马车已经深入人群之中，但在这里被一个障碍挡住了——这种旅程不可避免的后果之一。年迈的费雷尔一会儿在马车这个窗口，一会儿在那个窗口，露出一副充满谦卑、温和和仁慈的表情；这副表情他一直留着准备在觐见腓力四世国王时使用，但他不得不在这个时候用上了。他说话；但那么多声音的嘈杂和嗡嗡声，以及人们送给他的欢呼声，使他讲的话几乎听不清楚。他也求助于手势；一会儿把手指放在嘴唇上，然后从那里取一个吻，合拢的双手向左右分发，仿佛在感谢公众对他的青睐；一会儿他伸出双手，在窗外缓缓挥动，仿佛在恳求让出一点空间；然后又礼貌地放下，仿佛在请求安静一点。当他多少成功地得到了他所请求的安静时，离他最近的人听到了并重复着他的话：“面包，充足的面包。我来主持公道；请让点地方。”然后，仿佛被人群和那么多声音持续不断的嗡嗡声压得喘不过气来，他靠回马车里，费力地长出一口气，自言自语道：“_Por mi vida, que de gente_。”[5]
[5] 我的天，好多人啊。
“费雷尔万岁；不用害怕；您是个勇敢的人。面包！面包！”
“是的，面包，面包，”费雷尔回答，“充足的面包！_我_向你们保证，我保证，”他把手放在心口上说。“给我让条路，”然后他用尽可能大的声音补充道，“我来把他抓进监狱，给他应得的惩罚；”他又用极低的声音加了一句，“_Si esta culpable_。”[6]然后探身对车夫匆匆说：“_Adelante, Pedro, si puedes_。”[7]
与此同时，最积极、最热心的人在忙着准备那条被如此客气地请求的通道。一些人用好话让人群从马前退开，把手放在胸前，轻轻推着他们：“来，来，让一点地方，先生们。”另一些人在马车两侧采取同样的办法，好让马车通过时不伤着周围的人；否则安东尼奥·费雷尔的声望可就危险了。伦佐在花了一会儿工夫欣赏那位可敬的老人之后——他有些心烦意乱，疲惫不堪，但神情关切，可以说因有望从死亡手中夺回一个同胞而容光焕发——伦佐，我说，把一切退却的念头都抛开了。他决心尽自己所能帮助费雷尔，在他完成计划之前不离开他。他和其他人一起开路，他当然不是最不积极、最不卖力的一个。一条通道被打通了。“来，来，”一群人一边在人群前方后退以保持通道畅通，一边对车夫说。“_Adelante, presto, con juicio_，”[8]他的主人也对他说，于是马车向前移动了。在向公众不分彼此地频频致敬的同时，费雷尔带着会意的微笑，特别感谢那些他看见在为他忙碌的人；这些微笑不止一次投向伦佐，伦佐也确实受之无愧——他这一天为高等法官效力，比最勇敢的秘书还要热忱。这位山里青年被他的屈尊俯就所感动，为自己认为已经与安东尼奥·费雷尔结下了友谊而感到骄傲。
[8] 走吧，快走，稳着点。
马车一旦动起来，便以或快或慢的速度继续前行，并且不时完全停下来。要走的距离很短，但就所花的时间而言，即使是对于一个不受费雷尔那种神圣动机驱使的人来说，这段路也似乎是无穷无尽的。人们围在马车周围，左左右右，就像暴风雨中海豚围着船只一样。喧嚣声比暴风雨本身更刺耳、更嘈杂。费雷尔一路上不停地对民众说话。“是的，先生们，面包充足。我把他带去监狱；他会受到惩罚——_si esta culpable_。[9]是的，是的，我会这样安排；面包会便宜的。_Asi es._我是说，会这样的。国王陛下不希望他忠实的臣民挨饿。_Oh, oh! guardaos._[10]小心，别让我们伤到你们，先生们，_Pedro, adelante, con juicio_。[11]充足！充足！让一点地方，看在天堂的份上！面包，面包！进监狱！进监狱！你想要什么？”他问一个把半个身子探进车窗冲他喊叫的人——那人可能是在提建议、请求或喝彩，管他是什么呢；但他还没听到问话，就被另一个人拽了回去，那人看见他有被车轮碾压的危险。在所有这些喧嚣声中，费雷尔终于到达了那座房子前，多亏了他那些好心的助手们。
费雷尔一坐下，就低声吩咐副总督藏在车厢底部，千万不要让人看见，看在天堂的份上；不过这个建议其实没有必要。相反，高等法官的策略是尽可能多地吸引民众的注意力，在整个回程中，和来时一样，他向那些善变的听众发表了一通声音很大、内容很少的演说；他不断打断自己，凑到那个看不见的同伴耳边匆匆说几句西班牙话。“是的，先生们，面包和正义。去城堡，去监狱，由我负责。谢谢，谢谢，万分感谢！不，不，他逃不掉的！_Por ablanderlos_。[14]这太公正了，我们会审查，我们会看看。我祝愿你们好。严厉的惩罚。_Esto lo digo por su bien_。[15]公正适中的价格，惩罚那些反对的人。请让开一点，我求你们了。是的，是的；我是人民的朋友。他会受到惩罚；这是真的；他是个恶棍，一个流氓。_Perdone usted_。[16]他会受到惩罚，他会受到惩罚——_si esta culpable_。[17]是的，是的；我们会让面包师们做该做的事。国王万岁！善良的米兰人万岁，他忠实的臣民！_Animo estamos ya quasi afuera_。”[18]
