The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane by Alain René le Sage (good books to read in english .TXT) 📕

outrageous behaviour, I am ready to justify it by the law of

arms. Some thing very different must be done, replied the King: a

Spanish gentleman understands the point of honour too well to

fight on equal terms with a cowardly assassin. I can use no

milder term; and you can only atone for the heinousness of your

conduct, by presenting a cane in person to your antagonist, and

offering to submit yourself to its discipline. Oh heaven!

exclaimed the Duke: what! sir, would you have a man of my rank

degrade, debase himself before a simple gentleman, and submit to

be caned! No, replied the monarch, I will oblige Don Pompeyo to

promise not to touch you. Only offer him the cane, and ask his

pardon: that is all I require from you. And that is too much,

sir, interrupted the Duke d’Almeyda warmly; I had rather remain

exposed to all the secret machinations of his resentment. Your

life is dear to me, said the king; and I should wish this affair

to have no bad consequences. To terminate it with less disgust to

yourself, I will be the only witness of the satisfaction which I

order you to offer to the Spaniard.

The King was obliged to stretch his influence over the Duke to

the utmost, before he could induce him to so mortifying a step.

However, the peremptory monarch effected his purpose, and then

sent for me. He related the particulars of his conversation with

my enemy, and inquired if I should be content with the stipulated

reparation. I answered, yes: and gave my word that, far from

striking the offender, I would not even accept the cane, when he

presented it. With this understanding, the Duke and myself at a

certain hour attended the King, who took us into his closet.

Come, said he to the Duke, acknowledge your fault, and deserve to

be forgiven by the humility of your contrition. Then my

antagonist made his apology, and offered me the cane in his hand.

Don Pompeyo, said the monarch unexpectedly, take the cane, and

let not my presence prevent you from doing justice to your

outraged honour. I release you from your promise not to strike

the Duke. No, sir, answered I, it is enough that he has submitted

to the indignity of the offer: an offended Spaniard asks no more.

Well, then! replied the King, since you are content with this

satisfaction, you may both of you at once assume the privilege of

a gentlemanly quarrel. Measure your swords, and discuss the

question honourably. It is what I most ardently desire, exclaimed

the Duke d’Almeyda in a menacing tone; for that only is competent

to make me amends for the disgraceful step I have taken.

With these words, he went away full of rage and shame; and sent

to tell me, two hours after, that he was waiting for me, in a

retired place. I kept the appointment, and found this nobleman

ready to fight lustily. He was not five and forty; deficient

neither in courage nor in skill: so that the match was fair and

equal. Come on, Don Pompeyo, said he, let us terminate our

difference here. Our hostility ought to be reciprocally mortal;

yours, for my aggression, and mine, for having asked your pardon.

These words were no sooner out of his mouth, than he drew upon me

so suddenly, that I had no time to reply. He pressed very closely

upon me at first, but I had the good fortune to put by all his

thrusts. I acted on the offensive in my turn: the encounter was

evidently with a man equally skilled in defence or in attack;

and. there is no knowing what might have been the issue, if he

had not made a false step in retiring, and fallen backwards. I

stood still immediately, and said to the duke, Recover yourself.

Why give me any quarter? he answered. Your forbearance only

aggravates my disgrace. I will not take advantage of an accident,

replied I; it would only tarnish my glory. Once more recover

yourself, and let us fight it out.

Don Pompeyo, said he rising, after this act of generosity, honour

allows me not to renew the attack upon you. What would the world

say of me, were I to wound you mortally? I should be branded as a

coward for having murdered a man, at whose mercy I had just

before lain prostrate. I cannot therefore again lift my arm

against your life, and I feel my resentful passions subsiding

into the sweet emotions of gratitude. Don Pompeyo, let us

mutually lay aside our hatred. Let us go still further; let us be

friends. Ah! my lord, exclaimed I, so flattering a proposal I

joyfully accept. I proffer you my sincere friendship; and, as an

earnest, promise never more to approach Donna Hortensia, though

she herself should invite me. It is my duty, said he, to yield

that lady to you. Justice requires me to give her up, since her

affections are yours already. No, no, interrupted I; you love

her. Her partiality in my favour would give you uneasiness; I

sacrifice my own pleasures to your peace. Ah! too generous

Castilian, replied the Duke, embracing me, your sentiments are

truly noble. With what remorse do they strike me! Grieved and

ashamed, I look back on the outrage you have sustained. The

reparation in the King’s chamber seems now too trifling. A better

recompense awaits you. To obliterate all remembrance of your

shame, take one of my nieces whose hand is at my disposal. She is

a rich heiress, not fifteen, with beauty beyond the attractions

of mere youth.

