital, and I the skill, such as it is! I am his first workman, his factotum! Poor Lucy Mondella! I remember her as if it was but yesterday that I last saw her! An excellent girl! always so modest at church; and if you passed by her cottage—I see it now, the little cottage beyond the village, with a large fig-tree against the wall——”
“No, no,” said Renzo, “do not speak of it.”
“I meant to say, that if you passed it, you always heard the noise of her reel. And Don Roderick! even before I left, showed symptoms of his character; but now, it seems, he plays the devil outright, until God shall put a bridle on his neck. Well, as I said, we suffer here also the consequences of scarce harvests.—But, apropos, are you not hungry?”
“It is not long since I have eaten,” said Renzo.
“And how are you off for money?” Renzo extended the palm of his hand and shook his head. “No matter,” said Bartolo: “I have plenty. Cheer up; things will change for the better soon, and then you can repay me.”
“I have a small sum at home, and I will send for it.”
“Well, in the mean while, depend on me. God has given me wealth to spend for others, and above all, for my relations and friends.”
“I knew that you would befriend me,” said Renzo, affectionately pressing his cousin’s hand.
“Well, what a fuss they have made at Milan,” continued Bartolo; “the people seem to me to be mad. The report has reached us, but I shall be glad to know the particulars from you. I think we shall have enough to talk about, shall we not? Here, however, things are conducted with more judgment. The city purchased two thousand loads of corn from a merchant of Venice; the corn comes from Turkey. Now, what do you think happened? The governors of Verona and Brescia forbade the transit of the corn. What did the people of Bergamo do then, do you think? They sent to Venice a man that knew how to talk, I can tell you: he went to the doge, and made a speech which they say deserves to be printed! Immediately an order was sent to let the corn pass: the governors were obliged to obey. The country, too, has been thought of. Another good man informed the senate that the people here were famishing, and the senate granted us four thousand bushels of millet, which makes very good bread. And then, if there is no bread, you and I can eat meat; God has given me wealth I tell you. Now I will conduct you to my patron. I have often spoken of you to him; he will make you welcome. He is a native of Bergamo, a man of an excellent disposition. ’Tis true, he did not expect you at this time, but when he learns your story—And then he knows how to value skilful workmen, because scarcity lasts but a little while, and business must finally go on.—But I must hint to you one thing; do you know what name they give to us Milanese in this country?”