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

a glebe which is mine only by your benevolence.

While he was holding this high-flown language, his little slice

of dinner was set before him. He fell to without the fear of

indigestion before his eyes, still heightening the luxury of the

repast at intervals, by fine speeches addressed to me in the most

fulsome style of flattery. I took the opportunity, when his mouth

was filled with something more substantial, to edge in a word or

two amidst the torrent; and as he had not forgotten to ask after

his friend the steward, I made no bones about acknowledging that

I was no longer a hanger-on of the church. I even went so far as

to particularize the most trivial circumstances attending my

resignation, to all of which he listened with an attentive ear.

After all his fine professions, who would not have expected to

see him moved even to tears with the throes of resentful

gratitude, to hear him thunder bulls and interdicts against the

superannuated archbishop? The devil a bit! he did neither the one

thing nor the other. But his countenance fell, and his whole air

was that of an absent man; the rest of his dinner was bolted down

without the garnish of intermediate talk about Maecenas; as soon

as he had done, he hurried from table without minding grace or

gratitude, wished me good day with a cold and distant air, and

got off as fast as possible. The unfeeling scoundrel, perceiving

that I was no longer in a situation for him to pump anything out

of me, would not even take the trouble to draw a decent veil over

his dirty principles. But such a blackguard could excite no other

sensation than contempt and laughter. Looking at him with

derision, the fittest chastisement for fellows like these, I

called after him loud enough to be heard by the whole room: Stop

there, you nun’s priest! Go and put those two bottles in ice

against Maecenas comes to the Sabine farm! Be sure they are rich,

genuine, and old; or they will be a farce to Falernian.

CH. VI. — Gil Blas goes to the play at Grenada. His surprise at

seeing one of the actresses, and what happened thereupon.

No sooner had Garcias rid the room of his presence, than two

gentlemen came in, extremely well dressed, and took their seats

close by me. They began talking about the players of the Grenada

company, and about a new piece which just then had a great run.

According to their account, it was quite the town talk. Nothing

would do for me, but to go and see it that very day. I had never

been at the play since my residence at Grenada. As I had lived

nearly the whole time in the archbishop’s palace, where all such

profane shews were condemned as uncanonical, I had been cut off

from every recreation of that sort. All my knowledge of men and

manners was drawn from homilies!

I repaired therefore to the theatre at the appointed hour, and

found a very full house. All around me, discussions were going on

about the piece before the curtain drew up; and there was not a

soul in the numerous assembly but had some remark to make upon

it. One liked it, another could not bear it. Do not you think the

dialogue is particularly happy? said a candid critic on my right.

Was there ever such miserable stuff! cried a snarling critic on

my left. In good truth, if bad authors abound, it must be

admitted that the public are at variance about what is good and

what is bad: but the bad judges have a right to be pleased for

their money; and as they far outnumber the good ones, their

favourite writers can never want employment. When one only

considers through what an ordeal dramatic poets have to pass, it

is a matter of wonder that any should be found hardy enough at

once to contend against the ignorance of the multitude, and the

random shot of those self-created guides in matters of taste, who

always pretend to lead the blindness of the public judgment, and

too frequently push it into the mire of absurdity.

At length the buffoon of the piece came forward by way of

prologue. As soon as his grotesque countenance was visible, there

was a general clapping of hands; a sure indication of his being

one of those spoiled actors, who are allowed to take any

liberties with the pit, and to be applauded through thick and

thin, in fact, this player neither opened his lips, nor moved a

muscle, without exciting the most extravagant raptures. He would

have performed better, had he been less conscious what a

favourite he was. But he presumed on that circumstance most

abominably. I observed that he sometimes forgot what was set down

for him, and took the licence of adding to his part out of his

own free fancy; a common cause of complaint against low

comedians, which, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but

make the judicious grieve. Would the audience but receive such

mirth with hisses, instead of crying bravo, they might restrain

the absurd practice, and purge the stage from barbarism.

Some of the other performers were greeted with the usual tokens

on their entrance, and particularly an actress who played the

chambermaid. There was something about her which more than

usually attracted my attention; and language must sink under the

labour of expressing my astonishment at tracing the features of

Laura, that fair, that chaste, that inexpressible she, whom I

supposed to be still at Madrid, warbling in one key, with hands,

sides, voice, and mind incorporate with Arsenia. But there could

be no doubt of her identity. The kick in her gallop, the leer in

her eye, and the tripping pertness of her tongue, all conspired

in evidence that there could be no mistake. Yet, as if I had

refused belief to the affidavit of my own eyes and ears, I asked

her name of a gentleman who was sitting beside me. What the

deuce! Why, where do you come from? said he. You must

unquestionably be a new importation, not to have seen or heard of

the divine Estella.

