CHAPTER I.
That branch of the Lake of Como, which turns toward the south betweentwo unbroken chains of mountains, presenting to the eye a succession ofbays and gulfs, formed by their jutting and retiring ridges, suddenlycontracts itself between a headland to the right and an extended slopingbank on the left, and assumes the flow and appearance of a river. Thebridge by which the two shores are here united, appears to render thetransformation more apparent, and marks the point at which the lakeceases, and the Adda recommences, to resume, however, the name of _Lake_where the again receding banks allow the water to expand itself anewinto bays and gulfs. The bank, formed by the deposit of three largemountain streams, descends from the bases of two contiguous mountains,the one called St. Martin, the other by a Lombard name, _Resegone_, fromits long line of summits, which in truth give it the appearance of asaw; so that there is no one who would not at first sight, especiallyviewing it in front, from the ramparts of Milan that face the north, atonce distinguish it in all that extensive range from other mountains ofless name and more ordinary form. The bank, for a considerable distance,rises with a gentle and continual ascent, then breaks into hills andhollows, rugged or level land, according to the formation of themountain rocks, and the action of the floods. Its extreme border,intersected by the mountain torrents, is composed almost entirely ofsand and pebbles; the other parts of fields and vineyards, scatteredfarms, country seats, and villages, with here and there a wood whichextends up the mountain side. Lecco, the largest of these villages, andwhich gives its name to the district, is situated at no great distancefrom the bridge, upon the margin of the lake; nay, often, at the risingof the waters, is partly embosomed within the lake itself; a large townat the present day, and likely soon to become a city. At the period ofour story, this village was also fortified, and consequently had thehonour to furnish quarters to a governor, and the advantage ofpossessing a permanent garrison of Spanish soldiers, who gave lessons inmodesty to the wives and daughters of the neighbourhood, and toward theclose of summer never failed to scatter themselves through thevineyards, in order to thin the grapes, and lighten for the rustics thelabours of the vintage. From village to village, from the heights downto the margin of the lake, there are innumerable roads and paths: thesevary in their character; at times precipitous, at others level; now sunkand buried between two ivy-clad walls, from whose depth you can beholdnothing but the sky, or some lofty mountain peak; then crossing high andlevel tracts, around the edges of which they sometimes wind,occasionally projecting beyond the face of the mountain, supported byprominent masses resembling bastions, whence the eye wanders over themost varied and delicious landscape. On the one side you behold the bluelake, with its boundaries broken by various promontories and necks ofland, and reflecting the inverted images of the objects on its banks; onthe other, the Adda, which, flowing beneath the arches of the bridge,expands into a small lake, then contracts again, and holds on its clearserpentining course to the distant horizon: above, are the ponderousmasses of the shapeless rocks; beneath, the richly cultivated acclivity,the fair landscape, the bridge; in front, the opposite shore of thelake, and beyond this, the mountain, which bounds the view.
Towards evening, on the 7th day of November, 1628, Don Abbondio, curateof one of the villages before alluded to (but of the name of which, norof the house and lineage of its curate, we are not informed), wasreturning slowly towards his home, by one of these pathways. He wasrepeating quietly his office; in the pauses of which he held his closedbreviary in his hand behind his back; and as he went, with his foot hecast listlessly against the wall the stones that happened to impede hispath; at the same time giving admittance to the idle thoughts thattempted the spirit, while the lips of the worthy man were mechanicallyperforming their function; then raising his head and gazing idly aroundhim, he fixed his eyes upon a mountain summit, where the rays of thesetting sun, breaking through the openings of an opposite ridge,illumined its projecting masses, which appeared like large and variouslyshaped spots of purple light. He then opened anew his breviary, andrecited another portion at an angle of the lane, after which angle theroad continued straight for perhaps seventy paces, and then branchedlike the letter Y into two narrow paths; the right-hand one ascendedtowards the mountain, and led to the parsonage (_Cura_); that on theleft descended the valley towards a torrent, and on this side the wallrose out to the height of about two feet. The inner walls of the twonarrow paths, instead of meeting at the angle, ended in a little chapel,upon which were depicted certain long, sinuous, pointed shapes, which,in the intention of the artist, and to the eyes of the neighbouringinhabitants, represented flames, and amidst these flames certain otherforms, not to be described, that were meant for souls in purgatory;souls and flames