I promessi sposi. English

by Alessandro Manzoni

  CHAPTER XVII.

  The discourse of the merchant had plunged our poor Renzo intoinexpressible agitation and alarm; there was no doubt that his adventurewas noised abroad--that people were in search of him? Who could tell howmany bailiffs were in pursuit of him? Who could tell what orders hadbeen given to watch at the villages, inns, and along the roads? True itwas, that two only of the officers were acquainted with his person, andhe didn't bear his name stamped on his forehead. Yet he had heardstrange stories of fugitives being discovered by their suspicious air,or some unexpected mark; in short, he was alarmed at every shadow.

  Although at the moment he quitted Gorgonzola, the bells struck the _AveMaria_, and the increasing darkness diminished his danger, heunwillingly took the high road, with the intention, however, of enteringthe first path which should appear to him to lead in the rightdirection. He met some travellers, but, his imagination filled withapprehensions, he dared not interrogate them. "The host called it sixmiles," said he; "if, in travelling through by-paths, I make it eight orten, these good limbs will not fail me, I know. I am certainly not goingtowards Milan, and must therefore be approaching the Adda. If I keepon, sooner or later I must arrive there; the Adda has a voicesufficiently loud to be heard at some distance, and when I hear it,there will be no longer any need of direction. If there is a boat there,I shall cross immediately; if not, I will wait until morning in a field,upon the ground, like the sparrows, which will be far better than aprison."

  He saw a cross-road open to the left, and he pursued it: "_I_ play thedevil!" continued he, "_I_ assassinate the lords! A packet of letters!My companions keeping watch! I would give something to meet thismerchant face to face, on the other side of the Adda; (Oh! when shall Ireach the beautiful stream?) I would ask him politely where he picked upthat fine story. Know, my good sir, that, devil as I am, it was I whoaided Ferrer, and like a good Christian saved your superintendent ofprovisions from a rough joke that those ruffians, my friends, were aboutto play on him. Ay, while you were keeping watch over your shop----andthat enormous packet of letters--in the hands of the government. See,sir, here it is; a single letter, written by a worthy man, a monk; ahair of whose beard is worth----but in future learn to speak with morecharity of your neighbours." However, after a while, these thoughts ofthe poor traveller gave way to more urgent considerations of his presentdifficulties; he no longer feared pursuit or discovery; but darkness,solitude, and fatigue combined to distress him and retard his progress.A chill north wind penetrated his light clothing, his wedding suit; and,uncomfortable and disheartened, he wandered on, in hopes of finding someplace where he might obtain concealment and repose for the night.

  He passed through villages, but did not dare ask shelter; the dogshowled at his approach, and induced him to quicken his steps. At singlehouses near the road-side his fatigue tempted him to knock for shelter;but the apprehension of being saluted with the cry of "Help, thieves!robbers!" banished the idea from his mind. Leaving the cultivatedcountry, he found himself in a plain, covered with fern and broom; andthinking this a favourable symptom of the near vicinity of the river, hefollowed the path across it. When he had advanced a few steps, helistened, but in vain. The desolation of the place increased thedepression of his spirits. Strange forms and apparitions, the birth offormer tales and legends, began to haunt his imagination; and to drivethem away he began to chant the prayers for the dead. He passed througha thicket of plum-trees and oaks, and found himself on the borders of awood; he conquered his repugnance to enter it, but as he proceeded intoits depths, every object excited his apprehensions. Strange formsappeared beneath the bushes; and the shade of the trees, trembling onhis moon-lit path, with the crackling of the dead leaves between hisfootsteps, inspired him with dread. He would have hastened through theperilous passage, but his limbs refused their office; the wind blew coldand sharp, and penetrating his weakened frame, almost subdued its smallremains of vigour. His senses, affected by undefined horrors, appearedto be leaving him; aroused to his danger, he made a violent effort toregain some degree of resolution, in order to return through the wood,and seek shelter in the last village he had passed through, even if itshould be in an inn! As he stopped for a moment, before putting hisdesign in execution, the wind brought a new sound to his ear--the murmurof running water. Intently listening, to ascertain if his senses did notdeceive him, he cried out, "It is the Adda!" His fatigue vanished, hispulse returned, his blood flowed freely through his veins, his fearsdisappeared; and guided by the friendly sound, he went forward. He soonreached the extremity of the plain, and found himself on the edge of asteep precipice, whence looking downward, he discovered, through thebushes, the long-desired river, and, on the other side of it, villagesscattered here and there, with hills in the distance; and on the summitof one of these a whitish spot, which in the dimness he took to be acity; Bergamo certainly! He descended the declivity, and throwing asidethe bushes with his hands, looked beyond them, to spy if some friendlybark were moving on the flood, or if he could not, by listening, hearthe sound of oars cleaving the water; but he saw, he heard nothing. Ifit had been any stream less than the Adda, he would have attempted toford it, but this he well knew to be impracticable.

