I promessi sposi. English

by Alessandro Manzoni

  CHAPTER X.

  There are moments in which the mind, particularly of the young, is sodisposed, that a little importunity suffices to obtain from it any thingthat has the appearance of virtuous sacrifice; as a flower scarcelybudded abandons itself on its fragile stem, ready to yield its sweets tothe first breeze which plays around it. These moments, which ought to beregarded by others with timid respect, are exactly those of whichinterested cunning makes use, to insnare the unguarded will.

  On the perusal of this letter, the prince saw the way opened to thefurtherance of his views. He sent for Gertrude; she obeyed the command,and, in his presence, threw herself at his feet, and had scarcely powerto exclaim, "Pardon!" He made a sign to her to rise, and in a gravevoice answered, that it was not enough merely to confess her fault, andask forgiveness, but that it was necessary to merit it. Gertrude askedsubmissively, "what he would have her do?" To this the prince did notreply directly, but spoke at length of the fault of Gertrude: the poorgirl shuddered as at the touch of a hand on a severe wound. Hecontinued, that even if he had entertained the project of settling herin the world, she had herself placed an insuperable obstacle to it;since he could never, as a gentleman of honour, permit her to marry,after having given such a specimen of herself. The miserable listenerwas completely humbled!

  The prince, then, by degrees softened his voice and manner to say, thatfor all faults there was a remedy, and that the remedy for hers wasclearly indicated; that she might perceive, in this fatal accident, awarning that the world was too full of dangers for her----

  "Oh, yes!" exclaimed Gertrude, overwhelmed with shame and remorse.

  "Ah, you perceive it yourself!" resumed the prince. "Well, we willspeak no more of the past; all is forgotten. You have taken the onlyhonourable way that remains for you; and because you _have_ taken itvoluntarily, it rests with me to make it turn to your advantage, and tomake the merit of the sacrifice all your own." So saying, he rang thebell, and said to the servant who appeared, "The princess and the princeimmediately." He continued to Gertrude, "I wish to make them the sharersof my joy; I wish that they should begin at once to treat you as youdeserve. You have hitherto found me a severe judge; you shall now provethat I am a loving father."

  At these words Gertrude remained stupified; she thought of the "yes" shehad so precipitately suffered to escape from her lips, and would haverecalled it; but she did not dare; the satisfaction of the princeappeared so entire, his condescension so conditional, that she could notpresume to utter a word to disturb it.

  The princess and prince came into the room. On seeing Gertrude there,they appeared full of doubt and surprise; but the prince, with a joyfulcountenance, said to them, "Behold here the lost sheep! and let these bethe last words that shall recall painful recollections. Behold theconsolation of the family! Gertrude has no longer need of advice; shehas voluntarily chosen her own good. She has resolved, she has signifiedto me that she has resolved----" She raised to him a look ofsupplication, but he continued more plainly, "that she has resolved totake the veil."

  "Well done, well done," exclaimed they both, overwhelming her withembraces, which Gertrude received with tears, which they chose tointerpret as tears of joy. Then the prince enlarged on the splendiddestiny of his daughter, on the distinction she would enjoy in themonastery and in the country, as the representative of the family. Hermother and her brother renewed their congratulations and praises.Gertrude stood as if possessed by a dream.

  It was then necessary to fix the day for the journey to Monza, for thepurpose of making the request of the abbess. "How rejoiced she will be!"said the prince; "I am sure all the nuns will appreciate the honourGertrude does them. But why not go there to-day? Gertrude willwillingly take the air."

  "Let us go, then," said the princess.

  "I will order the carriage," said the young prince.

  "But----" said Gertrude submissively.

  "Softly, softly," said the prince, "let her decide; perhaps she does notfeel disposed to go to-day, and would rather wait until to-morrow. Say,do you wish to go to-day or to-morrow?"

  "To-morrow," said Gertrude, in a feeble voice, glad of a short reprieve.

