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As Renzo passed without the walls of the lazaretto, the rain

began to fall in torrents. Instead of lamenting, he rejoiced at

it: he was delighted with the refreshing air, and with the sound

of the falling drops from the plants and foliage which seemed to

have new life imparted to them; and breathing more freely in this

change of nature, he felt more vividly the change that had

occurred in his own destiny.

But much would his enjoyment have been increased, could he have

surmised what would be seen a few days after. This water carried

off, washed away, so to speak, the contagion. If the lazaretto

did not restore to the living all the living it still contained,

at least from that day it received no more into its vast abyss.

At the end of a week, shops were opened, people returned to their

houses, quarantine was hardly spoken of, and there remained of

the pestilence but a few scattered traces.