Pablo de Segovia, the Spanish Sharper by Francisco de Quevedo (e book reading free TXT) 📕

The old woman kept hens in the yard, and had about a dozen or fourteen well-grown chickens, which made my teeth water to be at them, or they were fit to be served up to any gentleman’s table. It happened on day that when going to feed them, as the common custom is in Spain, she called them together, crying, “Pio, Pio, Pio.” This she repeated very often, and I being upon the catch, cried out as loud as she, “As God shall save me, mistress, I wish I had seen you kill a man, or clip the king’s coin, for then I might have kept your counsel⁠—rather than do as you have done; and now I must be forced to discover it. The Lord have mercy upon us both!” She seeing me act all that concern and disorder, was somewhat startled, and said, “Why, what have I done, Pablo? If you are in jest, do not tease me any longer.” “What do you mean by jesting?” said I; “a curse on it, I cannot possibly avoid giving information to the Inquisition, else I shall be excommunicated.” “The Inquisition,” quoth she, trembling like a leaf on a tree; “why, have I committed any crime against religion?” “Why, there’s the case,” answered I; “don’t you think to dally with the Inquisitors. You had better own you were in the wrong, that you spoke like a fool; eat your words, and not deny the blasphemy and irreverence.” She replied in a great consternation: “But tell me, Pablo, will they punish me if I recant?” “No,” said I, “for then they will only absolve you.” “Then I recant,” quoth she; “but do you tell me what it is I am to recant, for I know nothing of it as I hope for mercy.” “Bless me,” replied I, “is it possible you should be so dull as not to reflect that, but I don’t know how to express it⁠—the disrespect was so great that I am afraid to repeat it. Don’t you remember you called the chickens ‘Pio, Pio,’ and Pius is the name of several Popes, vicars of Christ, and heads of the Church? Now, do you consider whether that be any trifling sin?” She stood as if she had been thunderstruck, and after a while cried, “ ’Tis true I said so, Pablo, but may I be curs’d if I did it with any ill design. I recant; do you consider whether some means may not be found to avoid informing against me? For I shall die if they get me into the Inquisition.” “Provided you will take your oath,” answered I, “on the holy altar, that you did it not with any ill intent. I may, upon that assurance, forbear impeaching you; but then you must give me those two chickens that fed when you were calling them by that most sanctified name of the Popes, that I may carry them to an officer of the Inquisition for him to burn them, for they are defiled; and in the next place, you must swear positively never to be guilty of the like again. This you must do now, for tomorrow I’ll swear.” For the better fixing of this notion in her head, I went on: “The worst of it is, Cipriana” (for that was her name), “that I shall be in danger, for the Inquisitor will ask whether I am not the person, and may put me to trouble. Do you e’en carry them yourself, for I am afraid.” “For the Lord’s sake,” cried she, “Pablo, take pity on me, and do you carry them; there is no danger of your coming to any harm.” I made her press me a long while, and at last, though it was the thing I aimed at, I suffered myself to be persuaded. I took the chickens, hid them in my chamber, made show as it I went abroad, and came in again, saying, “It has fallen out better than I expected; the cunning officer would fain have come after me to see the woman, but I gave him the slip cleverly, and did the trick.” She hugged and kissed me, and gave me another chicken for my pains, which I carried to his companions, had them all dressed at the cook’s, and ate them with my fellow-servants. Don Diego and the housekeeper came to hear of the trick, and all the family made excellent sport with it. The old woman had like to have fretted herself to death for mere vexation, and was a thousand times in the mind, for revenge, to discover all my cheats, but that she was as deep in the dirt as I was in the mire. Being thus at variance with the old woman, and no way now left to put upon her, I contrived new ways to play my pranks, and fell to that the scholars call snatching and shoplifting, at which sport I had many pleasant adventures.

One night, about nine of the clock, at which time there are but few people abroad, passing through the great street, I spied a confectioner’s shop open, and in it a basket of raisins upon the counter. I whipped in, took hold of it, and set off a-running. The confectioner scoured after me, and so did several neighbours and servants. Being loaded, I perceived that though I had the start they would overtake me, and therefore turning the corner of the street, I clapt the basket upon the ground, sat down upon it, and wrapping my cloak about my leg, began to cry out, holding it with both hands, “God forgive him, he has trod upon me and crippled me.” They heard what I said, and when they came up I began to cry, “For the Lord’s sake pity the lame! I pray God you may never be lame!” They came to me, panting, and out of breath, and said, “Friend, did you see a man run this