The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Alain René le Sage [most read books .txt] 📗
- Author: Alain René le Sage
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of preternatural horror. In vain have I argued with myself that
it is a vision of the brain, an unreal mockery: its continual
presentments blast my sight, and unseat my reason. Though my
understanding teaches me, that in looking on this spectre I stare
at vacancy, my spirits are too weak to derive comfort from the
conviction. Thus much have you extorted from me: now judge
whether the cause of my melancholy is fit to be divulged.
With equal grief and astonishment did I listen to the strange
confession, which implied a total derangement of the nervous
system. This, my lord, said I, must proceed from injudicious
abstinence. So I thought at first, answered he; and to try the
experiment, I have been eating more than usual for some days
past; but it is all to no purpose, the phantom takes his stand as
usual. It will vanish, said I, if your excellency will only
divert your mind by your accustomed relaxations with your
household. Company and gentle occupation are the best remedies
for these affections of the spirits.
In a short time after this conversation, his lordship became
seriously indisposed, and sent for two notaries from Madrid, to
make his will. Three capital physicians followed in their track,
who had the reputation of curing their patients now and then. As
soon as it was noised about the castle that these last
undertakers were arrived, the case was given up for lost; weeping
and gnashing of teeth took place universally, and the family
mourning was ordered. They brought with them their usual
understrappers, an apothecary and a surgeon*. The notaries were
suffered to earn their fee first, after which death’s notaries
prepared to take a bond of the patient. They practised in the
school of Sangrado, and from their very first consultation,
ordered bleeding so frequently and freely, that in six days they
brought his lordship to the point of death, and on the seventh
delivered him from the terror of his sprite.
After the minister’s decease, a lively and sincere sorrow reigned
in the castle of Loeches. The whole household wept bitterly. Far
from deriving consolation from the certainty of being remembered
in his will, there was not a dependent who would not willingly
have saved his life by the sacrifice of the legacy. As for me,
whom he most delighted in, attached to him as I was from
disinterested friendship, my grief was more acute than that of
the rest. I question whether Antonia cost me more tears.
*Translator’s Note:
… . Behind him sneaks
Another mortal, not unlike himself,
Of jargon full, with terms obscure o’ercharged,
Apothecary call’d, whose foetid hands
With power mechanic, and with charms arcane,
Apollo, god of medicine, has endued. — BRAMSTON.
CH. XII. — The proceedings at the Castle of Loeches after his
lordship’s death, and the course which Santillane adopted.
THE minister, according to his last injunctions, was buried
without pomp and without procession in the convent, with a dirge
of our lamentations. After the funeral, Madame d’ Olivarez called
us together to hear the will read, with which the household had
good reason to be satisfied. Every one had a legacy proportioned
to his claim, and none less than two thousand crowns: mine was
the largest, amounting to ten thousand pistoles, as a mark of his
singular regard. The hospitals were not forgotten, and provision
was made for an annual commemoration in several convents.
Madame d’Olivarez sent all the household to Madrid to receive
their legacies from Don Raymond Caporis, who had orders to pay
them; but I could not be of the party, in consequence of a
violent fever from distress of mind, which confined me to the
castle for more than a week. During that time, the reverend
Dominican paid me all possible attention. He had conceived a
friendship for me, which was not confined to my worldly
interests, and was anxious to know how I meant to dispose of
myself on my recovery. I answered that I had not yet made up my
mind upon the subject: there were moments when my feelings
strongly prompted towards a religious vow. Precious moments!
exclaimed the Dominican, you will do well to profit by them. I
advise you as a friend to retire to our convent at Madrid, for
example; there to become a pious benefactor by the free gift of
your whole fortune, and to die in the livery of Saint Dominic.
Many very questionable Christians have made amends for a life of
sin by so holy an end.
In the actual disposition of my mind, this advice was not
unpalatable; and I promised to reflect upon it. But on consulting
Scipio, who came to see me immediately after the monk, he treated
the very notion as the phantom of a distempered brain. For shame!
said he; does not your estate at Lirias offer a more eligible
seclusion? If you were delighted with it formerly, the charm will
be increased tenfold, now that the lapse of years has moderated
your sense of pleasure, and softened down your taste to the
simple beauties of nature.
It was no difficult matter to operate a change in my
inclinations. My friend, said I, you carry it decidedly against
the advocate of Saint Dominic. We will go back to Lirias as soon
as I am well enough to travel. This happened shortly; for as the
fever subsided, I soon felt myself sufficiently strong to put my
design in execution. We went first to Madrid. The sight of that
city gave me far other sensations than heretofore. As I knew that
almost its whole population held in horror the memory of a
minister, of whom I cherished the most affectionate remembrance,
I could not feel at my ease within its precincts. My stay was
therefore limited to five or six days, while Scipio was making
the necessary arrangements for our rustication. In the meantime I
waited on Caporis, and received my legacy in ready money. I
likewise made my arrangements with the receivers for the regular
remittance of my pensions, and settled all my affairs in due
order.
