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He reflected that this would never do, and he must seek some

other expedient; that which occurred to him, was to inform

himself of the name of some village near the frontier, which he

would reach by crossroads, and asking the way to that, be enabled

to avoid the mention of this dreaded Bergamo, which seemed to him

so likely to cause distrust and suspicion.

Whilst he was reflecting on the best method of pursuing this plan

without awakening conjectures, he saw a green branch hanging from

the door of a lonely cottage, some distance beyond a village; and

as he had for some time felt the need of refreshment, he thought

he could now kill two birds with one stone, and therefore entered

the humble dwelling. There was no one within, but an old woman,

with her distaff by her side, and spindle in her hand. He asked

for a mouthful to eat; she offered him some stracchino[27], and

some wine. He accepted the food, but refused the wine; of which

he felt an intuitive horror since the events of the preceding

night. The old woman then began to assail her guest with

enquiries of his trade, his journey, and of the news from Milan,

of the disturbances of which she had heard some rumours.