"What has all this to do with my bed?"
"I do my duty. We are obliged to report everyone that sleeps in the house."
"Oh, so I'm to tell my business, am I? This is something new. Supposing I had come to Milan to confess, I should go to a Capuchin father, not to an innkeeper."
"Well, if you won't, you won't!" said the landlord, with a glance at Renzo's companion. "I've done my duty."
So saying, he withdrew, and shortly afterwards the new-found friend insisted on taking his departure. At daybreak Renzo was awakened by a shake and a voice calling, "Lorenzo Tramaglino."
"Eh, what does this mean? What do you want? Who told you my name?" said Renzo, starting up, amazed to find three men, two of them fully armed, standing at his bedside.
"You must come with us. The high sheriff wants to have some words with you."
Renzo now found himself being led through the streets, that were still filled with a considerable number of last night's rioters, by no means yet pacified. When they had gone a little way some of the crowd, noticing them, began to form around the party.
"If I don't help myself now," thought Renzo, "it's my own fault. My friends," he shouted, "they're carrying me off because yesterday I shouted 'Bread and Justice!' Don't abandon me, my friends!"
The crowd at once began to press forward, and the bailiffs, fearing danger, let go of his hands and tried to disappear into the crowd. Renzo was carried off safely.