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

witness to some attempt at giving me pleasure, such as the most

impassioned and most tender lover puts in practice to win the

smile of her he loves; though he had a thousand estimable

qualities, my heart was untouched by all his merit. Love is not

always the offspring either of assiduity or desert. Alas! we are

often captivated at first sight by we know not whom, nor why, nor

how. To love, then, was not in my power. More disconcerted than

gratified by his repeated offices of tenderness, which I received

with a forced courtesy, but without real plea ure, if I accused

myself in secret of ingratitude, I still thought myself an object

as much of pity as of censure. To his unhappiness and my own, his

delicacy more than kept pace with his affection. Not an action or

a speech of mine, but he unravelled all its hidden motives, and

fathomed all my thoughts, almost before they arose. The inmost

recesses of my heart were laid open to his penetration. He

complained without ceasing of my indifference; and esteemed

himself only so much the more unfortunate, in not being able to

please me, as he was well assured that no rival stood in his way;

for I was scarcely sixteen years old; and, before he paid his

addresses to me, he had tampered with my women, who had assured

him that no one had hitherto attracted my attention. Yes,

Seraphina, he would often say, I could have been contented that

you had preferred some other to myself; and that there were no

more fatal cause of your insensibility. My attentions and your

own principles would get the better of such a juvenile

prepossession; but I despair of triumphing over your coldness,

since your heart is impenetrable to all the love I have lavished

on you. Wearied with the repetition of the same strain, I told

him that instead of disturbing his repose and mine by this excess

of delicacy, he would do better in trusting to the effects of

time. In fact, at my age, I could not be expected to enter into

the refinements of so sentimental a passion; and Don Diego should

have waited, as I warned him, for a riper period and more staid

reflection. But, finding that a whole year had elapsed, and that

he was no forwarder in my favour than on the first day, he lost

all patience, or rather, his brain became distracted. Affecting

to have important business at court, he took his leave, and went

to serve as a volunteer in the Low Countries; where he soon found

in the chances of war what he went to seek, the terminations of

his sufferings and of his life.

After the lady had finished her recital, her husband’s uncommon

character became the topic of our discourse. We were interrupted

by the arrival of a courier, charged with a letter for Seraphina

from the Count De Polan. She begged my permission to read it; and

as she went on, I observed her to grow pale, and to become

dreadfully agitated. When she had finished, she raised her eyes

upward, heaved a long sigh, and her face was in a moment bathed

with her tears. Her sorrow sat heavily on my feelings. My spirits

were greatly disturbed; and, as if it were a forewarning of the

blow impending over my head, a death-like shudder crept through

my frame, and my faculties were all benumbed. Madam, said I, in

accents half choked with apprehension, may I ask of what dire

events that letter brings the tidings? Take it, sir, answered

Seraphina most dolefully, while she held out the letter to me.

Read for yourself what my father has written. Alas! you are but

too deeply concerned in the contents.

At these words, which made my blood run cold, I took the letter

with a trembling hand, and found in it the following

intelligence: “Your brother, Don Gaspard, fought yesterday at the

Prado. He received a small sword wound, of which he died this

day: and declared, before he breathed his last, that his

antagonist was the son of Baron Steinbach, an officer of the

German guard. As misfortunes never come alone, the murderer has

eluded my vengeance by flight, but wherever he may have concealed

himself, no pains shall be spared to hunt him out. I am going to

write to the magistrates all round the country, who will not fail

to take him into custody, if he passes through any one of the

towns in their jurisdiction, and by the notices I am going to

circulate, I hope to cut off his retreat in the country or at the

sea-ports. — THE COUNT DE POLAN.”

Conceive into what a ferment this letter threw all my thoughts. I

remained for some moments motionless and without the power of

speech. In the midst of my confusion, I too plainly saw the

destructive bearing of Don Gaspard’s death on the passion I had

imbibed. My despair was unbounded at the thought. I threw myself

at Seraphina’s feet, and offering her my naked sword, Madam, said

I, spare the Count de Polan the necessity of seeking further for

a man who might possibly withdraw himself from his resentment. Be

yourself the avenger of your brother: offer up his murderer as

the victim of your own hand: now, strike the blow. Let this very

weapon which terminated his life, cut short the sad remnant of

his adversary’s days. Sir, answered Seraphina, a little softened

by my behaviour, I loved Don Gaspard, so that though you killed

him in fair and manly hostility, and though he brought his death

upon himself; you may rest assured that I take up my father’s

quarrel. Yes, Don Alphonso, I am your decided enemy, and will do

against you all that the ties of blood and friendship require at

my hands. But I will not take advantage of your evil star: in

vain has it delivered you into my grasp: if honour arms me

against you, the same sentiment forbids to pursue a cowardly

revenge. The rights of hospitality must be inviolable, and I will

not repay such service as you have rendered me with the treachery

of an assassin. Fly! make your escape, if you can, from our

pursuit and from the rigour of the laws, and save your forfeit

life from the dangers that beset it.

