CHAPTER 34 PART I As to the way of entering the city, Renzo had heard, in general terms, that there were very strict orders, not to admit persons without a certificate of health. But that, in fact, it was easy enough for anyone to affect an entrance who had all knew how to help himself and to seize opportunities. So it was, and letting alone general causes why every order in those days was so imperfectly executed, letting alone the particular ones, which rendered the rigorous execution of this so impractical, Milan was now reduced to such a pass that no one could see of what use it was to defend it, or against what it was to be defended, and who came thither might be considered rather to risk his own health than to endanger that of the inhabitants. Upon this information, Renzo's intention was to attempt a passage at the first gate upon which he might happen to light, and if any obstacle presented itself to go round outside until he found another more easy of access, and heaven knows how many gates he thought Milan must have. Before the walls he stood still to look about him as one does, who not knowing which way will be the best to bend his steps, seems as if he awaited and asked directions from anything. But he could discover nothing either way, but two reaches of a winding road, and before him a part of the wall. In no quarter was there a symptom of a human being, except that in one spot on the platform might be seen a dense column of black and murky smoke, which expanded itself as it mounted, and curled into ample circles, and afterwards dispersed itself through the gray and motionless atmosphere. They were clothes, beds, and other articles of infected furniture which were being committed to the flames, and such melancholy conflagrations were constantly to be seen, not only here, but on every side of the wall. The weather was close, the air thick and heavy. The whole sky veiled by a uniform sluggish cloud of mist, which seemed to forbid the sun, without giving promise of rain. The country round was partly uncultivated, and the whole looked parched, vegetation was stunted, and not a drop of dew moistened the drooping and withered leaves. This solitude, this deep silence, so near a large mass of habitations, added new consternation to Renzo's disquietude, and rendered his thoughts still more gloomy. Having stood thus for a moment, he took the right hand, at a venture directing his steps without being aware of it, towards the portanova, which, though close at hand, he had not been able to perceive, on account of a bastion behind which it was concealed. After taking a few steps, a tinkling of little bells fell upon his ear, which ceased and was renewed at intervals, and then the voices of men. He went forward, and having turned the corner of the bastion, the first thing that met his eye on the esplanade before the gate, was a small wooden house or sentry box, at the doorway of which stood a guard leaning on his musket, with a languid and negligent air. Palisade was a fence composed of stakes, and beyond that the gate, that is to say, two wings of the wall connected by a roof above, which served to shelter the door, both leaves of which were wide-opened, as was also the wicket of the palisade. Especially before the opening, however, stood a melancholy impediment, a hand-barrow placed upon the ground on which two monaddie were laying out a poor creature to bear him away. It was the head of the Custom House officers, in whom the plague had been discovered just before. Renzo stood still where he was, awaiting the issue. The party being gone, and no one appearing to shut the gate again. Now seemed to be his time. He hastened forward, but the ill-looking sentinel called out to him, Ola. He instantly stopped, and winking at the man, drew out a half duket, and showed it to him. The fellow, either having already had the pestilence or fearing it less than he loved half duket's, beckoned to Renzo to throw it to him. And soon, seeing it roll at his feet, muttered, go forward quickly. Renzo gave him no occasion to repeat the order. He passed the palisade, entered the gate, and went forward without anyone observing or taking any notice of him, except that when he had gone perhaps forty paces, he heard another Ola from a toll-gatherer who was calling after him. This heap pretended not to hear, and instead of turning around only quickened his pace, Ola cried the collector again, in a tone, however, which rather indicated vexation than a determination to be obeyed. And finding that he was not obeyed, he shrugged his shoulders and returned into the house, like one who was more concerned about not approaching too near to strangers than inquiring into their affairs. The street inside this gate, at that time, as now, ran straight forward as far as the canal called the Neveglio. At the sides were hedges or walls of gardens, churches, covenants, and a few private dwellings, and at the end of this street, in the middle of that which ran along the brink of the canal, was erected a cross called the Cross of St. Eusebio, and let Renzo look before him as he would. Nothing but this cross ever met his view. Arrived at the cross, which divided the street about half way, and looking to the right and left, he perceived in the right hand one, which bore the name of Santa Teresa, a citizen who was coming exactly towards him. A Christian at last, said he to himself, and he immediately turned into the street with the intention of making some inquiries of him. The man stared at and eyed the stranger who was advancing toward him with a suspicious kind of look, even at a distance, and still more when he perceived that instead of going about his own business he was making up to him, Renzo, when he was within a little distance, took off his hat like a respectful mountaineer, such as he was, and holding it in his left hand, put the whole fist of his right into the empty crown, and advanced more directly towards the unknown passenger.  Oh, cried the youth in his turn, putting on his hat again, and willing to do anything, as he afterwards said in a relating manner, rather than pick a quarrel at that moment, he turned his back upon the uncourteous citizen and pursued his way, or so to speak correctly, that in which he happened to have set off. The citizen also continued his route, trembling from head to foot every now and then, looking behind him, and having reached home, he related how a poisoner had come up to him with a meek and humble air, but with the look of an infamous imposter, and with a box of ointment or a paper of powder, he was not exactly a certain witch, in his hand in the crown of his hat. With the intention of playing a trick upon him, if he hadn't known how to keep him at a distance, if he had come one step nearer, he added, I'd have run him through before he'd had time to touch me the scoundrel. The misfortune was that we were in so unfrequent at a place. Had it been the heart of Milan I'd have called people and bid them seize him. I'm sure we should have found that infamous poison in his hat. But there, all alone, I was obliged to be content with saving myself without running the risk of getting the infection. For a little powder is soon thrown, and these people are remarkably dexterous. Besides, they have the devil on their side.  And as long as he lived, which was many years, every time the poisoners were talked of, he repeated his own instance and added, they who still maintain that it wasn't true, don't let them talk to me, for absolute facts one couldn't help seeing. Renzo, far from imagining what a stab he had escaped, and more moved with anger than fear, reflected in walking on this reception, and pretty nearly guessed the opinion which the citizen had formed of his actions.  It's a bad beginning, thought he, however, it seems as if there were an evil star for me at this Milan. Everything seconds me readily enough in entering. But afterwards, when I am in, I find disagreeabilities all prepared for me. Well, with God's help, if I find, if I succeed in finding, all will have been nothing. Having reached the foot of the bridge, he turned without hesitation to the left, along a road called San Marcos Street, as it seemed to him this must lead into the heart of the city. As he went along, he kept constantly on the lookout, in hopes of discovering some human creature. But he could see none, except a disfigured corpse in the little ditch which runs behind the few houses, which were then still fewer, and the street for a part of the way. Having passed this part, he heard some cries which seemed to be addressed to him, and turning his eyes upwards in the direction whence the sound came, he perceived, at a little distance, on the balcony of an isolated dwelling, a poor woman with a group of children around her, who, calling to him, was beckoning also with her hand to entreat him to approach. He ran towards her, and when he came near, oh, young man, said the woman, in the name of the friends you've lost, have the charity to go and tell the commissary that we are here forgotten.  