I promessi sposi. English

by Alessandro Manzoni

  CHAPTER VIII.

  "Carneades! who was he?" said Don Abbondio to himself, seated in hislarge chair, with a book open before him. "Carneades! this name I haveeither heard or read of; he must have been a man of study, a scholar ofantiquity; but who the devil _was_ he?" Now, it should be known, that itwas Don Abbondio's custom to read a little every day, and that a curate,his neighbour, who had a small library, furnished him with books, oneafter the other, as they came to hand. That with which he was at thismoment engaged, was a panegyric on St. Carlos, delivered many yearsbefore in the cathedral of Milan. The saint was there compared for hislove of study to Archimedes; which comparison the poor curate wellunderstood, inasmuch as this did not require, from the various anecdotesrelated of him, an erudition very extensive. But the author went on toliken him also to Carneades, and here the poor reader was at fault. Atthis moment, Perpetua announced the visit of Tony.

  "At such an hour?" said Don Abbondio.

  "What do you expect? They have no discretion. But if you do not shootthe bird flying----"

  "Who knows if I shall ever be able to do it?" continued he. "Let himcome in. But are you very sure that it is Tony?"

  "The devil!" said Perpetua, as she descended, and, opening the door,demanded, "Where are you?"

  Tony appeared, in company with Agnes, who accosted Perpetua by name.

  "Good evening, Agnes," said she; "whence come you at this hour?"

  "I come from----," naming a neighbouring village. "And do you know," shecontinued, "that I have been delayed on your account?"

  "On my account!" exclaimed she; and turning to the two brothers, said,"Go in, and I will follow you."

  "Because," resumed Agnes, "a gossiping woman of the company said--wouldyou believe it?--obstinately persisted in saying, that you were neverengaged to Beppo Suolavecchia, nor to Anselmo Lunghigna, because theywould not have you. I maintained that you had refused them both----"

  "Certainly I did. Oh! what a liar! oh! what a great liar! Who was it?"

  "Don't ask me; I don't wish to make mischief."

  "You must tell me; you must tell me. Oh! what a lie!"

  "So it was; but you can't believe how sorry I felt not to know all thestory, that I might have confuted her."

  "It is an infamous lie," said Perpetua. "As to Beppo, every oneknows----"

  In front of Don Abbondio's house, there was a short and narrow lane,between two old cottages, which opened at the farther end into thefields. Agnes drew Perpetua thither, as if for the purpose of talkingwith her more freely. When they were at a spot, from which they couldnot see what passed before the curate's house, Agnes coughed loudly.

  This was the concerted signal, which, being heard by Renzo, he, withLucy on his arm, crept quietly along the wall, approached the door,opened it softly, and entered the passage, where the two brothers werewaiting their approach. They all ascended the stairs on tiptoe; thebrothers advanced towards the door of the chamber; the lovers remainedconcealed on the landing.

  "_Deo gratias_," said Tony, in a clear voice.

  "Tony, eh? come in," replied the voice from within. Tony obeyed, openingthe door just enough to admit himself and brother, one at a time. Therays of light, which shone unexpectedly through this opening on thedarkness by which Renzo and Lucy were protected, made the latter trembleas if already discovered. The brothers entered, and Tony closed thedoor; the lovers remained motionless without; the beating of poor Lucy'sheart might be heard in the stillness.

  Don Abbondio was, as we have said, seated in his arm chair, wrapped ina morning-gown, with an old cap on his head, in the fashion of a tiara,which formed a sort of cornice around his face, and shaded it from thedim light of a little lamp. Two thick curls which escaped from beneaththe cap, two thick eyebrows, two thick mustachios, a dense tuft alonghis chin, all quite grey, and studding his sun-burnt and wrinkledvisage, might be compared to snowy bushes projecting from a rock bymoonlight.

  "Ah! ah!" was his salutation, as he took off his spectacles and placedthem on his book.

  "Does the curate think I have come at too late an hour?" said Tony,bowing: Jervase awkwardly followed his example.

