Andreazzo Ponziano, a good man, but not a saint, was alarmed at the
excessive liberality of his daughter-in-law, and feared that it would
end in producing a famine in his own house. He began by prudently
withdrawing from their hands the key of the granary; and then, for
greater security, afraid perhaps of yielding to their entreaties, which
he was not accustomed to resist, he took to selling whatever corn he
possessed beyond what was required for the daily consumption of the
family. Nothing, therefore, remained in the corn-loft but a huge heap of
straw. The provident old man followed the same plan with his cellar, and
sold all the wine it contained, with the exception of one cask, which
was reserved for his own and his children's use.

Meanwhile the scarcity went on increasing every day, and the number
of starving wretches in proportion. Franceses, unable to meet their
demands, and still more incapable of leaving them to perish, braved at
last all false shame and repugnance, and resolved with Vannozza to go
into the streets and beg for the poor. Then were seen those two noble
and lovely women standing at the doors of the churches, knocking at the
gates of the palace, following the rich in the public places, pleading
with tears the cause of the sufferers, gladly receiving the abundant
alms that were sometimes bestowed upon them, and not less gladly the
sneers, the repulses, the insulting words that often fell to their share
in these pilgrimages of mercy. At last the famine reached its height. At
every side,--on the pavement, in the corners of the streets,--were lying
crowds of persons, barely clothed with a few tattered rags, haggard
with hunger, wasted with fever, and calling upon death to end their
sufferings. It was a grievous, a horrible sight,--one that well-nigh
broke the heart of our saint. The moanings of the dying were in her
ears; the expression of their ghastly faces haunted her day and night.
She would have gladly shed her blood for them, and fed them with