CHAPTER XXX.
As our fugitives approached the valley, they were joined by manycompanions in misfortune, who were on the same errand to the castle withthemselves: under similar circumstances of distress and anguish,intimacies are soon matured, and they listened to the relation of eachother's peril with mutual interest and sympathy; some had fled, like thecurate and our females, without waiting the arrival of the troops;others had actually seen them, and could describe, in lively colours,their savage and horrible appearance.
"We are fortunate, indeed," said Agnes; "let us thank Heaven. We maylose our property, but at least our lives are safe."
But Don Abbondio could not see so much reason for congratulation; thegreat concourse of people suggested new causes of alarm. "Oh," murmuredhe to the females when no one was near enough to hear him; "oh, do younot perceive that by assembling here in such crowds we shall attract thenotice of the soldiery? As every one flies and no one remains at home,they will believe that our treasures are up here, and this belief willlead them hither. Oh, poor me! why was I so thoughtless as to venturehere!"
"What should they come here for?" said Perpetua, "they are obliged topursue their route; and, at all events, where there is danger, it isbest to have plenty of company."
"Company, company, silly woman! don't you know that every lansquenetcould devour a hundred of them? and then, if any of them should commitsome foolish violence, it would be a fine thing to find ourselves in themidst of a battle! It would have been better to have gone to themountains. I don't see why they have all been seized with a mania to goto one place. Curse the people! all here; one after the other, like afrightened flock of sheep!"
"As to that," said Agnes, "they may say the same of us."
"Hush, hush! it is of no use to talk," said Don Abbondio; "that which isdone, _is_ done: we are here, and here we must remain. May Heavenprotect us!"
But his anxiety was much increased by the appearance of a number ofarmed men at the entrance of the valley. It is impossible to describehis vexation and alarm. "Oh, poor me!" thought he; "I might haveexpected this from a man of his character. What does he mean to do? Willhe declare war? Will he act the part of a sovereign? Oh, poor me! poorme! In this terrible conjuncture he ought to have concealed himself asmuch as possible; and, behold, he seeks every method to make himselfknown. It is easy to be seen he wants to provoke them."
"Do you not see, sir," said Perpetua, "that these are brave men who areable to defend us? Let the soldiers come; these men are not at all likeour poor devils of peasants, who are good for nothing but to use theirlegs."
"Be quiet," replied Don Abbondio, in a low but angry tone, "be quiet;you know not what you say. Pray Heaven that the army may be in haste toproceed on its march, so that they may not gain information of thisplace being disposed like a garrison. They would ask for nothing better;an assault is mere play to them, and putting every one to the sword likegoing to a wedding. Oh, poor me! perhaps I can secure a place of safetyon one of these precipices. I will never be taken in battle! I willnever be taken in battle! I never will!"
"If you are even afraid of being defended----" returned Perpetua; butDon Abbondio sharply interrupted her.
"Be quiet, and take care not to relate this conversation. Remember youmust always keep a pleasant countenance here, and appear to approve allthat you see."
At Malanotte they found another company of armed men. Don Abbondio tookoff his hat and bowed profoundly, saying to himself, "Alas, alas! I amreally in a camp." They here quitted the carriage to ascend the pass onfoot, the curate having in haste paid and dismissed the driver. Therecollection of his former terrors in this very place increased hispresent forebodings of evil, by mingling themselves with hisreflections, and enfeebling more and more his understanding. Agnes, whohad never before trod this path, but who had often pictured it to herimagination, was filled with different but keenly painful remembrances."Oh, signor curate," cried she, "when I think how my poor Lucy passedthis very road."
"Will you be quiet, foolish woman?" cried Don Abbondio in her ear. "Arethese things to speak of in this place? Are you ignorant that we are onhis lands? It is fortunate no one heard you. If you speak in thismanner----"
"Oh," said Agnes, "now that he is a saint----"
"Be quiet," repeated Don Abbondio: "think you we can tell the saints allthat passes through our brains? Think rather of thanking him for thekindness he has done you."
"Oh, as to that I have already thought of it; do you think I have nomanners, no politeness?"
"Politeness, my good woman, does not consist in telling people thingsthey don't like to hear. Have a little discretion, I pray you. Weighwell your words, speak but little, and that only when it isindispensable. There is no danger in silence."