[14] 这是为了安抚他们。
[15] 我这是为你说的好话。
[16] 请您原谅。
[17] 如果他有罪的话。
[18] 鼓起勇气，我们差不多已经脱离危险了。
事实上，他们已经穿过了人群最密集的地方，正迅速向安全地带驶去；这时费雷尔让他的肺稍微休息了一下，向前望去，看见皮萨的援军——那些西班牙士兵，他们终于派上了用场，劝说一部分人回家，并为最后的逃离保持通道畅通。马车到达时，他们让开路，向高等法官行举枪礼。费雷尔向左右点头致意；对那位上前敬礼的军官，他挥了挥手，说：“_Beso à usted las manos_，”[19]军官把这理解为：你们帮了我大忙！
“_Levantese, levantese, estamos afueras_，”[20]费雷尔对副总督说。副总督被喧嚣的平息、马车疾驰的速度和这些鼓励的话所安抚，从角落里直起身来，向他的救命恩人千恩万谢。费雷尔先是对他所遭遇的危险表示慰问，为他的脱险而庆幸，然后喊道：“啊！_que dira de esto su excelencia_，[21]大人他对这个该死的卡萨莱已经很不耐烦了，因为它不肯投降！_que dira el conde duque?_[22]一片叶子响动稍大他都要发抖！_Que dira el rey nuestro señor?_[23]这么大的骚乱他必然会知道！这事就完了吗？_Dios lo sabe_。”[24]——“啊，至于我，我可再也不想和他们打交道了，”副总督说。“我洗手不干了。我把职位交还到大人您手中，我要去山上的一个洞穴里住下，做个隐士，远离，远远地离开这些野蛮的人。”
[20] 起来，起来，我们已经脱离危险了。
[21] 大人阁下会怎么说？
[22] 伯爵公爵会怎么说？
[23] 国王陛下会怎么说？
[24] 天知道。
“_Usted_ [25]会按照为陛下效劳的最佳方式来做的，”高等法官严肃地回答。
[25] 您——为了陛下的事业。
“陛下不希望我死，”副总督回答。“是的，是的，去洞穴里，去洞穴里，远离这些残忍的人。”
这个计划结果如何不得而知，因为我们的作者把那可怜的人安全送到他的城堡之后，就不再提及他了。
Translation
English
The unfortunate superintendent was at this moment painfully digesting
his miserable dinner, whilst awaiting anxiously the termination of this
hurricane; he was, however, far from suspecting that its greatest fury
was to be spent on himself. Some benevolent persons hastened forward to
inform him of his urgent peril. The servants, drawn to the door by the
uproar, beheld, in affright, the dense mass advancing. While they
listened to the friendly notice, the vanguard appeared; one hastily
informed his master; and while he, for a moment, deliberated upon
flight, another came to say there was no longer time for it; in hurry
and confusion they closed and barricadoed the windows and the doors. The
howling without increased; each corner of the house resounded with it;
and in the midst of the vast and mingled noise was heard, fearfully and
distinctly, the blows of stones upon the door. “The tyrant! the tyrant!
the causer of famine! we must have him, living or dead!”
