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"'Tis a trifle, a trifle; you deserve it; 'tis plain to be seen

you're a brave fellow; you do well to poison this rabble;

extirpate the fools, who, as a reward for the life we lead, say,

that the plague once over, they will hang us all. They must all

be finished, before the plague ceases; the monatti alone must

remain to sing for victory, and to feast in Milan."

"Life to the pestilence, and death to the rabble!" cried another,

putting the flagon to his mouth, from which he drank freely, and

then offered it to Renzo, saying, "Drink to our health."

"I wish it to you all," said Renzo, "but I am not thirsty, and do

not want to drink now."

"You have been terribly frightened, it seems," said the monatto;

"you appear to be a harmless sort of a person; you should have

another face than that for a poisoner."