The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 2 (of 3)Le Sage, Alain René
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The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 2 (of 3)
Le Sage, Alain René
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Blas, Gil (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
I had no great reason to complain of him for two or three months.
His attentions were always polite and kind, amounting apparently to a
sincere and tender affection. But no such thing! These proofs of
wedded love, this worshipping with the body, and endowing with the
worldly goods, were all but a copy of his countenance; for the
cheating fellow meant, as men serve a cucumber, to throw me away on
the first opportunity. One morning, at my return from mass, I found
nothing at home but the bare walls; the movables, not excepting my
own apparel, every stick and every thread, had been carried off.
Zendono and his faithful servant had taken their measures so
adroitly, that in less than an hour the house had been completely
gutted; so that with nothing but the gown upon my back, and Don
Felix's ring, as good luck would have it, on my finger, here stood I,
like another Ariadne, abandoned by the ungrateful rifler of my
effects as well as of my charms. But you may take my word for it, I
did not beguile the sense of my misfortunes in tragedy, elegy, scene
individable, or poem unlimited. I rather fell upon my knees, and
blessed my guardian angel for having delivered me from a rascal who
must sooner or later fall into the hands of justice. The time we had
passed together I considered in the light of a dead loss, and my
spirits were all on the alert to make up for it. If I had been
inclined to stay in Portugal, as a hanger-on to some woman of
fashion, I should have found no difficulty in suiting myself; but
whether it was patriotism, or some astrological conjunction,
preparing a better fortune for me under the influence of the planets,
my whole heart was bent on getting back into Spain. I applied to a
jeweller, who valued my diamond and gave me cash for it, and then
took my departure with an old Spanish lady who was going to Seville
in a post-chaise.
This lady, whose name was Dorothea, had been to see a relation
settled at Coimbra, and was on her return to Seville, where she
lived. There was such a sympathy between us as made us fast friends
on the very first day of our acquaintance; and the attachment grew so
close while we travelled together, that the lady insisted, at our
journey's end, on my making her house my home. I had no reason to
repent having formed such a connection. Never was there a woman of a
more charming character. One might still conclude, from the turn of
her countenance, and from the spirit not yet quenched in her eyes,
that in her youth the catgut of many a guitar must have been fretted
under her window. As a proof of this, she had many trials what a
state of widowhood was; her husbands had all been of noble birth, and
her finances were flourishing on the accumulation of her several
jointures.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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