The poor man wandered from room to room in a state of insupportable
alarm, commending himself to God, and beseeching his servants to be
firm, and to find for him some way of escape! He ascended to the highest
floor, and, from an opening between the garret and the roof, he looked
anxiously out upon the street, and beheld it filled with the enraged
populace; more appalled than ever, he withdrew to seek the most secure
and secret hiding-place. Here, concealed, he listened intently to
ascertain if at any time the importunate transport of passion should
weaken, if the tumult should in any degree subside; but his heart died
within him to hear the uproar continue with aggravated and savage
ferocity.
Renzo at this time found himself in the thickest of the confusion, not
now carried there by the press, but by his own inclination. At the first
proposal of blood-shedding, he felt his own curdle in his veins; as to
the plundering, he was not quite certain whether it was right or wrong;
but the idea of murder caused him unmixed horror. And although he was
greatly persuaded that the vicar was the primary cause of the famine,
the grand criminal, still, having, at the first movement of the crowd,
heard, by chance, some expressions which indicated a willingness to make
any effort to save him, he had suddenly determined to aid such a work,
and had therefore pressed near the door, which was assailed in a
thousand ways. Some were pounding the lock to break it in pieces; others
assisted with stakes, and chisels, and hammers; others, again, tore away
the plastering, and beat in pieces the wall, in order to effect a
breach. The rest, who were unable to get near the house, encouraged by
their shouts those who were at the work of destruction; though,
fortunately, through the eagerness with which they pressed forward, they
impeded its progress.
The magistrates, who were the first to have notice of the fray,
despatched a messenger to ask military aid of the commander of the
castle, which was then called, from the gate, Giovia; and he forthwith
detached a troop, which arrived when the house was encompassed with the
throng, and undergoing its tremendous assault; and was therefore obliged
to halt at a distance from it, and at the extremity of the crowd. The
officer who commanded it did not know what course to pursue; at the
order to disperse and make way, the people replied by a deep and
continued murmur, but no one moved. To fire on the crowd appeared not
only savage, but perilous, inasmuch as the most harmless might be
injured, and the most ferocious only irritated, and prepared for further
mischief; and moreover his instructions did not authorise it. To break
the crowd, and go forward with his band to the house, would have been
the best, if success could have been certain; but who could tell if the
soldiers could proceed united and in order? The irresolution of the
commander seemed to proceed from fear: the populace were unmoved by the
appearance of the soldiers, and continued their attacks on the house. At
a little distance there stood an ill-looking, half-starved old man, who,
contracting an angry countenance to a smile of diabolical complacency,
brandished above his hoary head a hammer, with which he said he meant to
nail the vicar to the posts of his door, alive as he was.
“Oh, shame! shame!” exclaimed Renzo. “Shame! would you take the
hangman’s business out of his hand? to assassinate a Christian? How can
you expect God will give us bread, if we commit such iniquity? He will
send us his thunders, and not bread!”
“Ah! dog! ah! traitor to the country!” cried one who had heard these
words, turning to Renzo with the countenance of a demon. “It is a
servant of the vicar’s disguised like a countryman; it is a spy!” A
hundred voices were heard exclaiming, “Who is it? where is he?”—“A
servant of the vicar’s—a spy—the vicar himself, escaping in the
disguise of a peasant!”—“Where is he? where is he?”
Renzo would have shrunk into nothingness,—some of the more benevolent
contrived to help him to disappear through the crowd; but that which
preserved him most effectually was a cry of “Make way, here comes our
help, make way!” which attracted the attention of the throng.
This was a long scaling ladder, supported by a few persons who were
endeavouring to penetrate the living mass, and by which they meant to
gain entrance to the house. But, happily, this was not easy of
execution; the length of the machine precluded the possibility of its
being carried easily through such a multitude; it came, however, just in
time for Renzo, who profited by the confusion, and escaped to a
distance, with the intention of making his way, as soon as he could, to
the convent, in search of Father Bonaventura.
Suddenly a new movement began at one extremity, and diffused itself
through the crowd:—“Ferrer, Ferrer!” resounded from every side. Some
were surprised, some rejoiced, some were exasperated, some applauded,
some affirmed, some denied, some blessed, some cursed!