They've nailed up the door, as you see, and since yesterday morning nobody has brought us anything to eat. For the many hours I've stood here, I haven't been able to find a single Christian who would do me this kindness, and these poor little innocents are dying of hunger. Of hunger, exclaimed Renzo, and putting his hands into his pocket, see here, said he, drawing out the two loaves, send something down to take them. God reward you for it, wait a moment, said the woman, and she went to fetch a little basket and a cord by which to lower it for the bread. Renzo at this moment recollected the two loaves he had found near the cross on his first instance into Milan, and thought to himself, see, it's a restitution, and perhaps better than if I'd found the real owner, for this surely is a deed of charity. As to the commissary you mentioned, my good woman, said he, putting the bread into the basket, I'm afraid I can't serve you at all, or to tell you the truth I'm a stranger, and have no acquaintance with anyone in this country. However, if I meet anyone at all civil and human to speak to, I'll tell them. The woman begged he would do so, and told him the name of the street by which he might describe the situation. You too, I think, resumed Renzo, can do me a service, a real kindness, without any trouble, a family of high rank, very great seniors here in Milan, the family of, can you tell me where they live? I know very well there is such a family, replied the woman, but where it is I haven't the least idea. If you go forward into the city in this direction you'll find somebody who will show you the way, and don't forget to tell them about us. Don't fear it, said Renzo, and he pursued his way. At every step he heard increasing and drawing nearer, a noise which he had already begun to distinguish as he stood, talking with the woman, a noise of wheels and horses, with a tinkling of little bells, and every now and then a cracking of whips and loud vociferations. He looked before him but saw nothing. Having reached the end of this winding street, and got a view of the square of San Marco, the objects which first met his eye were two erect beams with a rope and sundry pulleys, which he failed not immediately to recognize, for it was a familiar spectacle in those days, as the abominable instrument of torture. It was erected in that place, and not only there, but in all the squares and most spacious streets. In order that the deputies of every quarter, furnished with this most arbitrary of all means, might be able to apply it immediately to anyone whom they should deem deserving of punishment, whether it were sequestered persons who left their houses or officers rebelling against orders, and whatever else it might be. It was one of those extravagant and inefficacious remedies, of which in those days, and at that particular period especially, they were so extremely prodigal. While Renzo was contemplating this machine, wondering why it was erected in that place, and listening to the closely approaching sound, behold, he saw appearing from behind the corner of the church, a man ringing a little bell. It was an apperitor, and behind him two horses, which stretching their necks and pawing with their hooves, could with difficulty make their way, and drawn by these a cart full of dead bodies, and after that another, and then another, and another, and on each hand, monotai, walking by the side of the horses, hastening them on with whips, blows, and curses. These corpses were, for the most part, naked, while some were miserably enveloped in tattered sheets, and were heaped up and twined together, almost like a nest of snakes slowly unfolding themselves to the warmth of a mild spring day, so that at every trifling obstacle, at every jolt, these fatal groups were seen quivering and falling into horrible confusion, heads dangling down, women's long tresses disheveled, arms torn off and striking against the wheels, exhibiting to the already horror-stricken view how such a spectacle may become still more wretched and disgraceful. The youth had paused at the corner of the square. By the sides of the railing of the canal, and was praying, meanwhile, for these unknown dead, a horrible thought flashed across his mind. Perhaps there, amongst these, beneath them, oh, Lord, let it not be true. Help me not to think of it. The funeral procession, having disappeared, he moved on, crossing the square, and taking the street along the left-hand side of the canal, without another reason for his choice than because the procession had taken the opposite direction. After going a few steps between the side of the church and the canal, he saw to the right the bridge Marcellino. He crossed it, and by that unique passage arrived in the street of the Borgo Nuovo, casting his eyes forward on the constant lookout for some of whom he might ask direction.  And very soon afterwards he saw him raise his hand to pronounce a blessing. He guessed what, in fact, was the case, that he had just finished confessing someone, and said to himself, This is my man. If a priest, in the exercise of his functions, hasn't a little charity, a little good nature and kindness, I can only say there is none left in the world. In the meanwhile the priest, leaving the doorway, advanced towards Renzo, walking with much caution in the middle of the road. When he was within four or five paces of him, Renzo took off his hat and signified that he wanted to speak to him, stopping at the same time, so as to let him understand that he would not approach too indiscreetly. The priest also paused, with the air of one prepared to listen, planting his stick, however, on the ground before him, to serve as it were for a kind of bulwark. Renzo proposed his inquiries, which the good priest readily satisfied, not only telling him the name of the street where the house was situated, but giving him also, as he saw the poor fellow had need of it, a little direction as to his way. Pointing out to him, i.e., the help of right and left hands, crosses and churches, those other six or eight streets he had yet to traverse before reaching the one he was inquiring after. I'd keep you in good health, both in these days and always," said Renzo, and as the priest prepared to go away, another favour added he, and told him of the poor forgotten woman, the worthy priest thanked him for having given him this opportunity of conveying assistance where it was so much needed, and saying that he would go and inform the proper authorities, took his departure. Renzo, making a bow, also pursued his way, and tried, as he went along, to recapitulate the instructions he had received, that he might be obliged, as seldom as possible, to ask further directions. But it cannot be imagined how difficult he found the task, not so much on account of the perplexity of the thing, as from a fresh uneasiness which had arisen in his mind. The name of the street, that tracing of the road, had almost upset him. It was the information he had desired, and requested, without which he could do nothing, nor had anything been said to him, together with it, which could suggest a presage, not to say a suspicion of misfortune, yet how was it, the rather more distinct idea of an approaching termination to his doubts, when he might hear either she is living, or, on the other hand, she is dead. That idea had come before him with so much force, that at the moment he would rather have been in ignorance about everything, and have been at the beginning of that journey, of which he now found himself so near the end. He gathered up his courage, however, said he to himself, if we begin now to play the child, how will things go on? Thus rimboldened as best might be, he pursued his way, advancing further into the city. What a city! And who found time in those days to recollect what it had been the year before, by reason of the famine? Renzo happened to have to pass through one of its most unsightly, and desolated quarters. That junction of streets, known by the name of the Carabio, of the Portanova, here at that time was a cross at the head of the street and opposite to it, by the side of the present site of San Francisco de Paola, an ancient church bearing the name of San Anastasia. Such had been the virulence of the contagion and the infection of the scattered corpses in this neighborhood, that the few survivors had been obliged to remove. So that while the passerby was stunned, was such a spectacle of solitude and desertion, more than one sense was only too grievously incommodated and defended by the tokens and relics of recent habitation. Renzo quickened his steps, consoling himself with the thought that the end of his search could not yet be at hand, and hoping that before he arrived at it, he would find the scene, at least in part, changed. And in fact, a little further on, he came out into a part which might still be called the city of the living.  And the doorways into the streets kept shut from either suspicion or alarm, except those which were left open because deserted or invaded.  Others marked with a cross drawn with coal as an intimation to the monotony that there were dead to be carried away, all more a matter of chance than otherwise, according as there happened to be here rather than there a commissary of health or other officer who was inclined either to execute the regulations or to exercise violence and oppression. Everywhere were rags and corrupted bandages, infected straw or clothes or sheets thrown from the windows, sometimes bodies, which had suddenly fallen dead in the streets and were left there till a cart happened to pass by and pick them up or shaken from off the carts themselves or even thrown from the windows. To such a degree had the obstinacy and virulence of the contagion brutalized men's minds and divested them of all compassionate care, of every feeling of social respect. The stir of business, the clatter of carriages, the cries of sellers, the talking of passengers, all were everywhere hushed. And seldom was the death-like stillness broken but by the rumbling of funeral carts, the lamentation of beggars, the groans of the sick, the shouts of the frantic or the vociferations of the monotony. At daybreak, midday and evening, one of the bells of the cathedral gave the signal for reciting certain prayers proposed by the archbishop. Its tones were responded to by the bells of the other churches and then persons might be seen repairing to the windows to pray in common and a murmur of sighs and voices might be heard, which inspired sadness, mingled at the same time, with some feeling of comfort. Two-thirds, perhaps, of the inhabitants, being by this time carried off, a great part of the remainder having departed or lying languishing at home, and the concourse from without being reduced almost to nothing, perhaps not one individual among the few who still went about, would be met with in a long circuit, in whom something strange and sufficient in itself to infer a fatal change in circumstances was not apparent. Men of the highest rank might be seen without cape or cloak. At that time a most essential part of any gentleman's dress, priests without cassocks, friars without cowls, in short, all kinds of dress were dispensed with which could contract anything in fluttering about, or give, which was more fear than all the rest, facilities to the poisoners. And besides this carefulness to go about as trust up and confined as possible, their persons were neglected and disorderly. The beards of such as were accustomed to wear them grown much longer and suffered to grow by those who had formally kept them shaven, their hair, too, long and undressed, not only from the neglect which usually attends