I thought of sweeping some part of it, which was very necessary, but I could find nothing with which to do it; so I set myself to think what I should do next. [Sidenote: Lazaro waits long for his master to bring food, but he never came.] I thought I would wait for my master until noon. When he came he might by good luck bring something for us to eat. But there was no such experience for me. It was two o’clock, my master had not come, and I was desperately hungry. So I shut the door, put the key where I was told, and gave all my attention to my own necessities. [Sidenote: Lazaro’s successful begging expedition.] With a low and feeble voice, and my hands in my bosom, the good God before my eyes, and my tongue repeating His Name, I began to pray for bread at the largest houses and doors I came upon. As this method was sucked in with my mother’s milk, or I should say that I learnt it from that great master of it, the blind man, so good a disciple was I that, although in this city little is known of charity, nor had it been an abundant year, I made such a good haul that, before the clock struck four, I had several pounds of bread inside me, and two loaves up my sleeve and in my bosom. I returned to the house, and, in passing a tripe-shop, I begged of one of the shopwomen, who gave me a piece of a cow’s foot and several pieces of boiled tripe. When I got back to the house my good master was already there. The cloak was folded and put on the bench, and he was pacing up and down. He came up to me, and I thought he was going to scold me for being late. He asked me where I had been, and I said, “Sir! I was here until it struck two. But when I saw that you were not coming, I went over the city, to commend myself to the kind people, and they have given me what you see.” I showed him the bread and the tripe, which I carried in the end of my skirt. At this he seemed well pleased and said, “Well, I waited for you to eat, and when you did not come I ate what there was, but you have done well in this, for it is better to beg in the name of God than to steal. He helps me as He sees fit. [Sidenote: What touches the esquire’s honour.] I merely charge you that people must not be told that you live with me, for it touches my honour; though I well believe that it will be kept secret, because very few people know me here.” [Illustration: “_Gave me a piece of a cow’s foot and several pieces of boiled tripe._”] “Do not be troubled about that, sir,” I replied to him, “for cursed be he who asks the question, and myself if I tell him anything. No, we shall soon be free from want. When I saw that nothing good came into this house I went out. Surely the ground must be bad, or there must be unlucky houses which bring ill-luck to those who live in them.” “This one must be so without doubt,” he replied. “I promise you that after a month I will not stay in it, even if it is given me as my own.”