The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 3 (of 3)Le Sage, Alain René
General
The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 3 (of 3)
Le Sage, Alain René
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Blas, Gil (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
This inordinate passion sent me back and fore to gratify it at least
thirty times a day. I often met the landlady on the staircase. She,
being naturally of a suspicious temper, had a mind to find out one
day what could carry me every minute to the corn loft. She therefore
went up and began rummaging about everywhere, supposing perhaps that
it was my receptacle for articles purloined in the house. Of course
she did not forget to pull the straw about; and behold, there was my
bag! Two hands in a dish and one in a purse, was not one of her
proverbs; so that, finding the contents in crowns and pistoles, she
thought, or seemed to think, that the money was lawfully and honestly
hers. At least she had possession, and that is nine points of the
law, though scarcely one of honesty. But to do the thing decently,
after calling me little wretch, little rascal, and so forth, she
ordered the ostler, a fellow without any will but hers, to give me a
hearty flogging; and then turned me out of doors, with this salt eel
for my breakfast, and a lady-like oath that no light-fingered gentry
should ever darken her doors. In vain did I protest and vow that I
had never wronged my mistress: she affirmed the direct contrary, and
her word would go further than mine at any time. Thus were friar
Chrysostom's savings transferred from one thief to a greater thief in
the thief-taker.
I wept over the loss of my money as a father over the death of his
only son; and though my tears could not bring back what I had lost,
they at least answered the purpose of exciting pity in some people,
who saw how bitterly they flowed, and among others in the parson, who
was accidentally going by. He seemed affected by my sad plight, and
took me home with him. There, to gain my confidence, or rather to
pump me, he began soothing my sorrows. How much this poor child is
to be pitied! said he. Is it any wonder if, thrown upon the wide
world at so tender an age, he has committed a bad action? Grown up
men are not always proof against the flesh or the devil. Then,
addressing me, Child, added he, from what part of Spain do you come,
and who are your parents? You have the look of family about you.
Open your heart to me confidentially, and depend upon it, I never
will desert you.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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