"You do much worse with all your----" began Perpetua. But "Hush," saidDon Abbondio, and, taking off his hat, he bowed profoundly. The Unknownwas coming to meet them, having recognised the curate approaching. "Icould have wished," said he, "to offer you my house on a more agreeableoccasion; but, under any circumstances, I esteem myself happy in servingyou."
"Confiding in the great kindness of your illustrious lordship, I havetaken the liberty to trouble you at this unhappy time; and, as yourillustrious lordship sees, I have also taken the liberty to bringcompany with me. This is my housekeeper----"
"She is very welcome."
"And this is a female to whom your lordship has already rendered greatbenefits. The mother of--of----"
"Of Lucy," said Agnes.
"Of Lucy!" cried the Unknown, turning to Agnes; "rendered benefits! I!Just God! It is you who render benefits to me by coming hither; tome--to this dwelling. You are very welcome. You bring with you theblessing of Heaven!"
"Oh, I come rather to give you trouble." Approaching him nearer, shesaid, in a low voice, "I have to thank you----"
The Unknown interrupted her, asking with much interest concerning Lucy.He then conducted his new guests to the castle. Agnes looked at thecurate, as if to say, "See if there is any need of your interferingbetween us with your advice."
"Has the army arrived in your parish?" said the Unknown to Don Abbondio.
"No, my lord, I would not wait for the demons. Heaven knows if I shouldhave escaped alive from their hands, and been able to trouble yourillustrious lordship!"
"You may be quite at ease; you are now in safety; they will not comehere. If the whim should seize them, we are ready to receive them."
"Let us hope they will not come," said Don Abbondio. "And on that side,"added he, pointing to the opposite mountains, "on that side, also,wanders another body of troops; but--but----"
"It is true. But, doubt not, we are ready for them also."
"Between two fires!" thought Don Abbondio, "precisely between two fires!Where have I suffered myself to be led? And by two women! And this lordappears to delight in such business! Oh, what people there are in theworld!"
When they entered the castle, the Unknown ordered Agnes and Perpetua tobe conducted to a room, in the quarter assigned to the women, which wasthree of the four wings of the second court, in the most retired part ofthe edifice. The men were accommodated in the wings of the other courtto the right and left; the body of the building was filled, partly withprovisions, and partly with the effects that the refugees brought withthem. In the quarter devoted to the men was a small apartment destinedto the ecclesiastics who might arrive. The Unknown accompanied DonAbbondio thither, who was the first to take possession of it.
Our fugitives remained three or four and twenty days in the castle, inthe midst of continual bustle and alarm. Not a day passed without somereports; at each account, the Unknown, unarmed as he was, led his bandbeyond the precincts of the valley to ascertain the extent of the peril;it was a singular thing, indeed, to behold him, without any personaldefence, conducting a body of armed men.
Not to encroach too far on the benevolence of the Unknown, Agnes andPerpetua employed themselves in performing services in the household.These occupations,
with occasional conversations with the acquaintancesthey had formed at the castle, enabled them to pass away the time withless weariness. Poor Don Abbondio, who had nothing to do, wasnotwithstanding prevented from becoming listless and inactive by hisfears: as to the dread of an attack, it was in some measure dissipated,but still the idea of the surrounding country, occupied on every side bysoldiers, and of the numerous consequences which might at any momentresult from such a state, kept him in perpetual alarm.
All the time he remained in this asylum he never thought of going beyondthe defences; his only walk was on the esplanade; he surveyed everyside of the castle, observing attentively the hollows and precipices, toascertain if there were any practicable passage by which he might seekescape in case of imminent danger. Every day there were various reportsof the march of the soldiers; some newsmongers by profession gatheredgreedily all these reports, and spread them among their companions. Onsuch a day, such a regiment arrived in such a territory; the next daythey would ravage such another, where, in the mean time, anotherdetachment had been plundering before them. An account was kept of theregiments that passed the bridge of Lecco, as they were then consideredfairly out of the country. The cavalry of Wallenstein passed, then theinfantry of Marrados, then the cavalry of Anzalt, then the infantry ofBrandenburgh, and, finally, that of Galasso. The flying squadron ofVenetians also removed, and the country was again free from invaders.Already the inhabitants of the different villages had begun to quit thecastle; some departed every day, as after an autumn storm the birds ofheaven leave the leafy branches of a great tree, under whose shelterthey had sought and obtained protection. Our three friends were the lastto depart, as Don Abbondio feared, if he returned so soon to his house,to find there some loitering soldiers. Perpetua in vain repeated, thatthe longer they delayed, the greater opportunity they afforded to thethieves of the country to take possession of all that might have beenleft by the spoilers.
