"I know not."
"You live in Rome?"
"Near the Tritone."
The other helped him to rise. He could not stand. His left foot was in great pain. He was bareheaded; his cloak in rags; the coat and arm, torn and bloody; his face pale and haggard. Without speaking, he permitted himself to be supported by his preserver, who rather bore than led him the few paces to the horse; at last he gained the saddle, the other took the bridle and led him slowly towards the town.
At the first osteria outside the walls they halted. The young man called to the hostess to bring wine: when the wounded man had drunk a glassful his face became more animated, and he said:--
"You have done me a service, sir. Possibly the time may come when I shall curse it, instead of thanking you for it. But I thank you for it now. One clings to life as to other bad habits. One knows that the air is full of fever and rottenness, and the worthless steam of mankind, and yet thinks that each breath one draws in is a good thing."
"You are inclined to speak ill of mankind."
"I never knew one who did not take me for a fool if I spoke well of them. Pardon me. You are not a Roman?"
"I am a German."
"Bless God for it."