  He was uncertain what plan to pursue: to lie down on the grass for thenext six hours, and wait until morning, exposed to the north wind andthe damps of the night; or to continue walking to and fro, to protecthimself from the cold, until the day should dawn: neither of these heldout much prospect of comfort. He suddenly recollected to have seen, in aneighbouring part of the uncultivated heath, a _cascinotto_;--this wasthe name given by the peasants of the Milanese to cabins covered withstraw, constructed with the trunks and branches of trees, and thecrevices filled with mud, where they were in the habit of placing thecrop, gathered during the day, until a more convenient opportunity forremoving it; they were therefore abandoned except at such seasons. Renzofound his way thither, pushed open the door, and perceiving a bundle ofstraw on the ground, thought that sleep, even in such a place, would bevery welcome. Before, however, throwing himself on the bed Providencehad provided for him, he kneeled, and returned thanks for the blessing,and for all the assistance which had been this day afforded him, andthen implored forgiveness for the errors of the previous day; thengathering the straw around him as some defence against the cold, heclosed his eyes to sleep; but sleep was not so soon to visit our poortraveller. Confused images began to throng his fancy; the merchant, thenotary, the bailiffs, the cutler, the host, Ferrer, the superintendent,the company at the inn, the crowds in the streets, assailed hisimagination by turns; then came the thought of Don Abbondio, Roderick,Lucy, Agnes, and the good friar. He remembered the paternal counsels ofthe latter, and reflected with shame and remorse on his neglect of them;and what bitter retrospection did the image of Lucy produce! and Agnes!poor Agnes! how ill had she been repaid for her motherly solicitude onhis behalf! an outcast from her home, solitary, uncertain of the future,reaping misery from what seemed to promise the happiness of herdeclining years! Poor Renzo! what a night didst thou pass! what anapartment! what a bed for a matrimonial couch! tormented, too, withapprehensions of the future! "I submit to the will of God," said he,speaking aloud, "to the will of God! He does only that which is right; Iaccept it all as a just chastisement for my sins. Lucy, however, is sogood! the Lord will not long afflict her with suffering."

  In the mean time he despaired of obtaining any repose; the cold wasinsupportable; his teeth chattered; he ardently wished for day, andmeasured with impatience the slow progress of the hours; this he wasenabled to do, as he heard, every half hour, in the deep silence, theheavy sound of some distant clock, probably that of Trezzo. When thetime arrived which he had fixed on for his departure, half benumbed withexposure to the night air, he stretched his stiffened limbs, and openingthe door of the _cascinotto_, looked out, to ascertain if any one werenear, and finding all silent around, he resumed his journey along thepath he had quitted.

  The sky announced a beautiful day; the settin
g moon shone pale in animmense field of azure, which, towards the east, mingled itself lightlywith the rosy dawn. Near the horizon were scattered clouds of varioushues and forms; it was, in fact, the sky of Lombardy, beautiful,brilliant, and calm. If Renzo had had a mind at ease, he would no doubthave stopped to contemplate this splendid ushering in of day, sodifferent from that which he had been accustomed to witness amidst hismountains; but his thoughts were otherwise occupied. He reached the browof the precipice where he had stood the preceding night, and lookingbelow, perceived, through the bushes, a fisherman's bark, which wasslowly stemming the current, near the shore. He descended the precipice,and standing on the bank, made a sign to the fisherman to approach. Heintended to do this with a careless air, as if it were of littleimportance, but in spite of himself, his manner was half supplicatory.The fisherman, after having for a moment surveyed the course of thewater, as if to ascertain the practicability of reaching the shore,directed the boat towards it; before it touched the bank, Renzo, who wasstanding on the water's edge, awaiting its approach, seized the prow,and jumped into it.

  "Do me a service, and I will pay you for it," said he; "I wish to crossto the other shore."

  The fisherman having divined his object, had already turned his boat inthat direction. Renzo, perceiving another oar in the bottom of the bark,stooped to take it.

  "Softly, softly," said the fisherman. But seeing with what skill theyoung man managed the oar, "Ah! ah!" added he, "you know the trade."

  "A very little," replied Renzo, and he continued to row with a vigourand skill beyond that of a mere amateur in the art. With all hisefforts, however, the bark moved slowly; the current, setting strongagainst it, drove it continually from the line of its direction, andimpeded the rapidity of its course. New perplexities presentedthemselves to the mind of Renzo; now that the Adda was almost passed, hebegan to fear that it might not, at this place, serve for the boundarybetween the states, and that, this obstacle surmounted, there would yetbe others remaining. He spoke to the fisherman, and pointing to thewhite spot he had noticed the night before, and which was now much moredistinct, "Is that Bergamo?" said he.

