The Betrothed. Alessandro Manzoni
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“Yes.”
“Done; I agree to it.”
“But we must find another witness.”
“I have found him already,” said Tony. “My simpleton of a brother, Jervase, will do whatever I tell him; but you will pay him with something to drink?”
“And to eat,” replied Renzo. “But will he be able?”
“I’ll teach him; you know I was born with brains for both.”
“To-morrow.”
“Well.”
“Towards evening.”
“Very well.”
“But be silent,” said Renzo.
“Poh!” said Tony.
“But if thy wife should ask thee, as without doubt she will?”
“I am in debt to my wife for lies already; and for so much, that I don’t know if we shall ever balance the account. I will tell her some idle story or other to set her heart at rest.” With this good resolution he departed, leaving Renzo to pursue his way back to the cottage. In the meanwhile Agnes had in vain solicited Lucy’s consent to the measure; she could not resolve to act without the approbation of Father Christopher. Renzo arrived, and triumphantly related his success. Lucy shook her head, but the two enthusiasts minded her not. They were now determined to pursue their plan, and by authority and entreaties induce her finally to accede to it.
“It is well,” said Agnes, “it is well, but you have not thought of every thing.”
“What have I not thought of?” replied Renzo.
“Perpetua! You have not thought of Perpetua. Do you believe that she would suffer Tony and his brother to enter? How then is it probable she would admit you and Lucy?”
“What shall we do?” said Renzo, pausing.
“I will tell you. I will go with you; I have a secret to tell her, which will engage her so that she will not see you. I will take her aside, and will touch such a chord—you shall see.”
“Bless you!” exclaimed Renzo, “I have always said you were our best support.”
“But all this will do no good,” said Agnes, “if we cannot persuade Lucy, who obstinately persists that it is sinful.”
Renzo made use of all his eloquence, but Lucy was not to be moved. “I know not what to say to your arguments,” replied she. “I perceive that to do this, we shall degrade ourselves so far as to lie and deceive. Ah! Renzo, let us not so abase ourselves! I would be your wife” (and a blush diffused itself over her lovely countenance), “I would be your wife, but in the fear of God—at the altar. Let us trust in Him who is able to provide. Do you not think He will find a way to help us, far better than all this deception? And why make a mystery of it to Father Christopher?”
The contest still continued, when a trampling of sandals announced Father Christopher. Agnes had barely time to whisper in the ear of Lucy, “Be careful to tell him nothing,” when the friar entered.
Chapter VII.
“Peace be with you!” said the friar as he entered. “There is nothing more to hope from man: so much the greater must be our confidence in God; and I’ve already had a pledge of his protection.” None of the three entertained much hope from the visit of Father Christopher: for it would have been not only an unusual, but an absolutely unheard-of fact, for a nobleman to desist from his criminal designs at the mere prayer of his defenceless victim. Still, the sad certainty was a painful stroke.
The women bent down their heads; but in the mind of Renzo anger prevailed over disappointment. “I would know,” cried he, gnashing his teeth, and raising his voice as he had never done before in the presence of Father Christopher, “I would know what reasons this dog has given, that my wife should not be my wife?”
“Poor Renzo!” said the father, with an accent of pity, and with a look which greatly enforced moderation; “poor Renzo! if those who commit injustice were always obliged to give a reason for it, things would not be as they are!”
“He has said, then, the dog! that he will not, because he will not?”
“He has not even said so, poor Renzo! There would be something gained, if he would make an open confession of his iniquity.”
“But he has said something; what has this firebrand of hell said?”
“I could not repeat his words. He flew into a passion at me for my suspicions, and at the same time confirmed me in them: he insulted me, and then called himself offended; threatened, and complained. Ask no farther. He did not utter the name of Lucy, nor even pretend to know you: he affected to intend nothing. In short, I heard enough to feel that he is inexorable. But confidence in God! Poor children! be patient, be submissive! And thou, Renzo! believe that I sympathise with all that passes in thy heart.—But patience! It is a poor word, a bitter word to those who want faith; but, Renzo, will you not let God work? Will you not trust Him? Let Him work, Renzo; and, for your consolation, know that I hold in my hand a clue, by which I hope to extricate you from your distress. I cannot say more now. To-morrow I shall not be here; I shall be all day at the convent employed for you. Renzo, if thou canst, come there to me; but, if prevented by any accident, send some trusty messenger, by whom I can make known to you the success of my endeavours. Night approaches; I must return to the convent. Farewell! Faith and courage!” So saying, he departed, and hastened by the most abrupt but shortest road, to reach the convent in time, and escape the usual reprimand; or, what was worse, the imposition of some penance, which might disenable him, for the following day, from continuing his efforts in favour of his protégés.
“Did you hear him speak of a clue which he holds to aid us?” said Lucy; “it is best to trust in him; he is a man who does not make rash promises.”
“He ought to have spoken more clearly,” said Agnes; “or at least have taken me aside, and told me what it was.”
“I’ll put an end to the business; I’ll put an end to it,” said Renzo, pacing furiously up and down the room.
“Oh! Renzo!” exclaimed Lucy.
“What do you mean?” said Agnes.
“What do I mean? I mean to say that he may have a hundred thousand devils in his soul, but he is flesh and blood notwithstanding.”
“No, no, for the love of Heaven!” said Lucy, but tears choked her voice.
“It is not a theme for jesting,” said Agnes.
“For jesting?” cried Renzo, stopping before her, with his countenance inflamed by anger; “for jesting! you will see if I am in jest.”
“Oh! Renzo!” said Lucy, sobbing, “I have never seen you thus before!”
“Hush, hush!” said Agnes, “speak not in this manner. Do you not fear the law, which is always to be had against the poor? And, besides, how many arms would be raised at a word!”
“I fear nothing,” said Renzo; “the villain is well protected, dog that he is! but no matter. Patience and resolution! and the time will come. Yes! justice shall be done! I will free the country! People will bless me! Yes, yes.”
The horror which Lucy felt at this explicit declaration of his purpose inspired her with new resolution. With a tearful countenance, but determined voice, she said to Renzo, “It can no longer be of any consequence to you, that I should become yours; I promised myself to a youth who had the fear of God in his heart; but a man who had once—were you safe from the law, were you secure from vengeance, were you the son of a king—”
“Well!” cried Renzo, in a voice of uncontrollable passion, “well! I shall not have you, then; but neither shall he; of that you may—”
“For