Dashing to an inner room, he locked himself in, flung open the window, and shouted for help.  Hearing the uproar, the sexton, who lived next door, shouted out, “What is it?”

“Help!” repeated the cure.  Not being over desirous of thrusting himself blindly in upon unknown dangers, the sexton hastened to the belfry and vigorously rang the great bell.  This ringing the bell had more far-reaching consequences than he anticipated.  Enraged by the friar’s visit, Rodrigo had determined to abduct Lucia, and sent his bravos to effect his purpose that very night.  At the very moment that the bell began to ring they had just broken into Agnese’s house, and were searching for the occupants.  Convinced that their action was the cause of commotion, they beat a hasty retreat.

The discomfited betrothed—­still only betrothed—­hastily rejoined Agnese, who was waiting for them in the street.  As they hurriedly turned their steps homeward a child threw himself into their way.

“Back!  Back!” he breathlessly exclaimed.  “This way to the monastery!”

“What is it?” asked Renzo.

“There are devils in your house,” said the boy, panting.  “I saw them; Fra Cristoforo said so; he sent me to warn you.  He had news from someone at the castle; you must go to him at the monastery at once.”

“My children,” said Fra Cristoforo on their arrival, “the village is no longer safe for you; for a time, at least, you must take refuge elsewhere.  I will arrange for you, Lucia, to be taken care of in a convent at Monza.  You, Renzo, must put yourself in safety from the anger of others, and your own.  Carry this letter to Father Bonaventura, in our monastery at Milan.  He will find you work.”

II.—­The Riot of the Hungry

Fra Bonaventura was out when Renzo arrived to present his letter.

“Go and wait in the church, where you may employ yourself profitably,” was the porter’s advice, which Renzo was about to follow, when a tumultuous crowd came in sight.  Here, apparently, was matter of greater interest, so he turned aside to see the cause of the uproar.

The cause, though Renzo did not at the time discover it, was the shortage of the bread supply.  Owing to the ravages of war and the disturbed state of the country, much land lay uncultivated and deserted; insupportable taxes were levied; and no sooner had the deficient harvest been gathered in than the provisions for the army, and the waste which always accompanies them, made a fearful void in it.  What had attracted Renzo’s attention was but the sudden exacerbation of a chronic disease.

Mingling with the hurrying mob, Renzo soon discovered that they had been engaged in sacking a bakery, and were filled with fury to find large quantities of flour, the existence of which the authorities had denied.  “The superintendent!  The tyrant!  We’ll have him, dead or alive!”

Renzo found himself borne along in the thickest of the throng to the house of the superintendent, where a tremendous crowd was endeavouring to break in the doors.  The tumult being allayed by the arrival of Ferrer, the chancellor, a popular favourite, Renzo became involved in conversation with some of the rioters.  He asked to be directed to an inn where he could pass the night.