“What is all this tumult? What is the matter? Where is it?”
“Where is it? Do you not know? Why, in the curate’s house. Run, run.” They rushed in a crowd thither; looked,—listened. All was quiet. The street door was fastened; not a window open; not a sound within.
“Who is within there? Holla! holla! Signor Curate, Signor Curate!”
Don Abbondio, who, as soon as he was relieved by the flight of the invaders, had retired from the window, and closed it, was now quarrelling with Perpetua for leaving him to bear the brunt of the battle alone. When he heard himself called by name, by the people outside, he repented of the rashness which had produced this undesired result.
“What has happened? Who are they? Where are they? What have they done to you?” cried a hundred voices at a time.
“There is no one here now; I am much obliged to you.—Return to your houses.”
“But who has been here? Where have they gone? What has happened?”
“Bad people, bad people, who wander about in the night; but they have all fled.—Return to your houses. I thank you for your kindness.” So saying, he retired and shut the window. There was a general murmur of disappointment through the crowd. Some laughed, some swore, some shrugged up their shoulders and went home; but at this moment a person came running towards them, panting and breathless. He lived at the house opposite to the cottage of Lucy, and had witnessed from the window the alarm of the bravoes, when Griso endeavoured to collect them in the court-yard. When he recovered breath, he cried, “What do you do here, friends? The devil is not here, he is down at the house of Agnes Mondella. Armed people are in it. It seems they wish to murder a pilgrim; but who knows what the devil it is?”
“What! what! what!” And then began a tumultuous conversation. “Let us go. How many are there? How many are we? Who are they?—The constable! the constable!”
“I am here,” replied the constable, from the midst of the crowd, “I am here, but you must assist me; you must obey.—Quick;—where is the sexton? To the bell, to the bell. Quick; some one run to Lecco to ask for succour.—Come this way.” The tumult was great, and as they were about to depart for the cottage of Agnes, another messenger came flying, and exclaimed, “Run, friends;—robbers who are carrying off a pilgrim. They are already out of the village! On! on! this way.”