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They give out that famine is every where; this they do to keep

poor people abroad quiet." But in a few moments he arrived in

front of the column, and saw on the steps of the pedestal certain

things scattered, which were not assuredly stones, and which, if

they had been on a baker's counter, he would not have hesitated

to call loaves of bread. But Renzo dared not so easily trust his

eyes, because truly this was not a place for bread. "Let us see

what this is," said he, and approaching the column, he took one

in his hand; it was, indeed, a very white loaf of bread, such as

Renzo was accustomed to eat only on festival days. "It is really

bread!" said he, in wonder. "Do they scatter it thus here? And in

a year like this? And do they suffer it to lie here, and not take

the trouble to gather it? This must be a fine place to live in!"

After ten miles of travel, in the fresh air of the morning, the

sight of the bread awaked his appetite. "Shall I take it?" said

he again. "Poh!