  "The city of Bergamo," replied the fisherman.

  "And the other shore, does it belong to Bergamo?"

  "It is the territory of St. Mark."

  "Long live St. Mark!" cried Renzo. The fisherman made no reply.

  The boat reached the shore, at last; Renzo thanked God in his heart, ashe stepped upon it; and turning to the fisherman took from his pocket a_berlinga_ and gave it to him. The man took it in silence, and with asignificant look, placed his forefinger on his lip; and saying, "A goodjourney to you," returned to his employment.

  In order to account for the prompt and discreet civility of this mantowards a perfect stranger, we must inform the reader, that he wasaccustomed to render similar favours to smugglers and outlaws, not somuch for the sake of the little gain which accrued to him thereby, asnot to create enemies among these classes of people. He rendered theseservices, therefore, when he was sure of not being seen by thecustom-house officers, bailiffs, or spies. Thus he endeavoured to actwith an impartiality, which should give offence to neither party.

  Renzo stopped a moment to contemplate the shore he had quitted, andwhere he had suffered so much; "I am at last safely beyond it," was hisfirst thought; then the remembrance of those he had left behind rushedover his mind, overwhelming it with regret and shame; for, with the calmand virtuous image of Lucy, came the recollection of his extravagancesin Milan.

  He shook off, however, these oppressive thoughts, and went on, takingthe direction of the whitish mass on the declivity of the mountain,until he should meet some one who could direct him on his way. And nowwith what a different and careless air he accosted travellers! hehesitated no more, he pronounced boldly the name of the place where hiscousin lived, to ask the way to it; from the information given him bythe first traveller he met, he found that he had still nine miles totravel.

  His journey was not agreeable. Without referring to his own causes oftrouble, Renzo was affected every moment by the sight of painful anddistressing objects; so that he foresaw, that he should find in thiscountry the poverty he had left in his own. All along the way he wasassailed by mendicants,--mendicants of necessity, not ofchoice,--peasants, mountaineers, tradesmen, whole families reduced topoverty, and to the necessity of begging their bread. This sight,besides the compassion it excited, made him naturally recur to his ownprospects.

  "Who knows," thought he, mournfully, "if I shall find work to do?perhaps things are not as they were in preceding years. Bartolo wishesme well, I know; he is a good fellow; he has made money; he has invitedme many times to come to him; I am sure he will not abandon me. And thenProvidence has aided me until now; and will continue to do so."

  Meanwhile, the walk had sharpened his appetite; he could indeed havewell waited to the end of his journey, which was only two miles farther,but he did not like to make his first appearance before his cousin as ahungry beggar; he therefore drew all his wealth from his pocket, andcounting it on the palm of his hand, found that he had more thansufficient to procure a slight repast; after paying for which, he wouldstill have a few pence remaining.

  As he came out of the inn at which he had rested, to proceed on hisjourney, he saw, lying near the door, two women: the one was elderly,and the other more youthful, with an infant in her arms, which was invain seeking sustenance from its exhausted mother; both were of thecomplexion of death: by them stood a man, whose countenance and limbsgave signs of former vigour; now lost from long inanition. All threestretched forth their hands, but spoke not--what prayer could be somoving as their appearance. Renzo sighed; "There is a Providence," saidhe, as he placed in the nearest hand the last remnant of his wealth.

  The slight repast he had made, and the good deed he had performed (forwe are composed of body and soul), had equally tended to refresh andinvigorate him. If, to afford relief to these unhappy persons,Providence had kept in reserve the last farthing of a fugitive stranger,would he leave the wants of that stranger unsupplied? He looked withrenewed hope to the future; he pictured to himself the return ofabundant harvests, and in the mean time he had his cousin Bartolo andhis own industry to depend on, and moreover he had left at home a smallsum of money, the fruit of his economy, which he could send for, ifneeded. "Then," said he, "plenty will eventually return, and trade willbe profitable again; the Milanese workmen will be in demand, and can seta high price on their labour; I shall have more than enough to satisfymy wants, and can lay by money, and can furnish my nice house, and thenwrite to Agnes and Lucy to come--and then--But why wait for this? Weshould have been obliged to live, had we remained at home; we shouldhave been obliged to live during this winter, upon my little savings,and we can do the same here. There are curates every where, and they cancome shortly. Oh! what joy will it be to walk together on this sameroad; to go to the borders of the Adda, where I will point out to themthe place where I embarked, the woods through which I passed, the spotwhere I stood watching for a boat."

  He reached at last the village of his cousin; at its entrance, he saw avery high house, with numerous windows, and perceived it to be a silkmanufactory; he entered, and amidst the noise of the water andmachinery loudly demanded, "if Bartolo Castagneri was within?"

  "Signor Bartolo? there he is."

