Read Ebook: The Betrothed From the Italian of Alessandro Manzoni by Manzoni Alessandro

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1952 lines and 165793 words, and 40 pages

So saying, he took the light, and muttering, "A pretty business this! To an honest man like me! And to-morrow, what is to be done?" with other like exclamations, he went towards his bedchamber. Having reached the door, he stopped a moment, and before he quitted the room, exclaimed, turning towards Perpetua, with his finger on his lips--"For the love of Heaven, be silent!"

The arousing from sleep, after a recent misfortune, is a bitter moment; the mind at first habitually recurs to its previous tranquillity, but is soon depressed by the thought of the contrast that awaits it. When alive to a sense of his situation, Don Abbondio recapitulated the plans of the night, made a better disposal of them, and after having risen, awaited with dread and impatience the moment of Renzo's arrival.

Lorenzo, or as he was called, Renzo, did not make him wait long; at an early hour he presented himself before the curate with the joyful readiness of one who was on this day to espouse her whom he loved. He had been deprived of his parents in his youth, and now practised the trade of a weaver of silk, which was, it might be said, hereditary in his family. This trade had once been very lucrative; and although now on the decline, a skilful workman might obtain from it a respectable livelihood. The continual emigration of the tradesmen, attracted to the neighbouring states by promises and privileges, left sufficient employment for those who remained behind. Besides, Renzo possessed a small farm, which he had cultivated himself when otherwise unoccupied; so that, for one of his condition, he might be called wealthy: and although the last harvest had been more deficient than the preceding ones, and the evils of famine were beginning to be felt; yet, from the moment he had given his heart to Lucy, he had been so economical as to preserve a sufficiency of all necessaries, and to be in no danger of wanting bread. He appeared before Don Abbondio gaily dressed, and with a joyful countenance. The mysterious and perplexed manner of the curate formed a singular contrast to that of the handsome young man.

"What is the matter now?" thought Renzo; but without waiting to answer his own question, "Signor Curate," said he, "I am come to know at what hour of the day it will be convenient for you that we should be at the church?"

"Of what day do you speak?"

"How! of what day? do you not remember that this is the day appointed?"

"You cannot to-day? why not?"

"I am sorry for it; but we shall not detain you long, and you will not be much fatigued."

"But then, what, sir?"

"There are difficulties."

"Difficulties! How can that be?"

"People should be in our situation, to know how many obstacles there are to these matters; I am too yielding, I think only of removing impediments, of rendering all things easy, and promoting the happiness of others. To do this I neglect my duty, and am covered with reproaches for it."

"In the name of Heaven, keep me not thus in suspense, but tell me at once what is the matter?"

"Do you know how many formalities are required before the marriage can be celebrated?"

"I must, indeed, know something of them," said Renzo, beginning to grow angry, "since you have racked my brains with them abundantly these few days back. But are not all things now ready? have you not done all there was to do?"

"But tell me what this other formality is, and I will perform it immediately."

"Do you know how many obstacles stand in the way?"

"How can I know any thing of obstacles?"

"Error, conditio, votum, cognatis, crimen, cultus disparitas, vis, ordo.... Si sit affinis...."

"Oh! for Heaven's sake--how should I understand all this Latin?"

"What words are these, Signor?" interrupted Renzo, with a look of astonishment and anger.

"I say, do be patient--I say, I wish to see you happy. In short--in short, my dear child, I have not been in fault; I did not make the laws. Before concluding a marriage, we are required to search closely that there be no obstacles."

"Now, I beseech you, tell me at once what difficulty has occurred?"

"I'll not hear your Latin."

"And what do you wish that I should do?"

"Be patient for a few days. My dear child, a few days are not eternity; be patient."

"For how long a time then?"

"Fifteen days! Oh! this is something new. To tell me now, on the very day you yourself appointed for my marriage, that I must wait fifteen days! Fifteen," resumed he, with a low and angry voice.

"And what shall I say to Lucy?" said Renzo, softening.

"That it has been a mistake of mine."

"And to the world?"

"Say also it is my fault; that through too great haste I have made some great blunder: throw all the blame on me. Can I do more than this? Come in a week."

"And then there will be no further difficulties?"

"Well, well, I will be quiet for a week; but be assured, I will be put off with no further excuses:--for the present, I take my leave." So saying, he departed, making a bow to Don Abbondio less profound than usual, and giving him a look more expressive than respectful.

With a heavy heart he approached the house of his betrothed, his mind dwelling on the strange conversation which had just taken place. The cold and embarrassed reception of Don Abbondio, his constrained and impatient air, his mysterious hints, all combined to convince him there was still something he had not been willing to communicate. He stopped for a moment, debating with himself whether he should not return and compel him to be more frank; raising his eyes, however, he beheld Perpetua entering a little garden a few steps distant from the house. He called to her, quickened his pace, and detaining her at the gate, endeavoured to enter into discourse with her.

"Good day, Perpetua; I expected to have received your congratulations to-day."

"But it must be as God pleases, my poor Renzo."

"I want to ask a favour of you: the Signor Curate has offered reasons I cannot comprehend; will you explain to me the true cause why he is unable or unwilling to marry us to-day?"

"Oh! you think then that I know the secrets of my master."

"I was right in supposing there was a mystery," thought Renzo. "Come, come, Perpetua," continued he, "we are friends; tell me what you know,--help a poor young man."

"It is a bad thing to be born poor, my dear Renzo."

"That is true," replied he, still more confirmed in his suspicions--"that is true; but it is not becoming in the clergy to behave unjustly to the poor."

"Hear me, Renzo; I can tell you nothing, because--I know nothing. But I can assure you my master would not wrong you or any one; and he is not to blame."

"Who then is to blame?" asked Renzo, carelessly, but listening intently for a reply.

"I have told you already I know nothing. But I may be allowed to speak in defence of my master; poor man! if he has erred, it has been through too great kindness. There are in this world men who are overpowerful, knavish, and who fear not God."

"Overpowerful! knavish!" thought Renzo; "these cannot be his superiors."--"Come," said he, with difficulty concealing his increasing agitation, "come, tell me who it is."

"Ah! you would persuade me to speak, and I must not, because--I know nothing. I will keep silence as faithfully as if I had promised to do so. You might put me to the torture, and you could not draw any thing from me. Adieu! it is lost time for both of us."

Thus saying, she re-entered the garden hastily, and shut the gate. Renzo turned very softly, lest at the noise of his footsteps she might discern the road he took: when fairly beyond her hearing, he quickened his steps, and in a moment was at the door of Don Abbondio's house; he entered, rushed towards the little parlour where he had left him, and finding him still there, approached him with a bold and furious manner.

"Eh! eh! what has happened now?" said Don Abbondio.

"Who is this powerful personage?" said Renzo, with the air of one resolved to obtain an explicit answer; "who is he that forbids me to marry Lucy?"

"What! what! what!" stammered Don Abbondio, turning pale with surprise. He arose from his chair, and made an effort to reach the door. But Renzo, who expected this movement, was upon his guard; and locking the door, he put the key in his pocket.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet