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

to be secure from reflections. The world is very scurrilous! We, among others, have neighbors not worth a curse. Sad dogs! You have no notion how they talk of us.”

“Do they indeed, Gil Blas,” quoth he. “Be it so! but what can they say of us, my friend?”

“Ah! truly,” replied I, “evil tongues never want a whet. Virtue herself furnishes weapons for her own martyrdom. Our neighbors say that we are dangerous people, that we ought to be looked after by government; in a word, you are taken for a spy of Portugal.”

In throwing out this hint, I looked hard at my master, just as Alexander squinted at his physician, and pursed up all my penetration to remark upon the effect of my intelligence. There seemed to be a hitch in the muscles of my mysterious lord, altogether in unison with the suspicions of the neighborhood, and he fell into a brown study, which bore no very auspicious interpretation. However, he put a better face on the matter, and said, with sufficient composure: “Gil Blas, leave our neighbors to discourse as they please, but let not our repose depend on their judgments. Never mind what they think of us, provided our own consciences do not wince.”

Hereupon he went to bed, and I did the like, without knowing what course to take. The next day, just as we were on the point of going out in the morning, we heard a violent knocking at the outer door on the staircase. My master opened the inner, and looked through the grate. A well-dressed man said to him: “Please your honor, I am an alguazil, come to inform you that Mr. Corregidor wishes to speak a word with you.”

“What does he want?” answered my pattern of secrecy.

“That is more than I know, sir,” replied the alguazil; “but you have only to go and wait on him; you will soon be informed.”

“I am his most obedient,” quoth my master; “I have no business with him.” At the tail of this speech, he banged the inner door; then, after walking up and down a little while, like one who pondered on the discourse of the alguazil, he put my six reals into my hand, and said: “Gil Blas, you may go out, my friend; for my part, I shall stay at home a little longer, but have no occasion for you.” He made an impression on my mind, by these words, that he was afraid of being taken up, and was, therefore, obliged to remain in his apartments. I left him there; and, to see how far my suspicions were founded, hid myself in a place whence I could see if he went out. I should have had patience to have stayed there all the morning, if he had not saved me the trouble. But an hour after, I saw him walk the street with an ease and confidence which dumbfounded my sagacity. Yet far from yielding to these appearances, I mistrusted them; for my verdict went to condemnation. I considered his easy carriage as put on, and his staying at home as a finesse to secure his gold and jewels, when probably he was going to consult his safety by speedy flight. I had no idea of seeing him again, and doubted whether I should attend at his door in the evening; so persuaded was I, that the day would see him on the outside of the city, as his only refuge from impending danger. Yet I kept my appointment; when, to my extreme surprise, my master returned as usual. He went to bed without betraying the least uneasiness, and got up the next morning with the same composure.

Just as he had finished dressing, another knock at the door! My master looked through the grate. His friend the alguazil was there again, and he asked him what he wanted. “Open the door,” answered the alguazil; “here is Mr. Corregidor.”

At this dreadful name, my blood froze in my veins. I had a devilish loathing of those gentry since I had passed through their hands, and could have wished myself at that moment an hundred leagues from Madrid. As for my employer, less startled than myself, he opened the door, and received the magistrate respectfully. “You see,” said the corregidor, “that I do not break in upon you with a whole posse: my maxim is to do business in a quiet way. In spite of the ugly reports circulated about you in the city, I think you deserve some little attention. What is your name, and business at Madrid?”

“Sir,” answered my master, “I am from New Castile, and my title is Don Bernard de Castil Blazo. With respect to my way of life, I lounge about, frequent public places, and take my daily pleasure in a select circle of polite company.”

“Of course you have a handsome fortune!” replied the judge.

“No, sir,” interrupted my Mecenas; “I have neither annuities, nor lands, nor houses.”

“How do you live then?” rejoined the corregidor.

“I will show you,” replied Don Bernard. At the same time he lifted up a part of the hangings, before a door I had not observed, opened that and one beyond, then took the magistrate into a closet containing a large chest chock-full of gold.

“Sir,” said he, again, “you know that the Spaniards are proverbially indolent; yet, whatever may be their general dislike to labor, I may compliment myself on bettering the example. I have a stock of laziness, which disqualifies me for all exertion. If I had a mind to puff my vices into virtues, I might call this sloth of mine a philosophical indifference, the work of a mind weaned from all that worldlings court with so much ardor; but I will frankly own myself constitutionally lazy, and so lazy, that, rather than work for my subsistence, I would lay myself down and starve. Therefore, to lead a life befitting my fancy, not to have the trouble of looking after my affairs, and, above