Pablo de Segovia, the Spanish Sharper, Francisco de Quevedo [primary phonics .txt] 📗

to me, and in a very angry manner, bade me get down with many curses. All this was in the full view of my mistress and Don Diego Coronel, which put me as much out of countenance as if I had been whipped at the cart’s tail. I was wonderfully cast down and melancholy, and with good cause, to have two such misfortunes befal me upon so small a spot of ground. In fine, I was fain to alight; the lawyer mounted, and went his way; and I the better to carry off the business, stayed in the street, talking to Don Diego, and said, “I never mounted such an unlucky jade in all my days. My cream-coloured horse is yonder by St. Philip’s church, and is very hard-mouthed when he sets a-galloping. I was telling some people there how I used to ride him at full speed, and pull him up at one check. They told me, I could not do it with a horse that stood there, which was the lawyer’s you saw; I resolved to try; you cannot imagine what a restive jade it is, and has such a scurvy saddle, that it was a wonder he did not kill me.” “It was so, indeed,” answered Don Diego; “and yet, sir, you seem hurt in that leg.” “I do so,” replied I, “and therefore I’ll go take my own horse and get home.” The young lady was fully satisfied that all I said was true, for I could perceive she was much concerned at my fall; but Don Diego, who saw farther, grew suspicious through what had happened with the lawyer in the street.

This proved the cause of my ruin, besides many other unlucky accidents that befel me; and the greatest of all was, that when I went home and came to a chest, where in a portmanteau I had left all the remains of my inheritance, and what I won at play, except only an hundred reals I had about me, I found my good friends the Licentiate Brandalagas and Pedro López had laden themselves with it, and were fled. This was a mortal stroke, and I stood confounded, not knowing which way to turn myself, and saying, “A curse on him that puts his trust in ill-gotten wealth, which goes as it comes.” Unhappy man! what shall I do? I could not tell whether it were best to go myself, or send a hue and cry after them. I did not like this course, because if they should happen to be taken, they would charge me with the disguise of the monk’s habit, and other matters, and that was the direct way to the gallows; and as for following of them, I knew not which way. At last, for fear of spoiling my marriage, which I looked upon as secure, and likely to make amends for all losses, I resolved to stay and push it on vigorously. I dined, after dinner hired a horse, went away towards my mistress’s street; and having no footman, and it not being decent to be seen without one, I waited at the corner of the street until some man passed by that looked like one, and away I went after him, making him a footman, though he was none. At the other end of the street I did the like, standing out of sight until another went by like the former, and then rode down again. I know not whether it was a conviction of the truth that I was the very scoundrel that Don Diego suspected, or the fresh cause of suspicion, on account of the lawyer’s horse and footman, or what else that did it, but he took care to inquire who I was, what I lived on, and observed all my actions. At last he discovered the whole intrigue the strangest way that could be imagined, for I pressed on the business of matrimony very hotly, plying the ladies continually with letters; and Don Diego being as eagerly importuned by them, who were in haste to conclude it, as he was upon the scent after me, met the Licentiate Flechilla, the man I invited myself to dine with, when first I entered myself among the sharping gang at Madrid before my imprisonment. This man taking it ill that I had not gone to see him again, according to promise, happening to talk with Don Diego, and knowing I had been his servant, told him how I met him when I went to dine with him; and that but two days ago he had seen me on horseback, and I informed him I was going to be married to a great fortune. This was enough for Don Diego, who returning home immediately, met with the two gentlemen I had made myself so familiar with, gave them an account of the whole affair, and desired them to be ready at night to give me a good thrashing in his street, where he would contrive I should be, and they might know me by his cloak, which he would take care I should have on. They agreed, saw me presently in the street, and all of them carried it so fair at that time, that I never thought myself so secure of their friendship as then. We continued talking together how to divert ourselves at night, till towards the close of the evening the two gentlemen took their leave, and went down the street. Don Diego and I being left by ourselves, turned towards the church of St. Philip. When we came to the next turning, Don Diego said to me, “Let me beg the favour of you, Don Philip, to change cloaks with me, for I have occasion to go this way, and would not be known.” “With all my heart,” answered I. I took his cloak very innocently, and gave him mine in an unhappy hour, offering to go along and stand by him if need were; but he