The Betrothed Part 4

"What did you know?"

"Do not make me speak now, do not make me weep! I'll call my mother and dismiss the company. We must be alone."

As she departed, Renzo whispered, "And you have never spoken of it to me!"

"Ah, Renzo!" replied Lucy, turning for a moment to gaze at him.

He understood well what this action meant; it was as if she had said, "Can you doubt me?"

Meanwhile the good Agnes (so the mother of Lucy was called) had descended the stairs, to ascertain the cause of her daughter's disappearance. She remained with Renzo; while Lucy returned to the company, and, a.s.suming all the composure she could, said to them, "The Signor Curate is indisposed, and the wedding cannot take place to-day."

The ladies departed, and lost no time in relating amongst the gossips of the neighbourhood all that had occurred, while they made particular enquiries respecting the reality of Don Abbondio's sickness. The truth of this cut short the conjectures which they had already begun to intimate by brief and mysterious hints.

CHAPTER III.

Lucy entered the lower room as Renzo was sorrowfully informing Agnes of that, to which she as sorrowfully listened. Both turned towards her from whom they expected an explanation which could not but be painful; the suspicions of both were, however, excited in the midst of their grief, and the displeasure they felt towards Lucy differed only according to their relative situation. Agnes, although anxious to hear her daughter speak, could not avoid reproaching her--"To say nothing to thy mother!"

"Now, I will tell you all," said Lucy, wiping her eyes with her ap.r.o.n.

"Speak, speak!" cried at once her mother and her lover.

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Lucy, "that it should come to this!"--and with a voice interrupted by tears, she related that a few days previously, as she returned from weaving, and was loitering behind her companions, Don Roderick came up with her, in company with another gentleman; that the former sought to engage her in idle conversation; that she quickened her pace, without lending him an ear, and rejoined her companions; in the mean while she heard the other gentleman laugh, and Don Roderick say, "I'll lay a wager with you." The day following, on their return, they met them again, but Lucy kept in the midst of her companions, with her head down; the other gentleman burst into laughter, and Don Roderick said, "We will see, we will see." "Happily for me," continued Lucy, "this day was the last of the weaving. I related the adventure immediately----"

"To whom didst thou relate it?" asked Agnes quickly, indignant at the idea of any one being preferred before her as a confidant.

"To Father Christopher, in confession, mamma," replied Lucy, in a tone of apology. "I told him all, the last time you and I went to the church of the convent; you may perhaps recollect my contrivances for delay on that morning, until there should pa.s.s some villagers in whose company we might go into the street; because I was so afraid----"

The indignation of Agnes subsided at once, at the mention of a name so revered as Father Christopher's. "Thou didst well, my child," said she; "but why not tell it also to thy mother?"

For this, Lucy had had two very good reasons; the one, a desire not to disturb and frighten her mother with a circ.u.mstance she could not have prevented; the other, the dread of placing a secret, which she wished to be buried in her own bosom in danger of becoming known to all the village: of these two reasons she only alleged the first.

"And could I," said she, turning to Renzo, in a gentle and reproachful voice, "could I speak to you of this?--Alas! that you should know it now!"

"And what did the Father say to you?" asked Agnes.

"He told me to endeavour to hasten my nuptials, and in the mean while to keep myself within doors; to pray much to G.o.d; and he hoped that if Don Roderick should not see me, he would cease to think of me. And it was then," continued she, turning again towards Renzo, without, however, raising her eyes, and blus.h.i.+ng deeply, "it was then that I compelled myself, at the risk of appearing very forward, to request you to conclude the marriage before the appointed time. Who can tell what you must have thought of me? But I did it for the best, and from advice--and this morning I little thought----" She could articulate no longer, and burst into a flood of tears.

"Ah! the scoundrel! the villain!" exclaimed Renzo, pacing the room in a violent paroxysm of rage. He stopped suddenly before Lucy, regarded her with a countenance agitated by various pa.s.sions, and said, "This is the last wicked deed this wretch will perform."

"Ah! no, Renzo, for the love of Heaven!" cried Lucy; "no, no, for the love of Heaven! There is a G.o.d who watches over the oppressed; but do you think he will protect us if we do evil?"

"No, no, for the love of Heaven!" repeated Agnes.

