him in his arms, in spite of the efforts of the unhappy wretch, who
struggled against his benefactor. He carried him off, without knowing
where he placed his feet, so much was his sight obscured by the smoke;
he leaped from nearly the middle of the ladder, and consigned the
lunatic, who loaded him with curses, to some people whom he made promise
to take care of him.

Oswald, animated by the danger he had just run, his hair dishevelled,
his look so proud yet so mild, struck the crowd who beheld him with
admiration, and almost with fanaticism; the women, above all, expressed
themselves with that imagination which is an almost universal gift in
Italy, and even gives a nobleness to the conversation of the common
people. They threw themselves on their knees before him, and cried,
"_You are surely St Michael, the patron of our city; display thy wings
most holy saint! but do not quit us: deign to ascend the steeple of the
cathedral, that all the city may behold, and pray to thee_." "_My child
is sick_," said one, "_heal him_." "_Tell me_," said another, "_where my
husband is, who has been absent several years_?" Oswald sought a means
of escape. The Count d'Erfeuil arrived, and said to him, pressing his
hand, "My dear Nelville, we ought to share all things with our friends;
it is unkind of you thus to monopolise all the danger." "Release me from
these people," said Oswald to him, in a low voice. A moment of darkness
favoured their flight, and both of them went in haste to get post
horses.

Lord Nelville experienced, at first, some pleasure from the good action
he had just performed, but with whom could he enjoy it now that his best
friend was no more? How unhappy is the lot of orphans! The most
fortunate events, as well as the most painful, make them feel alike the
solitude of the heart. How is it possible, in effect, ever to replace