“A pretty pickle indeed!”
“In truth you might squeeze water enough from your upper half to wash away the mud from the lower. But wait a moment; I will make a fire.”
“I shall be glad to feel its warmth, I assure you. Do you know where the rain overtook me? Precisely at the door of the lazaretto; but no matter, the weather does its business, and I mine.”
His friend soon kindled a bright blaze. “Now do me another favour,” said Renzo, “bring me the bundle I left above; for before my clothes dry——”
Returning with the bundle, his friend said, “You must be hungry; you have had drink enough, no doubt, on the way, but as to eating——”
“I bought two loaves yesterday at dusk, but truly, I have not eaten them.”
“Well, I will provide for you.” He poured some water in a kettle which hung over the fire, adding, “I will go and milk the cow, and when I return with the milk, the water will be ready, and we will have a good polenta. You, in the mean while, change your clothes.” After having allowed him time to perform the troublesome operation, his friend returned, and commenced making the polenta. “I have much to tell you,” said Renzo. “If you were to see Milan! and the lazaretto! She is there! you will soon see her here; she will be my wife; you shall be at the wedding, and, pestilence or not, we will be happy for a few hours.”
On the following morning Renzo set out for Pasturo. On his arrival, he asked concerning Agnes, and learnt that she was in health and safety. He approached her residence, which had been pointed out to him, and called her by name from the street. At the sound of his voice, she rushed to the window, and Renzo, without allowing her time to speak, cried, “Lucy is well; I saw her the day before yesterday; she will be at home shortly; oh, I have so many things to tell you.”
Overcome by various emotions, Agnes could only articulate, “I will open the door for you.”
“Stop, stop,” said Renzo. “You have not had the plague, I believe?”