  "Certainly, it is late; late on all accounts. Do you know that I amill?"

  "Oh! I am sorry."

  "Did you not hear that I was sick, and could not be seen? But why isthis boy with you?"

  "For company, Signor Curate."

  "Well; let us see."

  "Here are twenty-five new pieces, with the image of St. Ambrose onhorseback," said Tony, drawing forth a little bundle from his pocket.

  "Give here," said Don Abbondio; and taking the bundle, he opened it,counted the money, and found it correct.

  "Now, sir, you will give me the necklace of my Teela."

  "Certainly," replied Don Abbondio; and going to an old press, he drewforth the pledge, and carefully returned it.

  "Now," said Tony, "you will please to put it in black and white?"

  "Eh!" said Don Abbondio, "how suspicious the world has become! Do younot trust me?"

  "How! Sir. If I trust you! you do me wrong. But since my name is on yourbook on the side of debtor----"

  "Well, well," interrupted Don Abbondio; and seating himself at thetable, he began to write, repeating, with a loud voice, the words asthey came from his pen. In the meanwhile, Tony, and, at a sign from him,Jervase, placed themselves before the table, in such a manner as todeprive the writer of a view of the door; and, as if from heedlessness,moved their feet about on the floor, as a signal to those without, andalso for the purpose of drowning the noise of their footsteps; of thisDon Abbondio, occupied in writing, took no notice. At the grating soundsof the feet Renzo drew Lucy trembling into the room, and stood with herbehind the brothers. Don Abbondio, having finished writing, read it overattentively, folded the paper, and reaching it to Tony, said, "Will yoube satisfied now?" Tony, on receiving it, retired on one side, Jervaseon the other, and, behold, in the midst, Renzo and Lucy! Don Abbondio,affrighted, astonished, and enraged, took an immediate resolution; andwhile Renzo was uttering the words, "Sir Curate, in the presence ofthese witnesses, this is my wife," and the poor Lucy had begun, "Andthis is----" he had snatched from the table the cloth which covered it,throwing on the ground books, pen, ink, and paper, and in haste lettingfall the light, he threw it over and held it wrapped around the face ofLucy, at the same time roaring out, "Perpetua! Perpetua! treachery!help!" The wick, dying in the socket, sent a feeble and flickering lightover the figure of Lucy, who, entirely overcome, stood like a statue,making no effort to free herself. The light died away, and left them indarkness; Don Abbondio quitted the poor girl, and felt cautiously alongthe wall for a door that led to an inner chamber; having found it, heentered, and locked himself in, crying out, "Perpetua! treachery! help!out of the house! out of the house!" All was confusion in the apartmenthe had quitted; Renzo, groping in the dark to find the curate, hadfollowed the sound of his voice, and was knocking at the door of theroom, crying, "Open, open; don't make such an outcry;" Lucy calling toRenzo, in a supplicating voice, "Let us go, let us go, for the love ofGod!" Tony, creeping on all fours, and feeling along the floor for hisreceipt, which had been dropped in the tumult; the poor Jervase, cryingand jumping, and endeavouring to find the door on the stairs, so as toescape with whole bones.

  In the midst of this turmoil, we cannot stop to make reflections; butRenzo, causing disturbance at night in another person's house, andholding the master of it besieged in an inner room, has all theappearance of an oppressor; when in fact he was the oppressed. DonAbbondio, assaulted in his own house, while he was tranquilly attendingto his affairs, appeared the victim; when, in fact, it was he who hadinflicted the injury. Thus goes the world, or rather, thus it went inthe seventeenth century.

  The besieged, seeing that the enemy gave no signs of retreat, opened awindow which looked out upon the churchyard, and cried, "Help, help!"The moon shone brightly--every object could be clearly discerned as inthe day; but a deep repose rested over all--there was no
indication of aliving soul. Contiguous to the church, and on that side of it whichfronted the parsonage, was a small habitation in which slept the sexton.Aroused by this strange outcry, he jumped from his bed, opened the smallwindow, with his eyelids glued together all the time, and cried, "Whatis the matter?"

