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"And if I find him," continued Renzo, entirely blinded by rage,

"if the pestilence has not already done justice-the time is past

when a poltroon, surrounded by bravoes, can reduce men to

despair, and laugh at them! the time is come when men meet face

to face, and I will do myself justice."

"Unhappy youth!" cried Father Christopher, with a voice which had

suddenly become strong and sonorous, his head raised, and eyes

darting forth more than their wonted fire; "unhappy youth! look

around you! Behold who punishes and who judges; who punishes and

pardons! But you, feeble worm, you would do yourself justice! Do

you know what justice is? Unhappy youth! begone! I hoped--yes, I

hoped that before I died, God would afford me the consolation to

learn that my poor Lucy still lived; to see her, perhaps, and to

hear her promise that she would send a prayer to yonder grave

where I shall rest. Begone, you have taken away my hope. God has

not left her on the earth for thee, and you certainly have not

the audacity to believe yourself worthy that God should think of

consoling you. Go, I have no time to listen to you farther." And

he dropped the arm of Renzo, which he had grasped, and moved

towards a cabin.