of a brick colour, upon a ground of blackish grey, withhere and there a bare spot of plaster. The curate, having turned thecorner, directed, as was his wont, a look toward the little chapel, andthere beheld what he little expected, and would not have desired to see.At the confluence, if we may so call it, of the two narrow lanes, therewere two men: one of them sitting astride the low wall; his companionleaning against it, with his arms folded on his breast. The dress, thebearing, and what the curate could distinguish of the countenance ofthese men, left no doubt as to their profession. They wore upon theirheads a green network, which, falling on the left shoulder, ended in alarge tassel, from under which appeared upon the forehead an enormouslock of hair. Their mustachios were long, and curled at the extremities;the margin of their doublets confined by a belt of polished leather,from which were suspended, by hooks, two pistols; a little powder-hornhung like a locket on the breast; on the right-hand side of the wide andample breeches was a pocket, out of which projected the handle of aknife, and on the other side they bore a long sword, of which the greathollow hilt was formed of bright plates of brass, combined into acypher: by these characteristics they were, at a glance, recognised asindividuals of the class of bravoes.
This species, now entirely extinct, flourished greatly at that time inLombardy. For those who have no knowledge of it, the following are a fewauthentic records, that may suffice to impart an idea of its principalcharacteristics, of the vigorous efforts made to extirpate it, and ofits obstinate and rank vitality.
As early as the 8th of April, 1583, the most illustrious and mostexcellent lord Don Charles of Arragon, Prince of Castelvetrano, Duke ofTerranova, Marquis of Avola, Count of Burgeto, High Admiral and HighConstable of Sicily, Governor of Milan, and Captain General of HisCatholic Majesty in Italy, "fully informed of the intolerable miserywhich the city of Milan has endured, and still endures, by reason ofbravoes and vagabonds," publishes his decree against them, "declares anddesignates all those comprehended in this proclamation to be regarded asbravoes and vagabonds,----who, whether foreigners or natives, have nocalling, or, having one, do not follow it,----but, either with orwithout wages, attach themselves to any knight, gentleman, officer, ormerchant,----to uphold or favour him, or in any manner to molestothers." All such he commands, within the space of six days, to leavethe country; threatens the refractory with the galleys, and grants toall officers of justice the most ample and unlimited powers for theexecution of his commands. But, in the following year, on the 12th ofApril, the said lord, having perceived "that this city still continuesto be filled with bravoes, who have again resumed their former mode oflife; their manners unchanged, and their number undiminished," putsforth another edict still more energetic and remarkable, in which, amongother regulations, he directs "that any person whatsoever, whether ofthis city or from abroad, who shall, by the testimony of two witnesses,be shown to be regarded and commonly reputed as a bravo, even though nocriminal act shall have been proved against him, may, nevertheless, uponthe sole ground of his reputation, be condemned by the said judges tothe rack for examination; and although he make no confession of guilt,he shall, notwithstanding, be sentenced to the galleys for the said termof three years, solely for that he is regarded as, and called a bravo,as above-mentioned;" and this "because His
Excellency is resolved toenforce obedience to his commands."
One would suppose that at the sound of such denunciations from sopowerful a source, all the bravoes must have disappeared for ever. Buttestimony, of no less authority, obliges us to believe directly thereverse. This testimony is the most illustrious and most excellent lordJuan Fernandez de Velasco, Constable of Castile, High Chamberlain of HisMajesty, Duke of the city of Freas, Count of Haro and Castelnuovo, Lordof the house of Velasco, and of that of the Seven Infanti of Lara,Governor of the State of Milan, &c. On the 5th of June, 1593, he also,fully informed "how great an injury to the common weal, and howinsulting to justice, is the existence of such a class of men," requiresthem anew to quit the country within six days, repeating very nearly thesame threats and injunctions as his predecessor. On the 23d of May,then, 1598, "having learnt, with no little displeasure, that the numberof bravoes and vagabonds is increasing daily in this state and city, andthat nothing is heard of them but wounds, murders, robberies, and everyother crime, to the commission of which these bravoes are encouraged bythe confidence that they will be sustained by their chiefs andabettors," he prescribes again the same remedies, increasing the dose,as is usual in obstinate disorders. "Let every one, then," he concludes,"carefully beware that he do not, in any wise, contravene this edict;since, in place of experiencing the mercy of His Excellency, he shallprove his rigour and his wrath--he being resolved and determined thatthis shall be a final and peremptory warning."
