Antonio confirmed all that the friendly man said, and had gained such confidence in him, that he felt just as if he was talking to himself. He then went on to tell him about the adventures of that night, about the second Crescentia, and the odious witch, who, he could not help fancying, had appeared to him a second time on that day.
"Can you inform me now," he askt eagerly, "whether this is all true, who that Crescentia is, and whether I shall ever see her again and carry her back to her parents?"
Castalio became more thoughtful than before. "Unless that strange creature Beresynth," he answered, "the imp that used to be at the magician's side, has been disguising himself as a woman, to escape from his pursuers, I feel assured that I shall find the hag out. Only have patience till tomorrow, and I will then give you your answer. Meanwhile you may be satisfied that the occurrences of that night were no phantoms of your mind, but realities; thus far you may set yourself and your elderly friend at rest."
The young people were lost in thought as they left the wonderful man, and Antonio thankt the Spaniard heartily for having procured him this acquaintance.
Antonio had not been mistaken. It was in fact the old woman that he had caught sight of in the crowd. She was living in a little hut, behind some ruinous houses, not far from the Lateran. Persecuted, destitute, deserted and hated and dreaded by all the world, she was here, in the abode of wretchedness, reduced to the brink of despair. She seldom ventured to shew herself abroad, and on this day too had only gone out from necessity, to bring her Crescentia, who had run away from her, back again.
As everybody shrank out of her path, as it was hard work for her even to obtain here and there an alms, and as her former arts found few lovers, she was no little astonisht that evening to hear a knock at her door, while cries and shouts were tossing without. She took her lamp, and, opening the door, saw a swarm of street-boys and of the lowest rabble at the heels of a little crooked figure fantastically clad in red velvet and gold.
"Does not the worthy Pancrazia live here?" screamed the deformed dwarf.
"Ay, to be sure!" said the old woman, as she forcibly banged the door to, and tried to drive away the people on the outside by abuse. "Who are you, worthy Sir? what do you seek from an old forlorn lady?"