"Renzo," said Lucy, with a more resolved and tranquil air, "you have a trade, and I know how to work: let us go away into some distant place, that he may hear of us no more."

"Ah, Lucy! but we are not yet man and wife! If we were married, then, indeed----" Lucy relapsed into tears, and all three remained silent; the deep despondency of their countenances formed a mournful contrast to the festive character of their dress.

"Hear me, my children; listen to me," said Agnes, after a few moments; "I came into the world before you, and I know it a little better than you do. The devil is not so frightful as they paint him. To us poor people the skeins appear more entangled, because we do not know where to look for the end; but sometimes advice from a learned man----I know what I mean to say.--Do as I tell you, Renzo; go to Lecco; find the Doctor _Azzecca Garbugli_[2]; relate to him----But you must not call him by this name--it is a nick-name. Say to the doctor----what do they call him? Oh dear! I can't think of his real name, every one calls him _Azzecca Garbugli_. Well, well, find this tall, stiff, bald doctor, with a red nose, and a face as red----"

[2] Seek quarrel.

"I know the man by sight," said Renzo.

"Well, very well," continued Agnes, "there's a man for you! I have seen more than one troubled wretch who did not know which way to turn himself; I have known him remain an hour with the Doctor _Azzecca Garbugli_ (be careful you don't call him so), and go away laughing at himself for his uneasiness. Take with you these fowls; I expected to have wrung their necks, poor little things! for the banquet of to-night; however, carry them to him, because one must never go empty-handed to these gentlemen. Relate to him all that has happened, and he will tell you at once that which would never enter our heads in a year."

Renzo and Lucy approved of this advice; Agnes, proud of having given it, with great complacency took the poor fowls one by one from the coop, tied their legs together as if she were making a nosegay, and consigned them to his hands. After having exchanged words of hope, he departed, avoiding the high road and crossing the fields, so as not to attract notice. As he went along, he had leisure to dwell on his misfortunes, and revolve in his mind his antic.i.p.ated interview with the Doctor _Azzecca Garbugli_. I leave the reader to imagine the condition of the unfortunate fowls swinging by the legs with their heads downwards in the hands of a man agitated by all the tumults of pa.s.sion; and whose arm moved more in accordance with the violence of his feelings, than with sympathy for the unhappy animals whose heads became conscious of sundry terrific shocks, which they resented by pecking at one another,--a practice too frequent with companions in misfortune.

He arrived at the village, asked for the house of the doctor, which being pointed out to him, he proceeded thither. On entering, he experienced the timidity so common to the poor and illiterate at the near approach to the learned and n.o.ble; he forgot all the speeches he had prepared, but giving a glance at the fowls, he took courage. He entered the kitchen, and demanded of the maid servant, "If he could speak with the Signor Doctor?" As if accustomed to similar gifts, she immediately took the fowls out of his hand, although Renzo drew them back, wis.h.i.+ng the doctor to know that it was he who brought them. The doctor entered as the maid was saying, "Give here, and pa.s.s into the study." Renzo bowed low to him; he replied with a kind "Come in, my son," and led the way into an adjoining chamber. This was a large room, on the three walls of which were distributed portraits of the twelve Caesars, while the fourth was covered with a large bookcase of old and dusty books; in the middle stood a table laden with memorials, libels, and proclamations, with three or four seats around; on one side of it was a large arm-chair with a high and square back, terminated at each corner by ornaments of wood in the fas.h.i.+on of horns; the nails which had fallen out here and there from its leathern covering, left the corners of it at liberty to roll themselves up in all directions. The doctor was in his morning gown, that is, enveloped in a faded toga, which had served him long since to appear in at Milan, on some great occasion. He closed the door, and encouraged the young man with these words: "My son, tell me your case."

"I wish to speak a word to you in confidence."

"Well, say on," replied the doctor, as he seated himself in the arm-chair. Renzo stood before the table twirling his hat in his hand, and began, "I wish to know from one as learned as yourself----"

"Tell me the affair just as it is," interrupted the doctor, "in as few words as possible."

"You must pardon me, Signor Doctor; we poor people know not how to speak to such as you are. I wish then to know----"

"Bless the people! they are all alike; instead of relating facts, they ask questions; and that because their own opinions are already settled!"

