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
The genius of that artist was called forth but too successfully. His
emblems, devices, and draperies were so ostentatious as to disgust
instead of cajoling the natives: every individual, whether of the
town or the suburbs, whether high or low, rich or poor, felt shocked
and insulted by this after-thought parade. This ministerial beggar
on horseback, said one, can put his hand into his pocket for his
father's funeral baked meats, but never found in his heart
wherewithal to furnish his living table with common necessaries. It
would have been much more to the purpose, said another, to have made
the old gentleman's latter days comfortable, than to have wasted such
thriftless sums on a post-obit act of filial munificence. In short,
quips of the brain and peltings of the tongue pattered round our
execrated heads. It would have been well had the storm been only a
whirlwind of passion, or hurricane of words; but we were all, Scipio,
Bertrand, and myself, corporally admonished of our misdeeds on our
coming out of church; they abused us like pickpockets, made mouths
and odious noises as we passed, and followed Bertrand at his heels to
the inn with a copious volley of stones and mud. To disperse the mob
which had collected before my uncle's house, my mother was obliged to
show herself at the window, and to declare publicly that she was
thoroughly satisfied with my proceedings. Another detachment had
filed off to the stable-yard where my carriage stood, in the full
determination of breaking it to pieces; and this they would
inevitably have done, if the landlord and landlady had not found some
means of quieting their perturbed spirits, and turning them aside
from their outrageous purpose.
All these affronts, so revolting to my dignity, the effect of the
tales which the young grocer had been spreading about town, inspired
me with such a thorough hatred for my native place, that I determined
on quitting Oviedo almost immediately, though but for this bustle I
might have made it my residence for some time. I announced my
intention, with the reasons of it, to my mother, who, considering my
uncouth reception as no very flattering compliment to herself, did
not urge my longer stay among people so little inclined to treat me
civilly. The only point remaining now to be discussed was her future
destiny and provision. My dear mother, said I, since my uncle stands
so much in need of your attendance, I will no longer urge you to go
along with me; but, as his days seem likely to be very few on earth,
you must promise to come and take up your abode with me at my farm as
soon as the last duties are performed to his honored remains.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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