prolonged depression, but because suspicion had been attached to barbers, ever since one of them, Gian Giacomo Mora, had been taken and condemned as a famous poisoner, a name which for a long while afterward preserved throughout the duchy a preeminent celebrity in infamy and deserved a far more extensive and lasting one in commiseration. The greater number carried in one hand a stick, some even a pistol, as a threatening warning to anyone who should attempt to approach them stealthily, and in the other perfumed pastels, no little balls of metal or wood perforated and filled with sponges steeped in aromatic vinegar, which they applied from time to time as they went along to their noses or held there continually. Some carried a small vial hung around their neck containing a little quick silver, persuaded that this possessed the virtue of absorbing and arresting every pestilential effluvia. In case they were very careful to renew from time to time, gentlemen not only traversed the streets without their usual attendance, but even went about with a basket on their arms providing the common necessaries of life, even friends when they met in the street alive, saluted each other at a distance, with silent and hasty lines. Everyone, as he walked along, had enough to do to avoid the filthy and deadly stumbling blocks with which the ground was strewn, and in some places even encumbered. Everyone tried to keep the middle of the road, for fear of some other obstacle, some other more fatal weight, which might fall from the windows, for fear of venomous powders, which it was affirmed were often thrown down fence upon the passengers, for fear too of the walls, which might per chance be anointed. Thus ignorance, unseasonably secure or preposterously circumspect, now added trouble to trouble and incited false terrors in compensation for the reasonable and salutary ones, which it had withstood at the beginning. Such were the less disfigured and pitiable spectacles which were everywhere present, the sight of the whole, the wealthy, for after so many pictures of misery and remembering that still more painful one, which it remains for us to describe, we will not now stop to tell what was the condition of the sick who dragged themselves along or lay in the streets, beggars, women, children. It was such that the spectator could find a desperate consolation, as it were, in what appears at first sight to those who are far removed in place and time. The climax of misery, the thought, I mean, the constant observation that the survivors were reduced to so small a number. End of Chapter 34, Part 1, Recording by Sandra Estenson. Chapter 34, Part 2 of the Betrothed. This is a LibriVox recording. While LibriVox recordings are in the public domain, for more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lani Small. The Betrothed. By Alessandro Manzoni. Chapter 34, Part 2. Renzo had already gone some distance on his way through the midst of this desolation, when he heard proceeding from a street a few yards off into which he had been directed to turn, a confused noise. He readily distinguished the usual horrible tinkling. At the entrance of the street, which was one of the most spacious, he perceived four carts standing in the middle, and as in a corn market there is a constant hurrying to and fro of people and an emptying and filling of sacks, such was the bustle here, manatee intruding into houses, manatee coming out, bearing a burden upon their shoulders which they placed upon one or other of the carts, some in red livery, others without that distinction, many with another still more odious plumes and cloaks of various colors which these miserable wretches wore in the midst of the general mourning, as if in honor of a festival. From time to time the mournful cry resounded from one of the windows. Here, manatee! And with a still more wretched sound, a harsh voice rose from this horrible source and reply, coming directly, or else there were lamentations nearer at hand, or in treaties to make haste, to which the manatee responded with oaths. Having entered the street, Renzo quickened his steps trying not to look at these obstacles further than was necessary to avoid them. His attention, however, was arrested by a remarkable object of pity, such pity as inclined to the contemplation of its object so that he came to a pause almost without determining to do so. Coming down the steps at one of the doorways, and advancing towards the convoy, he beheld a woman, whose appearance announced still remaining though somewhat advanced youthfulness, availed and dimmed, but not destroyed beauty, was still apparent, in spite of much suffering and a fatal langer. That delicate and at the same time majestic beauty was inconspicuous in the lumbard blood. Her gait was weary but not tottering. No tears fell from her eyes, though they bore tokens of having shed many. There was something peaceful and profound in her sorrow which indicated a mind fully conscious and sensitive enough to feel it. But it was not only her own appearance which, in the midst of so much misery, marked her out so especially as an object of commiseration, and revived in her behalf a feeling now exhausted, extinguished in men's hearts. She carried in her arms a little child, about nine years old, now a lifeless body, but laid out and arranged, with her hair parted on her forehead and in a white and remarkably clean dress, as if those hands had decked her out for a longed promised feast, granted as a reward, nor was she lying there, but upheld and adjusted on one arm, with her breast reclining against her mother's like a living creature, save that a delicate little hand, as white as wax, hung from one side with a kind of inanimate weight, and the head rested upon her mother's shoulder with an abandonment deeper than that of sleep. Her mother, for even if their likeness to each other had not given assurance of the fact, the countenance which still depicted any feeling would have clearly revealed it. A horrible-looking Monato approached the woman, and attempted to take the burden from her arms with a kind of unusual respect, however, and with involuntary hesitation. But she, slightly drawing back, yet with an air of one who knows neither scorn nor displeasure, said, No. Don't take her from me yet. I must place her myself on this cart. Here, so saying, she opened her hand, displayed a purse which she held in it, and dropped it into that which the Monato extended toward her. She then continued, Promise me not to take a thread from her, nor to let anyone else attempt to do so, and to lay her in the ground, thus. The Monato laid his right hand on his heart, then zealously and almost obsequiously, rather from the new feeling by which he was, as it were, subdued, than on account of the unlooked-for reward, hastened to make a little room on the cart for the infant dead. The lady, giving it a kiss on the forehead, laid it on the spot prepared for it as upon a bed, arranged it there, covering it with a pure white linen cloth, and pronounced the parting words. Farewell, Cecilia. Rest in peace. This evening we, too, will join you to rest together, for ever. In the meanwhile, pray for us, for I will pray for you and the others. Then, turning to the Monato. You, said she, when you pass this way in the evening, may come to fetch me, too, and not me only. So saying, she re-entered the house, and after an instant appeared at the window, holding in her arms another more dearly loved one, still living but with the marks of death on its countenance. She remained to contemplate the so unworthy obsequies of the first child, from the time the car started until it was out of sight, and then disappeared. And what remained for her to do, but to lay upon the bed the only one that was left to her, and to stretch herself beside it, that they might die together, as the flower already full blown upon the stem falls together with the bud still enfolded in its callix, under the scythe which levels alike all the herbage of the field. Oh, Lord! exclaimed Renzo, hear her, take her to thyself, her and that little one. They have suffered enough, surely they have suffered enough. Recovered from these singular emotions, and while trying to recall to memory the directions he had received, to ascertain whether he was to turn at the first street, and whether to the right or left, he heard another and a different sound proceeding from the latter, a confused sound of imperious cries, feeble lamentations, prolonged groans, sobs of women, and children's moans. He went forward, oppressed at heart by that one sad and gloomy foreboding. Having reached the spot where the two streets crossed, he beheld a confused multitude advancing from one side, and stood still to wait till it had passed.  Alas! Perhaps their mother whom they supposed they had left to sleep upon her bed had there thrown herself down senseless, subdued in a moment by the disease to be carried away on a cart to the Lasaretto, or to the grave. Perhaps Ome is fortunate deserving of still more bitter tears. The mother, entirely taken up by her own sufferings, had forgotten everything, even her own children, and had no longer any wish but to die in quiet. In such a scene of confusion, however, some examples of constancy impiety might still be seen. Parents, brothers, sons, husbands, supported their loved ones, and accompanying them with words of comfort, and not adults only, but even boys and little girls, escorting their younger brothers and sisters, and with manly sense and compassion, exhorting them to obedience, and assuring them that they were going to a place where others would take care of them and try to restore them to health. In the midst of the sadness and emotions of tenderness excited by these spectacles, a far different solicitude pressed more closely upon our traveller and held him in a painful suspense. The house must be near at hand, and who knew whether among these people but the crowd having all passed by, and this doubt being removed, he turned to a Minato who was walking behind, and asked him for the street and dwelling of Don Ferrante. It's gone to smash, clown, was the reply he received. Monzo cared not to answer again, but perceiving a few yards distance a commissary who brought up the convoy and had a little more Christian-like countenance, he re-repeated the same inquiry. The commissary, with