The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni: Day 42
Chapter 33 (through p.554: “treatise on political economy.”)
Don Rodrigo’s nightmares as the fever of the plague sets in: a church, zombie-like ghouls, and suddenly, the figure of Padre Cristoforo:
“After glaring at the assembled congregation, he seemed to stare straight at Don Rodrigo, raising his hand in the same gesture he had made in the great hall of the nobleman’s palace.”
Betrayed by the loyal Griso, who refuses to even bring his master a glass of water:
“These are strange illnesses. There’s no time to waste. Keep still. I’ll be here with Chiodo in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
(Since I know you’ll ask, the Italian expression is, “tre salti” – three skips, leaps or hops. I wanted to use a numerical expression, so I remembered “two shakes” (one of my mother’s expressions.)
Is this what a pandemic does to a person, or are we just seeing who Griso was all along? He certainly pays for his greed (or was it opportunism?).
Meanwhile the good Renzo is safe beyond the state of Milan. Bortolo turns out not to be the nice guy we might have imagined:
“Would you readers have preferred a more idealistic Bortolo? Well, you’ll have to create your own. That’s simply the way he was.”
Renzo survives the plague “by doing nothing. He was on death’s door, but his robust constitution defeated the illness: In just a few days he was out of danger. With his return to health, his memories, desires, hopes, and plans for the future came flooding back, more powerful than ever.”
This line strikes me more now, as I read with you, than when I wrote it. Here we are today, surrounded by a post-pandemic exuberance that I wish I could share. Some may be rekindling plans for the future. Others, like me, look back in grief.
Join us on April 10 for a virtual discussion of The Betrothed with Michael F. Moore.
 | A guest post by
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Michael, I'm very sorry for all your losses. It's been shockingly easy to forget the sufferings of he pandemic, the fallout. Remembering via Manzoni aI realized that how much I've repressed certain memories, the desperation, the ennui of the children, standing in the snow outside a hospice to shout my encouragements because I'm not allowed inside to hold the hand of my loved one. The relief of a return to the living is one of the reasons Renzo's return to his village is so moving. Thanks for reminding us.
Michael F. Moore, I’m sorry you are weighed down by post-pandemic grief.
And of course, Renzo “also caught the plague and recovered from it on his own. By doing nothing.” What an economy of words after the previous chapters. And like a knight-errant, now sets off to claim his Lucia. The romance is back on.