But this again did not suffice; and the illustrious and most excellentlord, the Signor Don Pietro Enriquez de Acevedo, Count of Fuentes,Captain and Governor of the State of Milan, "fully informed of thewretched condition of this city and state, in consequence of the greatnumber of bravoes that abound therein, and resolved wholly to extirpatethem," publishes, on the 5th of December, 1600, a new decree, full ofthe most rigorous provisions, and "with firm purpose that in all rigour,and without hope of remission, they shall be wholly carried intoexecution."
We are obliged, however, to conclude that he did not, in this matter,exhibit the same zeal which he knew how to employ in contriving plotsand exciting enemies against his powerful foe, Henry IV., against whomhistory attests that he succeeded in arming the Duke of Savoy, whom hecaused to lose more towns than one; and in engaging in a conspiracy theDuke of Biron, whom he caused to lose his head. But as regards thepestilent race of bravoes, it is very certain they continued to increaseuntil the 22d day of September, 1612; on which day the most illustriousand most excellent lord Don Giovanni de Mendoza, Marchese de laHynojosa, gentleman, & c., Governor, & c., thought seriously of theirextirpation. He addressed to Pandolfo and Marco Tullio Malatesti,printers of the Royal Chamber, the customary edict, corrected andenlarged, that they might print it, to accomplish that end. But thebravoes still survived, to experience, on the 24th December, 1618, stillmore terrific denunciations from the most illustrious and most excellentlord, Don Gomez Suarez de Figueroa, Duke of Feria, Governor, & c.; yet,as they did not fall even under these blows, the most illustrious andmost excellent lord Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordova, under whose governmentwe are made acquainted with Don Abbondio, found himself obliged torepublish the usual proclamation against the bravoes, on the 5th day ofOctober, 1627, that is, a year, a month, and two days previous to thecommencement of our story.
Nor was this the last publication; but of those that follow, as ofmatters not falling within the period of our history, we do not think itproper to make mention. The only one of them to which we shall refer, isthat of the 13th day of February, 1632, in which the most illustriousand most excellent lord, the Duke of Feria, for the second timegovernor, informs us, "that the greatest and most heinous crimes areperpetrated by those styled bravoes." This will suffice to prove that,at the time of which we treat, the bravoes still existed.
It appeared evident to Don Abbondio that the two men above mentionedwere waiting for some one, and he was alarmed at the conviction that itwas for himself; for on his appearance, they exchanged a look, as if tosay, "'tis he." Rising from the wall, they both advanced to meet him. Heheld his breviary open before him, as though he were employed in readingit; but, nevertheless, cast a glance upward in order to espy theirmovements. Seeing that they came directly toward him, he was beset by athousand different thoughts. He considered, in haste, whether betweenthe bravoes and himself there were any outlet from the road, and heremembered there was none. He took a rapid survey of his conduct, todiscover if he had given offence to any powerful or revengeful man; butin this matter, he was somewhat reassured by the consoling testimony ofhis conscience. The bravoes draw near, and kept their eyes upon him. Heraised his hand to his collar, as if adjusting it, and at the same timeturned his head round, to see if any one were coming; he could discoverno one. He cast a glance across the low stone wall upon the fields; noone! another on the road that lay before him; no one, except thebravoes! What is to be done? Flight was impossible. Unable to avoid thedanger, he hastened to encounter it, and to put an end to the tormentsof uncertainty. He quickened his pace, recited a stanza in a loudertone, did his utmost to assume a composed and cheerful countenance, andfinding himself in front of the two gallants, stopped short. "SignorCurate," said one of them, fixing his eyes upon him,--
"Your pleasure, sir," suddenly raising his eyes from his book, which hecontinued to hold open before him.