a stick in the direction once he had come, said, the first street to the right, the last gentleman house on the left. With new and still deeper anxiety of mind, the youth bent his steps furtherward, and quickly distinguished the house among others more humble and unpretending. He approached the closed door, placed his hand on the knocker, and held it in suspense, as in an urn before drawing out the ticket upon which depends life or death. At length he raised the hammer and gave a resolute knock. In a moment or two a window was slightly opened, and a woman appeared at it to peep out, looking toward the door with a suspicious countenance which seemed to say, Minati, robbers, police, poisoners, devils. Signora, said Renzo, looking upward in a somewhat tremulous tone, is there a young country girl here at service, of the name of Lucia? She's here no longer, go away," answered the woman, preparing to shut the window. One moment for pity's sake! She's no longer here, where is she? At the Lasaredo, and she was again about to close the window. At one moment for heaven's sake, with the pestilence? To be sure, something new, eh? Get you gone. Oh, stay, was she very ill, how long is it? But this time the window was closed in reality. Oh, Signora, Signora, one word for charity, for the sake of your poor dead. I don't ask you for anything of yours, alas, oh! But he might as well have talked to a wall. Called by this intelligence, and vexed with the treatment he had received, Renzo again seized the knocker, and standing close to the door kept squeezing and twisting it in his hand, then lifted it to knock again in a kind of despair and paused in act to strike. In this agitation of feeling he turned to see if his eye could catch any person near at hand, from whom he might perhaps receive some more sober information. Some direction, some light. At the first, the only person he discovered was another woman, distant perhaps, about twenty yards, who with a look full of terror, hatred, impatience, and malice, with a certain wild expression of eye, which betrayed an attempt to look at him and something else at a distance at the same time, with a mouth open as if on the point of shouting as loud as she could, but holding even her breath, raising two thin bony arms, and extending and drawing back two wrinkled and clenched hands, as if reaching to herself something, gave evident signs of wishing to call people without letting somebody perceive it. On their eyes encountering each other, she, looking still more hideous, started like one taken by surprise. What the—began Renzo, raising his fist toward the woman, but she, having lost all hope of being able to have him unexpectedly seized, gave utterance to the cry she had hitherto restrained. The Poisoner! Seize him! Seize him! Seize him! The Poisoner! Who? I? Ah!  He perceived, however, at this moment, that he must rather look after himself. At the screens of the woman, people flocked from both sides, not the crowds indeed which in a similar case would have collected three months before, but still more than enough to crush a single individual. At this very instant the window was again thrown open, and the same woman who had shown herself so uncourteous just before, displayed herself this time in full and cried out, Take him, take him, for he must be one of those wicked wretches who go about to anoint the doors of the gentlefolks. Renzo determined in an instant that it would be a better course to make his escape from them, than stay to clear himself. He cast an eye on each side to see where were the fewest people, and in that direction took to his legs. He repulsed with a tremendous push one who attempted to stop his passage. With another blow on the chest he forced a second to retreat eight or ten yards, who was running to meet him, and away he went at full speed, with his tightly clenched fist uplifted in the air and preparation for whom soever should come his way. The street was clear before him, but behind his back he heard resounding more and more loudly the savage cry, Seize him, seize him, a poisoner! He heard, drawing nearer and nearer, the footsteps of the swiftest among his pursuers. His anger became fury, his anguish was changed into desperation, a cloud seemed gathering over his eyes.  But with astonishment, and a confused feeling of relief, he perceived that his persecutors had already stopped at some distance, as if in hesitation, and that while they continued shouting after him, they were beckoning with uplifted hands like people possessed and terrified out of their senses to others at some distance beyond him. He again turned round and beheld before him, and a very little way off, for his extreme perturbation had prevented his observing at a moment before, a cart advancing, indeed a file of the usual funeral carts with their usual accompaniments, and beyond them another small band of people who were ready on their part to fall upon the poisoner and take him in the midst. These however were also restrained by the same impediment. Finding himself thus between two fires, it occurred to him that what was to them a cause of terror might be for himself a means of safety. He thought that this was not a time for squeamish scruples, so again sheathing his poignard, he drew a little on one side, resumed his way toward the carts, and passing by the first, remarked in the second a tolerably empty space, he took aim, sprang up and lit with his right foot in the cart, his left in the air, and his arms stretched forward. Bravo! Bravo! exclaimed the manatee with one voice, some of whom were following the convoy on foot, others receded on the carts, and others to tell the horrible fact as it really was, on the dead bodies, quaffing from a large flask which was going the round of the party. Bravo! a capital hit! You've come to put yourself under the protection of the manatee. You may reckon yourself as safe as in church, said one of the two who were seated on the cart upon which he had thrown himself. The greater part of his enemies had, on approach of the train, turned their backs upon him and fled, crying at the same time, seize him, seize him, a poisoner! Some few of them, however, retired more deliberately, stopping every now and then and turning with a hideous grin of rage and threatening gestures toward Grenzo, who replied to them from the cart by shaking a fist at them. Leave it to me, said a manatee, and tearing a filthy rag from one of the bodies he hastily tied it in a knot, and taking it by one of its ears, raised it like a sling toward these obstinate fellows and pretended to hurl it at them, crying, Here you rascals! At this action they all fled in horror, and Grenzo saw nothing but the backs of his enemies and heels which bounded rapidly through the air like the hammers in a clothier's mill. A howl of triumph arose among the manatee, a stormy burst of laughter, a prolonged, eh, as an accompaniment, so to say, to this fugue. Ah-ha! Look if we don't know how to protect honest fellows, said the same manatee to Grenzo. One of us is worth more than a hundred of those cowards.  Not a word, not a word, answered the manatee. You deserve it. One can see you're a brave young fellow.  For in reward for the life we lead they only curse us, and keep saying that when the pestilence is over they'll have us all hanged. They must be finished before the pestilence. The manatee only must be left to chant victory and revel in Milan. Long live the pestilence and death to the rabble, exclaimed the other, and with this beautiful toast he put the flask to his mouth, and holding it with both hands amidst the joltings of the cart, took a long draft, and then handed it to Renzo, saying, Drink to our health. I wish it you all with my whole heart, said Renzo, but I'm not thirsty. I don't feel any inclination to drink just now. You've had a fine fright, it seems, said the manatee.  You should have another face than that to be a poisoner. Let everybody do as he can, said the other. Here, give it to me, said one of those on foot at the side of the car. For I too want to drink another cup to the health of his honor, who finds himself in such capital company. There, there, just there, among that elegant carriage-full. And with one of his hideous and cursed grins he pointed to the cart in front of that a palm which our poor Renzo was seated. Then, composing his face to an expression of seriousness, still more wicked and revolting, he made a bow in that direction and resumed. May it please you, my lord, to let a poor wretch of a manatee taste a little of this wine from your cellar? Mind you, sir, our way of life is only so-so. We have taken you into our carriage to give you a ride into the country, and then it takes very little wine to do harm to your lordships. The poor manatee have good stomachs.  But before drinking turned to Renzo and fixed his eyes on his face and said to him with a certain air of scornful compassion, the devil with whom you have made agreement must be very young, for if we hadn't been by to rescue you, he'd have given you mighty assistance. And amidst a fresh outburst of laughter he applied the flagon to his lips. Give us some! What? Give us some! shouted many voices from the preceding car. The ruffian, having swallowed as much as he wished, handed the great flask with both hands into those of his fellow ruffians who continued passing it round, until one of them, having emptied it, grasped it by the neck, slung it round in the air two or three times, and dashed it to atoms upon the pavement, crying, Long live the pestilence! He then broke into one of their licentious ballads, and was soon accompanied by all the rest of this depraved chorus. The infernal song, mingled with the tinkling of the bells, the rattle of the cart, and the trampling of men and horses, resounded through the silent peculiarity of the streets, and echoing in the houses, bitterly rung the hearts of the few who still inhabited them. But what cannot sometimes turn to advantage? What cannot appear good in some cases or another? The extremity of a moment before had rendered more than tolerable to Renzo the company of these dead and living companions, and now the sounds that relieved him from the awkwardness of such a conversation were, I had almost said, acceptable, music to his ears. Still half bewildered and in great agitation, he thanked Providence in his heart, best