THE LANDLORD, seeing the game was lasting too long, and being carried too far, had approached Renzo, and, with the greatest politeness, requesting the others to leave him alone, began shaking him by the arm, and tried to make him understand, and persuade him that he had better go to bed. But Renzo could not forget the old subject of the name, and surname, the proclamations, and worthy youths. However, the words ‘bed’ and ‘sleep,’ repeated in his ear, wrought some kind of impression on his mind; they made him feel a little more distinctly his need of what they signified, and produced a momentary lucid interval. The little sense that returned to his mind, made him, in some degree, sensible that most of his companions had gone: as the last glimmering torch in an illumination shows all the others extinguished. He made a resolution; placed his open hands upon the table; tried once or twice to raise himself; sighed, staggered, and at a third attempt, supported by his host, he stood upon his feet. The landlord, steadying him as he walked along, guided him from between the bench and the table, and taking a lamp in one hand, partly conducted, and partly dragged him with the other, towards the door of the stairs. Here, Renzo, on hearing the noise of the salutations which were shouted after him by the company, hastily turned round, and if his supporter had not been very alert, and held him by the arm, the evolution would have ended in a heavy fall: however, he managed to turn back, and, with his unconfined arm, began figuring and describing in the air sundry salutes like a running knot.
‘Let us go to bed; to bed,’ said the landlord, pushing him forward through the door; and with still more difficulty drawing him to the top of the narrow wooden staircase, and then into the room he had prepared for him. Renzo rejoiced on seeing his bed ready; he looked graciously upon his host, with eyes which one moment glistened more than ever, and the next faded away, like two fire-flies: he en-deavoured to steady himself on his legs, and stretched out his hand toward his host’s cheek to take it between his first and middle fingers, in token of friendship and gratitude, but he could not succeed. ‘Brave landlord,’ he at last managed to stammer out: ‘now I see that you are a worthy fellow: this is a kind deed, to give a poor youth a bed; but that trick about the name and surname, that wasn’t like a gentleman. By good luck, I saw through it . . . ’
The landlord, who little thought he could have uttered anything so connected, and who knew, by long experience, how men in such a condition may be induced more easily than usual, suddenly to change their minds, was determined to take advantage of this lucid interval, to make another attempt.
‘My dear fellow,’ said he, with a most coaxing tone and look, ‘I didn’t do it to vex you, nor to pry into your affairs. What would you have? There are the laws, and we must obey them; otherwise we are the first to suffer the punishment. It is better to satisfy them, and . . . After all, what is it all about? A great thing, certainly to say two words! Not, however, for them, but to do me a favour. Here, between ourselves, face to face, let us do our business: tell me your name . . . and then go to bed with a quiet mind.’
‘Ah rascal!’ exclaimed Renzo: ‘Cheat! you are again returning to the charge, with that infamous name, surname, and business!’
‘Hold your tongue, simpleton, and go to bed,’ said the landlord.
But Renzo pursued more vehemently: ‘I understand: you are one of the league. Wait, wait, and I’ll settle it.’ And directing his voice towards the head of the stairs, he began to shout more vociferously than ever, ‘Friends! the landlord is of the . . . ’
‘I only said it in a joke,’ cried he, in Renzo’s face, repulsing him, and pushing him towards the bed —‘In joke: didn’t you understand that I only said it in joke?’
‘Ah! in joke: now you speak sensibly. When you say in joke . . . They are just the things to make a joke of.’ And he sank upon the bed.
‘Here; undress yourself, and be quick,’ said the host, adding assistance to his advice; and there was need of it. When Renzo had succeeded in getting off his waistcoat, the landlord took it, and put his hands in the pockets to see if there were any money in them. His search was successful; and thinking that his guest would have something else to do than to pay him on the morrow, and that this money would probably fall into hands whence a landlord would not easily be able to recover any share, he resolved to risk another attempt.
‘You are a good youth, and an honest man, aren’t you?’ said he.
‘Good youth, and honest man,’ replied Renzo, vainly endeavouring to undo the buttons of the clothes which he had not yet been able to take off.
‘Very well,’ rejoined the host: ‘just settle, then, this little account; for to-morrow I must go out on some business . . . ’
‘That’s only fair,’ said Renzo: ‘I’m a fool, but I’m honest . . . But the money? Am I to go look for money now! . . . ’
‘It’s here,’ said the innkeeper; and calling up all his practice, patience, and skill, he succeeded in settling the account, and securing the reckoning.
‘Lend me a hand to finish undressing, landlord,’ said Renzo; ‘I’m beginning to feel very sleepy.’