"You intend," pursued the other, with the threatening and angry mien ofone who has detected an inferior in an attempt to commit some villany,"you intend to-morrow to unite in marriage Renzo Tramaglino and LucyMondella."
"That is," said Don Abbondio with a faltering voice, "that is tosay--you gentlemen, being men of the world, are very well aware howthese things are managed: the poor curate neither meddles normakes--they settle their affairs amongst themselves, and then--then,they come to us, as if to redeem a pledge; and we--we are the servantsof the public."
"Mark now," said the bravo in a low voice, but in a tone of command,"this marriage is not to take place, neither to-morrow, nor at any othertime."
"But, my good sirs," replied Don Abbondio, with the mild and gentle toneof one who would persuade an impatient listener, "but, my good sirs,deign to put yourselves in my situation. If the thing depended onmyself--you see plainly, that it does not in the least concern----"
"Hold there," said the bravo, interrupting him, "this matter is not tobe settled by prating. We neither know nor care to know any more aboutit. A man once warned--you understand us."
"But, fair sirs, you are too just, too reasonable----"
"But," interrupted the other comrade, who had not before spoken, "butthis marriage is not to be performed, or (with an oath) he who performsit will not repent of it, because he'll not have time" (with anotheroath).
"Hush, hush," resumed the first orator, "the Signor Curate knows theworld, and we are gentlemen who have no wish to harm him if he conductshimself with judgment. Signor Curate, the most illustrious Signor DonRoderick, our patron, offers you his kind regards." As in the height ofa midnight storm a vivid flash casts a momentary dazzling glare aroundand renders every object more fearful, so did this _name_ increase theterror of Don Abbondio: as if by instinct, he bowed his headsubmissively, and said--
"If it could but be suggested to me."
"Oh! suggested to _you_, who understand Latin!" exclaimed the bravo,laughing; "it is for you to manage the matter. But, above all, becareful not to say a word concerning the hint that has been given youfor your good; for if you do, ehem!--you understand--the consequenceswould be the same as if you performed the marriage ceremony. But say,what answer are we to carry in your name to the most illustrious SignorDon Roderick?"
"My respects----"
"Speak more clearly, Signor Curate."
"That I am disposed, ever disposed, to obedience." And as he spoke thewords he was not very certain himself whether he gave a promise, or onlyuttered an ordinary compliment. The bravoes took, or _appeared_ to takethem, in the more serious sense.
"'Tis very well
; good night, Signor Curate," said one of them as heretired, together with his companion. Don Abbondio, who a few minutesbefore would have given one of his eyes to avoid the ruffians, was nowdesirous to prolong the conversation.
"Gentlemen----" he began, as he shut his book. Without again noticinghim, however, they passed on, singing a loose song, of which we will nottranscribe the words. Poor Don Abbondio remained for a moment, as ifspell-bound, and then with heavy and lagging steps took the path whichled towards his home. The reader will better understand the state of hismind, when he shall have learned something more of his disposition, andof the condition of the times in which it was his lot to live.
