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"They think that I jest, but it is really so," said Renzo to his

guide, and turning the bread in his hand; "see how they have

formed it-you would call it a cake, but they were so packed one

on the other. If there were any with the crust a little tender,

one might know they were fresh." Then devouring three or four

mouthfulls of the bread, he washed them down with another glass

of wine, adding, "The bread will not go down alone-my throat was

never so dry-a glorious uproar we made!"

"Prepare a good bed for this young man," said the guide; "he is

going to pass the night here."

"Do you wish to sleep here?" said the host to Renzo, approaching

the table.

"Certainly; I shall be content with any bed, provided the sheets

are white; for although poor, I am accustomed to cleanliness."

"Oh, as to that--" said the host. So saying, he went to his

counter, which was in a corner of the kitchen, and returned,

bringing in his hand paper, pen, and ink.