he could, that he had escaped such imminent danger without receiving or inflicting injury. He prayed for assistance to deliver himself now from his deliverers, and for his part kept on the lookout, reaching his companions and reconordering the road that he might seize the proper moment to slide quietly down without giving them an opportunity of making any disturbance or uproar which might stir up mischief in the passers-by. And lo! on turning a corner he seemed to recognize the place along which they were about to pass. He looked more attentively, and at once knew it by more certain signs. Does the reader know where he was? In the direct course to the Porta Orientali, in that very street along which he had gone so slowly and returned so speedily about twenty months before. He quickly remembered that from thence he could go straight to the Lasaretto, and this finding of himself in the right way without any endeavor on his own, and without direction, he looked upon as a special token of divine guidance, and a good omen of what remained. At that moment a commissary came to meet the cars, who called out to the Minati to stop, and I know not what besides. It need only be said that they came to a halt, and the music was changed into clamorous dialogues. One of the Minati seated on Renzo's car jumped down. Renzo said to the other, Thank you for your kindness. God reward you for it, and sprang down at the opposite side. Get you gone, poor poisoner, replied the man. You'll not be the fellow that'll ruin Milan. Fortunately, there was no one at hand who could overhear him. The party had stopped on the left side of the street. Renzo hastily crossed over to the opposite side, and keeping close to the wall, trudged onwards toward the bridge, crossed it, followed the well-known street of the borgo, and recognized the convent of the Capuchins. He comes close to the gate, sees the projecting corner of the Lasaretto, passes through the palisade, and the scene outside the enclosure is laid open to his view. Not so much an indication and specimen of the interior as itself a vast, diversified, and indescribable scene. Along the two sides which are visible to a spectator from this point all was bustle and confusion. There was a great concourse, an influx and reflux of people, sick, flocking in crowds to the Lasaretto, some sitting or lying on the edge of one or other of the moats that flanked the road, whose strength had proved insufficient to carry them within their place of retreat, or, when they had abandoned it in despair, had equally failed to convey them further. Others were wandering about as if stupefied, and not a few were absolutely beside themselves. One would be eagerly relating his fancies to a miserable creature laboring under the malady. Another would be actually raving, while the third appeared with a smiling countenance as if assisting at some gay spectacle. But the strangest and most clamorous kind of so melancholy agaity was a loud and continual singing which seemed to proceed from that wretched assembly and even drowned all the other voices. A popular song of love, joyous and playful, one of those which are called rural, and following the sound by the eye to discover who could possibly be so cheerful, yonder, tranquilly seated in the bottom of the ditch that washes the walls of the Lasaretto, he perceived a poor wretch, with upturned eyes, singing at the very stretch of his voice. Renzo had scarcely gone a few yards along the south side of the edifice, when an extraordinary noise arose in the crowd and a distant cry of, Take care! and Stop him! He stood upon Tipto, looked forward, and beheld a jaded horse galloping at full speed, and pelled forward by a still more wretched-looking rider.  Menatti were following, shouting, and howling, and all were enveloped in a cloud of dust which whirled round their heads. Confounded and weary with the sight of so much misery, the youth arrived at the gate of that abode, where perhaps more was concentrated, than had been scattered over the whole space that had yet been his fortune to traverse. He walked up to the door, captured under the vaulted roof, and stood for a moment without moving in the middle of the portico. End of Chapter 34 Part 2 Chapter 35 Part 1 of the Betroth This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lani Small. The Betrothed by Alessandra Manzoni. Chapter 35 Part 1 Let the reader imagine the enclosure of the Lasaretto, peopled with sixteen thousand persons ill of the plague, the whole area encumbered, here with tents and cabins, there with carts, elsewhere with people. Those two interminable ranges of portico to the right and left covered, crowded with dead or dying, stretched upon mattresses or the bare straw, and throughout the whole of this so to say immense den, a commotion, a fluctuation like the swell of the sea, and within, people coming and going, stopping and running, some sinking under disease, others rising from their sick beds, either convalescent, frantic, or to attend upon others. Which was the spectacle which suddenly burst upon Renzo's view and forced him to pause there, horror-struck and overpowered. We do not intend to describe this spectacle by itself, for which doubtless none of our readers would thank us. We will only follow our youth in his painful walk, stop where he stopped, and relate what he happened to witness so far as is necessary to explain what he did and what chance to occur to him. From the gate where he stood, up to the temple in the middle, and from that again to the opposite gate, ran a kind of pathway, free from cabins and every other substantial impediment, and, at a second glance, he observed a great bustle of removing carts, and making the way clear, and discovered officers and capuchins directing this operation, and at the same time dismissing all those who had no business there. Fearing, lest he also should be turned out in this manner, he slipped in between the pavilions, on the side to which he had casually turned, the right. He went forward, according as he found room to set his foot down, from cabin to cabin, pumping his head into each, casting his eye upon every one who lay outside, gazing upon countenances broken down by suffering, contracted by spasm, or motionless in death. No chance he might happen to find that one which, nevertheless, he dreaded to find. He had already, however, gone some considerable distance, and often and often repeated this melancholy inspection without having yet seen a single woman. He concluded therefore that these must be lodged in a separate quarter. So far he guessed, but of the whereabouts he had no indication, nor could he form the least conjecture. From time to time he met attendance, as different in appearance, dress and behavior, as the motive was different, and opposite which gave to both one and the other strength to live in the exercise of such offices. In the one the extinction of all feelings of compassion. In the other, compassion more than human. But from neither did he attempt to ask directions for fear of creating for himself new obstacles, and he resolved to walk on by himself till he succeeded in discovering women. And as he walked along he failed not to look narrowly around, though from time to time he was compelled to withdraw his eyes, overcome and as it were dazzled by the spectacle of so great miseries. Yet wither could he turn them. Where suffer them to rest save upon other miseries as great? And the very air and sky added, if anything could add, to the horror of these sights. The fog had condensed by degrees, and resolved itself into large clouds, which, becoming darker and darker, made it seem like the tempestuous closing in of evening. Except that towards the zenith of this deep and lowering sky the sun's disc was visible as from behind a thick veil, pale emitting around a very feeble light, which was speedily exhaled, and pouring down a death-like and oppressive heat. Every now and then, amidst the vast murmur that floated around, was heard a deep rumbling of thunder, interrupted as it were, and irresolute, nor could the listener distinguish from which side it came. He might indeed easily have deemed it a distant sound of cars, unexpectedly coming to a stand. In the country road not a twig bent under a breath of air, not a bird was seen to a light or fly away. The swallow alone appearing suddenly from the eaves of the enclosure, skimmed along the ground with extended wing, sweeping as it were the surface of the field, but alarmed at the surrounding confusion, rapidly mounted again into the air and flew away. It was one of those days in which, among a party of travelers, not one of them breaks the silence, and the hunter walks pensively along, with his eyes bent to the ground, and the peasant, digging in the field, pauses in his song without being aware of it. One of those days which are the forerunners of a tempest, in which nature, as if motionless without, while agitated by internal travail, seems to oppress every living thing, and to add an undefinable weight to every employment, to idleness, to existence itself. But in that abode specially assigned to suffering and death, men hitherto struggling with their malady might be seen sinking under this new pressure. They were to be seen by hundreds rapidly becoming worse, and at the same time the last struggle was more distressing, and in the augmentation of suffering the groans were still more stifled, nor perhaps had there yet been in that place an hour of bitterness equal to this. The youth had already threaded his way for some time without success through this maze of cabins, when in the variety of lamentations and confused murmurs he begun to distinguish a singular intermixure of bleeding and infant's cries. He arrived at length before a cracked and disjointed wooden partition, from within which this extraordinary sound proceeded, and peeping through a large aperture between two boards, he beheld an enclosure scattered throughout with little huts, and in these, as well as in the spaces of the small camp between the cabins, not the usual occupants of an infirmary, but infants, lying upon little beds, pillows, sheets, or cloths spread upon the ground, and nurses and other women busily attending upon them, and, which above everything else attracted and engrossed his attention, she goats mingled with these, and acting as their