“Is he here? It is not true; it is not true. Yes, yes, long live Ferrer,
he who makes bread cheap.—No, no! He is here—here in a carriage! Why
does he come?—we don’t want him.—Ferrer! long live Ferrer! the friend
of the poor! he comes to take the vicar prisoner.—No, no, we would
revenge _ourselves_, we would fight our own battles; back, back.—Yes,
yes, Ferrer! Let him come! to prison with the vicar!”
At the extremity of the crowd, on the side opposite to that where the
soldiers were, Antonio Ferrer, the high chancellor, was approaching in
his carriage, who, probably condemning himself as the cause of this
commotion, had come to avert at least its most terrific and irreparable
effects, to spend worthily a popularity unworthily acquired.
In popular tumults there are always some who, from heated passion, or
fanaticism, or wicked design, do what they can to push things to the
worst; proposing and promoting the most barbarous counsels, and
assisting to stir the fire whenever it appears to slacken. But, on the
other hand, there are always those who, perhaps with equal ardour, and
equal perseverance, employ their efforts for the production of contrary
effects; some led by friendship or partiality for the persons in danger,
others without other impulse than that of horror of bloodshed and
atrocity. The mass, then, is ever composed of a mixed assemblage, who,
by indefinite gradations, hold to one or the other extreme; prompt to
rage or compassion, to adoration or execration, according as the
occasion presents itself for the developement of either of these
sentiments: _life_ and _death_ are the words involuntarily uttered, and
with equal facility; and he who succeeds in persuading them that such an
one does not deserve to be quartered, has but little more to do, to
convince them that he ought to be carried in triumph.
While these various interests were contending for superiority in the
mob, before the house of the vicar, the appearance of Antonio Ferrer
gave instantly a great advantage to the humane, who were manifestly
yielding to the greater strength of the ferocious and blood-thirsty. The
man himself was acceptable to the multitude, from his having previously
favoured their cause, and from his heroic resistance to any arguments
against it. Those already favourably inclined towards him were now much
more affected by the courageous confidence of an old man, who, without
guards or retinue, came thus to confront an angry and stormy multitude.
The announcement that his purpose was to take the vicar prisoner,
produced at once a wonderful effect; and the fury against that unhappy
person, which would have been aggravated by any attempt at defiance, or
refusal of concession, now, with the promise of satisfaction, and, to
speak in the Milanese fashion, with this bone in the mouth, became in a
degree appeased, and gave place to other opposite sentiments, which
began to prevail over their minds.
The partisans of peace, having recovered breath, aided Ferrer in various
ways; those who were near him, while endeavouring by their own to
perpetuate the general applause, sought at the same time to keep off the
crowd, so as to open a passage for the carriage; others applauded and
repeated his words, or such as appeared appropriate to his undertaking
and his peril; imposed silence on the obstinately furious, or contrived
to turn against _them_ the anger of the fickle assembly. “Who is it that
will not say, Long live Ferrer? You don’t wish bread to be cheap, then,
eh? They are rogues who are not willing to receive justice at the hands
of a Christian, and there are some among them who cry louder than the
rest, to allow the vicar to escape. To prison with the superintendent!
Long live Ferrer! Make way for Ferrer!” The numbers of those who spoke
in this manner increasing continually, the numbers of the opposite party
diminished in proportion; so that the former, from admonishing, had
recourse to blows, in order to silence those who were still disposed to
pursue the work of destruction. The menaces and threatenings of the
weaker party were of no longer avail; the cause of blood had ceased to
predominate, and in its place were heard only the cries of “Prison,
justice, Ferrer!” The rebellious spirits were finally silenced: the
remainder took possession of the door, in order to defend it from fresh
attacks, and also to prepare a passage for Ferrer; and some among them
called to those within (openings were not wanting) that succour had
arrived, and that the vicar must get ready “to go quickly—to
prison—hem! do you hear?”
“Is this the Ferrer who helps in making the proclamations?” asked our
Renzo of one of his new neighbours, remembering the _vidit Ferrera_ that
the doctor had shown him appended to the famous proclamation, and which
he had reiterated in his ears with so great a degree of pertinacity.
“The same, the high chancellor,” replied he.
“He is a worthy man, is he not?”
“He is more than worthy; it is he who has lowered the price of bread,
against the wishes of others in power, and now he comes to carry the
vicar to prison, because he has not acted justly.”