Don Abbondio was not (as the reader may have perceived) endowed with thecourage of a lion. But from his earliest years he had been sensible thatthe most embarrassing situation in those times was that of an animal,furnished with neither tusks nor talons, at the same time having no wishto be devoured. The arm of the law afforded no protection to a man ofquiet, inoffensive habits, who had no means of making himself feared.Not that laws and penalties were wanting for the prevention of privateviolence: the laws were most express; the offences enumerated, andminutely particularised; the penalties sufficiently extravagant; and ifthat were not enough, the legislator himself, and, a hundred others towhom was committed the execution of the laws, had power to increasethem. The proceedings were studiously contrived to free the judge fromevery thing that might prevent his passing sentence of condemnation; thepassages we have cited from proclamations against the bravoes, may betaken as a faithful specimen of these decrees. Notwithstanding this, or,it may be, in _consequence_ of this, these proclamations, reiterated andreinforced from time to time, served only to proclaim in pompouslanguage the impotence of those who issued them; or, if they producedany immediate effect, it was _that_ of adding to the vexations which thepeaceful and feeble suffered from the disturbers of society. Impunitywas organised and effected in so many ways as to render theproclamations powerless. Such was the consequence of the sanctuaries andasylums; and of the privileges of certain classes, partly acknowledgedby the legal power, partly tolerated in silence, or feebly opposed; butwhich, in _fact_, were sustained and guarded by almost every individualwith interested activity and punctilious jealousy. Now this impunity,threatened and assailed, but not destroyed, by these proclamations,would naturally, at every new attack, employ fresh efforts and devicesto maintain itself. The proclamations were efficient, it is true, infettering and embarrassing the honest man, who had neither power inhimself nor protection from others; inasmuch as, in order to reach everyperson, they subjected the movements of each private individual to thearbitrary will of a thousand magistrates and executive officers. But he,who before the commission of his crime had prepared himself a refuge insome convent or palace where bailiffs never dared to enter; or whosimply wore a livery, which engaged in his defence the vanity or theinterest of a powerful family; such a one was free in his actions, andcould laugh to scorn every proclamation. Of those very persons whosepart it was to ensure the execution of these decrees, some belonged bybirth to the privileged class, others were its clients and dependants;and as the latter as well as the former had, from education, from habit,from imitation, embraced its maxims, they would be very careful not toviolate them. Had they however, been bold as heroes, obedient as monks,and devoted as martyrs, they could never have accomplished the executionof the laws, inferior as they were in number to _those_ with whom theymust engage, and with the frequent probability of being abandoned, oreven sacrificed, by him who, in a moment of theoretical abstraction,might require them to act. But, in addition to this, their office wouldbe regarded as a base one in public opinion, and their name stamped withreproach. It was therefore very natural that, instead of risking, nay,throwing away, their lives in a fruitless attempt, they should selltheir inaction, or, rather, their connivance, to the powerful; or, atleast, exercise their authority only on those occasions when it might bedone with safety to themselves; that is, in oppressing the peaceable andthe defenceless.
The man who acts with violence, or who is constantly in fear of violencefrom others, seeks companions and allies. Hence it happened that, duringthese times, individuals displayed so strong a tendency to combinethemselves into classes, and to advance, as far as each one was able,the power of that to which he belonged. The clergy was vigilant in thedefence and extension of its immunities; the nobility, of itsprivileges; the military, of its exemptions; the merchants and artisanswere enrolled in companies and fraternities; the lawyers were united inleagues, and even the physicians formed a corporation. Each of theselittle oligarchies had its own appropriate power,--in each of them theindividual found the advantage of employing for himself, in proportionto his influence and dexterity, the united force of numbers. The morehonest availed themselves of this advantage merely for their defence;the crafty and the wicked profited by it to assure themselves of successin their rogueries, and impunity from their results. The strength,however, of these various combinations was far from being equal; and,especially in the country, the wealthy and overbearing nobleman, with aband of bravoes, and surrounded by peasants accustomed to regardthemselves as subjects and soldiers of their lord, exercised anirresistible power, and set all laws at defiance.
Don Abbondio, neither noble, rich, nor valiant, had from early youthfound himself alone and unaided in such a state of society, like anearthen vessel thrown amidst iron jars; he therefore readily obeyed hisparents, who wished him to become a priest. He did, to say the truth,not regard the obligations and the noble ends of the ministry to whichhe dedicated himself, but was only desirous to secure the means ofliving, and to connect himself with a powerful and respected class. Butno class provided for the individual, or secured his safety, _further_than to a certain point; none rendered it unnecessary for him to adoptfor himself a system of his own. The system of Don Abbondio consistedchiefly in shunning all disputes; he maintained an unarmed neutrality inall the contests that broke out around him;--between the clergy and thecivil power, between persons in office and nobles and magistrates,bravoes and soldiers, down to the squabbles of the peasantry themselves,terminated by the fist or the knife. By keeping aloof from theoverbearing, by affecting not to notice their acts of violence, bybowing low and with the most profound respect to all whom he met, thepoor man had succeeded in passing over sixty years without encounteringany violent storms; not but that he also had some small portion of gallin his composition; and this continual exercise of patience exacerbatedit to such a degree, that, if he had not had it in his poweroccasionally to give it vent, his health must have suffered. But asthere were a few persons in the world connected with himself whom heknew to be powerless, he could, from time to time, discharge on them hislong pent-up ill-humour. He was, moreover, a severe censor of those whodid not regulate their conduct by his example, provided he could censurewithout danger. According to his creed, the poor fellow who had beencudgelled had been a little imprudent; the murdered man had always beenturbulent; the man who maintained his right against the powerful, andmet with a broken head, must have been somewhat wrong; which is,perhaps, true enough, for in all disputes the line can never be drawnso finely as not to leave a little wrong on both sides. He especiallydeclaimed against those of his confraternity, who, at their own risk,took part with the oppressed against a powerful oppressor. "This," hesaid, "was to purchase trouble with ready money, to kick at snarlingdogs, and an intermeddling in profane things that lowered the dignity ofthe sacred ministry." He had, in short, a favourite maxim, that anhonest man, who looked to himself and minded his own affairs, never metwith any rough encounters.