  "Run, Ambrose, run! help! people in the house!" cried Don Abbondio. "Icome in a moment," replied he, drawing in his head; he closed hiscurtain, and half stupid, and half affrighted, thought of an expedientto bring more help than had been required of him, without risking hisown life in the contest, whatever it might be. He hastily took hisbreeches from the bed, and putting them under his arm, like an operahat, ran to the belfry and pulled away lustily.

  _Ton, Ton, Ton_; the peasant aroused, sat up in his bed; the boy,sleeping in the hay-loft, listened eagerly, and sprang on his feet;"What is the matter? What is it? Fire! Robbers!" Each woman entreatedher husband not to stir, but to leave it to others: such as were cowardsobeyed, whilst the inquisitive and courageous took their arms, and rantowards the noise.

  Long before this, however, the alarm had been given to other personagesof our story; the bravoes in one place; and Agnes and Perpetua inanother. It is necessary to relate briefly how the former had beenoccupied, since we last took leave of them; those at the old house, andthose at the inn. The latter, when they ascertained that theinhabitants of the village had retired to rest, and that the road wasclear, went to the cottage of Lucy, and found that a perfect stillnessreigned within. They then returned to the old house to give in theirreport to Signor Griso. He immediately put on a slouched hat, with apilgrim's habit, and staff, saying, "Let us act as becometh soldiers;cautious, quiet, and attentive to orders." Then leading the way, he,with his company, arrived at the cottage, by a route different from thattaken by our poor cottagers. Griso kept the band a few steps off, wentforward alone to explore, and seeing all deserted and quiet on theoutside, he beckoned to two of them, ordered them to mount verycarefully and quietly the wall which enclosed the court-yard, and toconceal themselves on the other side behind a thick fig-tree, which hehad observed in the morning. That being done, he knocked gently at thedoor, with the intention to call himself a pilgrim, who had wanderedfrom his way, and request shelter until the morning. No answer; heknocked again, louder; not a sound! He then called a third robber, madehim also descend into the yard, with orders to unfasten the bolt on theinside, so that they might have free entrance. All was performed withthe utmost caution, and the most complete success. Griso then called therest, and made some of them conceal themselves by the side of thosebehind the fig-tree; he then opened the door very softly, placed twocentinels on the inside of it, and advanced to the lower chamber. Heknocked; he waited--and well might wait; he raised the latch; no onefrom within said, "Who is there?" Nothing could go on better. He thencalled the robbers from the fig-tree, and with them entered the roomwhere he had in the morning so villanously received the loaf of bread.He drew out his flint, tinder-box, and matches, and striking a light,proceeded to the inner chamber; it was empty! He returned to the stairs,and listened; solitude and silence! He left two to keep watch below, andwith the others carefully ascended the stairs, cursing in his heart thecreaking of the steps. He reached the summit, pushed softly open thedoor of the first room, and listened if any one breathed or moved: noone! He advanced, shading his face with the lamp, and perceived a bed;it was made, and perfectly smooth, with the covering arranged in orderon the bolster! He shrugged his shoulders, and returning to the company,made a sign to them, that he was going into the other room, and thatthey should remain quietly behind,--he did so, and had the same success;all deserted and quiet.

