The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane - Alain René le Sage (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗
- Author: Alain René le Sage
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wanting to express the effect of her first appearance upon my
mind. I set my wits to work, and by dint of diligent inquiry,
learned that her name was Beatrice, and that she was waiting-maid
to Donna Julia, younger daughter of the Count de Polan.
Beatrice broke in upon the thread of Scipio’s story by laughing
immoderately: then, directing her speech to my wife, Charming
Antonia, said she, do but just look at me, I beseech you, and
then say truly, whether I could be likened to a thing divine. You
might at that time, to my enamoured sight, said Scipio; and,
since your conjugal faith is no longer under a cloud, my visual
appetite increases by what it feeds on. It was a pretty
compliment! and my secretary, having fired it off, pursued his
narrative as follows.
This intelligence kindled the flame of passion within me; but
not, it must be confessed, a flame which could be acknowledged
without a blush. I took it for granted that my triumph over her
scruples would be easy if my biddings were high enough to command
the ordinary market of female chastity; but Beatrice was a pearl
beyond price. In vain did I solicit her, through the channel of
some intriguing gossips, with the offer of my purse and of my
most tender attentions; she rejected all my proposals with
disdain. I had recourse to the lover’s last remedy, and offered
her my hand, which she deigned to accept on the strength of my
being secretary and treasurer to Don Manriquez. As it seemed
expedient to keep our marriage secret for some time, the ceremony
was performed privately, in presence of Dame Lorenza Sephora,
Seraphina’s governess, and before some others of the Count de
Polan’s household. After our happy union, Beatrice contrived the
means of our meeting by day, and passing some part of every night
together in the garden, whither I repaired through a little gate
of which she gave me a key. Never were man and wife better
pleased with each other than Beatrice and myself: with equal
impatience did we watch for the hour of our appointment; with
congenial emotions of eager sensibility did we hasten to the
spot, and the moments which we passed together, though countless
from their number in the calendar of cold indifference, to us
were few and fleeting, in comparison with that eternity of mutual
bliss for which we panted.
One night, a night which should be expunged from the almanac, a
night of darkness and despair, contrasted with the brightness of
all our former nights, I was surprised on approaching the garden,
to find the little gate open. This unusual circumstance alarmed
me; for it seemed to augur something inauspicious to my
happiness: I turned pale and trembled, as if with a foreknowledge
of what was going to happen. Advancing in the dark towards a
bower, where our private meetings had usually taken place, I
heard a man’s voice. I stopped on the instant to listen, when the
following words struck like the sound of death upon my ear: Do
not keep me languishing in suspense, my dear Beatrice; make my
happiness complete, and consider that your own fortunes are
closely connected with mine. Instead of having patience to hear
further, it seemed as if more had been said than blood could
expiate; that devil, jealousy, took possession of my soul; I drew
my sword, and breathing only vengeance, rushed into the bower.
Ah! base seducer, cried I, whoever you are, you shall tear this
heart from out my breast, rather than touch my honour on its
tenderest point. With these words on my lips, I attacked the
gentleman who was talking with Beatrice. He stood upon his guard
without more ado, like a man much better acquainted with the
science of arms than myself, who had only received a few lessons
from a fencing-master at Cordova. And yet, strong as his sword-arm was, I made a thrust which he could not parry, or what is
more likely, his foot slipped: I saw him fall; and fancying that
I had wounded him mortally, ran away as hard as my legs could
carry me, without deigning to answer Beatrice, who would have
called me back.
Yes, indeed! said Scipio’s wife, resolved to have her share in
the development of the story; I called out for the purpose of
undeceiving him. The gentleman conversing with me in the arbour
was Don Ferdinand de Leyva. This nobleman, who was in love with
my mistress Julia, had laid a plan for running away with her,
from despair of being able to obtain her hand by any other means;
and I had myself made this assignation with him in the garden, to
concert measures for the elopement, and with his fortune he
assured me that my own was closely linked; but it was in vain
that I screamed after my husband; he darted from me as if my very
touch were contamination.
In such a state of mind, resumed Scipio, I was capable of
anything. Those who know by experience what jealousy is, into
what extravagance it drives the best-regulated spirits, will be
at no loss to conceive the disorder it must have produced in my
weak brain. I passed in a moment from one extreme to an other:
emotions of hatred succeeded instantaneously to all my former
sentiments of affection for my wife. I took an oath never to see
her more, and to banish her for ever from my memory. Besides, the
supposed death of a man lay upon my conscience; and under that
idea, I was afraid of falling into the hands of justice; so that
every torment which could be accumulated on the head of guilt and
misery by the fury of despair and the demon of remorse, was the
remediless companion of my wretched flight In this dreadful
situation, thinking only of my escape, I returned home no more,
but immediately quitted Toledo, with no other provision for my
journey but the clothes on my back. It is true, I had about sixty
pistoles in my pocket; a tolerable supply for a young man, whose
views in life pointed no higher than a good service.