"Excuse me, Signor Doctor. I wish, then, to know if there is a punishment for threatening a curate, to prevent him from performing a marriage ceremony?"

"I understand," said the doctor, who in truth had _not_ understood--"I understand." And suddenly a.s.suming an air of seriousness and importance, "A serious case, my son--a case contemplated. You have done well to come to me; it is a clear case, noticed in a hundred proclamations, and in one, of the year just elapsed, by the actual governor. You shall see, you shall see! Where can it be?" said he, plunging his hand amidst the chaos of papers; "it must surely be here, as it is a decree of great importance. Ah! here it is, here it is!" He unfolded it, looked at the date, and with a serious face exclaimed, "Fifteenth of October, 1627.

Yes, yes, this is it; a new edict; these are those which cause terror--Do you know how to read, my son?"

"A little, Signor Doctor."

"Well now, come behind me, and you will see for yourself."

Holding the proclamation extended before him, he began to read, stammering rapidly over some pa.s.sages, and pausing distinctly with great expression on others, according to the necessity of the case.

"_Although by the proclamation published by order of the Signor Duke di Feria, on the 14th of December, 1620, and ratified by the most ill.u.s.trious, and most excellent lord, Signor Gonsalez Fernandez de Cordova,_ &c. &c.--_had by extraordinary and rigorous remedies provided against the oppressions, exactions, and other tyrannical acts committed against the devoted va.s.sals of His Majesty; the frequency of the excesses, however,_ &c. &c., _has arrived at such a point that His Excellency is under the necessity,_ &c. &c._--wherefore, with the concurrence of the Senate and Convention,_ &c. &c._--has resolved to publish the present decree." "And from the tyrannical acts which the skill of many in the villages, as well as in the cities._"--"Do you hear"--umph--"_exact and oppress the weak in various ways, making violent contracts of purchase, of rent,_ &c."--"Where is it? Ah! here it is, listen, listen,"--"_who, whether matrimony follow or not_."

"Ah! that's my case!" said Renzo.

"Listen, listen, here is more; now we will find the punishment."

Umph--"_that they leave the place of their abode_, &c. &c.--_that if one pays a debt he must not be molested_." "All this has nothing to do with us. Ah! here it is!" "_the priest refusing to do that to which he is obliged by his office_,"--"Eh?"

"It appears the proclamation was made purposely for me."

"Ah! is it not so? listen, listen." "_And other similar oppressions which flow from the va.s.sals, n.o.bility, middle and lower cla.s.ses._" "None escape, they are all here--it is like the valley of Jehoshaphat. Hear now the penalty." "_For all these and other similar evil deeds, which having been prohibited, it is nevertheless necessary to exact with rigour_, &c.--_His Excellency, not annulling, orders and commands, that whoever the offenders be, they shall be subjected to pecuniary and corporal punishment--to banishment, the galleys, or to death_," "a mere trifle!" "_at the will of His Excellency, or of the Senate. And from this there is no escape_, &c. &c." "And see here the signature,"

"_Gonsalez Fernandez de Cordova_;" "and lower down," "_Platonas_;" "and here again"--"_Videt Ferrar_," "nothing is wanting." Whilst the doctor was reading, Renzo had kept his eyes on the paper, seeking to ascertain for himself its real meaning. The doctor, perceiving his new client more attentive than dismayed, marvelled greatly. "He must be enrolled as one of the bravoes," said he to himself; "Ah! ah!" exclaimed he, addressing Renzo, "you have shaved off the long lock! Well, well, it was prudent; but placing yourself in my hands, you need not have done so. The case is a serious one--you can have no idea how much resolution is required to conduct these matters wisely."

To understand this mistake of the doctor's, it should be known, that the bravoes by profession used to wear a long lock of hair, which they pulled over the face as a mask in enterprises that required prudence as well as strength. The proclamation had not been silent with regard to this custom.

"_His Excellency commands, that whosoever shall wear hair of such a length as to cover the forehead to the eyebrows, will incur the penalty of a fine of three hundred crowns; in case of incapability of payment, three years in the galleys for the first offence; and for the second, in addition to the aforesaid, greater punishments still, at the will of His Excellency._" The long lock had become a distinctive mark of the loose and disorderly.