co-adjutrices, a hospital of innocence, such as the place and time could afford them. It was, I say, a novel sight to behold some of these animals standing quietly over this or that infant, giving it suck, and another, hastening at the cry of a child, as if endued with maternal feeling, and stopping by the side of the little claimant, and contriving to dispose itself over the infant, and bleeding and fidgeting, almost as if demanding someone to come to the assistance of both. Here and there nurses were seated with infants at the breast. Some employing such expressions of affection as raised a doubt in the mind of the spectator, whether they had been induced to repair thither by the promises of reward, or by that voluntary benevolence which goes in search of the needy and afflicted. One of these, with deep sorrow depicted in her countenance, drew from her breast a poor, weeping little creature, and mournfully went to look for an animal which might be able to supply her place. Another regarded with a compassionate look the little one asleep in her bosom, and gently kissing it went to lay it on a bed in one of the cabins, while a third surrendering her breast to the stranger suckling, with an air not of negligence, but of preoccupation, gazed fixedly up to heaven. What was she thinking of with that gesture, with that look, but of one brought forth from her own bowels, who perhaps only a short time before had been nourished at that breast, her chance had expired on that bosom. Other women of more experience supplied different offices. One would run at the cry of a famished child, lift it from the ground, and carry it to a goat, feeding upon a heap of fresh herbage, and supplying it to the creature's paps would chide, and at the same time coax the inexperienced animal with her voice, that it might quietly lend itself to its new office. Another would spring forward to drive off a goat which was trampling underfoot a poor babe in its eagerness to suckle another. While a third was caring about her own infant and rocking it in her arms, now trying to lull it to sleep by singing, now to pacify it with soothing words, and calling it by a name she had herself given it. At this moment a Capuchin with a very white beard arrived bringing two screaming infants, one in each arm, which he had just taken from their dying mothers, and a woman ran to receive them, and went to seek among the crowd, and in the flux, someone that would immediately supply the place of a mother. More than once the youth, urged by his anxiety, had torn himself from the opening to resume his way, and, after all, had again peeped in to watch another moment or two. Having at length left the place, he went on close along the partition until a group of huts, which were propped against it, compelled him to turn aside. He then went round the cabins with the intention of regaining the partition, turning the corner of the enclosure, and making some fresh discoveries. But while he was looking forward to reconnoiter his way, a sudden transient instantaneous apparition struck his eye, and put him in great agitation. He saw, about a hundred yards off, a Capuchin threading his way and quickly becoming lost among the pavilions. A Capuchin, who, even thus passingly and at a distance, had all the bearing, motions and figure of Father Cristoforo. With the frantic eagerness the reader can imagine, he sprang forward in that direction, looking here and there, winding about, backward, forward, inside and out by circles, and through narrow passages, until he again saw, with increased joy, the form of the self-same friar. He saw him at a little distance, just leaving a large boiling-pot, and going with a parringer in his hands towards a cabin. Then he beheld him seat himself in the doorway, make the sign of the cross on the basin he held before him, and looking around him, like one constantly on the alert, begin to eat. It was indeed Father Cristoforo. The history of the friar, from the point at which we lost sight of him, up to the present meeting, may be told in a few words. He had never removed from Remini, nor even thought of removing, until the plague, breaking out in Milan, afforded him the opportunity he had long so earnestly desired, of sacrificing his life for his fellow-creatures. He urgently entreated that he might be recalled from Remini to assist and attend upon the infected patients. The count, Atelio's uncle, was dead, and besides, the times required tenders of the sick, rather than politicians, so that his request was granted without difficulty. He came immediately to Milan, entered the Lazareto, and had now been there about three months. But the consolation Renzo Felton, thus again seeing his good friar, was not for a moment unalloyed. Together, with the certainty that it was he, he was also made painfully aware of how much he was changed. His stooping, and as it were, laborious carriage, his wan and shriveled face, all betokened in exhausted nature, a broken and sinking frame which was assisted, and as it were upheld, from hour to hour only by the energy of his mind. He kept his eye fixed on the youth who was approaching him, and who was seeking by gestures, not daring to do so with his voice, to make him distinguish and recognize him. "'Oh, Father Cristoforo,' said he at last, when he was near enough to be heard without shouting. "'You, here!' said the friar, setting the pouring-ger on the ground and rising from his seat. "'How are you, Father? How are you?' "'Better than the many poor creatures you see,' replied the friar, and his voice was feeble, hollow, and as changed as everything else about him. His eye alone was what it always was, or had something about it even more bright and resplendent, as if charity, elevated by the approaching end of her labors, and exulting in the consciousness of being near her source, restored it a more ardent and purer fire than that which infirmity was every hour extinguishing. "'But you,' pursued he, "'how is it you're in this place? What makes you come thus to brave the pestilence?' "'I've had it, thank heaven. I come to seek for Lucia.' "'Lucia? Is Lucia here?' "'She is. At least I hope in God she may still be here. Is she your wife?' "'Oh, my dear Father, my wife? No. That she's not. Don't you know anything of what has happened?' "'No, my son. Since God removed me to a distance from you, I've never heard anything further. But now that he has sent you to me, I tell you the truth that I wish very much to know. But—' "'And the sentence of outlawry?' "'You know, then, what things they've done to me. But you, what had you done?' "'Listen, if I were to say that I was prudent that day in Milan, I should tell a lie. But I didn't do a single wicked action. I believe you. And I believed it, too, before. Now, then, I may tell you all.' "'Wait,' said the friar, and going a few yards out of the hut, he called. Father Vittore!' In a moment or two a young Capuchin appeared to whom Christophero said, "'Do me the kindness, Father Vittore, to take my share, too, of waiting upon patience, while I am absent for a little while. And if anyone should ask for me, will you be good enough to call me? That one particularly, if ever he gives the least sign of returning consciousness, let me be informed of it directly for charity's sake.' The young friar answered that he would do as he requested, and then Christophero, turning to Renzo, said, "'Let us go in here. But,' added he directly, stopping, "'you seem to me very tired. You must want something to eat.' "'So I do,' said Renzo. Now that you've reminded me, I remember I'm still fasting.' "'Stay,' said the friar, and taking another poringer he went to fill it from the large boiler. He then returned and offered it with a spoon to Renzo, made him sit down on a straw mattress which served him for a bed, went to a cask that stood in one corner and drew a glass of wine, which he set on a little table near his guest, and then, taking up his own poringer, seated himself beside him. "'Oh, Father Christophero,' said Renzo, "'is it your business to do all this? But you are always the same. I thank you with all my heart.' "'Don't thank me,' said the friar. That belongs to the poor.  Now, then, tell me what I don't know. Tell me about our poor lusia, and try to do it in a few words, for time is scarce and there is plenty to be done as you see.' CHAPTER 35 PART II Renzo began between one spoonful and another to relate the history of lusia, how she had been sheltered in the monastery at Monza, how she had been forcibly carried off. At the idea of such sufferings and such dangers, and at the thought that it was he who had directed the poor innocent to that place, the good friar became almost breathless with emotion. But he was quickly relieved on hearing how she had been miraculously liberated, restored to her mother, and placed by her with Donna Prasedi. "'Now I will tell you about myself,' pursued the narrator, and he briefly sketched the day he spent in Milan, his flight, how he had long been absent from home, and now, everything being turned upside down, he had ventured to go thither, how he had not found Agnisi there, and how he had learned at Milan that lusia was at the Las Redo. And here I am,' he concluded, "'here I am to look for her, to see if she's still living, and if she'll still have me, because sometimes, but how were you directed here?' asked the friar. "'Have you any information whereabouts she was lodged, or at what time she came? None, dear father, none, except that she is here, if indeed she be still living, which may God grant. "'Oh, you poor fellow! But what search have you yet made here?' I've wandered and wandered about, but hitherto I've scarcely seen anything but men. I thought that the women must be in a separate quarter, but I haven't yet succeeded in finding it, if it is really so now you can tell me.' "'Don't you know, my son, that men are forbidden to enter that quarter, unless they have some business there?' "'Well, and what could happen to me?' "'The regulation is just and good, my dear son, and if the number and weight of sorrows forbid the possibility of it being respected with full rigor, is that a reason why an honest man should transgress it?' "'But Father Christopher,' said Renzo, "'Luciah ought to be my wife. You know how we've been separated. It's twenty months that I've suffered and borne patiently. I've come as far