The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne (pdf e book reader txt) 📕

purse⁠—I’ll be your banker⁠—but as that office alone will not keep me employ’d, I’ll be your nurse too.

I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which I then began to consider more attentively⁠⸺⁠that the young woman could not be the daughter of the peasant.

She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceal’d under a cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind of nuns, an’ please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are a good many in Flanders, which they let go loose⁠⸺⁠By thy description, Trim, said my uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young Beguine, of which there are none to be found anywhere but in the Spanish Netherlands⁠—except at Amsterdam⁠⸺⁠they differ from nuns in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit and take care of the sick by profession⁠⸺⁠I had rather, for my own part, they did it out of good-nature.

⸺⁠She often told me, quoth Trim, she did it for the love of Christ⁠—I did not like it.⁠⸺⁠I believe, Trim, we are both wrong, said my uncle Toby⁠—we’ll ask Mr. Yorick about it tonight at my brother Shandy’s⁠⸺⁠so put me in mind; added my uncle Toby.

The young Beguine, continued the corporal, had scarce given herself time to tell me “she would be my nurse,” when she hastily turned about to begin the office of one, and prepare something for me⁠⸺⁠and in a short time⁠—though I thought it a long one⁠—she came back with flannels, etc. etc., and having fomented my knee soundly for a couple of hours, etc., and made me a thin bason of gruel for my supper⁠—she wish’d me rest, and promised to be with me early in the morning.⁠⸺⁠She wished me, an’ please your honour, what was not to be had. My fever ran very high that night⁠—her figure made sad disturbance within me⁠—I was every moment cutting the world in two⁠—to give her half of it⁠—and every moment was I crying, That I had nothing but a knapsack and eighteen florins to share with her⁠⸺⁠The whole night long was the fair Beguine, like an angel, close by my bedside, holding back the curtain and offering me cordials⁠—and I was only awakened from my dream by her coming there at the hour promised, and giving them in reality. In truth, she was scarce ever from me; and so accustomed was I to receive life from her hands, that my heart sickened, and I lost colour when she left the room: and yet, continued the corporal (making one of the strangest reflections upon it in the world)⁠⸺⁠

⸺“It was not love”⁠⸺⁠for during the three weeks she was almost constantly with me, fomenting my knee with her hand, night and day⁠—I can honestly say, an’ please your honour⁠—that * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * once.

That was very odd, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby.

I think so too⁠—said Mrs. Wadman.

It never did, said the corporal.

XXI

⸺⁠But ’tis no marvel, continued the corporal⁠—seeing my uncle Toby musing upon it⁠—for Love, an’ please your honour, is exactly like war, in this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks complete o’ Saturday night,⁠—may nevertheless be shot through his heart on Sunday morning⁠⸺⁠It happened so here, an’ please your honour, with this difference only⁠—that it was on Sunday in the afternoon, when I fell in love all at once with a sisserara⁠⸺⁠It burst upon me, an’ please your honour, like a bomb⁠⸺⁠scarce giving me time to say, “God bless me.”

I thought, Trim, said my uncle Toby, a man never fell in love so very suddenly.

Yes, an’ please your honour, if he is in the way of it⁠⸺⁠replied Trim.

I prithee, quoth my uncle Toby, inform me how this matter happened.

⸺⁠With all pleasure, said the corporal, making a bow.

XXII

I had escaped, continued the corporal, all that time from falling in love, and had gone on to the end of the chapter, had it not been predestined otherwise⁠⸺⁠there is no resisting our fate.

It was on a Sunday, in the afternoon, as I told your honour.

The old man and his wife had walked out⁠⸺⁠

Everything was still and hush as midnight about the house⁠⸺⁠

There was not so much as a duck or a duckling about the yard⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠When the fair Beguine came in to see me.

My wound was then in a fair way of doing well⁠⸺⁠the inflammation had been gone off for some time, but it was succeeded with an itching both above and below my knee, so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes the whole night for it.

Let me see it, said she, kneeling down upon the ground parallel to my knee, and laying her hand upon the part below it⁠⸺⁠it only wants rubbing a little, said the Beguine; so covering it with the bedclothes, she began with the forefinger of her right hand to rub under my knee, guiding her forefinger backwards and forwards by the edge of the flannel which kept on the dressing.

In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger⁠—and presently it was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while; it then came into my head, that I should fall in love⁠—I blush’d when I saw how white a hand she had⁠—I shall never, an’ please your honour, behold another hand so white whilst I live⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠Not in that place; said my uncle Toby⁠⸺⁠

Though it was the most serious despair in nature to the corporal⁠—he could not forbear smiling.

The young Beguine, continued the corporal, perceiving it was of great service to me⁠—from rubbing for some time, with two fingers⁠—proceeded to rub at length, with three⁠—till by little and little she brought down the fourth, and then rubb’d with her whole hand: I will never say another word, an’ please your honour, upon hands again⁠—but it was softer than sattin⁠—

⸺⁠Prithee, Trim, commend it as