The Betrothed, by Alessandro Manzoni, was long. Really really long. And not the most interesting thing I ever read either. One bright spot was that St. Charles Borromeo showed up in kind of a peripheral way, which was nice. There is a local church here that is named for him.
I really didn't care about Renzo and Lucia, the betrothed characters who were kind of star crossed. The bright spot in the book for me was the religious conversion of the Unnamed bad guy. And what seemed like hundreds of pages about bread riots? Not for me.