It is unnecessary to say, that Renzo’s feelings were immediately
enlisted on the side of Ferrer. He was desirous to approach near him,
but the undertaking was no easy one; however, with the decision and
strength of a mountaineer, he continued to elbow himself through the
crowd, and finally reached the side of the carriage.
The carriage had already penetrated into the midst of the crowd, but was
here suddenly stopped by one of those obstructions, the unavoidable
consequence of a journey like this. The aged Ferrer presented, now at
one window of his carriage, now at the other, a countenance full of
humility, of sweetness, and benevolence; a countenance which he had
always kept in reserve for the day in which he should appear before Don
Philip IV.; but he was constrained to make use of it on this occasion.
He spoke; but the noise and buzzing of so many voices, and the shouts of
applause which they bestowed on him, allowed but little of his discourse
to be heard. He had recourse also to gestures; now placing his fingers
on his lips, to take from thence a kiss, which his enclosed hands
distributed to right and left, as if to render thanks for the favour
with which the public regarded him; then he extended them, waving them
slowly beyond the window as if to entreat a little space; and now again
lowering them politely, as if to request a little silence. When he had
succeeded in obtaining, in some measure, his last request, those who
were nearest to him heard and repeated his words:—“Bread, abundance. I
come to do justice; a little space, if you please.” Then, as if stifled
and suffocated with the press, and the continual buzzing of so many
voices, he threw himself back in the carriage, and with difficulty
drawing a long breath, said to himself, “_Por mi vida, que de
gente_.”[5]
[5]: Upon my life, what a multitude.
“Long live Ferrer; there is no occasion for fear; you are a brave man.
Bread! bread!”
“Yes, bread, bread,” replied Ferrer, “in abundance! _I_ promise you, I
do,” placing his hand on his heart. “Clear a passage for me,” added he,
then, in the loudest voice he could command; “I come to carry him to
prison, to inflict on him a just punishment;” and he added, in a very
low tone, “_Si esta culpable_.”[6] Then leaning forward to the coachman,
he said hastily, “_Adelante, Pedro, si puedes_.”[7]
[6] If he is guilty.
[7] Go on, Pedro, if you can.
The coachman smiled also on the people with an affected politeness, as
if he were some great personage; and, with ineffable grace, he waved the
whip slowly from right to left, as if requesting his inconvenient
neighbours to retire a little on either side. “Be so kind, gentlemen,”
said he, “a little space, ever so little, just enough to let us pass.”
Meanwhile the most active and officious employed themselves in preparing
the passage so politely requested. Some made the crowd retire from
before the horses with good words, placing their hands on their breast,
and pushing them gently, “There, there, a little space, gentlemen.”
Others pursued the same plan at the sides of the carriage, so that it
might pass on without damage to those who surrounded it; which would
have subjected the popularity of Antonio Ferrer to great hazard. Renzo,
after having been occupied for a few moments in admiring the respectable
old man, a little disturbed by vexation, overwhelmed with fatigue, but
animated by solicitude, embellished, so to speak, by the hope of
wresting a fellow-creature from the pains of death,—Renzo, I say, threw
away all idea of retreat. He resolved to assist Ferrer in every way that
lay in his power, and not to abandon him until he had accomplished his
designs. He united with the others to free the way, and he was certainly
not one of the least active or industrious. A passage was opened. “Come
on, come on,” said a number of them to the coachman, retiring in front
of the crowd to maintain the passage clear. “_Adelante, presto, con
juicio_[8],” said his master also to him, and the carriage moved
forward. In the midst of the salutes which he lavished promiscuously on
the public, Ferrer, with a smile of intelligence, bestowed particular
thanks upon those whom he beheld busily employed for him; more than one
of these smiles was directed to Renzo, who, in truth, deserved them
richly, serving the high chancellor on this day with more devoted zeal
than the most intrepid of his secretaries. The young mountaineer was
delighted with his condescension, and proud of the honour of having, as
he thought, formed a friendship with Antonio Ferrer.
[8] On, on, but be careful.
The carriage, once in motion, continued its way with more or less
slowness, and not without being frequently brought to a full stop. The
space to be traversed was short, but, with respect to the time it
occupied, it would have appeared interminable, even to one not governed
by the holy motive of Ferrer. The people thronged around the carriage,
to right and left, as dolphins around a vessel, hurried forward by a
tempest. The noise was more piercing and discordant than that of a
tempest itself. Ferrer continued to speak to the populace the whole
length of the way. “Yes, gentlemen, bread in abundance. I will conduct
him to prison; he shall be punished—_si esta culpable_.[9] Yes, yes, I
will order it so; bread shall be cheap. _Asi es._ So it shall, I mean.