I made my acknowledgments to the Duke in terms such as the high

honour of his alliance might suggest, and married his niece a few

days afterwards. All the court complimented this nobleman on

having made such generous amends to an insulted rival; and my

friends took part in my joy at the happy issue of an adventure

which might have led to the most melancholy consequences. From

this time, gentlemen, I have lived happily at Lisbon. I am the

idol of my wife, and have not sunk the lover in the husband. The

Duke d’Almeyda gives me new proofs of friendship every day; and I

may venture to boast of standing high in the King of Portugal’s

good graces. The importance of my errand hither sufficiently

assures me of his confidence.

CH. VIII. — An accident, in consequence of which Gil Blas was

obliged to look out for another place.

SUCH was Don Pompeyo’s story, which Don Alexo’s servant and

myself over heard, though we were prudently sent away before he

began his recital. Instead of withdrawing, we skulked behind the

door, which we had left half open, and from that station we did

not miss a word. After this, the company went on drinking; but

they did not prolong their carousals till the morning, because

Don Pompeyo, who was to speak with the prime minister, wished for

a little rest beforehand. The Marquis de Zenette and my master

took a cordial leave of the stranger, and left him with his

kinsman.

We went to bed for once before daybreak; and Don Matthias, when

he awoke, invested me with a new office. Gil Blas, said he, take

pen, ink, and paper, and write two or three letters as I shall

dictate: you shall henceforth be my secretary. Well and good!

said I to myself, a plurality of functions. As footman, I follow

my master’s heels; as valet-de-chambre, I help him to dress; and

write for him as his secretary. Heaven be praised for my

apotheosis! Like the triple Hecate of the Pantheon, I am to enact

three different characters at the same time. Can you guess my

intention? continued he. Thus it is: but take care what you are

about; your life may depend on it. As I am continually meeting

with fellows who boast of their success among the women, I mean,

by way of getting the upper hand, to fill my pockets with

fictitious love-letters, and read them in company. It will be

amusing enough. Happier than my competitors, who make conquests

only for the pleasure of the boast, I shall take the credit of

intrigue, and spare myself the labour. But vary your writing, so

that the manufacture may not be detected by the sameness of the

hand.

I then sat down to comply with the commands of Don Matthias, who

first dictated a tender epistle to this tune — You did not keep

your promise to-night. Ah! Don Matthias, how will you exculpate

yourself? My error was a cruel one! But you punish me deservedly

for my vanity, in fancying that business and amusement were all

to give way before the pleasure of seeing Donna Clara de Mendoza!

After this pretty note, he made me write another, as if from a

lady who sacrificed a prince to him; and then a third, whose fair

writer offered, if she could rely on his discretion, to embark

with him for the shores of Cytherean enchantment. It was not

enough to dictate these love-sick strains; he forced me to

subscribe them with the most high-flying names in Madrid. I could

not forbear hinting at some little hazard in all this, but he

begged me to keep my sage counsels till they were called for. I

was obliged to hold my tongue, and dispatch his orders out of

hand. That done, he got up, and dressed with my assistance. The

letters were put into his pocket, and out he went. I followed him

to dinner with Don Juan de Moncade, who entertained five or six

gentlemen of his acquaintance that day.

There was a grand set-out, and mirth, the best relish, was not

wanting to the banquet. All the guests contributed to enliven the

conversation, some by wit and humour, others by anecdotes of

which the relaters were the heroes. My master would not lose so

fine an opportunity of bringing our joint performances to bear.

He read them audibly, and with so much assurance, that probably

the whole party, with the exception of his secretary, was taken

in by the device. Among the company, before whom this trick was

so impudently played off, there was one person, by name Don Lope

de Velasco. This person, a very grave don, instead of making

himself merry like the rest with the fictitious triumphs of the

reader, asked him coolly if the conquest of Donna Clara had been

achieved with any great difficulty? Less than the least, answered

Don Matthias; the advances were all on her side. She saw me in

public, and took a fancy to my person. A scout was commissioned

to follow me, and thus she got at my name and condition. She

wrote to me, and gave me an appointment at an hour of the night

when the house was sure to be quiet. I was true as the needle to

the pole; her bedchamber was the place … . But prudence and

delicacy forbid my describing what passed there.

At this instance of tender regard for the lady’s character,

Signor de Velasco betrayed some very passionate workings in his

countenance. It was easy to see the interest he took in the

subject. All these letters, said he to my master, looking at him

with an eye of indignation and contempt, are infamous forgeries,

and above all that which you boast of having received from Donna

Clara de Mendoza. There is not in all Spain a more modest young

creature than her. self. For these two years, a gentleman, at

least your equal in birth and personal merit, has been trying

every method of insinuating himself into her heart. Scarcely have

his assiduities extorted the slightest