I walked forward all night, or rather ran, for the phantom of an
alguazil always dogging me at the heels made me perform wonders
of pedestrian activity. The dawn overtook me between Rodillas and
Maqueda. When I was at the latter town, finding myself a little
weary, I went into the church which was just opened, and having
put up a short prayer, sat down on a bench to rest. I began
musing on the state of my affairs, which were sufficiently out at
elbows to require all my skill in patch-work, but the time for
reflection as well as for repentance were cut short. The church
echoed on a sudden with three or four smacks of a whip, which
made me conclude that some carrier was on the road. I immediately
got up to go and see whether I was right or wrong. At the door I
found a man, mounted on a mule, leading two others by the halter.
Stop, my friend, said I, whither are those two mules going? To
Madrid, answered he. I came hither with two good Dominicans, and
am now setting out on my return.
Such an opportunity of going to Madrid gave me an itching desire
for the expedition: I made my bargain with the muleteer, jumped
upon one of his mules, and away we scampered towards Ilescas,
where we were to put up for the night. Scarcely were we out of
Maqueda before the muleteer, a man from five-and-thirty to forty,
began chanting the church service with a most collegiate twang.
This trial of his lungs began with matins, in the drowsy tone of
a canon between asleep and awake; then he roared out the Belief;
alternately in contralto, tenor, and bass, in all the harmonious
confusion of high mass; and not content with that, he rang the
bell for vespers, without sparing me a single petition or so much
as a bar of the magnificat. Though the scoundrel almost cracked
the drum of my ear, I could not help laughing heartily; and even
egged him on to make the welkin reverberate with his hallelujahs,
when the anthem was suspended a few rests, for the necessary
purpose of supplying wind to the organ. Courage, my friend! said
I; go on and prosper. If heaven has given you a good capacious
throat, you are neither a niggard nor a perverter of its precious
boon. Oh! certainly not for the matter of that, cried he; happily
for my immortal soul, I am not like carriers in general, who sing
nothing but profane songs about love or drinking: I do not even
defile my lips with ballads on our wars against the Moors: such
subjects are at least light and unedifying, if not licentious and
impure. You have, replied I, an evangelical purity of heart which
belongs only to the elect among muleteers. With this excessive
squeamishness of yours about the choice of your music, have you
also taken a vow of continence, wherever there is a young bar-maid to be picked up at an inn? Assuredly, rejoined he, chastity
is also a virtue by which it is my pride to ward off the
temptations of the road, where my only business is to look after
my mules. I was in no small degree astonished at such pious
sentiments from this prodigy of psalm-singing mule-drivers; so
that looking upon him as a man above the vanities and corruptions
of this nether world, I fell into chat with him after he had gone
the length of his tether in singing.
We got to Ilescas late in the day. On entering the inn-yard, I
left the care of the mules to my companion, and went into the
kitchen, where I ordered the landlord to get us a good supper,
which he promised to perform so much to my satisfaction, as to
make me remember all the days of my life what usage travellers
meet with at his house As, added he, now only ask your carrier
what sort of a man I am. By all the powers of seasoning! I would
defy the best cook in Madrid or Toledo to make an olio at all to
be compared to mine. I shall treat you this evening with some
stewed rabbit after a receipt of my own; you will then see
whether it is any boast to say that I know how to send up a
supper. Thereupon, shewing me a stew-pan with a young rabbit, as
he said, cut up into pieces: There, continued he, is what I mean
to favour you with. When I shall have thrown in a little pepper,
some salt, wine, a handful of sweet herbs, and a few other
ingredients which I keep for my own sauces, you may depend on
sitting down to such a dish as would not disgrace the table of a
chancellor or an archbishop.
The landlord, having thus done justice to his own merits, began
to work upon the materials he had prepared. While he was
labouring in his vocation, I went into a room, where lying down
on a sort of couch, I fell fast asleep through fatigue, having
taken no rest the night before, in the space of about two hours,
the muleteer came and awakened me, with the information that
supper was ready, and a pressing request to take my place at
table. The cloth was laid for two, and we sat down to the hashed
rabbit. I played my knife and fork most manfully, finding the
flavour delicious, whether from the force of hunger in
communicating a candid mode of interpretation to my palate,
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