At that moment he heard a rustling at no great distance. He looked
around, and in an adjacent street, which the moon faintly
enlightened, he perceived a tall figure, wrapped in a cloak, pacing
slowly backwards and forwards.
"'Tis the hand of God which hath guided him hither--yes--I'll--I'll
BEG--better to play the beggar in Venice than the villain in Naples;
for the beggar's heart may beat nobly, though covered with rags."
He then sprang from the ground, and hastened towards the adjoining
street. Just as he entered it at one end, he perceived another
person advancing through the other, of whose approach the first was
no sooner aware than he hastily retired into the shadow of a piazza,
anxious to conceal himself.
"What can this mean?" thought our mendicant. "Is yon eavesdropper
one of death's unlicensed ministers? Has he received the retaining
fee of some impatient heir, who pants to possess the wealth of the
unlucky knave who comes strolling along yonder, so careless and
unconscious? Be not so confident, honest friend! I'm at your
elbow."
He retired further into the shade, and silently and slowly drew near
the lurker, who stirred not from his place. The stranger had
already passed them by, when the concealed villain sprang suddenly
upon him, raised his right hand in which a poniard was gleaming, and
before he could give the blow, was felled to the earth by the arm of
the mendicant.
The stranger turned hastily towards them; the bravo started up and
fled; the beggar smiled.
"How now?" cried the stranger; "what does all this mean?"
"Oh, 'tis a mere jest, signor, which has only preserved your life."
"What? my life? How so?"
"The honest gentleman who has just taken to his heels stole behind
you with true cat-like caution, and had already raised his dagger,
when I saw him. You owe your life to me, and the service is richly
worth one little piece of money! Give me some alms, signor, for on
my soul I am hungry, thirsty, cold."
"Hence, scurvy companion! I know you and your tricks too well.
This is all a concerted scheme between you, a design upon my purse,
an attempt to procure both money and thanks, and under the lame
pretence of having saved me from an assassin. Go, fellow, go!
practise these dainty devices on the Doge's credulity if you will;
but with Buonarotti you stand no chance, believe me."
The wretched starving beggar stood like one petrified, and gazed on
the taunting stranger.
"No, as I have a soul to save, signor, 'tis no lie I tell you!--'tis
the plain truth; have compassion, or I die this night of hunger."