as here, at the risk of so many things, one worse than the other, and now then. I don't know what to say,' resumed the friar, replying rather to his own thoughts than to the words of the young man. You are going with a good intention, and would to God that all who have free access to that place would conduct themselves as I can feel sure you will do. God, who certainly blesses this your perseverance of affection, this your faithfulness in wishing and seeking for her whom he has given you. God, who is more rigorous than men, yet more indulgent, will not regard what may be irregular in your mode of seeking for her. Only remember that for your behavior in this place we shall both have to render an account. Not probably to men, but without fail at the bar of God. Come this way. So saying he rose. Renzo followed his example, and without neglecting the listen to his words had in the meantime determined in himself not to speak as he had at first intended about Lucia's vow. If he hears this too, thought he, he will certainly raise more difficulties. Either I will find her, and then there will be time enough to discuss it, or—and then what will it matter? Leading him to the door of the cabin which faced towards the north, the friar resumed. Listen to me. Father Filipe, the President of the Lazareto, will today conduct the few who have recovered to perform their quarantine elsewhere. You see that church there in the middle? And raising his thin and tremulous hand he pointed out to the left, through the cloudy atmosphere, the cupola of the little temple rising above the miserable tents, and continued. About there they are now assembling to go out in procession through the gate by which you must have entered. Ah! It was for this, then, that they were trying to clear the passage. Just so. And you must also have heard some tollings of the bell. I heard one. It was the second. When the third rings they will all be assembled, Father Filipe will address a few words to them, and then they will set off. At this signal do you go thither. Contrive to place yourself behind the assembly on the edge of the passage, where, without giving trouble or being observed, you can watch them pass. And look, look, look if she is there. If it be not God's will that she should be there, that quarter, and he again raised his hand and pointed to the side of the edifice which faced them, that quarter of the building, and part of the field before it, are assigned to the women. You will see some pailing that divides this from that enclosure, but here and there broken and interrupted, so that you'll find no difficulty in gaining admittance. Once in, if you do nothing to give offence, no one probably will say anything to you. If, however, they should make any opposition, say that Father Cristoforo knows you, and will answer for you. Seek her there. Seek her with confidence and with resignation, for you must remember it is a great thing you have come to ask here, a person alive within the lazaretto. Do you know how often I have seen my poor people here renewed? How many I have seen carried off? How few go out recovered? Go, prepared to make a sacrifice. I, I understand, interrupted Renzo, his eyes rolling wildly, and his face becoming very dark and threatening. I understand, I go. I'll look in one place for another from top to bottom of the lazaretto, and if I don't find her, if you don't find her, said the friar, with an air of grave and serious expectation and an admonishing look. But Renzo, whose anger had for some time been swelling in his bosom, and now clouded his sight, and deprived him of all feelings of respect, repeated and continued, if I don't find her, I'll succeed in finding somebody else. Either in Milan, or in his detestable palace, or at the end of the world, or in the abode of the devil, I'll find that rascal who separated us, that villain but for whom Lucia would have been mine twenty months ago, and if we had been doomed to die, we would at least have died together. If that fellow still lives, I'll find him. Renzo, said the friar, grasping him by one arm and gazing on him still more severely. And if I find him, continued he perfectly blinded with rage, if the plague hasn't already wrought justice, this is no longer a time when a coward with his bravos at his heels can drive people to desperation and then mock at them. A time has come when men meet each other face to face. I'll get justice. Miserable wretch! cried Father Cristoforo in a voice which had assumed its former full and sonorous tone.   And while with one hand he grasped and strongly shook Renzo's arm, he waved the other before him, pointing as well as he could to the mournful scene around them.  Do you know what justice is? A way, unhappy man, a way with you! I hoped, yes, I did hope that before my death God would have given me the comfort of hearing that my poor Lucia was alive, perhaps of seeing her, and hearing her promise me that she would send one prayer toward the grave where I shall be laid. Go! you have robbed me of this hope.  He will have thought of her, for she was one of those souls for whom eternal consolations are reserved. Go! I have no longer time to listen to you. And so, saying, he threw from him Renzo's arm and moved toward a cabin of the sick. Ah, father! said Renzo, following him with a supplicating air, will you send me away in this manner? What? rejoined the Capuchin, relaxing nothing of his severity. Dare you require that I should steal the time from these poor afflicted ones who are waiting for me to speak to them of the pardon of God, to listen to your words of fury? Your propositions of revenge? I listened to you when you asked consolation and direction. I neglected one duty of charity for the sake of another. But now you have vengeance in your heart. What do you want with me? Be gone!  Offenders who have mourned that they could not humble themselves before the offended. I have wept with both one and the other. But what have I to do with you? Ah, I forgive him! I forgive him, indeed, and for ever!" exclaimed the youth. Renzo! said the friar. With more tranquil sternness. Be-think yourself, and just say how often you have forgiven him. And having waited a moment without receiving a reply, he suddenly bent his head, and with an appeased voice resumed. You know why I bear this habit? Renzo hesitated. You know it, resumed the old man. I do, answered Renzo. I too have hated, and therefore I have rebuked you for a thought, for a word, the man whom I hated, whom I cordially hated, whom I had long hated, that man I murdered. Yes, but a tyrant, one of those hush, interrupted the friar. Think you that if there were a good reason for it, I shouldn't have found it in thirty years. Ah, if I could now instill into your heart the sentiment I have ever since had, and still have, for the man I hated, if I could I? But God can, and may he do so. Listen, Renzo, he wishes you more good than you even wish yourself. You have dared to meditate revenge, but he has power and mercy enough to prevent you. He bestows upon you a favour of which another was too unworthy. You know, and you have often and often said it, that he can arrest the hand of the oppressor, but remember, he can also arrest that of the revengeful.  Did you think that he would suffer you to do all you wished? No. But do you know what he can do? You may hate and be lost forever. You may, by such a temper of mind as this, deprive yourself of every blessing. For however things may go with you, whatever condition you may be placed in, rest assured that all will be punishment until you have forgiven, forgiven in such a way that you may never again be able to say, I forgive him. Yes, yes, said Renzo, with deep shame and emotion, I see now that I have never before really forgiven him. I see that I have spoken like a beast and not like a Christian. And now, by the grace of God, I will forgive him. Yes, I'll forgive him from my very heart. And supposing you were to see him. I would pray the Lord to give me patience and to touch his heart. Would you remember that the Lord has not only commanded us to forgive our enemies, but also to love them? Would you remember that he so loved him as to lay down his life for him? Yes, by his help I would. Well, then, come and see him. You have said, I'll find him, and you shall find him. Come, and you shall see against whom you would nourish hatred, to whom you could wish evil, and be ready to do it, of what life you would render yourself master. And taking Renzo's hand, which he grasped as a healthy young man would have done, he moved forward. Renzo followed without daring to ask anything further. After a short walk the friar stopped near the entrance of a cabin, fixed his eyes on Renzo's face with a mixture of gravity and tenderness and drew him in. The first thing he observed on entering was a sick person, seated on some straw in the background who did not, however, seem very ill, but rather recovering from illness. On seeing the father he shook his head as if to say no. The father bent his with an air of sorrow and resignation.  He gazed at him, recognized Don Rodrigo and involuntarily shrank back, but the friar again, making him feel the hand by which he held him, drew him to the foot of the bed, and stretching over it, his other hand, pointed to the man who lay there prostrate.  It would have been called the face of a corpse had not convulsive twitchings revealed a tenacity of life, his bosom heaved from time to time with painfully short respiration, and his right hand laid outside the cloak, pressing it closely to his heart with a firm grasp of his clenched fingers which were of a livid color and black at the extremities. You see, said the friar, in a low and solemn voice, this may be a punishment or it may be mercy, the disposition you now have towards this man who certainly has offended you, that disposition will God whom assuredly you have offended have towards you at the great day. Bless him and be blessed. For four days has he lain there as you see him without giving any signs of consciousness. Perhaps the Lord is ready to grant him an hour of repentance, but waits for you to ask it. Perhaps it is his will that you should pray for it with that innocent creature. Perhaps he reserves the mercy for your solitary prayer, the prayer of an afflicted and resigned heart. Perhaps the salvation of this man and your own depend at this moment upon yourself, upon the disposition of your mind to forgiveness, to compassion, to love. He ceased and, joining his hands, bent his head over them both as if in prayer. Renzo did the same. They had been for a few moments in this position when they heard the third tolling of the bell. Both moved together as if by agreement and went out. The one made no inquiries, the other no protestations, their countenances spoke.  We will praise him together. Here, without further words they parted. The one returned to the place he had left, the other set off to the little temple, which was scarcely more than a stone's throw distant. End of chapter 35 part 2


