Tracks Of A Rolling Stone, Henry J. Coke [kiss me liar novel english txt] 📗

Worn Nowhere

Except In The Bull-Ring.  The Whole Of This Picturesque Dress

Is Now,  I Think,  Given Up.  I Have Spent The Last Two Winters

In The South Of Spain,  But Have Not Once Seen It.

 

It Must Not Be Supposed That We Chose This 'Get-Up' To

Gratify Any Aesthetic Taste Of Our Own Or Other People's; It

Was Long Before The Days Of The 'Too-Toos,' Whom Mr. Gilbert

Brought To A Timely End.  We Had Settled To Ride Through

Spain From Gibraltar To Bayonne,  Choosing Always The Bridle-

Roads So As To Avoid Anything Approaching A Beaten Track.  We

Were To Visit The Principal Cities And Keep More Or Less A

Northerly Course,  Staying On The Way At Such Places As

Malaga,  Cordova,  Toledo,  Madrid,  Valladolid,  And Burgos.  The

Rest Was To Be Left To Chance.  We Were To Take No Map; And

When In Doubt As To Diverging Roads,  The Toss Of A Coin Was

To Settle It.  This Programme Was Conscientiously Adhered To. 

The Object Of The Dress Then Was Obscurity.  For Safety 

Chapter 33 Pg 176

Brigands Abounded) And For Economy,  It Was Desirable To Pass

Unnoticed.  We Never Knew In What Dirty Posada Or Road-Side

Venta We Should Spend The Night.  For The Most Part It Was At

The Resting-Place Of The Muleteers,  Which Would Be Nothing

But A Roughly Paved Dark Chamber,  One End Occupied By Mules

And The Other By Their Drivers.  We Made Our Own Omelets And

Salad And Chocolate; With The Exception Of The Never Failing

Bacallao,  Or Salt Fish,  We Rarely Had Anything Else; And

Rolling Ourselves Into Our Cloaks,  With Saddles For Pillows, 

Slept Amongst The Muleteers On The Stone Flags.  We Had

Bought A Couple Of Ponies In The Seville Market For 7l. And

8l.  Our Alforjas Or Saddlebags Contained All We Needed.  Our

Portmanteaus Were Sent On From Town To Town,  Wherever We Had

Arranged To Stop.  Rough As The Life Was,  We Saw The People

Of Spain As No Ordinary Travellers Could Hope To See Them. 

The Carriers,  The Shepherds,  The Publicans,  The Travelling

Merchants,  The Priests,  The Barbers,  The Molineras Of

Antequera,  The Maritornes',  The Sancho Panzas - All Just As

They Were Seen By The Immortal Knight.

 

From The Mozos De La Cuadra (Ostlers) And Arrieros,  Upwards

And Downwards,  Nowhere Have I Met,  In The Same Class,  With

Such Natural Politeness.  This Is Much Changed For The Worse

Now; But Before The Invasion Of Tourists One Never Passed A

Man On The Road Who Did Not Salute One With A 'Vaya Usted Con

Dios.'  Nor Would The Most Indigent Vagabond Touch The Filthy

Bacallao Which He Drew From His Wallet Till He Had

Courteously Addressed The Stranger With The Formula 'Quiere

Usted Comer?'  ('Will Your Lordship Please To Eat?')  The

Contrast Between The People And The Nobles In This Respect

Was Very Marked.  We Saw Something Of The Latter In The Club

At Seville,  Where One Met Men Whose High-Sounding Names And

Titles Have Come Down To Us From The Greatest Epochs Of

Spanish History.  Their Ignorance Was Surprising.  Not One Of

Them Had Been Farther Than Madrid.  Not One Of Them Knew A

Word Of Any Language But His Own,  Nor Was He Acquainted With

The Rudiments Even Of His Country's History.  Their

Conversation Was Restricted To The Bull-Ring And The Cockpit, 

To Cards And Women.  Their Chief Aim Seemed To Be To Stagger

Us With The Number Of Quarterings They Bore Upon Their

Escutcheons; And They Appraised Others By A Like Estimate.

 

Cayley,  Tickled With The Humour Of Their Childish Vanity, 

Painted An Elaborate Coat Of Arms,  Which He Stuck In The

Crown Of His Hat,  And By Means Of Which He Explained To Them

That He Too Was By Rights A Spanish Nobleman.  With The

Utmost Gravity He Delivered Some Such Medley As This:  His

Iberian Origin Dated Back To The Time Of Hannibal,  Who,  After

His Defeat Of The Papal Forces And Capture Of Rome,  Had,  As

They Well Knew,  Married Princess Peri Banou,  Youngest

Daughter Of Ferdinand And Isabella.  The Issue Of The

Marriage Was The Famous Cardinal Chicot,  From Whom He -

George Cayley - Was Of Direct Male Descent.  When Chicot Was

Slain By Oliver Cromwell At The Battle Of Hastings,  His 

Chapter 33 Pg 177

Descendants,  Foiled In Their Attempt To Capture England With

The Spanish Armada,  Settled In The Principality Of Yorkshire, 

Adopted The Noble Name Of Cayley,  And Still Governed That

Province As Members Of The British Parliament.

 

From That Day We Were Treated With Every Mark Of Distinction.