What, then! madam, returned I, when vengeance is in your own

hands, do you turn it over to the laws, which may, perhaps, be

too slow for your impatience? Nay! rather stab a wretch who is

not worthy of your forbearance. No, madam, maintain not so noble

and so generous a proceeding with one like me. Do you know who I

am? All Madrid takes me for Baron Steinbach’s son — yet am I

nothing better than a foundling, whom he brought up from charity.

I know not even who were guilty of my existence. No matter,

interrupted Seraphina, with precipitation, as if my last words

had given her new uneasiness, though you were the lowest of

mankind I would do what honour bids. Well, madam, said I, since a

brother’s death is insufficient to excite your thirst after my

blood, I will exasperate your hatred still further by a new

offence, of which I trust you will never pardon the boldness. I

dote on you: I could not behold your charms without being dazzled

by them: and, in spite of the cloud in which my destiny was

enveloped, I had cherished the hope of being united to you. I was

so infatuated by my passion, or rather by my pride, as to flatter

myself that heaven, which perhaps conceals from me my birth in

mercy, might discover it one day, and enable me without a blush

to acquaint you with my real name. After this injurious avowal,

can you hesitate a moment about punishing me?

This rash declaration, replied the lady, would doubtless prove

offensive at any other season; but I forgive it in consideration

of the trouble which bewilders you. Besides, my own condition so

engrosses me, as to render me deaf to any strange ideas that may

escape you. Once more, Don Alphonso, added she, shedding tears,

begone far from a house which you have cast into mourning: every

moment of your longer stay adds pungency to my distress. I no

longer oppose your will, madam, returned I, preparing to take my

leave: absence from you must then be my portion: but do not

suppose that, anxious for the preservation of a life which is

become hateful to you, I go to seek an asylum where I may be

sheltered from your search. No, no, I bare my breast to your

resentment. I shall wait with impatience at Toledo for the fate

which you design me; and by surrendering at once to my pursuers,

shall myself forward the completion of my miseries.

At the conclusion of this speech I withdrew. My horse was

returned to me, and I went to Toledo, where I abode eight days,

and really with so little care to conceal myself that I know not

how or why I have escaped an arrest; for I cannot suppose that

the Count de Polan, whose whole soul is set on cutting off my

retreat, should not have been aware that I was likely to pass

through Toledo. Yesterday I left that town, where it should seem

as if I was tired of my liberty, and without betaking myself to

any fixed course of travelling, I came to this hermitage, like a

man who had no reason to be ashamed of shewing himself. Such,

father, was the cause of my absence and distraction. I beseech

you to assist me with your counsels.

CH. XI. — The old hermit turns out an extraordinary genius, and

Gil Blas finds himself among his former acquaintance.

WHEN Don Alphonso had concluded the melancholy recital of his

misfortunes, the old hermit said to him — My son, you have been

excessively rash in tarrying so long at Toledo. I consider in a

very different light from that you affect to place it in, what

you have told me of your story; and your love for Seraphina seems

to me to be sheer madness. Take my word for it, you will do well

to cancel that young lady from your remembrance; she never can be

of your communion. Retreat like a skilful general, when you

cannot act with effect on the offensive; and pursue your fortune

on another field, where success may smile on your endeavours. You

will be terribly out of luck to kill the brother of the next

young lady who may chance to succeed this only possible object of

your affection.

He was going to add many other inducements to resignation, in

such a case as Don Alphonso’s, when we saw another hermit enter

our retreat, with a well-stuffed wallet slung across his

shoulders. He was on his return, with the charitable

contributions of all the good folks in the town of Cuen�a; and

the gathering did credit to the religion of the age. He looked

younger than his companion, in spite of his thick, foxy beard.

Welcome home, brother Anthony, said the elder of the two

recluses; what news do you bring us from town? Bad enough,

answered the carroty friar, putting into his hands a paper,

folded in the form of a letter; this little instrument will

inform you. The hoary sage opened it, and after reading on with

an increased attention, as the contents seemed to grow more

interesting, exclaimed: Heaven’s will be done! Since the

combustion is anticipated, we have only to fall in with the

humour of our fate. Let us change our dialect, Signor Don

Alphonso! pursued he, addressing