  "To-morrow," said the prince, solemnly; "she has decided to goto-morrow. Meanwhile I will see the vicar of the nuns, to have him toappoint a day for the examination." He did so, and the vicar named theday after the next. In the interval Gertrude was not left a moment toherself. She would have desired some repose for her mind after so manycontending emotions; to have reflected on the step she had alreadytaken, and what remained to be done--but the machine once in motion ather direction, it was no longer in her power to arrest its progress;occupations succeeded each other without interruption. The princessherself assisted at her toilette, which was completed by her own maid.This effected, dinner was announced, and poor Gertrude was made to passthrough the crowd of servants, who nodded their congratulations to eachother. She found at the table a few relations of the family, who hadbeen invited in haste to participate in the general joy. The youngbride--thus they called young persons about to enter the monasticlife--the young bride had enough to do to reply to the compliments whichwere paid to her; she felt that each reply was a confirmation of herdestiny; but how act differently? After dinner came the hour of riding,and Gertrude was placed in a carriage with her mother and two uncles,who had been among the guests. They entered the street Marina, whichthen crossed the space now occupied by the public gardens, and was thepublic promenade, where the nobility refreshed themselves after thefatigues of the day. The uncles conversed much with Gertrude, and one ofthem in particular, who appeared to know every body, every carriage,and every livery, had something to tell of signor such an one, andsignora such an one; but checking himself, he said to his niece, "Ah!you little rogue! you turn your back upon all these follies; you are therighteous person; you leave us worldlings far behind; you are going tolead a happy life, and take yourself to paradise in a coach."

  They returned home in the dusk of the evening, and the servants,appearing with torches, announced to them that numerous visiters hadarrived. The report had spread, and a multitude of relations and friendshad come to offer their congratulations. The young bride was the idol,the amusement, the victim of the evening. Finally, Gertrude was leftalone with the family. "At last," said the prince, "I have had theconsolation of seeing my daughter in society becoming her rank andstation. She has conducted herself admirably, and has evinced that therewill be no preventive to her obtaining the highest honours, andsupporting the dignity of the family." They supped hastily, so as to beready early in the morning.

  At the request of Gertrude, her attendant, of whose insolence shebitterly complained to her father, was removed, and another placed inher stead. This was an old woman, who had been nurse to the youngprince, in whom was centred all her hopes and her pride. She wasoverjoyed at the decision of Gertrude, who, as a climax to her trials,was obliged to listen to her congratulations and praises. She talked ofher numerous aunts and relatives, who were so happy as nuns; of the manyvisits she would doubtless receive. She further spoke of the youngprince, and the lady who was to be his wife, and the visit which theywould doubtless pay to Gertrude at the monastery, until, wearied outwith the conflicts of the day, the poor girl fell asleep. She wasaroused in the morning by the harsh voice of the old woman, "Up, up,signora, young bride! it is day; the princess is up, and waiting foryou. The young prince is impatient. He is as brisk as a hare, the youngdevil; he was so from an infant. But when he is ready, you must not makehim wait; he is the best temper in the world, but that always makes himimpatient and noisy. Poor fellow, we must pity him, it is the effect oftemperament; in such moments he has respect to no one but the head ofthe household; however, one day he will be the head; may that day be faroff! Quick, quick, signorina! You should have been out of your nestbefore this."

  The idea of the young prince, risen and impatient, recalled thescattered thoughts of Gertrude, and hastily she suffered herself to bedressed, and descended to the
saloon, where her parents and brother wereassembled. A cup of chocolate was brought her, and the carriage wasannounced. Before their departure, the prince took his daughter aside,and said to her, "Courage, Gertrude; yesterday you did well, to-day youmust excel yourself; the point is now to make a suitable appearance inthe country and in the monastery, where you are destined to hold thefirst station. They expect you, and all eyes will be on you. Dignity andease. The abbess will ask you what is your request; it is a mere form,but you must reply that you wish to be admitted to take the veil in thismonastery, where you have been educated, and treated so kindly; which isthe truth. Speak these words with a free unembarrassed air, so as not togive occasion for scandal. These good mothers know nothing of theunhappy occurrence; that must remain buried with the family. However, ananxious countenance might excite suspicion; show whose is the blood inyour veins; be polite and modest; but remember also, that in thiscountry, out of the family, there is none your superior."

