a poor unfortunate man, an exile from his native land, one, at least, who never injured you!"
"But Renzo! Renzo! since you knew—why come, why?"
"Why come! O Lucy! why come, do you say! After so many promises! Are we no longer the same! Is all forgotten?"
"O God!" cried Lucy, sorrowfully clasping her hands, and raising her eyes to heaven; "why didst thou not take me to thyself! O Renzo! what have you done! Alas! I hopedthat with timeI should have driven from my memory"
"A kind hope indeed! and to say so to me!"
"Oh! what have you done! in this place! in the midst of these sorrows! Here, where there is nothing but death, you have dared"
"We must pray to God for those who die, and trust that they will be happy; but their calamity is no reason why those who live must live in despair"
"But Renzo! Renzo! you know not what you say; a promise to the Virgin! a vow!"
"I tell you, such promises are good for nothing."
"Oh! where have you been all this time? with whom have you associated, that you speak thus?"
"I speak as a good Christian. I think better of the Virgin than you do, because I do not believe vows to the injury of others are acceptable to her. If the Virgin had spoken herself, oh! then indeedbut it is simply an idea of your own!"
"No, no, you know not what you say; you know not what it is to make a vow! Leave me, leave me, for the love of Heaven!"
"Lucy!" said Renzo, "tell me at least, tell me, if this reason did not existwould you feel the same towards me?"
"Unfeeling man!" said Lucy, with difficulty restraining her tears; "would it satisfy you to hear me confess that which might be sinful, and would certainly be useless! Leave me, oh! leave me! forget me! we were not destined for each other. We shall meet again above; we have
