"Right, right," said he; "I have bethought me. 'Twas but a blow. He is wealthy, I am poor; there is no justice for the poor in Rome."
"My purse is at your service," said I, interfering; "you shall have my aid."
"Your aid!" echoed the old man, staring at me; "will you assist me, signor?"
"I will."
"Enough. I may claim fulfilment of your promise."
"Stop, old man," I said; "answer me one question ere you depart. Whence arose your recent terrors?"
"You shall know hereafter, signor," he said; "I must now begone. We shall meet again. Follow me not," he continued, seeing I was bent upon obtaining further explanation of the mystery. "You will learn nothing now, and only endanger my safety. Addio, signor." And with hasty steps he quitted the church, accompanied by his son.
"Who is that old man?" I demanded of the priest.
"I am as ignorant as yourself," he replied, "but he must be looked to; he talks threateningly." And he beckoned to an attendant.
"Who was he who struck him?" was my next inquiry.