  During their ride, the troubles and the trials of the world, and theblessed life of the cloister, were the principal subjects ofconversation. As they approached the monastery, the crowd collected fromall parts; as the carriage stopped before the walls, the heart ofGertrude beat more rapidly: they alighted amidst the concourse; all eyeswere fastened on her, and compelled her to study the movements of hercountenance; and, above all, those of her father, upon whom she couldnot help fixing her regards, notwithstanding the fear he inspired. Theycrossed the first court, entered the second, and here appeared theinterior cloister, wide open, and occupied by nuns. In front was theabbess, surrounded by the most aged of the sisterhood; behind these theothers, raised promiscuously on tiptoe, and farther back the laysisters, standing on benches and overlooking the scene; whilst here andthere were seen, peeping between the cowls, some youthful faces, whichGertrude recognised as those of her school companions. As she stoodfronting the abbess, the latter demanded, with grave solemnity, "Whatshe desired to have in this place, where nothing could be denied her?"

  "I am here," began Gertrude; but, about to utter the words which were todecide her destiny irrevocably, she felt her heart fail, and hesitating,she fixed her eyes on the crowd before her. She beheld there thewell-known face of one of her companions, who regarded her with looks ofcompassion and malice, as if to say, "They have caught the brave one."This sight required all her courage, and she was about to give a replyvery different from that which was expected from her, when, glancing ather father, she caught from his eye such an anxious and threateningexpression, that, overcome by terror, she proceeded, "I am here to askadmittance into this monastery, where I have been instructed so kindly."The abbess immediately expressed her regret, that the regulations weresuch as to prohibit an immediate answer, which must be given by thecommon suffrage of the sisterhood; but that Gertrude knew well thesentiments they entertained towards her; and might judge what thatanswer would be. In the mean time nothing prevented them frommanifesting their joy at her request. There was then heard a confusedmurmur of congratulations and rejoicing.

  Whilst the nuns were surrounding their new companion, and offering theircongratulations to all the party, the abbess expressed her wish toaddress a few words to the prince at the parlour grating.

  "Signor," said she, "in obedience to our rules--to fulfil a necessaryform--I must inform you--that whenever a young person desires toassume--the superior, which I am, though unworthily, is obliged to makeknown to the parents that if--they have forced the will of theirdaughter, they will incur the pains of excommunication. You willexcuse----"

  "Oh! yes, yes, reverend mother. Your exactitude is very praiseworthy,very just. But you cannot doubt----"

  "Oh! imagine, prince, if--but I merely speak by order; besides----"

  "True--true, reverend mother."

  After these few words, and a renewal of compliments and thanks, theydeparted.

  Gertrude was silent during their ride; overcome and occupied byconflicting thoughts, ashamed of her own want of resolution, vexed withothers as well as herself, she was still meditating some way of escape,but every time she looked at her father, she felt her destiny to beirrevocable. After the various engagements of the day were over,--thedinner, the visits, the drive, the _conversazione_, the supper,--theprince brought another subject under discussion, which was the choice ofa godmother (so they called the lady who is selected as chaperone to theyoung candidate in the interval between the request for admission, andthe putting on of the habit); the duty of this person was to visit, withher charge, the churches, public palaces, the _conversazioni_, in short,every thing of note in the city and its environs; so as to afford a peepat that world they were about to quit for ever. "We must think of agodmother," said the prince, "because to-morrow the vicar of the nunswill be here for the examination, and soon after that, Gertrude will befinally accepted. Now the choice shall come from Gertrude herself,although contrary to usage; but she deserves to be made an exception,and we may confidently trust to her judgment in the selection." Andthen, turning to her, as if bestowing a singular favour, he continued,"Any one of the ladies who were at the _conversazione_ this evening,possesses the necessary qualifications for a godmother; any one of themwill consider it an honour; make your selection." Gertrude instantlyfelt that the choice would be a renewal of consent; but the proposal wasmade with such an air of condescension, that a refusal would haveappeared to spring from contempt or ingratitude. Thus she took anotherstep, and named a lady who had been forward in attentions to her duringthe whole evening. "A perfectly wise choice," said the prince, who hadexpected no less. The affair had all been previously arranged; this ladyhad been so much with Gertrude at the _conversazione_, and had displayedsuch kindness of manner, that it would have been an effort for her tothink of another. The attentions, however, of this lady were not withouttheir object: she had also for a long time contemplated making the youngprince her son; she, therefore, naturally interested herself in all thatconcerned the family, and felt the deepest interest in her dearGertrude.

