'You are going far, sir?'
'When one gives alms to a beggar, it is so that he may not importune
one,' I said.
'Ah, no; it is for the love of God and charity. But I do not wish to
importune you, I thought I might help you.'
'I want no help.'
'You look unhappy.'
'I beg you to leave me in peace.'
'As you will, my son.'
He left me, and I returned to my old position. I felt as if a sheet of
lead were pressing upon my head. A moment later a gruff voice broke in
upon me.
'Ah, Messer Filippo Brandolini!'
I looked up. At the first glance I did not recognise the speaker; but
then as I cleared my mind I saw it was Ercole Piacentini. What was he
doing here? Then I remembered that it was on the road to Forli. I
supposed he had received orders to leave Castello and was on his way to
his old haunts. However, I did not want to speak to him; I bent down,
and again clasped my head in my hands.
'That is a civil way of answering,' he said. 'Messer Filippo!'