The landlord performed the required office: he then spread the quilt over him, and, almost before he had time to say, disdainfully, ‘Good night!’ Renzo was snoring fast asleep. Yet, with that sort of attraction which sometimes induces us to contemplate an object of dislike as well as of affection, and which, perhaps, is nothing else than a desire of knowing what operates so forcibly on our mind, he paused, for a moment, to contemplate so annoying a guest, holding the lamp towards his face, and throwing the light upon it with a strong reflection, by screening it with his hand, almost in the attitude in which Psyche is depicted, when stealthily regarding the features of her unknown consort. — Mad blockhead! — said he, in his mind, to the poor sleeper — you’ve certainly taken the way to look for it. To-morrow you’ll be able to tell me how you’ve liked it. Clowns, who will stroll over the world, without knowing whereabouts the sun rises, just to bring themselves and their neighbours into trouble! —
So saying, or rather thinking, he withdrew the light, and left the room, locking the door behind him. On the landing-place at the top of the stairs, he called the landlady, and bade her leave the children under the care of a young servant girl, and go down into the kitchen, to preside and keep guard in his stead. “I must go out, thanks to a stranger who has arrived here, to my misfortune,’ said he; and he briefly related the annoying circumstance. He then added” ‘Have your eyes everywhere; and, above all, be prudent this unfortunate day. There’s a group of licentious fellows down below, who, between drink and their own inclination, are ready enough to talk, and will say anything. It will be enough, if a rash . . . ’
‘Oh, I’m not a child; and I know well enough what’s to be done. I think you can’t say that, up to this time . . . ’
‘Well, well; and be sure they pay; and pretend not to hear anything they say about the superintendent of provisions, and the governor, and Ferrer, and the decurioni, and the cavaliers, and Spain, and France, and such fooleries; for if you contradict them, you’ll come off badly directly; and if you agree with them, you may fare badly afterwards; and you know well enough, that sometimes those who say the worst things . . . But enough; when you hear certain sayings, turn away your head, and cry. “I’m coming,” as if somebody was calling you from the other side; I’ll come back as quick as I can.’
So saying, he went down with her into the kitchen, and gave a glance round, to see if there was anything new of consequence; took down his hat and cloak from a peg, reached a short, thick stick out of the corner, summed up, in one glance at his wife, the instructions he had given her, and went out. But during these preparations, he had again resumed the thread of the apostrophe begun at Renzo’s bedside; and continued it, even while proceeding on his walk.
— Obstinate fellow of a mountaineer! — For, however Renzo was determined to conceal his condition, this qualification had betrayed itself in his words, pronunciation, appearance, and actions. — Such a day as this, by good policy and judgment, I thought to have come off clear; and you must just come in at the end of it, to spoil the egg in the hatching. Were there no other inns in Milan, that you must just light upon mine? Would that you had even lit upon it alone! I would then have shut my eyes to it to-night, and to-morrow morning would have given you a hint. But, my good sir, no; you must come in company; and, to do better still, in company with a sheriff. —
At every step the innkeeper met either with solitary passengers, or persons in groups of three or four, whispering together. At this stage of his mute soliloquy, he saw a patrol of soldiers approaching, and, going a little aside, peeped at them from under the corner of his eye as they passed, and continued to himself:— There go the fool-chastisers. And you, great ass, because you saw a few people rambling about and making a noise, it must even come into your brain that the world is turning upside down. And on this fine foundation you have ruined yourself, and are trying to ruin me too; this isn’t fair. I did my best to save you; and you, you fool, in return, have very nearly made a disturbance in my inn. Now you must get yourself out of the scrape, and I will look to my own business. As if I wanted to know your name out of curiosity! What does it matter to me, whether it be Thaddeus or Bartholomew? A mighty desire I have to take the pen in hand; but you are not the only people who would have things all their own way. I know, as well as you, that there are proclamations which go for nothing: a fine novelty, that a mountaineer should come to tell me that! But you don’t know that proclamations against landlords are good for something. And you pretend to travel over the land, and speak; and don’t know that, if one would have one’s own way, and carry the proclamations in one’s pocket, the first thing requisite is not to speak against them in public. And for a poor innkeeper who was of your opinion, and didn’t ask the name of any one who happens to favour him with his company, do you know, you fool, what good things are in store for him? Under pain of three hundred crowns to any one of the aforesaid landlords, tavern-keepers, and others, as above; there are three hundred crowns hatched; and now to spend them well; to be applied, two-thirds to the royal chamber, and the other third to the accuser or informer: what a fine bait! And in case of inability, five years in the galleys, and greater punishment, pecuniary or corporal, at the will of his Excellency. Much obliged for all his favours. —
At these words the landlord reached the door of the court of the high-sheriff.