The king our master does not wish his faithful subjects to suffer from
hunger. _Oh, oh! guardaos._[10] Take care that we do not hurt you,
gentlemen, _Pedro, adelante, con juicio._[11] Abundance! abundance! a
little space, for the love of Heaven! Bread, bread! To prison! to
prison! What do you want?” demanded he of a man who had thrust himself
partly within the window to howl at him some advice, or petition, or
applause, no matter what; but he, without having heard the question, had
been drawn back by another, who saw him in danger of being crushed by
the wheel. Amidst all this clamour, Ferrer at last gained the house,
thanks to his kind auxiliaries.
[9] If he is guilty.
[10] Oh, oh! take care.
[11] On, Pedro, but be careful.
Those who had stationed themselves there had equally laboured to procure
the desired result, and had succeeded in dividing the crowd in two, and
keeping them back, so that between the door and the carriage there
should be an empty space, however small. Renzo, who in acting as a scout
and a guide had arrived with the carriage, was able to find a place,
whence he could, by making a rampart of his powerful shoulders, see
distinctly all that passed.
Ferrer breathed again on seeing the place free, and the door still shut,
or, to speak more correctly, not yet open. However, the hinges were
nearly torn from their fastenings, and the panels shivered in many
pieces; so that an opening was made, through which it could be seen that
what held it together was the bolt, which, however, was almost twisted
from its socket. Through this breach some one cried to those within to
open the door, another ran to let down the steps of the carriage, and
the old man descended from it, leaning on the arm of this benevolent
person.
The crowd pressed forward to behold him: curiosity and general attention
caused a moment’s silence. Ferrer stopped an instant on the steps,
turned towards them, and putting his hand to his heart, said, “Bread and
justice.” Clothed in his toga, with head erect, and step assured, he
continued to descend, amid the loud applause that rent the skies.
In the mean while the people of the house had opened the door, so as to
permit the entrance of so desired a guest; taking care, however, to
contract the opening to the space his body would occupy. “Quick, quick!”
said he, “open, so that I may enter; and you, brave men, keep back the
people, do not let them come behind me—for the love of Heaven! Open a
way for us, presently.—Eh! eh! gentlemen, one moment,” said he to the
people of the house; “softly with this door; let me pass. Oh, my ribs,
take care of my ribs. Shut now—no, my gown, my gown!” It would have
remained caught within the door if Ferrer had not hastily withdrawn it.
The doors, closed in the best manner they could be, were nevertheless
supported with bars from within. On the outside, those who had
constituted themselves the bodyguard of Ferrer worked with their
shoulders, their arms, and their voice to keep the place empty, praying
from the bottom of their hearts that they would be expeditious.
“Quick, quick!” said Ferrer, as he reached the portico, to the servants
who surrounded him, crying, “May your excellency be rewarded! What
goodness! Great God, what goodness!”
“Quick, quick,” repeated Ferrer, “where is this poor man?”
The superintendent descended the stairs half led, half carried by his
domestics, and pale as death. When he saw who had come to his
assistance, he sighed deeply, his pulse returned, and a slight colour
tinged his cheek. He hastened to meet Ferrer, saying, “I am in the hands
of God and your excellency; but how go hence? we are surrounded on all
sides by people who desire my death.”
“_Venga con migo usted_[12], and take courage. My carriage is at the
door; quick, quick!” He took him by the hand, and, continuing to
encourage him, led him towards the door, saying in his heart, however,
_Aqui esta el busilis! Dios nos valga!_[13]
[12] Come with me.
[13] Now for the difficult point! God help us!
The door, opened; Ferrer appeared first; the superintendent followed,
shrinking with fear, and clinging to the protecting toga, as an infant
to the gown of its mother. Those who had maintained the space free
raised their hands and waved their hats; making in this manner a sort of
cloud to conceal the superintendent from the view of the people, and to
enable him to enter the carriage, and place himself out of sight. Ferrer
followed, and the carriage was closed. The people drew their own
conclusions as to what had taken place, and there arose, in consequence,
a mingled sound of applauses and imprecations.
