"Because," resumed Agnes, "a gossiping woman of the company said—would you believe it?—obstinately persisted in saying, that you were never engaged to Beppo Suolavecchia, nor to Anselmo Lunghigna, because they would not have you. I maintained that you had refused them both"
"Certainly I did. Oh! what a liar! oh! what a great liar! Who was it?"
"Don't ask me; I don't wish to make mischief."
"You must tell me; you must tell me. Oh! what a lie!"
"So it was; but you can't believe how sorry I felt not to know all the story, that I might have confuted her."
"It is an infamous lie," said Perpetua. "As to Beppo, every one knows"
In front of Don Abbondio's house, there was a short and narrow lane, between two old cottages, which opened at the farther end into the fields. Agnes drew Perpetua thither, as if for the purpose of talking with her more freely. When they were at a spot, from which they could not see what passed before the curate's house, Agnes coughed loudly.
This was the concerted signal, which, being heard by Renzo, he, with Lucy on his arm, crept quietly along the wall, approached the door, opened it softly, and entered the passage, where the two brothers were waiting their approach. They all ascended the stairs on tiptoe; the brothers advanced towards the door of the chamber; the lovers remained concealed on the landing.
"Deo gratias," said Tony, in a clear voice.
"Tony, eh? come in," replied the voice from within. Tony obeyed, opening the door just enough to admit himself and brother, one at a time. The rays of light, which shone unexpectedly through this opening on the darkness by which Renzo and Lucy were protected, made the latter tremble as if already discovered. The brothers entered, and Tony closed the door; the lovers remained motionless without; the beating of poor Lucy's heart might be heard in the stillness.
Don Abbondio was, as we have said, seated in his arm