 

Here Is Another Of My Friend's Pranks.  I Will Let Cayley

Speak; For Though I Kept No Journal,  We Had Agreed To Write A

Joint Account Of Our Trip,  And Our Notebooks Were Common

Property.

 

After Leaving Malaga We Met Some Beggars On The Road,  To One

Of Whom,  'An Old Hag With One Eye And A Grizzly Beard,' I

Threw The Immense Sum Of A Couple Of 2-Cuarto Pieces.  An Old

Man Riding Behind Us On An Ass With Empty Panniers,  Seeing

Fortunes Being Scattered About The Road With Such Reckless

And Unbounded Profusion,  Came Up Alongside,  And Entered Into

A Piteous Detail Of His Poverty.  When He Wound Up With Plain

Begging,  The Originality And Boldness Of The Idea Of A

Mounted Beggar Struck Us In So Humorous A Light That We Could

Not Help Laughing.  As We Rode Along Talking His Case Over, 

Cayley Said,  'Suppose We Rob Him.  He Has Sold His Market

Produce In Malaga,  And Depend Upon It,  Has A Pocketful Of

Money.'  We Waited For Him To Come Up.  When He Got Fairly

Between Us,  Cayley Pulled Out His Revolver (We Both Carried

Pistols) And Thus Addressed Him:

 

'Impudent Old Scoundrel! Stand Still.  If Thou Stirr'st Hand

Or Foot,  Or Openest Thy Mouth,  I Will Slay Thee Like A Dog. 

Thou Greedy Miscreant,  Who Art Evidently A Man Of Property

And Hast An Ass To Ride Upon,  Art Not Satisfied Without

Trying To Rob The Truly Poor Of The Alms We Give Them. 

Therefore Hand Over At Once The Two Dollars For Which Thou

Hast Sold Thy Cabbages For Double What They Were Worth.'

 

The Old Culprit Fell On His Knees,  And Trembling Violently, 

Prayed Cayley For The Love Of The Virgin To Spare Him.

 

'One Moment,  Caballeros,' He Cried,  'I Will Give You All I

Possess.  But I Am Poor,  Very Poor,  And I Have A Sick Wife At

The Disposition Of Your Worships.'

 

'Wherefore Art Thou Fumbling At Thy Foot?  Thou Carriest Not

Thy Wife In Thy Shoe?'

 

'I Cannot Untie The String - My Hand Trembles; Will Your

Worships Permit Me To Take Out My Knife?'

 

He Did So,  And Cutting The Carefully Knotted Thong Of A

Leather Bag Which Had Been Concealed In The Leg Of His

Stocking,  Poured Out A Handful Of Small Coin And Began To

Weep Piteously.

 

Chapter 33 Pg 178

Said Cayley,  'Come,  Come,  None Of That,  Or We Shall Feel It

Our Duty To Shoot Thy Donkey That Thou May'st Have Something

To Whimper For.'

 

The Genuine Tears Of The Poor Old Fellow At Last Touched The

Heart Of The Jester.

 

'We Know Now That Thou Art Poor,' Said He,  'For We Have Taken

All Thou Hadst.  And As It Is The Religion Of The Ingleses, 

Founded On The Practice Of Their Celebrated Saint,  Robino

Hoodo,  To Levy Funds From The Rich For The Benefit Of The

Needy,  Hold Out Thy Sombero,  And We Will Bestow A Trifle Upon

Thee.'

 

So Saying He Poured Back The Plunder; To Which Was Added,  To

The Astonishment Of The Receiver,  Some Supplementary Pieces

That Nearly Equalled The Original Sum.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 34 Pg 179

 

 

Before Setting Out From Seville We Had Had Our Foreign Office

Passports Duly Vised.  Our Profession Was Given As That Of

Travelling Artists,  And The Vise Included The Permission To

Carry Arms.  More Than Once The Sight Of Our Pistols Caused

Us To Be Stopped By The Carabineros.  On One Occasion These

Road-Guards Disputed The Wording Of The Vise.  They Protested

That 'Armas' Meant 'Escopetas,' Not Pistols,  Which Were

Forbidden.  Cayley Indignantly Retorted,  'Nothing Is

Forbidden To Englishmen.  Besides,  It Is Specified In Our

Passports That We Are 'Personas De Toda Confianza,' Which

Checkmated Them.

 

We Both Sketched,  And Passed Ourselves Off As 'Retratistas'

(Portrait Painters),  And Did A Small Business In This Way -

Rather In The Shape Of Caricatures,  I Fear,  But Which Gave

Much Satisfaction.  We Charged One Peseta (Seven-Pence),  Or

Two,  A Head,  According To The Means Of The Sitter.  The

Fiction That We Were Earning Our Bread Wholesomely Tended To

Moderate The Charge For It.

 

Passing Through The Land Of Don Quixote's Exploits,  We

Reverentially Visited Any Known Spot Which These Had Rendered

Famous.  Amongst Such Was The Venta Of Quesada,  From Which, 

Or From Quixada,  As Some Conjecture,  The Knight Derived His 

Chapter 34 Pg 180

Surname.  It Was Here,  Attracted By Its Castellated Style, 

And By Two 'Ladies Of Pleasure' At Its Door - Whose Virginity

He At Once Offered To Defend,  That He Spent The Night Of His

First Sally.  It Was Here