One wild-eyed, black-haired girl flung herself down on the ground right in the king's path; she kissed his feet, and then sprung erect with a gesture of triumph.
"I am saved!" she cried; "the plague cannot walk in the same road with the king!" Humbert smiled, and regarded her somewhat as an indulgent father might regard a spoiled daughter; but he said nothing, and passed on.

A cluster of men and women standing at the open door of one of the poorest-looking houses in the street next attracted the monarch's attention.

There was some noisy argument going on; two or three beccamorti were loudly discussing together and swearing profusely--some women were crying bitterly, and in the center of the excited group a coffin stood on end as though waiting for an occupant.

One of the gentlemen in attendance on the king preceded him and announced his approach, whereupon the loud clamor of tongues ceased, the men bared their heads, and the women checked their sobs.
"What is wrong here, my friends ?" the monarch asked with exceeding gentleness.
There was silence for a moment; the beccamorti looked sullen and ashamed.

Then one of the women, with a fat good-natured face and eyes rimmed redly round with weeping, elbowed her way through the little throng to the front and spoke.
"May the Holy Virgin and saints bless your majesty!" she cried, in shrill accents.