The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 2 (of 3) — John Shaqi
The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 2 (of 3)Le Sage, Alain René
General
The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 2 (of 3)
Le Sage, Alain René
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Blas, Gil (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Well then, resumed he, tying up his horse and preparing for the
encounter, let us settle our dispute like men. Little could a person
of my condition have stomached the debasement of a request, to a man
of your quality. Nine out of ten in my rank would, under such
circumstances, have taken their revenge on terms of less honor but
more safety. I felt myself exasperated at this last insinuation, so
that, seeing he had already drawn his sword, mine did not linger in
the scabbard. We fell on one another with so much fury, that the
engagement did not last long. Whether his attack was made with too
much heat, or my skill in fencing was superior, he soon received a
mortal wound. He staggered, and dropped dead upon the spot. In such
a situation, having no alternative but an immediate escape, I mounted
the horse of my antagonist, and went off in the direction of Toledo.
There was no venturing to return to Baron Steinbach's, since, besides
the danger of the attempt, the narrative of my adventure from my own
mouth would only afflict him the more, so that nothing was so
eligible as an immediate decampment from Madrid.
Chewing the cud of my own melancholy reflection, I travelled onwards
the remainder of the night and all the next morning. But about noon
it became necessary to stop, both for the sake of my horse and to
avoid the insupportable fierceness of the mid-day heat. I staid in a
village till sunset, and then, intending to reach Toledo without
drawing bit, went on my way. I had already got two leagues beyond
Illescas, when, about midnight, a storm like that of to-day overtook
me as I was jogging along the road. There was a garden wall at some
little distance, and I rode up to it. For want of any more
commodious shelter, my horse's station and my own were arranged, as
comfortably as circumstances would admit, near the door of a
summer-house at the end of the wall, with a balcony over it. Leaning
against the door, I discovered it to be open, owing, as I thought, to
the negligence of the servants. Having dismounted, less from
curiosity than for the sake of a better standing, as the rain had
been very troublesome under the balcony, I went into the lower part
of the summer-house, leading my horse by the bridle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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