  "What the devil's this?" said he aloud; "some traitorous dog has playedthe spy!" They then searched with less ceremony the rest of the house,putting every thing out of its place. Meanwhile those at the doorwayheard a light step approaching in the street,--they kept very quiet,thinking it would pass on; but, behold! it stopped exactly in front ofthe cottage! It was Menico, who had come in haste from the convent, towarn Agnes and her daughter to escape from the house, and take refuge_there_, because--the _because_ is already known. He was surprised tofind the door unbolted, and entering with a vague sentiment of alarm,found himself seized by two ruffians, who said in a menacing tone,"Hush! be quiet, or you die!" He uttered a cry, at which one struck hima blow on the mouth, the other placed his hand on his sword to inspirehim with fear. The boy trembled like a leaf, and did not attempt tostir; but all at once was heard the first sound of the bell, andimmediately after, a thundering peel burst forth. "The wicked are alwayscowards," says a Milanese proverb; alarmed at the sound, the bravoes letgo in haste the arms of Menico, and fled away hastily to the old house,to join the main body of their comrades. Menico, finding himself free,also fled, by the way of the fields, towards the belfry, naturallysupposing he would find some one there. As to the other villains abovestairs, the terrible sound made the same impression on them; amazed andperplexed, they hit one against the other, in striving to find thenearest way to the door. Nevertheless, they were brave, and accustomedto confront any known danger; but here was something unusual, anundetermined peril, and they became panic-struck. It now required allthe superiority of Griso to keep them together, so that there should bea retreat, and not a flight. He succeeded, however, in assembling themin the middle of the court-yard. "Halt, halt," cried he, "pistols inhand, knives ready, all in order, and then we will march. Cowards! forshame! fall behind me, and keep together." Reduced to order, theyfollowed him in silence.

  We will leave them, in order to give an account of Agnes and Perpetua,whom we left at the end of the little lane, engaged in conversation.Agnes had managed to draw the latter off to some distance, by dint ofappearing to give great heed to her story, which she urged on by anoccasional "Certainly; now I comprehend; that is plain; and then? andhe? and you?" In the midst of an important part of her narrative, thedeep silence of the night was broken by the cry of Don Abbondio for"_help!_" "Mercy! what is the matter?" cried Perpetua, and prepared torun.

  "What is the matter? what is the matter?" cried Agnes, holding her bythe gown.

  "Mercy! did you not hear?" replied she, struggling to get free.

  "What is the matter? what is the matter?" repeated Agnes, holding herfirmly by the arm.

  "Devil of a woman!" exclaimed Perpetua, still struggling. Then was heardat a distance the light scream of Menico.

  "Mercy!" cried Agnes also, and they both ran at full speed; the sound ofthe bell, which now succeeded, spurred them on. Perpetua arrived first,and, behold, at the door, Tony, Jervase, Renzo, and Lucy, who had foundthe stairs, and, at the terrible sound of the bell, were flying to someplace of safety.

  "What is the matter? What is the matter?" demanded Perpetua, out ofbreath, of the brothers. They answered her with a violent push, and fledaway. "And you! what are you here for?" said she then to Renzo and Lucy.They made no reply. She then ascended the stairs in haste, to seek hermaster. The two lovers (still lovers) stood before Agnes, who, alarmedand grieved, said, "Ah! you are here! How has it gone? Why did the bellring?"

  "Home, home!" said Renzo, "before the people gather." But Menico nowappeared running to meet them. He was out of breath, and hardly able tocry out, "Back! back! by the way of the convent. There is the devil atthe house," continued he, panting; "I saw him, I did; he was going tokill me. The Father Christopher says you must come quickly.--I saw him,I did.--I am glad I found you all here,--I will tell you all when we aresafe off."

  Renzo, who was the most self-possessed of the party, thought it best tofollow his advice. "Let us follow him," said he, to the females. Theysilently obeyed, and the little company moved on. They hastily crossedthe churchyard, passing through a private street, into the fields. Theywere not many paces distant, before the people began to collect, eachone asking of his neighbour what was the matter, and no one being ableto answer the question. The first that arrived ran to the door of thechurch: it was fastened. They then looked through a little windo
w intothe belfry, and demanded the cause of the alarm. When Ambrose heard aknown voice, and knew, by the hum, that there was an assemblage ofpeople without, he hastily slipped on that part of his dress which hehad carried under his arm, and opened the church door.

  "What is all this tumult? What is the matter? Where is it?"