  "Signor! that's a good sign," thought Renzo. He perceived his cousin,and ran towards him, exclaiming, "I am come at last!" Bartolo made anexclamation of surprise, and embraced him; he then took him into anotherchamber, apart from the noise of the machinery and the notice of theinquisitive, and said, "I am glad to see you, but you are a drollfellow. I have invited you many times to come hither; you have alwaysrefused, and now choose a most unfavourable moment."

  "What shall I say to you? I have not now come of my own free will," saidRenzo; and he briefly, and with much emotion, related the mournfulstory.

  "That's another affair truly," said Bartolo. "Poor Renzo! you haverelied on me, a
nd I will not abandon you. To say truth, workmen are notin much demand at present; and it is with difficulty that those alreadyengaged are kept by their employers. But my master regards me, and hehas money; and besides, without boasting, we are equally dependent oneach other--he has the capital, and I the skill, such as it is! I am hisfirst workman, his _factotum_! Poor Lucy Mondella! I remember her as ifit was but yesterday that I last saw her! An excellent girl! always somodest at church; and if you passed by her cottage--I see it now, thelittle cottage beyond the village, with a large fig-tree against thewall----"

  "No, no," said Renzo, "do not speak of it."

  "I meant to say, that if you passed it, you always heard the noise ofher reel. And Don Roderick! even before I left, showed symptoms of hischaracter; but now, it seems, he plays the devil outright, until Godshall put a bridle on his neck. Well, as I said, we suffer here also theconsequences of scarce harvests.--But, apropos, are you not hungry?"

  "It is not long since I have eaten," said Renzo.

  "And how are you off for money?" Renzo extended the palm of his hand andshook his head. "No matter," said Bartolo: "I have plenty. Cheer up;things will change for the better soon, and then you can repay me."

  "I have a small sum at home, and I will send for it."

  "Well, in the mean while, depend on me. God has given me wealth to spendfor others, and above all, for my relations and friends."

  "I knew that you would befriend me," said Renzo, affectionately pressinghis cousin's hand.

  "Well, what a fuss they have made at Milan," continued Bartolo; "thepeople seem to me to be mad. The report has reached us, but I shall beglad to know the particulars from you. I think we shall have enough totalk about, shall we not? Here, however, things are conducted with morejudgment. The city purchased two thousand loads of corn from a merchantof Venice; the corn comes from Turkey. Now, what do you think happened?The governors of Verona and Brescia forbade the transit of the corn.What did the people of Bergamo do then, do you think? They sent toVenice a man that knew how to talk, I can tell you: he went to the doge,and made a speech which they say deserves to be printed! Immediately anorder was sent to let the corn pass: the governors were obliged to obey.The country, too, has been thought of. Another good man informed thesenate that the people here were famishing, and the senate granted usfour thousand bushels of millet, which makes very good bread. And then,if there is no bread, you and I can eat meat; God has given me wealth Itell you. Now I will conduct you to my patron. I have often spoken ofyou to him; he will make you welcome. He is a native of Bergamo, a manof an excellent disposition. 'Tis true, he did not expect you at thistime, but when he learns your story--And then he knows how to valueskilful workmen, because scarcity lasts but a little while, and businessmust finally go on.--But I must hint to you one thing; do you know whatname they give to us Milanese in this country?"

  "What name they give us?"

  "They call us simpletons."[29]

  [29] Baggiani.

  "That is certainly not a very agreeable name."

  "What matters it? Whoever is born in the territory of Milan, and wouldgain his living in that of Bergamo, must put up with it. As to thepeople here, they call a Milanese a simpleton as freely as they call agentleman _sir_."

  "They say so, I suppose, to those who will suffer it."

  "My good fellow, if you are not disposed to submit to be calledsimpleton, till it becomes familiar to your taste, you must not expectto live in Bergamo. You would always be obliged to carry your knife inhand; and when you had killed three or four, you might be killedyourself, and have to appear before the bar of God with three or fourmurders to answer for?"

  "And a Milanese who understands his trade?"

  "It is all the same; he would still be a simpleton. Do you know how mymaster expresses himself when he talks of me to his friends? _Heaven hassent me this simpleton to carry on my business. If it were not for thissimpleton I should never get on._ It is the custom."

  "It is a silly custom, to say the least of it; and especially as it iswe who have brought the art hither, and who carry it on. Is it possiblethat there is no remedy?"

  "None. Time may accomplish it. The next generation may be different, butat present we must submit. And after all, what is it?"

  "Why, if there is no other evil----"

  "Ah! now that you are convinced, all will be well. Let us go to mymaster. Be of good courage."

  In fact, the promises of Bartolo were realised, and all _was_ well. Itwas truly a kind Providence; for we shall see how little dependenceRenzo could place on the treasure he had left at home,--the savings ofhis labour.