Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

you again on the morrow.” Thereupon he once more departed with the master of the house. “A sharp one,” I heard him say, with a laugh, as the door closed upon him.

Left to myself, I again essayed to compose myself to rest, but for some time in vain. I had been terribly shaken by my fall, and had subsequently, owing to the incision of the surgeon’s lancet, been deprived of much of the vital fluid; it is when the body is in such a state that the merest trifles affect and agitate the mind; no wonder, then, that the return of the surgeon and the master of the house for the purpose of inquiring whether I would sell my horse, struck me as being highly extraordinary, considering the hour of the night, and the situation in which they knew me to be. What could they mean by such conduct⁠—did they wish to cheat me of the animal? “Well, well,” said I, “if they did, what matters, they found their match; yes, yes,” said I, “but I am in their power, perhaps”⁠—but I instantly dismissed the apprehension which came into my mind, with a pooh, nonsense! In a little time, however, a far more foolish and chimerical idea began to disturb me⁠—the idea of being flung from my horse; was I not disgraced forever as a horseman by being flung from my horse? Assuredly I thought; and the idea of being disgraced as a horseman, operating on my nervous system, caused me very acute misery. “After all,” said I to myself, “it was perhaps the contemptible opinion which the surgeon must have formed of my equestrian powers, which induced him to offer to take my horse off my hands; he perhaps thought I was unable to manage a horse, and therefore in pity returned in the dead of night to offer to purchase the animal which had flung me;” and then the thought that the surgeon had conceived a contemptible opinion of my equestrian powers, caused me the acutest misery, and continued tormenting me until some other idea (I have forgot what it was, but doubtless equally foolish) took possession of my mind. At length, brought on by the agitation of my spirits, there came over me the same feeling of horror that I had experienced of old when I was a boy, and likewise of late within the dingle; it was, however, not so violent as it had been on those occasions, and I struggled manfully against it until by degrees it passed away, and then I fell asleep; and in my sleep I had an ugly dream. I dreamt that I had died of the injuries I had received from my fall, and that no sooner had my soul departed from my body than it entered that of a quadruped, even my own horse in the stable⁠—in a word, I was, to all intents and purposes, my own steed; and as I stood in the stable chewing hay (and I remembered that the hay was exceedingly tough), the door opened, and the surgeon who had attended me came in. “My good animal,” said he, “as your late master has scarcely left enough to pay for the expenses of his funeral, and nothing to remunerate me for my trouble, I shall make bold to take possession of you. If your paces are good, I shall keep you for my own riding; if not, I shall take you to Horncastle, your original destination.” He then bridled and saddled me, and leading me out, mounted, and then trotted me up and down before the house, at the door of which the old man, who now appeared to be dressed in regular jockey fashion, was standing. “I like his paces well,” said the surgeon; “I think I shall take him for my own use.” “And what am I to have for all the trouble his master caused me?” said my late entertainer, on whose countenance I now observed, for the first time, a diabolical squint. “The consciousness of having done your duty to a fellow-creature in succouring him in a time of distress, must be your reward,” said the surgeon. “Pretty gammon, truly,” said my late entertainer. “What would you say if I were to talk in that way to you? Come, unless you choose to behave jonnock, I shall take the bridle and lead the horse back into the stable.” “Well,” said the surgeon, “we are old friends, and I don’t wish to dispute with you, so I’ll tell you what I will do. I will ride the animal to Horncastle, and we will share what he fetches like brothers.” “Good,” said the old man, “but if you say that you have sold him for less than a hundred, I shan’t consider you jonnock; remember what the young fellow said⁠—that young fellow⁠—” I heard no more, for the next moment I found myself on a broad road leading, as I supposed, in the direction of Horncastle, the surgeon still in the saddle, and my legs moving at a rapid trot. “Get on,” said the surgeon, jerking my mouth with the bit; whereupon, full of rage, I instantly set off at full gallop, determined, if possible, to dash my rider to the earth. The surgeon, however, kept his seat, and so far from attempting to abate my speed, urged me on to greater efforts with a stout stick, which methought he held in his hand. In vain did I rear and kick, attempting to get rid of my foe; but the surgeon remained as saddle-fast as ever the Maugrabin sorcerer in the Arabian tale,282 what time he rode the young prince transformed into a steed to his enchanted palace in the wilderness. At last, as I was still madly dashing on, panting and blowing, and had almost given up all hope, I saw at a distance before me a heap of stones by the side of the road, probably placed