  "Where is it? Do you not know? Why, in the curate's house. Run, run."They rushed in a crowd thither; looked,--listened. All was quiet. Thestreet door was fastened; not a window open; not a sound within.

  "Who is within there? Holla! holla! Signor Curate, Signor Curate!"

  Don Abbondio, who, as soon as he was relieved by the flight of theinvaders, had retired from the window, and closed it, was nowquarrelling with Perpetua for leaving him to bear the brunt of thebattle alone. When he heard himself called by name, by the peopleoutside, he repented of the rashness which had produced this undesiredresult.

  "What has happened? Who are they? Where are they? What have they done toyou?" cried a hundred voices at a time.

  "There is no one here now; I am much obliged to you.--Return to yourhouses."

  "But who _has_ been here? Where have they gone? What has happened?"

  "Bad people, bad people, who wander about in the night; but they haveall fled.--Return to your houses. I thank you for your kindness." Sosaying, he retired and shut the window. There was a general murmur ofdisappointment through the crowd. Some laughed, some swore, someshrugged up their shoulders and went home; but at this moment a personcame running towards them, panting and breathless. He lived at the houseopposite to the cottage of Lucy, and had witnessed from the window thealarm of the bravoes, when Griso endeavoured to collect them in thecourt-yard. When he recovered breath, he cried, "What do you do here,friends? The devil is not here, he is down at the house of AgnesMondella. Armed people are in it. It seems they wish to murder apilgrim; but who knows what the devil it is?"

  "What! what! what!" And then began a tumultuous conversation. "Let usgo. How many are there? How many are we? Who are they?--The constable!the constable!"

  "I am here," replied the constable, from the midst of the crowd, "I amhere, but you must assist me; you must obey.--Quick;--where is thesexton? To the bell, to the bell. Quick; some one run to Lecco to askfor succour.--Come this way." The tumult was great, and as they wereabout to depart for the cottage of Agnes, another messenger came flying,and exclaimed, "Run, friends;--robbers who are carrying off a pilgrim.They are already out of the village! On! on! this way."

  In obedience to this command they moved in a mass, without waiting theorders of their leader, towards the cottage of Lucy. While the armyadvances, many of those at the head of the column, slacken their pace,not unwilling to leave the post of honour to their more adventurousfriends in the rear. The confused multitude at length reach the scene ofaction. The traces of recent invasion were manifest,--the door open, thebolts loosened, but the invaders, where were they? They entered thecourt, advanced into the house, and called loudly, "Agnes! Lucy!Pilgrim! Where is the pilgrim! Did Stephano dream that he saw him? No,no, Carlandrea saw him also. Hallo! Pilgrim! Agnes! Lucy! No reply! Theyhave killed them! they have killed them!" There was then a propositionto follow the murderers, which would have been acceded to, had not avoice from the crowd cried out, that Agnes and Lucy were in safety insome house. Satisfied with this, they soon dispersed to their homes, torelate to their wives that which had happened. The next day, however,the constable being in his field, and, with his foot resting on hisspade, meditating on the mysteries of the past night, was accosted bytwo men, much resembling, in their appearance, those whom Don Abbondiohad encountered a few days before. They very unceremoniously forbade himto make a deposition of the events of the night before the magistrate,and, if questioned by any of the gossips of the villagers, to maintain aperfect silence on pain of death.