The evening before our departure, I asked the son of Coselina
whether he had received his farewell from Don Henry. Yes,
answered he, we took leave of each other this morning with mutual
civility; he went so far as to express his regret that I should
quit him; but however well satisfied he might be with me, I am by
no means so with him. Mutual content is like a river, which must
have its banks on either side. Besides, Don Henry makes but a
pitiful figure at court now; he has fallen into utter contempt;
people point at him with their finger in the streets, and call
him a Genoese bastard. Judge, then, for yourself, whether it is
consistent with my character to keep up the connection.
We left Madrid one morning at sunrise, and went for Cuen�a. The
following was the order of our equipment; we two in a chaise and
pair, three mules, laden with baggage and money, led by two
grooms and two stout footmen, well armed, in the rear; the grooms
wore sabres, and the postilion had a pair of pistols in his
holsters. As we were seven men in all, and six of us determined
fellows, I took the road gaily, without trembling for my legacy.
In the villages through which we passed our mules chimed their
bells merrily, and the peasants ran to their doors to see us
pass, supposing it to be at least the parade of some nobleman
going to take possession of some viceroyalty.
CH. XIII. — The return of Gil Blas to his seat. His joy at
finding his god-daughter Seraphina marriageable; and his own
second venture in the lottery of love.
WE were a fortnight on our journey to Lirias, having no occasion
to make rapid stages. The sight of my own domain brought
melancholy thoughts into my mind, with the image of my lost
Antonia; but better topics of reflection came to my aid, with a
full purpose to look at things on the brighter side, and the
lapse of two-and-twenty years, which had gradually impaired the
force of tender regret.
As soon as I entered the castle, Beatrice and her daughter
greeted me most cordially, while the family scene was interesting
in the extreme. When their mutual transports were over, I looked
earnestly at my god-daughter, saying: Can this be the Seraphina
whom I left in her cradle? how tall and pretty! we must make a
good match for her. What! my dear godfather, cried my little
girl with an enchanting blush, you have but just seen me, and do
you want to get rid of me at once! No, my lovely child, replied
I, we hope not to lose you by marriage, but to find a husband for
you in the neighbourhood.
There is one ready to your hands, said Beatrice. Seraphina made a
conquest one day at mass. Her suitor has declared his passion,
and asked my consent. I told him that his acceptance depended on
her father and her godfather; and here you are to determine for
yourselves.
What is the character of this village lordling? said Scipio. Is
he not, like his fellows, the little tyrant of the soil, and
insolent to those who have no pedigree to boast? The furthest
from it in the world, answered Beatrice; the young man is gentle
in his temper and polished in his manners; handsome withal, and
somewhat under thirty. You paint him in flattering colours, said
I to Beatrice; what is his name? Don Juan de Jutella, replied
Scipio’s wife: it is not long since be came to his inheritance:
he lives on his own estate, about a mile off, with a younger
sister, of whom he takes care. I once knew something of his
family, observed I; it is one of the best in Valencia. I care
less for lineage, cried Scipio, than for the qualities of the
heart and mind; this Don Juan will exactly suit us, if he is a
good sort of man. He is belied else, said Seraphina, with a
blushing interest in our conversation; the inhabitants of Lirias,
who know him well, say all the good of him you can conceive. I
smiled at this; and her father, not less quick-sighted, saw
plainly that her heart had a share in the testimony of her
tongue.
The gentleman soon heard of our arrival, and paid his respects to
us within two days. His address was pleasing and manly, so as to
prepossess us in his favour. He affected merely to welcome us
home as a neighbour. Our reception was such as not to discourage
the repetition of his visit; but not a word of Seraphina! When he
was gone, Beatrice asked us how we liked him. We could have no
objection to make, and gave it as our opinion that Seraphina
could not dispose of herself better.
The next day, Scipio and I returned the visit. We took a guide,
and luckily; for otherwise it might have puzzled us to find the
place. It was not till our actual arrival that it was visible;
for the mansion was situated at the foot of a mountain, in the
middle of a wood, whose lofty trees hid it from our view. There
was an antique and ruinous appearance about it, which spoke more
for the descent than the wealth of its proprietor. On our
entrance, however, the elegance of the interior arrangement made
amends for the dilapidated grandeur of the outer walls.
Don Juan received us in a handsome room, where he introduced his
sister Dorothea, a lady between nineteen and twenty years of age.
She was a good deal tricked out, as if she had
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