Thanks for checking out this unboxing video. You'll probably notice, I'm sorry, right off the bat that some things are different. One, my visuals look better. The quality is better. I've got a new laptop, so we're going to try that out. Problem is the external speaker or microphone I was using is USB and this is not USB, so I'm not able to hook that up. So the sound is going to be more echo-y, at least for this video. For now, I'm sure there are adapters out there and I'll work something out to make it better. But if people could give me a little bit of feedback on this, whether the visuals are that much better, which I think they should be, they look a lot better than the last laptop. So if the visuals are that much better and the audio quality, if this is terrible because it's so echo-y, or if it's okay for now, but I am going to try and remedy that. But anyway, the box that we're going to unbox is my second box of dread. If you remember last month, I got the January one. And I think that what was in there was the month of Shutter, the I Bleed Indie codes to see some independent horror films on IbleedIndie.com, the Mopies that I got, which is a little plush of Michael Myers, Delirium Magazine, and the DVD of Ginger Dead Man. So for this month, one of the things that was kind of spoiled through the Facebook page for box of dread was that there will be another DVD. Totally fine with that, like DVDs, especially if it's horror, I'm down with it. So they said this one would be from Epic Pictures. So I looked up Epic Pictures just to be like, well, what could I end up getting? Because I'm sure it's just going to be random for people. And Epic Pictures does two films. They do two films I'm familiar with. They do one of the VHS films. I think it's the VHS viral. And they also do one that I really like because it's a good horror comedy. Big Ass Spider is what it's called. If you have not seen Big Ass Spider, you should definitely see it. And I'm really, really, really hoping that Big Ass Spider is the DVD that I got because I'd like to own that. And I don't at the moment, so we can hope chances are I won't be getting that one because there are a lot more DVDs available. So then just that one. So we'll see the VHS one. I'd be cool with two, I believe, because I don't, you know, haven't haven't seen all the VHS's. And I think the one that they have is not one that's that I've seen. OK, so just some tissue paper on top of the first item. I think I did see that there's like a door or something in there. So first item, though, I don't really like these things. My Moji. I don't know if people have seen these.  And for this one, it's a Ghostbusters. My Moji. I don't think these things are that cool. I don't have any of them. I've seen unboxings for them. But I mean, I'll give it a shot right here. Let me just open mine. My Moji. So I guess I hope I get stay puffed because he looks the most interesting. So I did not. I got. Random Ghostbuster. Doesn't say who it is.  I mean, it looks fine. It's just not totally great. I guess this is supposed to be. I don't even know who it's supposed to be. It's supposed to be Spangler. I don't even know. Herobrine is this character, maybe. I mean, they're OK. Like the detail on them is not that great. They're pretty basic because they're supposed to be kind of like emojis. Like I get the shtick with these things, but they're just not for me. I don't like them all that much. But they do sit. So that's fine. And of the ones like this has an actual like detail piece of like the the ghost binoculars. This is like ghost night vision type stuff. So that's fine because it's a little more detailed. But I'm not just not a huge fan of that kind of stuff. I'm fine that they put it in here because who knows, there may be people who really like it. But just for me, personally, I'm just not a huge fan of that one. There's one thing in the way, so I got to get it out. Oh, OK, so this must be like a Ghostbusters type theme overall. So we got another Ghostbuster thing in the door. I don't have any doors. I think they're kind of a little simplistic, much like the my moji thing. So I'm more apt to like the Funko pops themselves as opposed to the doors. But this door actually looks more interesting than the typical doors I see, probably because it is Ghostbusters. So this one is oh, and it's a limited chase one. Oh, very cool. It's a limited chase. Did everybody get a limited chase one? Because that'd be really cool. It's Peter Venkman and, yeah, I guess it's probably the limited chase one. If you can see it, it's probably the limited chase because he's got all the green ooze, the slime on him. And then in the back, you can see, I don't know how well you can see, like there's slime on them on there. And he's got, you know, there's pretty good detail in the pack. So, yeah, these types of things, I'm not going to take out just in case. But yeah, that's cool. And it's a chase. That's really cool. I just wonder, like I said, I wonder if like everyone got the chase. That's cool. That's really cool, actually. Like I said, I'm not I'm not down with, you know, the doors typically. But that's actually a pretty cool, like well done door. Next thing. Oh, nice. I've I've seen these before and I don't have any, but these are the Oh, it's a pen. I was thinking maybe it was a pencil. So these are the pop pens and they have horror figures on some of them. And this one is this Nightmare on Elm Street, Freddie Krueger. So that's really cool. Look at that. For being that small, that's pretty good detail. Yeah, that's cool. And then it says. It says right there, Nightmare on Elm Street, if you can see. Barely. The lighting's not that good to see something that small. OK, that's far pretty good. And then I'm assuming what's left is just the. No, yes, it's just the DVD, I think. Yeah, just the DVD. So put that. Oh, OK, huh. OK, so this is a epic. Is this by epic pictures? Yes, it is by epic pictures. I didn't think I saw this one on the site. But it's called it's bear. And literally it's a bear that like, I guess, destroys people's cars. That's what it looks like. But it's signed, which is super cool for them to get like an actual signed DVD. That's really awesome. That's like a cool, special, awesome thing. I just wonder who signed it.  I wish they could. I knew I knew that's just an extra expense, though. So, you know, um, but it says it's all real bear action. Two young couples are driving through a remote forest when their car breaks down. When a run in with a curious grizzly bear ends up with the bear being shot to death, the bears mate arrives on the scene and vengefully attacks their van. The couples are trapped inside the disabled car and must come up with clever ways to survive as they battle the surprisingly intelligent creature and contemplate their uncertain fate. Secrets begin to emerge that threaten to tear the group apart before the bear does. This could happen in real life. A bear could attack you, you know, actually, now that I think about it, they had sent an email and in their shipping email, they had a big thing. It was like spoilers, spoilers, spoilers. So I didn't read any further. So I'm guessing they probably have a breakdown of all this stuff. So they might have the information on who signed this. So I'm just going to pull that up right now. Oh, it has a breakdown on the website. So there's a link in this email that goes to the site. And then it says that it can't connect to it. It says error establishing a database connection. So there's actually a problem with the site. So I can't even access it. So I guess people just have to try and find out who signed it or I can put something in the comments, just letting people know if they want to know. But at any rate, yeah, a signed DVD. Cool. I'll check this out. I like that it's signed. It's an added nice little extra. Very nice. The pop Freddie Kruger pen. I like that. The MyMoji, I could see where some people like it. So that's fine with me of the ones available. I think this was probably one of the better ones. So that's cool. And the door, the door is really cool, actually, looks really good. It's cute. It's got slime on it and it's Ghostbusters, which is always cool. And it's a limited chase. So I mean, I feel like for what you're paying for this, this is a this is a decent value. It's like 20 bucks. That's including shipping and everything. It's like twenty dollars. It's like 14 bucks and then like six for shipping. So for 20 bucks, like that's fine. I mean, I'm totally, totally good with it. So anyway, happy once again with the box of dread. And I also like that it's, you know, a smaller operation than a lot of these other boxes, like your nerve blocks and your loot crates and stuff like that. So box of dread. You do a good job again. Thank you so much. This February one was nice. Can't wait to find out what's in next month. Because based off this in the last one, it will be cool, it will be fun. So anyway, everyone, thank you for checking this out. Please don't forget to give me sort of criticism, criticisms of, you know, the video in general from the standpoint. Well, I mean, whatever you want, but mainly I'm looking for the standpoint of is the audio really bad because it's so echoey and is the quality significantly better than the last version. Also, there will be more videos coming out that I've already recorded on the last laptop, so the quality is going to revert back for some of the videos I'm putting out, and that's like Mystery Mini unboxings. And if you watch my beer videos, it's like one beer video. So anyway, everybody, thank you for checking out this unboxing. And until next time, keep it brutal. Oh, if I can turn it off.