Gil Blas by Alain-René Lesage (best romance books of all time TXT) 📕

the minister’s livery, by way of conducting matters more warily; and that precaution relished well with his excellency.

On my arrival at Toledo, I had scarcely alighted at the inn, when the landlord, taking me for some country gentleman, said, “Please your honor, you are probably come to be present at the august ceremony of an Auto da Fé tomorrow.”

I answered in the affirmative, the more completely to mislead him and keep my own counsel.

“You will see,” replied he, “one of the prettiest processions you ever saw in your life: there are said to be more than a hundred prisoners, and ten of them are to be roasted.”

In good truth, next morning, before sunrise, I heard all the bells in the town peal merrily; and the design of their bob-majors was to acquaint the people that the pastime was about to begin. Curious to see what sort of a recreation it was, I dressed in a hurry, and posted to the scene of action. All about that quarter, and along the streets where the procession was to pass, were scaffolds, on one of which I purchased a standing. The Dominicans walked first, preceded by the banner of the inquisition. These Christian fathers were immediately followed by the hapless victims of the holy office selected for this day’s burnt-offering. These devoted wretches walked one by one, with their head and feet bare, each of them with a taper in his hand, and a fiery, not baptismal godfather by his side. Some had large yellow scapularies, worked with crosses of St. Andrew in red; others wore sugar-loaf caps of paper, illustrated with flames and diabolical figures of all sorts by way of emblem.

As I looked narrowly at these objects of religious gaze, with a compassion in my heart which might have been construed criminal, had it run over from my eyes, I fancied that the reverend Father Hilary and his companion brother Ambrose were among those who figured in the sugar-loaf caps. They passed too near for me to be deceived. What do I see? thought I inwardly. Heaven, wearied out with the wicked lives of these two scoundrels, has given them up to the justice of the inquisition! My whole frame trembled at the thought, and my spirits were scarcely equal to support me from fainting. My connection with these knaves, the adventure at Xelva, all our pranks in partnership rushed upon my memory, and I did not know how sufficiently to thank God for having preserved me from St. Andrew’s crosses and the painted devils on the paper caps.

When the ceremony was over, I returned to the inn with my heart sickening at the dreadful sight; but painful impressions soon wear away, and I thought only of my commission and its due accomplishment. I waited with impatience for playtime, as the moment and scene of my commencing operations. On the opening of the doors I repaired to the theatre, and took my seat next to a knight of Alcántara. We soon got into chat.

“Sir,” said I, “the players here have been represented to me in very favorable terms: may I give credit to general report?”

“The company is not contemptible,” replied the knight: “they have some first-rate performers; among the rest, the peerless Lucretia, an actress of fourteen, who will astonish you; and she plays one of her best parts tonight.”

On the drawing up of the curtain, two actresses came on, with every advantage of dress and stage effect; but neither of them could possibly be the object of my search. At length Lucretia made her appearance at the back scene, and walked forwards amidst a thunder of applause.

Ah! this is she, indeed! thought I; and a delicate specimen of loveliness, as I am a sinner! In her very first speech she proved herself a child of nature, with energy and conception far above her years; and the approbation of a provincial audience was confirmed by my metropolitan judgment. The knight was happy to find I liked her, and assured me that if I had heard her sing, my ears might have rejoiced to the sorrow of my heart. Her dancing, too, he represented as not less formidable to the free will of lordly man. I inquired what youth, blessed as the immortal gods, had the exquisite happiness of bringing himself to beggary for so sweet a girl.

“She is under no avowed protection,” said he; “and scandal has not coupled her name with private license; but Lucretia must take care of herself, for she is under the wing of her aunt Estella; and there is not an actress in the company so warmly fledged for hatching the tender passions into life.”

At the name of Estella, I inquired with some eagerness who she was. “One of our best performers,” said my informant. “She does not play tonight, to our great loss, for her cast is that of abigails, and she humors them to perfection. A little too broad, perhaps, but that is a fault on the right side.” From the features of the description, there could be no doubt but this must be Laura; that lady so notorious in these memoirs, whom I left at Grenada.

To make assurance doubly sure, I went behind the scenes after the play. There she was, in the greenroom, flirting with some men of fashion, who probably endured the aunt for the sake of the niece; I came up to pay my devotions; but whim, or perhaps revenge for my cutting and running from Grenada, determined her to put on the stranger, and receive my compliments with so discouraging a coldness as to throw me into some little confusion. Instead of laughing it off, I was fool enough to be angry, and withdrew in a choleric determination to return next day.

“Laura shall smart for this!” said I; “her niece shall not appear at court; I will tell the minister that she dances like a she bear, has formed her bravura between the scream of a peahen and the cackle of