The Betrothed / From the Italian of Alessandro Manzoni

by Alessandro Manzoni

The high-born dame received them with many congratulations; she questioned and advised them with an air of conscious superiority, which was, however, tempered by so many soft and humble expressions, and mingled with so much zeal and devotion, that Agnes and Lucy soon felt themselves relieved from the painful restraint her mere presence had at first imposed on them. In brief, Donna Prassede, learning that the cardinal wished to procure an asylum for Lucy, and impelled by the desire to second, and at the same time to anticipate, his good intention, offered to take the young girl to her house, where there would be no other service required of her than to direct the labours of the needle or the spindle. She added, that she herself would inform the cardinal of the arrangement.

Besides the obvious and ordinary benefit conferred by her invitation, Donna Prassede proposed to herself another, which she deemed to be peculiarly important; this was to school impatience, and to place in the right path a young creature who had much need of guidance. The first time she heard Lucy spoken of, she was immediately persuaded that in one so young, who had betrothed herself to a robber, a criminal, a fugitive from justice such as Renzo, there must be some corruption, some concealed vice. “Tell me what company you keep, and I will tell you who you are.” The visit of Lucy had confirmed her opinion; she appeared, indeed, to be an artless girl, but who could tell the cause of her downcast looks and timid replies? There was no great effort of mind necessary to perceive that the maiden had opinions of her own. Her blushes, sighs, and particularly her large and beautiful eyes, did not please Donna Prassede at all. She regarded it as certain as if she had been told it by one having authority, that the misfortunes of Lucy were a punishment from Heaven for her connection with that villain, and a warning to withdraw herself from him entirely. That settled the determination to lend her co-operation to further so desirable a work; for as she frequently said to herself and others, “Was it not her constant study to second the will of Heaven?” But, alas! she often fell into the terrible mistake of taking for the will of Heaven, the vain imaginings of her own brain. However, she was on the present occasion very careful not to exhibit any of her proposed intentions. It was one of her maxims, that the first rule to be observed in accomplishing a good design, is to keep your motives to yourself.

Excepting the painful necessity of separation the offer appeared to both mother and daughter very inviting, were it only on account of the short distance from the castle to their village. Reading in each other’s countenance their mutual assent, they accepted with many thanks the kindness of Donna Prassede, who renewing her kind promises, said she would soon send them a letter to present to the cardinal. The two females having departed, she requested Don Ferrante to write a letter, who, being a literary and learned man, was employed as her secretary on occasions of importance. In an affair of this sort, Don Ferrante did his best, and he gave the original to his wife in order that she could copy it; he warmly recommended to her an attention to the orthography, as orthography was among the great number of things he had studied, and among the small number over which he had control in his family. The letter was forthwith copied and sent to the tailor’s house. These events occurred a few days before the cardinal had despatched a litter to bring the mother and daughter to their abode.

Upon their arrival they went to the parsonage; orders having been left for their immediate admittance to the presence of the cardinal. The chaplain, who conducted them thither, gave them many instructions with regard to the ceremony to be used with him, and the titles to be given him; it was a continual torment to the poor man to behold the little ceremony that reigned around the good archbishop in this respect. “This results,” he was accustomed to say, “from the excessive goodness of this blessed man—from his great familiarity.” And he added that he had “even heard people address him with Yes, sir, and No, sir!”

At this moment, the cardinal was conversing with Don Abbondio on the affairs of his parish; so that the latter had no opportunity to repeat his instructions to the females; however, in passing by them as they entered, he gave them a glance, to make them comprehend that he was well satisfied with them, and that they should continue, like honest and worthy women, to keep silence.

After the first reception, Agnes drew from her bosom the letter of Donna Prassede, and gave it to the cardinal, saying, “It is from the Signora Donna Prassede, who says that she knows your illustrious lordship well, my lord, as naturally is the case with great people. When you have read, you will see.”

“It is well,” said Frederick, after having read the letter, and extracted its meaning from the trash of Don Ferrante’s flowers of rhetoric. He knew the family well enough to be certain that Lucy had been invited into it with good intentions, and that she would be sheltered from the snares and violence of her persecutor. As to his opinion of Donna Prassede, we do not know it precisely; probably she was not a person he would have chosen for Lucy’s protectress; but it was not his habit to undo things, apparently ordered by Providence, in order to do them better.

“Submit, without regret, to this separation also, and to the suspense in which you are left,” said he. “Hope for the best, and confide in God! and be persuaded, that all that He sends you, whether of joy or sorrow, will be for your permanent good.” Having received the benediction which he bestowed on them, they took their leave.

Hardly had they reached the street, when they were surrounded by a swarm of friends, who were expecting them, and who conducted them in triumph to their house. Their female acquaintances congratulated them, sympathised with them, and overwhelmed them with enquiries. Learning that Lucy was to depart on the following morning, they broke forth in exclamations of regret and disappointment. The men disputed with each other the privilege of offering their services; each wished to remain for the night to guard their cottage, which reminds us of a proverb; “If you would have people willing to confer favours on you, be sure not to need them.” This warmth of reception served a little to withdraw Lucy from the painful recollections which crowded upon her mind, at the sight of her loved home.

At the sound of the bell which announced the commencement of the ceremonies, all moved towards the church. The ceremonies over, Don Abbondio, who had hastened home to see every thing arranged for breakfast, was told that the cardinal wished to speak with him. He proceeded to the chamber of his illustrious guest, who accosted him as he entered, with “Signor Curate, why did you not unite in marriage, Lucy to her betrothed?”