He was an excellent landlord, and a kind master; he exerted himself in acts of charity towards his vassals, and conducted himself with Christian humility and mercy. For a few years he was permitted to enjoy this tranquillity; it was a sort of calm after storm, where the absence of sorrow is called happiness. His active mind furnished him with occupation, while his piety and philosophy taught him content. He might now hope that he was assured of such a state of peace to the end of his life,--for he had relinquished every ambitious project, and limited his views to the narrowed sphere immediately around him. But Quevedo was one of those men marked by destiny for misfortune. He playfully, and yet with some bitterness, alludes to his evil fate, in a poem before quoted. He says: "My fortunes are so black, they might serve me for ink: I might be used as an image of a saint;--for, if the country people want rain, they have but to turn me out naked, and they are sure of a deluge; if they want sun, let me be covered by a mantle, and it will shine at night; I am always mistaken for some object of vengeance, and receive the blows intended for another. If a tile is to fall, it waits till I pass under. If I wish to borrow from any one, he replies so rudely, that, instead of borrowing, I am obliged to lend my patience. Every fool prates to me; every old woman makes love; every poor person begs; every prosperous one takes offence. When I travel, I always miss my road; when I play, I always lose; every friend deceives, every enemy sticks to me; water fails me at sea,--in taverns I find it in plenty, mingled with my wine. I have given up all employments, for I know that if I turned hosier, people would go bare-legged; if physician, no one would fall ill. If I am gallant towards a woman, she listens to or refuses me,--both are equally disastrous. If a man wished to die neither by poison nor pestilence, he has but to intend to benefit me, and he will not live an hour. Such is the adverseness of my star, that I submit and try to propitiate its pride by my adoration."[119] [Sidenote: 1641. Ætat. 61.]