From all that has been said, we may imagine the effect the meeting justdescribed must have had upon the mind of poor Don Abbondio. Those fiercecountenances, the threats of a lord who was well known not to speakidly, his plan of quiet life and patient endurance disconcerted in aninstant, a difficulty before him from which he saw no possibility ofextrication; all these thoughts rushed confusedly through his mind.
"IfRenzo could be quietly dismissed with a refusal, all would be well; buthe will require reasons--and what can I say to him? he too has a head ofhis own; a lamb, if not meddled with--but once attempt to cross him----Oh!--and raving after that Lucy, as much enamoured as---- Young idiots!who, for want of something else to do, fall in love, and must bemarried, forsooth, thinking of nothing else, never concerning themselvesabout the trouble they bring upon an honest man like me. Wretch that Iam! Why should those two scowling faces plant themselves exactly in mypath, and pick a quarrel with me? What have I to do in the matter? Is itI that mean to wive? Why did they not rather go and speak---- Ah! truly,that which is to the purpose always occurs to me after the right time:if I had but thought of suggesting to them to go and bear theirmessage----" But here he was disturbed by the reflection, that to repentof not having been the counsellor and abettor of evil, was tooiniquitous a thing; and he therefore turned the rancour of his thoughtsagainst the individual who had thus robbed him of his tranquillity. Hedid not know Don Roderick, except by sight and by report; his soleintercourse with him had been to touch chin to breast, and the groundwith the corner of his hat, the few times he had met him on the road.He had, on more than one occasion, defended the reputation of thatSignor against those who, in an under-tone, with sighs and looks raisedto heaven, had execrated some one of his exploits. He had declared ahundred times that he was a respectable cavalier. But at this moment he,in his own heart, readily bestowed upon him all those titles to which hewould never lend an ear from another. Having, amidst the tumult of thesethoughts, reached the entrance of his house, which stood at the end ofthe little glebe, he unlocked the door, entered, and carefully securedit within. Anxious to find himself in society that he could trust, hecalled aloud, "Perpetua, Perpetua," advancing towards the little parlourwhere she was, doubtless, employed in preparing the table for hissupper. Perpetua was, as the reader must be aware, the housekeeper ofDon Abbondio; an affectionate and faithful domestic, who knew how toobey or command as occasion served; to bear the grumbling and whims ofher master at times, and at others to make him bear with hers. Thesewere becoming every day more frequent; she had passed the age of fortyin a single state; the consequences, _she_ said, of having refused allthe offers that had been made her; her _female friends_ asserted thatshe had never found any one willing to take her.
"Coming," said Perpetua, as she set in its usual place on the littletable the flask of Don Abbondio's favourite wine, and moved slowlytoward the parlour door: before she reached it he entered, with steps sodisordered, looks so clouded, and a countenance so changed, that an eyeless practised than that of Perpetua could have discovered at a glancethat something unusual had befallen him.
"Mercy on me! What is it ails my master?"
"Nothing, nothing," said Don Abbondio, as he sank upon his easy chair.
"How, nothing! Would you have me believe that, looking as you do? Somedreadful accident has happened."
