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At Malanotte they found another company of armed men. Don

Abbondio took off his hat and bowed profoundly, saying to

himself, "Alas, alas! I am really in a camp." They here quitted

the carriage to ascend the pass on foot, the curate having in

haste paid and dismissed the driver. The recollection of his

former terrors in this very place increased his present

forebodings of evil, by mingling themselves with his reflections,

and enfeebling more and more his understanding. Agnes, who had

never before trod this path, but who had often pictured it to her

imagination, was filled with different but keenly painful

remembrances. "Oh, signor curate," cried she, "when I think how

my poor Lucy passed this very road."

"Will you be quiet, foolish woman?" cried Don Abbondio in her

ear. "Are these things to speak of in this place? Are you

ignorant that we are on his lands? It is fortunate no one heard

you. If you speak in this manner--"

"Oh," said Agnes, "now that he is a saint--"