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"Of hunger!" cried Renzo. "Here, here," said he, drawing the two

loaves from his pocket. "Lower something in which I may put

them."

"God reward you! wait a moment," said the woman, as she went in

search of a basket and cord to suspend it.

"As to the commissary, my good woman," said he, putting the

loaves in the basket, "I cannot serve you, because, to tell

truth, I am a stranger in Milan, and know nothing of the place.

However, if I meet any one a little humane and tractable, to whom

I can speak, I will tell him."

The woman begged him to do so, and gave him the name of the

street in which she lived.

"You can also render me a service, without its costing you any

thing," said Renzo. "Can you tell me where there is a nobleman's

house in Milan, named ***?"

"I know there is a house of that name, but I do not know where it

is. Further on in the city you will probably find some one to

direct you. And remember to speak of us."

"Do not doubt me," said Renzo, as he passed on.