The likeness was too perfect for me to be mistaken. It was easy

to comprehend why Laura, changing her sphere of action, changed

her name also; wherefore from curiosity to know how matters stood

with her, since the public always pry into the most private

concerns of theatrical persons, I inquired of the same man

whether this Estella had any particular affair of gallantry on

her hands. He informed me that for the last two months there had

been a great Portuguese nobleman at Grenada, his name was the

Marquis de Marialva, who had laid out a great deal of money upon

her. He might have told me more, if I had not been afraid of

becoming troublesome with my questions. I was better employed in

musing on the information this good gentleman had given me, than

in attending to the play; and if any one had asked me what it was

all about, when the piece was over, I should have been puzzled

for an answer. I could do nothing but decline Laura and Estella

through all cases and numbers; till at length I boldly made up my

mind to call at her house the next day. Not but there was some

risk as to the reception she might give me: it might be

suspected, without excess of modesty, that my appearance would

give her no great pleasure in the high tide of her affairs; nor

was it at all improbable that so good an actress, to revenge

herself on a man, with whom certainly she had an account to

settle, might look strange, and swear she had never seen his face

before. Yet did none of these apprehensions deter me from my

venture. After a light supper, for all the meals at my eating-house were regulated on principles of economy and temperance, I

withdrew to my chamber with an anxious longing for the next day.

My sleep was short and interrupted; so that I got up by daybreak.

But as it was to be recollected that a mistress in high keep was

not likely to be visible early in the morning, I passed three or

four hours in dressing, shaving, powdering, and perfuming. It was

my business to present myself before her in a trim, not to put

her to the blush at acknowledging my acquaintance. I sallied

forth about ten o’clock, and knocked at her door, after having

inquired her address at the theatre. She was living on the first

floor of a large and elegant house. I told a chambermaid who

opened the door to me, that a young man wanted to speak with her

lady. The chambermaid went in to give my message, when all at

once I heard her mistress call out, not in the best-tempered tone

in the world, Who is the young man? What does he want? Shew him

up stairs.

This was a hint to me that my time was ill chosen; that probably

her Portuguese lover was at her toilette, and that she spoke so

loud, with the laudable design of convincing him that she was not

a sort of girl to allow of any impertinent intruders. This

conjecture of mine turned out to be the fact; the Marquis de

Marialva lounged away almost every morning with her: I had made

up my mind to be kicked down-stairs by way of welcome; but that

admirable actress, never forgetting her cue, ran forward with

open arms at the sight of me, exclaiming: Ah! my dear brother, is

it you that I behold? On the strength of so near a kindred, she

was no niggard of her embraces; but recollected her self so far

as to say, turning round to the Portuguese, My lord, you must

excuse me if nature will put in her claim, and trench upon good

breeding. After three years of absence, I cannot see a brother

once again, whom I love so tenderly, without expressing my

feelings in all their warmth. Come! my dear Gil Blas, continued

she, addressing me afresh, tell me some news of the family: in

what circumstances did you leave it?

This whimsical scene disconcerted me at first; but I was not long

in seeing through Laura’s intention; and playing up to her with a

spirit scarcely less than her own, answered according to the

plot: Heaven be praised, sister, all our good folks are in

perfect health, and well in the world. I make no doubt, resumed

she, but you must be very much surprised to find me an actress in

Grenada; but hear me first and blame me afterwards. It is three

years, as you may recollect, since my father thought to have

established me advantageously in marriage with Don Antonio

Coello, an officer in the service, who took me from the Asturias

to Madrid, his native place. Six months after our arrival, he got

into an affair of honour in consequence of his violent temper.

Some attentions incautiously paid to me were the cause of the

affray, and his antagonist was killed. This gentle man was of a

family high in rank and interest. My husband, who though well

born, had very few connections, made his escape into Catalonia

with every thing he could get together in jewels and ready money.

He embarked at Barcelona, went over into Italy, enlisted in the

Venetian service, and finally lost his life in the Morea,

fighting against the Turks. In the mean time, a landed estate

which constituted our whole revenue was confiscated, and I was

left a widow with very little for my support. What was to be done