"Oh! for the love of Heaven! When I say nothing, it is either nothing,or something I cannot tell."
"That you cannot tell, not even to me? Who will take care of yourhealth? Who will give you advice?"
"Oh! peace, peace! Do not make matters worse. Give me a glass of mywine."
"And you will still pretend to me that nothing is the matter?" saidPerpetua, filling the glass, but retaining it in her hand, as ifunwilling to present it except as the reward of confidence.
"Give here, give here," said Don Abbondio, taking the glass with anunsteady hand, and hastily swallowing its contents.
"Would you oblige me then to go about, asking here and there what it ishas happened to my master?" said Perpetua, standing upright before him,with her hands on her sides, and looking him steadfastly in the face, asif to extract the secret from his eyes.
"For the love of Heaven, do not worry me, do not kill me with yourpother; this is a matter that concerns--concerns my life."
"Your life!"
"My life."
"You know well, that, when you have frankly confided in me, I havenever----"
"Yes, forsooth, as when----"
Perpetua was sensible she had touched a false string; wherefore,changing suddenly her note, "My dear master," said she, in a moving toneof voice, "I have always had a dutiful regard for you, and if I now wishto know this affair, it is from zeal, and a desire to assist you, togive you advice, to relieve your mind."
The truth is, that Don Abbondio's desire to disburden himself of hispainful secret was as great as that of Perpetua to obtain a knowledge ofit; so that, after having repulsed, more and more feebly, her renewedassaults; after having made her swear many times that she would notbreathe a syllable of it, he, with frequent pauses and exclamations,related his miserable adventure. When it was necessary to pronounce thedread name of him from whom the prohibition came, he required fromPerpetua another and more solemn oath: having uttered it, he threwhimself back on his seat with a heavy sigh, and, in a tone of command,as well as supplication, exclaimed,--
"For the love of Heaven!"--
"Mercy upon me!" cried Perpetua, "what a wretch! what a tyrant! Does henot fear God?"
"Will you be silent? or do you want to ruin me completely?"
"Oh! we are here alone, no one can hear us. But what will my poor masterdo?"
"See there now," said Don Abbondio, in a peevish tone, "see the fineadvice you give me. To ask of me, what I'll do? what I'll do? as if youwere the one in difficulty, and it was for me to help you out!"
"Nay, I could give you my own poor opinion; but then--"
"But--but then, let us know it."
"My opinion would be, that, as every one says our archbishop is a saint,a man of courage, and not to be frightened by an ugly phiz, and who willtake pleasure in upholding a curate against one of these tyrants; Ishould say, and do say, that you had better write him a handsome letter,to inform him as how----"
"Will you be silent! will you be silent! Is this advice to offer a poorman? When I get a pistol bullet in my side--God preserve me!--will thearchbishop take it out?"
"Ah! pistol bullets are not given away like sugarplums; and it werewoful if those dogs should bite every time they bark. If a man knows howto show his teeth, and make himself feared, they hold him in respect: weshould not have been brought to such a pass, if you had stood upon yourrights. Now, all come to us (by your good leave) to----"
"Will you be silent?"
"Certainly; but it is true though, that when the world sees one isalways ready, in every encounter, to lower----"
"Will you be silent? Is this a time for such idle talk?"
"Well, well, you'll think of it to-night; but in the meantime do not bethe first to harm yourself; to destroy your own health: eat a mouthful."
"I'll think of it," murmured Don Abbondio; "certainly I'll think of it.I _must_ think of it;" and he arose, continuing--"No! I'll take nothing,nothing; I've something else to do. But, that this should have fallenupon me----"
"Swallow at least this other little drop," said Perpetua, as she pouredthe wine. "You know it always restores your stomach."
"Oh! there wants other medicine than that, other medicine than that,other medicine than that----"
So saying, he took the light, and muttering, "A pretty business this! Toan honest man like me! And to-morrow, what is to be done?" with otherlike exclamations, he went towards his bedchamber. Having reached thedoor, he stopped a moment, and before he quitted the room, exclaimed,turning towards Perpetua, with his finger on his lips--"For the love ofHeaven, be silent!"