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
Heaven defend us! thought I within myself: good now! if this old
antidote to rapture can fancy himself an object on which the fair
should waste their sweets, is it any wonder that among our young
folks each fancies himself the Adonis, for whom every Venus pines?
Gil Blas, pursued he with a chuckle, this very day will I take you to
this abode of pleasure: it is my house of call almost every evening
for a bit of supper. You will be quite petrified at her modest
appearance, and the rigid propriety of her behavior. Far from taking
after those little wanton vagrants, who are hey-go mad after
striplings, and give themselves up to the fascinations of exterior
appearance, she has a proper insight into things, staid, ripe, and
judicious: what she wants is the _bonâ fide_ spirit and discretion of
a man; a lover who has served an apprenticeship to his trade, in
preference to all the flashy fellows of the modern school. This is
but an epitome of the panegyric, which the noble duke Don Gonzales
pronounced upon his mistress. He burdened himself with the task of
proving her a compendium of all human perfection; but the lecture was
little calculated for the conviction of the hearer. I had attended
an experimental course among the actresses; and had always found that
the elderly candidates had been plucked in their amours. Yet, as a
matter of courtesy, it was impossible not to put on the semblance of
giving implicit credit to my master's veracity; I even added chivalry
to courtesy, and threw down my glove on Euphrasia's penetration and
the correctness of her taste. My impudence went the length of
asserting, that it was impossible for her to have selected a
better-provided crony. The grown-up simpleton was not aware, that I
was fumigating his nostrils at the expense of his addled brain; on
the contrary, he bristled at my praises: so true is it, that a
flatterer may play what game he likes against the pigeons of high
life! They let you look over their hand, and then wonder that you
beat them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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