  On the morrow, the imagination of Gertrude was occupied with theexpected examination, and with a vague hope of some opportunity toretract. At an early hour she was sent for by the prince, who addressedher in these words:--"Courage, my daughter; you have as yet conductedyourself admirably; to-day you must crown the work. All that has beendone, has been done with your consent. If, in the meanwhile, you had anydoubts, any misgivings, you should have expressed them; but at the pointto which things have now arrived, it will no longer do to play thechild. The worthy man who is to come this morning, will put a hundredquestions to you, concerning your vocation; such as, whether you govoluntarily, and the why and the wherefore. If you falter in yourreplies, he will continue to urge you; this will produce pain toyourself, but might become the source of a more serious evil. After allthe public demonstrations that we have made, the slightest hesitation onyour part might place my honour in danger, by conveying the idea that Ihad taken a mere youthful whim for a confirmed resolution, and that Ihad thus acted precipitately; in this case, I should feel myself underthe necessity, in order to preserve my character inviolate, to revealthe true motive----" But, seeing the countenance of Gertrude all onflame, and contracting itself like the leaves of a flower in the heatwhich precedes a tempest, he stopped a moment, and then resumed, "Well,well, all depends on yourself. I know you will not show yourself achild; but recollect, you must reply with freedom, so as not to createsuspicion in the mind of this worthy man." He then suggested theanswers to be made to the probable questions that would be put, andconcluded with various remarks upon the happiness that awaited Gertrudeat the convent. At this moment the servant announced the arrival of thevicar, and the prince was obliged to leave his daughter alone to receivehim.

  The good man had come with a preconceived opinion that Gertrude wentvoluntarily to the cloister, because the prince had told him so. It wasone of his maxims, however, to preserve himself unprejudiced, and todepend only on the assertions of the candidates themselves. "Signorina,"said
he, "I come to play the part of the tempter; I come to suggestdoubts where you have affirmed certainties; I come to place before youreyes difficulties, and ascertain if you have well considered them. Youwill allow me to trouble you with some interrogatories?"

  "Say on," replied Gertrude.

  The good priest then began to interrogate her in the form prescribed."Do you feel in your heart a free spontaneous resolution to become anun? Have menaces, or allurements, or authority been made use of? Speakwithout reserve to one whose duty it is to ascertain the true state ofyour feelings, and to prevent violence being done to them."

  The true reply to such a question presented itself suddenly to the mindof Gertrude, with terrible reality. But to come to an explanation, tosay she was threatened, to relate the unfortunate story--from this herspirit shrank, and she brought herself to the resolution of saying, "Ibecome a nun, freely, from inclination."

  "How long have you had this intention?" asked the good priest.

  "I have always had it," said Gertrude, finding it easier after the firststep to proceed in falsehood.

  "But what is the principal motive which has induced you?"

  The interrogator was not aware of the chord he touched; and Gertrude,making a great effort to preserve the tranquillity of her countenance,amid the tumult of her soul, replied. "The motive is, to serve God, andto fly the perils of the world."

  "Has there never been any disgust? any--excuse me--caprice? Oftentrifling causes make impressions which we deem will be perpetual, butthe causes cease----"

  "No, no," replied Gertrude, hastily; "the cause is that which I havesaid."