The return of the carriage might seem to be even more difficult and
dangerous; but the willingness of the public to suffer the
superintendent to be carried to prison was sufficiently manifest; and
the friends of Ferrer had been busy in keeping the way open whilst he
was at the house, so that he could return with a little more speed than
he went. As it advanced, the crowd, ranged on either side, closed and
united their ranks behind it.
Ferrer, as soon as he was seated, whispered the superintendent to keep
himself concealed in the bottom of the carriage, and not to let himself
be seen, for the love of Heaven; there was, however, no need of this
advice. It was the policy of the high chancellor, on the contrary, to
attract as much of the attention of the populace as possible, and during
all this passage, as in the former, he harangued his changeable auditory
with a great quantity of sound, and very little sense; interrupting
himself continually to breathe into the ear of his invisible companion a
few hurried words of Spanish. “Yes, gentlemen, bread and justice. To the
castle, to prison under my care. Thanks, thanks, a thousand thanks! No,
no, he shall not escape! _Por ablanderlos._[14] It is too just, we will
examine, we will see. I wish you well. A severe punishment. _Esto lo
digo por su bien._[15] A just and moderate price, and punishment to
those who oppose it. Keep off a little, I pray you. Yes, yes; I am the
friend of the people. He shall be punished; it is true; he is a villain,
a rascal. _Perdone usted._[16] He shall be punished, he shall be
punished—_si esta culpable_.[17] Yes, yes; we will make the bakers do
that which is just. Long live the king! long live the good Milanese, his
faithful subjects! _Animo estamos ya quasi afuera._”[18]
[14] It is to coax them.
[15] I say that for your good.
[16] Pardon me.
[17] If he is guilty.
[18] Courage, we are almost out of danger.
They had, in fact, passed through the thickest of the throng, and were
rapidly advancing to a place of safety; and now Ferrer gave his lungs a
little repose, and looking forward, beheld the succours from Pisa, those
Spanish soldiers, who had at last rendered themselves of service, by
persuading some of the people to retire to their homes, and by keeping
the passage free for the final escape. Upon the arrival of the carriage,
they made room, and presented arms to the high chancellor, who bowed to
right and left; and to the officer who approached the nearest to salute
him he said, accompanying his words with a wave of his hand, “_Beso à
usted las manos_[19],” which the officer interpreted to signify, You
have given me much assistance!
[19] I kiss your hands.
He might have appropriately added, _Cedant arma togæ_; but the
imagination of Ferrer was not at this moment at liberty to occupy itself
with quotations, and, moreover, they would have been addressed to the
wind, as the officer did not understand Latin.
Pedro felt his accustomed courage revive at the sight of these files of
muskets, so respectfully raised; and recovering entirely from his
amazement, he urged on his horses, without deigning to take further
notice of the few, who were now harmless from their numbers.
“_Levantese, levantese, estamos afueras_[20],” said Ferrer to the
superintendent, who, re-assured by the cessation of the tumult, the
rapid motion of the carriage, and these words of encouragement, drew
himself from his corner, and overwhelmed his liberator with thanks. The
latter, after having condoled with him on account of his peril, and
rejoiced at his deliverance, exclaimed, “_Ah! que dira de esto su
excelencia_[21], who is already weary of this cursed Casale, because it
will not surrender? _que dira el conde duque?_[22] who trembles if a
leaf makes more noise than usual? _Que dira el rey nuestro señor?_[23]
who must necessarily be informed of so great a tumult? And is it at an
end? _Dios lo sabe._”[24]—“Ah, as for me, I will have nothing more to
do with it,” said the superintendent. “I wash my hands of it. I resign
my office into the hands of your excellency, and I will go and live in a
cavern on a mountain, as a hermit, far, very far from this savage
people.”
[20] Rise, rise, we are beyond danger.
[21] What will his excellency say to this?
[22] What will the count duke say?
[23] What will the king our master say?
[24] God knows.
“_Usted_[25] will do that which is best _por el servicio de su
majestad_,” replied the high chancellor, gravely.
[25] You—for his majesty’s service.
“His majesty does not desire my death,” replied the superintendent.
“Yes, yes, in a cavern, in a cavern far from these cruel people.”
It is not known what became of this project, as, after conducting the
poor man in safety to his castle, our author makes no farther mention of
him.
