The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 1 (of 3)Le Sage, Alain René
General
The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 1 (of 3)
Le Sage, Alain René
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Blas, Gil (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Such were the parting benedictions of my sire. As for my mother, who
had more the touch of nature in her manners, she seemed to feel
somewhat at my departure. She dropped a few tears, and even slipped
a ducat by stealth into my hand. Thus was I sent from Olmédo into
the wide world, and took the road of Segovia. I did not go two
hundred yards without stopping to examine my bag. I had a mind to
view its contents, and to know the precise amount of my possessions.
There I found a case with two razors, which must have travelled post
over the chins of ten generations, by the evidence of their wear and
tear, with a strap to set them, and a bit of soap. In addition to
this, a coarse shirt quite new, a pair of my father's shoes quite
old, and what rejoiced me more than all the rest, a rouleau of twenty
rials in a linen bag. Behold the sum-total of my personals. You may
conclude master Nicholas, the barber, to have reckoned a good deal on
my ingenuity, by his turning me adrift with so slender a provision.
Yet a ducat and twenty rials, by way of fortune, was enough to turn
the head of a young man unaccustomed to money concerns. I fancied my
stock of cash inexhaustible; and pursued my journey in the sunshine
of brilliant anticipation, looking from time to time at the hilt of
my rapier, while the blade was striking against the calf of my leg at
every step, or tripping up my heels.
In the evening I reached the village of Ataquinés with a very
catholic stomach. I put up at the inn; and, as if I meant to spend
freely, asked, in a lofty tone, what there was for supper. The
landlord examined my pretensions with his eye, and finding according
to what cloth my coat was cut, said with true publican's civility,
Yes, yes, my worthy master, you shall have no reason to complain; we
will treat you like a lord. With this assurance, he showed me into a
little room, whither he brought me, a quarter of an hour afterwards,
a ragout made of a great he cat, on which I feasted with as famous an
appetite as if it had been hare or rabbit. This excellent dish was
washed down by so choice a wine, that the king had no better in his
cellars. I found out, however, that it was pricked; but that was no
hindrance to my doing it as much honor as the he cat. The last
article in this entertainment for a lord was a bed better adapted to
drive sleep away than to invite it. Figure it to yourself about the
width of a coffin, and so short that I could not stretch my legs,
though none of the longest. Besides, there was neither mattress nor
feather bed, but merely a little straw sewed up in a sheet folded
double, which was laid down clean for every hundredth traveller, and
served the other ninety-nine, one after another, without washing.
Nevertheless, in such a bed, with a stomach distended to a surfeit by
fricaseed cat, and then raked by sour wine, thanks to youth and a
good constitution, I slept soundly, and passed the night without
being disturbed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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