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 placed themselves before the table, in such a manner as to deprive the writer of a view of the door; and, as if from heedlessness, moved their feet about on the floor, as a signal to those without, and also for the purpose of drowning the noise of their footsteps; of this Don Abbondio, occupied in writing, took no notice. At the grating sounds of the feet Renzo drew Lucy trembling into the room, and stood with her behind the brothers. Don Abbondio, having finished writing, read it over attentively, folded the paper, and reaching it to Tony, said, "Will you be satisfied now?" Tony, on receiving it, retired on one side, Jervase on the other, and, behold, in the midst, Renzo and Lucy! Don Abbondio, affrighted, astonished, and enraged, took an immediate resolution; and while Renzo was uttering the words, "Sir Curate, in the presence of these witnesses, this is my wife," and the poor Lucy had begun, "And this is" he had snatched from the table the cloth which covered it, throwing on the ground books, pen, ink, and paper, and in haste letting fall the light, he threw it over and held it wrapped around the face of Lucy, at the same time roaring out, "Perpetua! Perpetua! treachery! help!" The wick, dying in the socket, sent a feeble and flickering light over the figure of Lucy, who, entirely overcome, stood like a statue, making no effort to free herself. The light died away, and left them in darkness; Don Abbondio quitted the poor girl, and felt cautiously along the wall for a door that led to an inner chamber; having found it, he entered, and locked himself in, crying out, "Perpetua! treachery! help! out of the house! out of the house!" All was confusion in the apartment he had quitted; Renzo, groping in the dark to find the curate, had followed the sound of his voice, and was knocking at the door of the room, crying, "Open, open; don't make such an outcry;" Lucy calling to Renzo, in a supplicating voice, "Let us go, let us go, for the love of God!" Tony, creeping on all fours, and feeling along the floor for his receipt, which had been dropped in the tumult; the poor Jervase, crying and jumping, and endeavouring to find the door on the stairs, so as to escape with whole bones.

In the midst of this turmoil, we cannot stop to make