  The vicar, in order to execute his duty fully, persisted in hisenquiries, but Gertrude was determined to deceive him. She could not fora moment think of rendering the good man acquainted with her weakness;she knew, indeed, that he could prevent her being a nun, but that thiswould be the extent of his authority and his protection. When he shouldbe gone, she would still be left alone, to endure fresh trials from herfather and the family. Finding, therefore, a uniform answer to all hisquestions, he became somewhat wearied of putting them, and, concludingthat all was as it should be, with many prayers for her welfare, he tookhis leave. As he crossed the hall he met the prince, and congratulatedhim on the good dispositions of his daughter. This put an end to a verypainful state of suspense and anxiety on the part of the prince; who,forgetting his usual gravity, ran to his daughter, and loaded her withpraises, caresses, and promises, and with a tenderness of affection ingreat measure sincere: such is the inconsistency of the human heart.

  Then ensued a round of spectacles and diversions, during which we cannotattempt to describe minutely or in order the emotions to which the heartof Gertrude was subjected. The perpetual change of objects, the freedomenjoyed by this change, rendered more odious to her the idea of herprison; still more pungent were the impressions she received in thefestivals and assemblies of the city. The pomp of the palaces, thesplendour of their furniture, the buzzing and festal clamour of the_conversazione_, communicated to her such an intoxication, such an eagerdesire for happiness, that she thought she could encounter all theconsequences of a recantation, or even suffer death, rather than returnto the cold shades of the cloister. But all such resolutions instantlyfled as her eyes rested on the austere countenance of the prince.

  Meanwhile, the vicar of the nuns had made the necessary deposition, andliberty was given to hold a chapter for the acceptation of Gertrude. Thechapter was held, and she was received! Wearied out with her longconflicts, she requested immediate admittance, which was readilygranted. After a noviciate of twelve days, full of resolves andcounter-resolves, the moment arrived when she finally pronounced thefatal "yes," which was to exclude her from the world for ever. But evenin the depths of the monastery she found no repose; she had not thewisdom to make a virtue of necessity, but was continually and uselesslyrecurring to the past. She could not call religion to her aid, forreligion had no share in the sacrifice she had made; and heavily andbitterly she bore the yoke of bondage. She hated the nuns, because sheremembered their artifices, and regarded them in some measure as theauthors of her misfortune; she tyrannised over them with impunity,because they dared not rebel against her authority, and incur theresentment of the powerful lord, her father. Those nuns who were reallypious and harmless, she hated for their piety itself, as it seemed tocast a tacit reproach on her weakness; and she suffered no occasion toescape without railing at them as bigots and hypocrites. It might,however, have mitigated her asperity towards them, had she known thatthe black balls to oppose her entrance had been cast into the urn bytheir sympathetic generosity. She found, however, one consolation, inthe unlimited power she possessed, in being courted and flattered, andin hearing herself called the "signora." But what a consolation! Hersoul felt its insufficiency, but had not the courage nor the virtue toseek happiness from the only source where it could be found. Thus shelived many years, tyrannising over and feared by all around her, till anoccasion presented itself for a further developement of her habitual,but secret feelings. Among other privileges which had been accorded toher in the monastery, was that of having her apartments on a side of thebuilding little frequented by the other nuns. Opposite to this quarterof the convent was a house, inhabited by a young man, a villain byprofession, one of those who, at this period, by their mutualcombinations were enabled to set at nought the public laws. His name wasEgidio. From his small window, which overlooked the court-yard, he hadoften seen Gertrude wandering there from listlessness and melancholy.Allured rather than intimidated by the danger and iniquity of the act,he dared one day to speak to her. The wretched girl replied!