  Our fugitives for a while continued their flight, rapidly and silently,utterly overwhelmed by the fatigue of their flight, by their lateanxiety, by vexation and disappointment at their failure, and a confusedapprehension of some future danger. As the sound of the bell died awayon the ear, they slackened their pace. Agnes, gathering breath andcourage, first broke the silence, by asking Renzo what had been done atthe curate's? He related briefly his melancholy story. "And who," saidshe to Menico, "was the devil in the house? What did you mean by that?"The boy narrated that of which he had been an eye-witness, and whichimparted a mingled feeling of alarm and gratitude to the minds of hisauditors,--alarm at the obstinacy of Don Roderick in pursuing hispurpose, and gratitude that they had thus escaped his snares. Theycaressed affectionately the boy who had been placed in so great dangeron their account: Renzo gave him a piece of money in addition to thenew coin already promised, and desired him to say nothing of the messagegiven him by Father Christopher. "Now, return home," said Agnes,"because thy family will be anxious about thee: you have been a goodboy; go home, and pray the Lord that we may soon meet again." The boyobeyed, and our travellers advanced in silence. Lucy kept close to hermother, dexterously but gently declining the arm of her lover. She feltabashed, even in the midst of all this confusion, at having been so longand so familiarly alone with him, while expecting that a few momentslonger would have seen her his wife: but this dream had vanished, andshe felt most sensitively the apparent indelicacy of their situation.They at length reached the open space before the church of the convent.Renzo advanced towards the door, and pushed it gently. It opened, andthey beheld, by the light of the moon, which then fell upon his pallidface and silvery beard, the form of Father Christopher, who was there inanxious expectation of their arrival. "God be thanked!" said he, as theyentered. By his side stood a capuchin, whose office was that of sextonto the church, whom he had persuaded to leave the door half open, and towatch with him. He had been very unwilling to submit to thisinconvenient and dangerous condescension, which it required all theauthority of the holy father to overcome; but, perceiving who thecompany were, he could endure no longer. Taking the father aside, hewhispered, to him, "But Father--Father--at night--in the church--withwomen--shut--the rules--but Father!----" "Omnia munda mundis," repliedhe, turning meekly to Friar Fazio, and forgetting that he did notunderstand Latin. But this forgetfulness was exactly the most fortunatething in the world. If the father had produced arguments, Friar Faziowould not have failed to oppose them; but these mysterious words, heconcluded, must contain a solution of all his doubts. He acquiesced,saying, "Very well; you know more than I do."

  Father Christopher then turned to our little company, who were standingin suspense, by the light of a lamp which was flickering before thealtar. "Children," said he, "thank the Lord, who has preserved you fromgreat peril. Perhaps at this moment----" and he entered into anexplanation of the reasons which had induced him to send for them to theconvent, little suspecting that they knew more than he did, andsupposing that Menico had found them tranquil at their home, before thearrival of the robbers. No one undeceived him, not even Lucy, althoughsuffering the keenest anguish at practising dissimulation with such aman; but it was a night of confusion and duplicity.

  "Now," continued he, "you perceive, my children, that this country is nolonger safe for you. It is your country, I know; you were born here; youhave wronged no one: but such is the will of God! It is a trial,children, support it with patience, with faith, without murmuring; andbe assured, there will come a day, in which you will see the wisdom ofall that now befalls you. I have procured you a refuge for a season, andI hope you will soon be able to return safely to your home; at allevents, God will provide, and I his minister will faithfully exertmyself to serve you, my poor persecuted children. You," continued he,turning to the females, "can remain at ----. There you will be beyonddanger, and yet not far from home; go to our convent in that place, askfor the superior, give him this letter, he will be to you another FriarChristopher. And thou, my Renzo, thou must place thyself in safety fromthe impetuosity of others, and your own. Carry this letter to FatherBonaventura, of Lodi, in our convent at the eastern gate of
Milan; hewill be to you a father, will advise you, and find you work, until youcan return to live here tranquilly. Now, go to the border of the lake,near the mouth of the Bione" (a stream a short distance from theconvent); "you will see there a small boat fastened; you must say, 'Aboat;' you will be asked for whom, answer, 'Saint Francis.' The boatmanwill receive you, will take you to the other side, where you will find acarriage, which will conduct you to ----. If any one should ask howFather Christopher came to have at his disposal such means of transportby land and by water, he would show little knowledge of the powerpossessed by a capuchin who held the reputation of a saint."

  The charge of the houses remained to be thought of; the father receivedthe keys of them; Agnes, on consigning hers, thought with a sigh, thatthere was no need of keys, the house was open, the devil had been there,and it was doubtful if there remained any thing to be cared for.