On the day fixed for their departure, the Unknown had a carriage readyat Malanotte, and, taking Agnes aside, he made her accept a bag ofcrowns, to repair the damage she would find at home; although sheprotested she was in no need of them, having still some of those he hadformerly sent her.
"When you see your good Lucy," said he, "(I am certain that she praysfor me, as I have done her much evil,) tell her that I thank her, andthat I trust in God that her prayer will return in blessings onherself."
They finally departed; they stopped for a few moments at the house ofthe tailor, where they heard sad relations of this terrible march,--theusual story of violence and plunder. The tailor's family, however, hadremained unmolested, as the army did not pass that way.
"Ah, signor curate!" said the tailor, as he was bidding him farewell,"here is a fine subject to appear in print!"
After having proceeded a short distance, our travellers beheldmelancholy traces of the destruction they had heard related. Vineyardsdespoiled, not by the vintager, but as if by a tempest; vines trampledunder foot; trees wounded and lopped of their branches; hedgesdestroyed; in the villages, doors broken open, window-frames dashed in,and streets filled with different articles of furniture and clothing,broken and torn to pieces. In the midst of lamentations and tears, thepeasants were occupied in repairing, as well as they could, the damagedone; while others, overcome by their miseries, remained in a state ofsilent despair. Having passed through these scenes of complicated woe,they at last succeeded in reaching their own dwellings, where theywitnessed the same destruction. Agnes immediately occupied herself inreducing to order the little furniture that was left her, and inrepairing the damage done to her doors and windows; but she did notforget to count over in secret her crowns, thanking God in her heart,and her generous benefactor, that in the general overthrow of order andsafety she at least had fallen on her feet.
Don Abbondio and Perpetua entered their house without being obliged tohave recourse to keys. In addition to the miserable destruction of alltheir furniture, whose various fragments impeded their entrance, themost horrible odours for a time drove them back; and when theseobstacles were at last surmounted, and the rooms were entered, theyfound indignity added to mischief. Frightful and grotesque figures ofpriests, with their square caps and bands, were drawn with pieces ofcoal upon the walls in all sorts of ridiculous attitudes.
"Ah, the hogs!" cried Perpetua.--"Ah, the thieves!" exclaimed DonAbbondio. Hastening into the garden, they approached the fig-tree, andbeheld the earth newly turned up, and, to their utter dismay, the tombwas opened, and the dead was gone. Don Abbondio scolded Perpetua for herbad management, who was not slack in repelling his complaints. Bothpointing backwards to the unlucky hiding place, at length returned tothe house, and set about endeavouring to purify it of some of itsaccumulated filth, as at such a time it was impossible to procureassistance for the purpose. With money lent them by Agnes, they were insome measure enabled to replace their articles of furniture.
For some time this disaster was the source of continual disputes betweenPerpetua and her master; the former having discovered that some of theproperty, which they supposed to have been taken by the soldiers, wasactually in possession of certain people of the village, she tormentedhim incessantly to claim it. There could not have been touched a chordmore hateful to Don Abbondio, since the property was in the hands ofthat class of persons with whom he had it most at heart to live inpeace.
"But I don't wish to know these things," said he. "How many times must Itell you that what has happened has? Must I get myself into troubleagain, because my house has been robbed?"
"You would suffer your eyes to be pulled from your head, I verilybelieve," said Perpetua; "others hate to be robbed, but you, you seem tolike it."
"This is pretty language to hold, indeed! Will you be quiet?"
Perpetua kept silence, but continually found new pretexts for resumingthe conversation; so that the poor man was obliged to suppress everycomplaint at the loss of such or such a thing, as she would say, "Go andfind it at such a person's house, who has it, and who would not havekept it until now if he had not known what kind of a man he had to dealwith."
But here we will leave poor Don Abbondio, having more important thingsto speak of than his fears, or the misery of a few villagers from atransient disaster like this.
I promessi sposi. English Page 31