  Then was experienced a new but not unmixed satisfaction; into thepainful void of her soul was infused a powerful stimulus, a freshprinciple of vitality: but this enjoyment resembled the restoringbeverage which the ingenious cruelty of the ancients presented to thecriminal, in order to strengthen him to sustain his martyrdom. A changecame also over her whole deportment; she was regular, tranquil,endearing, and affable; in such a degree, that the sisters congratulatedthemselves upon the circumstance, little imagining the true motive, andthat the alteration was none other than hypocrisy added to her otherdefects. This outward improvement, however, did not last long; she soonreturned to her customary caprices, and, moreover, was heard to utterbitter imprecations against the cloistral prison, in unusual andunbecoming language. The sisters bore these vicissitudes as well as theycould, and attributed them to the light and capricious nature of thesignora. For some time it did not appear that the suspicions of any oneof them were excited; but one day the signora had been speaking with oneof the sisters, her attendant, and reviling her beyond measure for sometrifling matter: the sister suffered a while, and gnawed the bit insilence; but finally, becoming impatient, declared that she was mistressof a secret, and could advise the signora in her turn. From this timeforward her peace was lost. Not many days after, however, this verysister was missing from her accustomed offices; they sought her in hercell, and did not find her; they called, and she answered not; theysearched diligently in every place, but without success. And who knowswhat conjectures might have arisen, if there had not been found a greatopening in the wall of the orchard, through which she had probably madeher escape. They sent messengers in various directions to pursue, andrestore her, but they never heard of her more! Perhaps they would nothave been so unfortunate in their search, if they had dug near thegarden wall! Finally, the nuns concluded that she must have gone to agreat distance, and because one of them happened to say, she has takenrefuge in Holland, "O yes," said they, "she has, without doubt, takenrefuge in Holland." The signora did not believe this, but she hadcertain reasons for encouraging the opinion, and this she did not failto do. Thus the minds of the nuns became satisfied; but who can tell thetorments of the signora's soul? Who can tell how many times a day theimage of this sister came unbidden into her mind, and fastened itselfthere with terrible tenacity? Who can tell how many times she desired tobehold the real an
d living person, for the company of this empty,impassible, terrible shade? Who can tell with what delight she wouldhave heard the very words of the threat repeated in her mental ear,rather than this continual and fantastic murmur of those very words,sounding with a pertinacity of which no living voice could have beencapable.

  It was about a year after this event, that we find Lucy at themonastery, and under the protection of the signora. The reader mayremember, that after Agnes and the portress had left the room, thesignora and Lucy had entered into conversation alone; the formercontinued her questions concerning Don Roderick, with a fearlessnesswhich filled the mind of Lucy with astonishment, little supposing thatthe curiosity of the nuns ever exercised itself upon such subjects. Theopinions which were blended with these enquiries, were not less strange;she laughed at the dread which Lucy expressed herself to have of DonRoderick, asking her if he was not handsome; and surmising that Lucywould have liked him very well, if it had not been for her preference ofRenzo. When again with her mother, the poor girl expressed herastonishment at such observations from such a source, but Agnes, as moreexperienced, solved the mystery. "Do not be surprised," said she; "whenyou have known the world as I have, you will cease to wonder at anything. The nobility, some more, some less, some one way, some another,have all a little oddity. We must let them talk, especially when we haveneed of them; we must appear to listen to them seriously, as if theywere talking very wisely. Did you not hear how she interrupted me, as ifI had uttered some absurdity? I did not wonder at it; they are all so.Notwithstanding that, Heaven be thanked, she seems to have taken aliking to you, and is willing to protect us; and if we would retain herfavour, we must let her say that which it shall please her to say."

  A desire to oblige the superior, the complacency experienced inprotecting, the thought of the good opinions which would be the resultof a protection thus piously extended, a certain inclination towardsLucy, and also a degree of self-satisfaction in doing good to aninnocent creature, in succouring and consoling the oppressed, had reallydisposed the signora to take to heart the fate of our poor fugitives.The mother and daughter congratulated themselves on their safe andhonourable asylum. They would have wished to remain unknown to all; butthis, in a convent, was impossible; and one there was, besides, too farinterested in obtaining an account of one of the two, stimulated as hispassion had been by the opposition he had encountered. We will leavethem for the present in their safe retreat, and return to the palace ofDon Roderick, at the hour in which he was anxiously expecting the resultof his wicked and villanous enterprise.