  "Before you go," said the father, "let us pray together to the Lord,that he may be with you in this journey, and always, and above all, thathe may give you strength to submit cheerfully to that which he hasordained." So saying, he knelt down; all did the same. Having prayed afew moments in silence, he pronounced with a low but distinct voice thefollowing words: "We pray thee also for the wretched man who has broughtus to this state. We should be unworthy of thy mercy if we did notearnestly solicit it for him: he has most need of it. We, in our sorrow,have the consolation of trusting in thee; we can still offer thee oursupplications, with thankfulness. But he--he is an enemy to thee! Ohwretched man! He dares to strive against thee: have pity on him, O Lord!touch his heart, soften his rebellious will, and bestow on him all thegood we would desire for ourselves."

  Rising hastily, he then said, "Away, my children, there is no time tolose; God will go with you, his angel protect you: away." They keptsilence from emotion, and as they departed, the father added, "My hearttells me we shall soon meet again." Without waiting for a reply, heretired; the travellers pursued their way to the appointed spot, foundthe boat, gave and received the watchword, and entered into it. Theboatmen made silently for the opposite shore: there was not a breath ofwind; the lake lay polished and smooth in the moonlight, agitated onlyby the dipping of the oars, which quivered in its gleam. The wavesbreaking on the sands of the shore, were heard deadly and slowly at adistance, mingled with the rippling of the waters between the pillars ofthe bridge.

  The silent passengers cast a melancholy look behind at the mountains andthe landscape, illumined by the moon, and varied by multitudes ofshadows. They discerned villages, houses, cottages; the palace of DonRoderick, raised above the huts that crowded the base of the promontory,like a savage prowling in the dark over his slumbering prey. Lucy beheldit, and shuddered; then cast a glance beyond the declivity, towards herown little home, and beheld the top of the fig-tree which towered in thecourt-yard; moved at the sight, she buried her face in her hands, andwept in silence.

  Farewell, ye mountains, source of waters! farewell to your variedsummits, familiar as the faces of friends! ye torrents, whose voiceshave been heard from infancy! Farewell! how melancholy the destiny ofone, who, bred up amid your scenes, bids you farewell! If voluntarilydeparting with the hope of future gain at this moment, the dream ofwealth loses its attraction, his resolution falters, and he would fainremain with you, were it not for the hope of benefiting you by hisprosperity. The more he advances into the level country, the more hisview becomes wearied with its uniform extent; the air appears heavy andlifeless: he proceeds sorrowfully and thoughtfully into the tumultuouscity; houses crowded against houses, street uniting with street, appearsto deprive him of the power to breathe; and in front of edifices admiredby strangers, he stops to recall, with restless desire, the image of thefield and the cottage which had long been the object of his wishes, andwhich, on his return to his mountains, he will make his own, should heacquire the wealth of which he is in pursuit.

  But how much more sorrowful the moment of separation to him, who, havingnever sent a transient wish beyond the mountains, feels that theycomprise the limit of his earthly hopes, and yet is driven from them byan adverse fate; who is compelled to quit them to go into a foreignland, with scarcely a hope of return! Then he breaks forth into mournfulexclamations. "Farewell native cottage! where, many a time and oft, Ihave listened with eager ear, to distinguish, amidst the rumour offootsteps, the well-known sound of those long expected and anxiouslydesired. Farewell, ye scenes, where I had hoped to pass, tranquil andcontent, the remnant of my days! Farewell, thou sanctuary of God, wheremy soul has been filled with admiring thoughts of him, and my voice hasunited with others to sing his praise! Farewell! He, whom I worshippedwithin your walls, is not confined to temples made with hands; heaven ishis dwelling place, and the earth his footstool; he watches over hischildren, and, if he chastises them, it is in love, to prepare them forhigher and holier enjoyments."

  Of such a nature, if not precisely the same, were the reflections ofLucy and her companions, as the bark carried them to the right bank ofthe Adda.