The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Alain René le Sage [most read books .txt] 📗

of recompense, to

be duly honoured and punctually paid at doom’s-day. With this I

left him, and skulked out of the town, not paying my respects to

my other benefactors; but giving them a thousand blessings from

my heart.

 

The little chorister had reason for speaking modestly of his

purse, it was not orthodox. By good luck, I had been used for

these two months to a very slender diet, and had still a little

small change left when I reached Ponte de Mula, not far from

Burgos. I halted there to inquire after Donna Mencia. The hostess

of the inn I put up at was a little withered, spiteful, emaciated

bit of mortality. I saw at a glance, by the mouths she made at me

aside, that my frock did not hit her fancy; and I thought it a

proof of her taste. So I sat myself down at a table; ate bread

and cheese, and drank a few glasses of execrable wine, such as

innkeepers technically call cassecoquin. During this meal, which

was of a piece with the outward appearance of the guest, I did my

utmost to come to closer quarters with my landlady. Did she know

the Marquis de la Guardia? Was his castle far out of town? Above

all, what was become of my lady marchioness? You ask many

questions in a breath, replied she, bridling with disdain. But I

got out of her, though by hard pumping, that Don Ambrosio’s

castle was but a short league from Ponte de Mula.

 

After I had done eating and drinking, as it was night, I thought

it natural to go to bed, and asked for my room. A room for you!

shrieked my landlady, darting at me a glance of contempt and

pride; I have no rooms for fellows who make their supper on a bit

of cheese. All my beds are bespoke. There are people of fashion

expected, and our accommodations are all kept for them.

But I will not be unchristian: you may lie in my barn: I suppose

your soft skin will not be incommoded by the feel of straw. She

spoke truth without knowing it. I took it all in silence, and

slunk to my roosting-place, where I fell asleep like a man, the

excess of whose labours are his ready passport to the blessings

of repose.

 

CH XIV. — Donna Mencia’s reception of him at Burgos.

 

I WAS no sluggard, but got up the next morning betimes. I paid my

bill to the landlady, who was already stirring, and seemed a

little less lofty and in better humour than the evening before; a

circumstance I attributed to the endeavours of three kind

guardsmen belonging to the holy brotherhood. These gentlemen had

slept in the inn: they were evidently on a very intimate footing

with the hostess: and doubtless it was for guests of such note

that all the beds were bespoke.

 

I inquired in the town my way to the castle where I wanted to

present my. self. By accident I made up to a man not unlike my

landlord at Pegnaflor. He was not satisfied with answering my

question to the point; but informed me that Don Ambrosio had been

dead three weeks, and the marchioness his lady had taken the

resolution of retiring to a convent at Burgos, which he named. I

proceeded immediately towards that town, instead of taking the

road to the castle, as I had first meant to do, and flew at once

to the place of Donna Mencia’s retreat. I besought the attendant

at the turning-box to tell that lady that a young man just

discharged from prison at Astorga wanted to speak with her. The

nun went on the message immediately. On her return, she showed me

into a parlour, where I did not wait long before Don Ambrosio’s

widow appeared at the grate in deep mourning.

 

You are welcome, said the lady. Four days ago I wrote to a person

at Astorga, to pay you a visit as from me, and to tell you to

come and see me the moment you were released from prison. I had

no doubt of your being discharged shortly: what I told the

corregidor in your exculpation was enough for that. An answer was

brought that you had been set at liberty, but that no one knew

what was become of you. I was afraid of not seeing you any more,

and losing the pleasure of expressing my gratitude. Never mind,

added she, observing my confusion at making my appearance in so

wretched a garb; your dress is of very little consequence. After

the important services you have rendered me, I should be the most

ungrateful of my sex, if I were to do nothing for you in return.

I undertake, therefore, to better your condition: it is my duty,

and the means are in my power. My fortune is large enough to pay

my debt of obligation to you, without putting myself to

inconvenience.

 

You know, continued she, my story up to the time when we both

were committed to prison. I will now tell you what has happened

to me since. When the corregidor at Astorga had sent me to

Burgos, after having heard from my own lips a faithful recital of

my adventures, I presented myself at the castle of Ambrosio. My

return thither excited extreme surprise: but they told me that it

was too late; the marquis, as if he had been thunderstruck at my

flight, fell sick; and the physicians despaired of his recovery.