Here, as at all the other secretaries’ offices, much business was going forward. Everywhere they were engaged in giving such orders as seemed most likely to pre-occupy the following day, to take away every pretext for discontent, to overcome the boldness of those who were anxious for fresh tumults, and to confirm power in the hands of those accustomed to exercise it. The soldiery round the house of the superintendent were increased, and the ends of the street were blockaded with timber, and barricaded with carts. They commanded all the bakers to make bread without intermission, and despatched couriers to the surrounding country, with orders to send corn into the city; while noblemen were stationed at every bakehouse, who repaired thither early in the morning to superintend the distribution, and to restrain the factious, by fair words, and the authority of their presence. But to give, as the saying is, one blow to the hoop and another to the cask, and to render their cajolings more efficient by a little awe, they thought also of taking measures to seize some one of the seditious: and this was principally the business of the high-sheriff, whose temper towards the insurrection and the insurgents the reader may imagine, when he is informed of the vegetable fomentation which it was found necessary to apply to one of the organs of his metaphysical profundity. His blood-hounds had been in the field from the beginning of the riot: and this self-styled Ambrogio Fusella was, as the landlord said, a disguised under-sheriff, sent about for the express purpose of catching in the act some one whom he could again recognize, whose motions he could watch, and whom he could keep in mind, so as to seize, either in the quiet of the evening or next morning. He had not heard four words of Renzo’s harangue, before he had fixed upon him as a capital object — exactly his man. Finding, afterwards, that he was just fresh from the country, he had attempted the master-stroke of conducting him at once to the prison, as the safest inn in the city; but here he failed, as we have related. He could, however, bring back certain information of his name, surname, and country; besides a hundred other fine conjectural pieces of information; so that when the innkeeper arrived here to tell what he knew of Renzo, they were already better acquainted with him than he. He entered the usual apartment, and deposed that a stranger had arrived at his house to lodge, who could not be persuaded to declare his name.
‘You’ve done your duty in giving us this information,’ said a criminal notary, laying down his pen: ‘But we know it already.’
— A strange mystery! — thought the host:— they must be wonderfully clever! —
‘And we know, too,’ continued the notary, ‘this revered name!’
— The name, too! how have they managed it? — thought the landlord again.
‘But you,’ resumed the other, with a serious face, ‘you don’t tell all, candidly.’
‘What more have I to say?’
‘Ha! ha! we know very well that this fellow brought to your inn a quantity of stolen bread — plundered, acquired by robbery and sedition.’
‘A man comes, with one loaf in his pocket; do you think I know where he went to get it? for, to speak as on my death-bed, I can positively affirm that I saw but one loaf.’
‘There! always excusing and defending yourself: one would think, to hear you, everybody was honest. How can you prove that his bread was fairly obtained?’
‘Why am I to prove it? I don’t meddle with it; I am an innkeeper.’
‘You cannot, however, deny that this customer of yours had the temerity to utter injurious words against the proclamations, and to make improper and shameful jokes on the arms of his Excellency.’
‘Pardon me, sir: how can he be called my customer, when this is the first time I’ve ever seen him? It was the devil (under your favour) that sent him to my house: and if I had known him, you, sir, know well enough I should have had no occasion to ask his name.’
‘Well: in your inn, in your presence, inflammatory speeches have been uttered, unadvised words, seditious propositions; murmurs, grumbles, outcries.’
‘How can you expect, my good sir, that I should attend to the extravagances which so many noisy fellows, talking all at the same time, may chance to utter? I must attend to my interest, for I’m only badly off. And besides, your worship knows well enough that those who are lavish of their tongues are generally ready with their fists too, particularly when there are so many together, and . . . ’
‘Ay, ay; leave them alone to talk and fight: to-morrow you’ll see if their tricks have gone out of their heads. What do you think?’
‘I think nothing about it.’
‘That the mob will have got the upper hand in Milan?’
‘Oh, just so.’
‘We shall see, we shall see.’
‘I understand very well: the king will be always king; and he that is fined will be fined: but the poor father of a family naturally wishes to escape. Your honours have the power, and it belongs to you.’
‘Have you many people still in your house?’
‘A world of them.’
‘And this customer of yours, what is he doing? Does he still continue to be clamorous, to excite the people, and arouse sedition?’
‘That stranger, your worship means: he’s gone to bed.’
‘Then, you’ve many people . . . Well, take care not to let them go away.’
— Am I to be a constable? — thought the landlord, without replying either negatively or affirmatively.
‘Go home again, and be careful,’ resumed the notary.
‘I’ve always been careful. Your honour can say whether I have ever made any opposition to justice.’
‘Well, well; and don’t think that justice has lost its power.’
‘I! For Heaven’s sake; I think nothing: I only attend to my business.’
‘The old song: you’ve never anything else to say.’
‘What else would your worship have me say? truth is but one.’
‘Well, we will remember what you have deposed; if the case comes on, you will have to give more particular information to justice about whatever they may choose to ask you.’
‘What can I depose further? I know nothing. I have scarcely head enough to attend to my own business.’
‘Take care you don’t let him go.’
‘I hope that his worship the high-sheriff will be informed that I came immediately to discharge my duty. Your honour’s humble servant.’
By break of day, Renzo had been snoring for about seven hours, and was still, poor fellow, fast asleep, when two rough shakes at either arm, and a voice at the foot of the bed, calling, ‘Lorenzo Tramaglino!’ recalled him to his senses. He shook himself, stretched his arms, and with difficulty opening his eyes, saw a man standing before him............