Pagina 474 de 1118

"Thank you," said Renzo, carrying off the remains of his bread,

which was much coarser than what he had lately eaten from the

foot of the Cross of St. Dionysius; and paying the bill,

departed. He took the road to the right, and with the name of

Gorgonzola in his mouth, from village to village, he succeeded in

reaching it an hour before sunset.

He had on his way intended to halt here for some more substantial

refreshment; he felt also the need of sleep; but rather than

indulge himself in this, he would have dropped dead on the road.

His design was to inform himself, at the inn, of the distance

from the Adda, to contrive to obtain some direction to the cross

paths which led to it, and after having eaten, to go on his way.

Born at the second source of this river, he had often heard that

at a certain point, and for some distance, its waters marked the

confines of the Milanese and Venetian states. He had no precise

idea of the spot where this boundary commenced, but, at this

time, the principal matter was to reach the river. Provided he

could not accomplish it by daylight, he decided to travel as long

as the darkness and his strength would permit, and then to wait

the approach of day in a field, among brambles, or any where,

where it should please God, an inn excepted.