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"Lucy," said Renzo, "will you fail me now? Have we not done all

that we could do, like good Christians? Had not the curate

himself fixed the day and the hour? And whose is the blame if we

are now obliged to use a little management? No, you will not fail

me. I go at once to seek the witnesses, and will return to tell

you my success." So saying, he hastily departed.

Disappointment sharpens the wit; and Renzo, who, in the

straightforward path he had hitherto travelled, had not been

required to subtilise much, now conceived a plan which would have

done honour to a lawyer. He went directly to the house of one

Anthony, and found him in his kitchen, employed in stirring a

polenta of wheat, which was on the fire, whilst his mother,

brother, and his wife, with three or four small children, were

seated at the table, eagerly intent on the earthen pan, and

awaiting the moment when it should be ready for their attack.

But, on this occasion, the pleasure was wanting which the sight

of dinner usually produces in the aspect of the labourer who has

earned it by his industry. The size of the polenta was

proportioned to the scantiness of the times, and not to the

number and appetite of the assailants: and in casting a

dissatisfied look on the common meal, each seemed to be

considering the extent of appetite likely to survive it.