Here was a new incident in the melancholy tragedy of my fate. Yet

I ordered my arrival to be announced. The next moment I ran into

his chamber, and threw myself on my knees by his bedside, with a

face running down with tears and a heart oppressed with the most

lively sorrow. Who sent for you hither? said he as soon as he saw

me; are you come to contemplate your own contrivance? Was it not

enough to have deprived me of life? But was it necessary to

satisfy your heart’s desire, to be an eye-witness of my death? My

lord, replied I, In�s must have told you that I fled with my

first husband; and, had it not been for the sad accident which

has taken him from me for ever, you never would have seen me

more. At the same time, I acquainted him that Don Alvar had been

killed by banditti, whose captive I had consequently been in a

subterraneous dungeon. After relating the particulars of my story

to the end, Don Ambrosio held out to me his hand. It is enough,

said he affectionately, I will make no more complaints. Alas!

Have I in fact any right to reproach you? You were thrown once

more in the way of a beloved husband; and gave me up to follow

his fortunes: can I blame such an instance of your affection? No,

madam, it would have been vain to resist the will of fate. For

that reason I gave orders not to pursue you. In my rival himself

I could not but respect the sacred rights with which he was

invested, and even the impulse of your flight seemed to have been

communicated by some superior power. To close all with an act of

justice, and in the spirit of reconciliation, your return hither

has re-established you completely in my affection. Yes, my dear

Mencia, your presence fills me with joy: but, alas! I shall not

long be sensible to it. I feel my last hour to be at hand. No

sooner are you restored to me, than I must bid you an eternal

farewell. At these touching expressions, my tears flowed in

torrents. I felt and expressed as much affliction as the human

heart is capable of containing. I question whether Don Alvar’s

death, doting on him as I did, had cost me more bitter

lamentations. Don Ambrosio had given way to no mistaken presage

of his death, which happened on the following day; and I remained

mistress of a considerable jointure, settled on me at our

marriage. But I shall take care to make no unworthy use of it.

The world shall not see me, young as I still am, wantoning in the

arms of a third husband. Besides that such levity seems

irreconcilable with the feelings of any but the profligate of our

sex, I will frankly own the relish of life to be extinct in me;

so that I mean to end my days in this convent, and to become a

benefactress to it.

 

Such was Donna Mencia’s discourse about her future plans. She

then drew a purse from beneath her robe, and put it into my

hands, with this address: Here are a hundred ducats simply to

furnish out your wardrobe. That done, come and see me again. I

mean not to confine my gratitude within such narrow bounds. I

returned her a thousand thanks, and promised solemnly not to quit

Burgos, without taking leave of her. Having given this pledge,

which I had every inclination to redeem, I went to look out for

some house of entertainment. Entering the first I met with, I

asked for a room. To parry the ill opinion my frock might convey

of my finances, I told the landlord that, however appearances

might be against me, I could pay for my night’s lodging as well

as a better dressed gentleman. At this speech, the landlord,

whose name was Majuelo, a great banterer in a coarse way, running

over me with his eyes from top to toe, answered with a cool,

sarcastic grin, that there was no need of any such assurance; it

was evident I should pay my way liberally, for he discovered

something of nobility through my disguise, and had no doubt but I

was a gentle man in very easy circumstances. I saw plainly that

the rascal was laughing at me; and, to stop his humour before it

became too convulsive, gave him a little insight into the state

of my purse. I went so far as to count over my ducats on a table

before him, and perceived my coin to have inclined him to a more

respectful judgment. I begged the favour of him to send for a

tailor. A broker would be better, said he; he will bring all

sorts of apparel, and you will be dressed up out of hand. I

approved of this advice, and determined to follow it; but, as the

day was on the point of closing, I put off my purchase till the

morrow, and thought only of getting a good supper, to make amends

for the miserable fare I had taken up with since my escape from

the forest.

 

CH. XV. — Gil Blas dresses himself to more advantage, and

receives a second present from the lady. His equipage on setting

out from Burgos.

 

THEY served me up a plentiful fricassee of sheep’s trotters,

almost the whole of which I demolished. My drinking kept pace

with my eating: and when I could stuff no longer, I went to bed.

I lay comfortably enough, and was in hopes that a sound sleep

would have the kindness without delay to commit a friendly

invasion on my senses. But I could not close an eye for

ruminating on the dress I should choose. What shall I do, thought

I? Shall I follow my first plan? Shall I buy a short cassock, and

go to Salamanca to set up for a tutor? Why should I adopt the

costume of a licentiate? For the purpose of going into orders? Do

I feel an inward call? No? If I have any call, it is quite the

contrary way. I had rather wear a sword than an apron: and push

my fortune in this world, before I think of the next.