Gil Blas, Alain-René Lesage [best romance ebooks .txt] 📗

five or six fair sheets, before the words looked crooked enough to please his jealous eyes. At length, however, he produced an epistle which came up with his most tragical conceptions. It ran thus: “Self-knowledge is a leading branch of wisdom, my little philosopher. As a candidate for a professor’s chair, lay aside the vanity of fancying yourself amiable. It requires merit of a far different compass to fix my affections. You have not enough of the woman about you to afford me even a temporary amusement. Yet do not despair; you have a sphere of your own; the beggarly servitors in our university have a keen appetite, but no very distinguishing palate.” So much for this elegant epistle!

When Aurora had finished hers, which rang the changes on similar topics, she sealed them, wrapped them up together, and giving me the packet: “There, Gil Blas,” said she, “take care that comes to Isabella’s hands this very evening. You comprehend me!” added she, with a glance from the corner of her eye, which admitted of no doubtful construction.

“Yes, my lord, answered I, your commands shall be executed to a tittle.”

I lost no time in taking my departure; no sooner in the street than I said to myself, “So ho! Master Gil Blas, your part then is that of the intriguing footman in this comedy. Well! so be it, my friend! show that you have wit and sense enough to top it over the favorite actor of the day. Señor Don Felix thinks a wink as good as a nod. A high compliment to the quickness of your apprehension! Is he then in an error? No! His hint is as clear as daylight. Don Lewis’s letter is to drop its companion by the way. A lucid exposition of a dark hieroglyphic, enough to shame the dullness of the commentators. The sacredness of a seal could never stand against this bright discovery.” Out came the single letter of Pacheco, and away went I to hunt after Doctor Murcia’s abode. At the very threshold, whom should I meet but the little page who had been at our lodging. “Comrade,” said I, “do not you happen to live with the great lawyer’s daughter?” His answer was in the affirmative. “I see by your countenance,” resumed I, “that you know the ways of the world. May I beg the favor of you to slip this little memorandum into your mistress’s hand?”

The little page asked me on whose behalf I was a messenger. The name of Don Lewis Pacheco had no sooner escaped my lips, than he told me, “Since that is the case, follow me; I have orders to show you up; Isabella wants to confer with you.”

I was introduced at once into a private apartment, where it was not long before the lady herself made her appearance. The beauty of her face was inexpressibly striking; I do not recollect to have seen more lovely features. Her manner was somewhat mincing and infantine, and yet for all that it had been thirty good years at least since she had mewled and puked in her nurse’s arms.

“My friend,” said she with an encouraging smile, “are you on Don Lewis Pacheco’s establishment?” I told her I had been in office for these three weeks. With this I fired off my paper popgun against her peace. She read it over two or three times, but if she had rubbed her eyes till doomsday she would have seen no clearer. In point of fact, nothing could be more unexpected than so cavalier an answer. Up went her eyes towards the heavens, appealing to their rival luminaries. The ivory1 fences of her pretty mouth committed alternate trespass on her soft and suffering lips, and her whole physiognomy bore witness to the pangs of her distressed and disappointed heart. Then coming to herself a little, and recovering her speech, “My friend,” said she, “has Don Lewis taken leave of his senses? Tell me, if you can, his motive for so heroic an epistle. If he is tired of me, well and good, but he might have taken his leave like a gentleman.”

“Madam,” said I, “my master most assuredly has not acted as I should have acted in his place. But he has in some sort been compelled to do as he has done. If you would give me your word to keep the secret, I could unravel the whole mystery.”

“You have it at once,” interrupted she with eagerness; “depend on it you shall be brought into no scrape by me, therefore explain yourself without reserve.”

“Well then!” replied I, “the fact is, without paraphrase, circumlocution, loss of time, or perplexity of understanding, as I shall distinctly state in two short words: Not half a minute after the receipt of your letter, there came into our house a lady, under a veil as impenetrable as her purpose was dark. She enquired for Señor Pacheco, and talked with him in private for some time. At the close of the conversation, I overheard her saying, ‘You swear to me never to see her more; but we must not stop there: to set my heart completely at rest, you must instantly write her a farewell letter of my dictating. You know my terms.’ Don Lewis did as she desired; then, giving the result into my custody, ‘Acquaint yourself,’ said he, ‘where Doctor Murcia de la Llana lives, and contrive to administer this love potion to his daughter Isabella.’ ”

“You see plainly, madam,” pursued I, “that this uncivil epistle is a rival’s handiwork, and that, consequently, my master is not so much to blame as he appears.”

“O Heaven!” exclaimed she, “he is more so than I was aware of. His words might have been the error of his hand, but his infidelity is the offence of his heart. Faithless man! Now he is held by other ties!⁠ ⁠… But,” added she, assuming an air of disdain, “let him devote himself unconstrained to his new passion; I shall