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

“Yes,” replied she; “indeed I have seen him with a lady of my acquaintance.”

Though considerably improved in impudence, I was a little troubled by this discovery. Yet I rallied my forces in an instant, and extricated myself with a happy presence of mind.

“Well then, my fair one,” retorted I, “the lady of your acquaintance⁠ ⁠… knows a lord⁠ ⁠… of my acquaintance⁠ ⁠… and I am of his acquaintance; of his own family, since you must know it. His grandfather married the sister-in-law of my father’s uncle. You see we are very near relations. My name is Don Caesar. I am the only son of the great Don Ferdinand de Ribera, slain fifteen years ago, in a battle on the frontiers of Portugal. I could give you all the particulars of the action; it was a devilish sharp one⁠ ⁠… but to fight it over again would be losing the precious moments of mutual love.”

After this discourse I got to be importunate and impassioned, but without bringing matters at all forwarder. The favors which my goddess winked at my snatching, tended only to make me languish for which she was more chary of. The tyrant got back to her coach, which was waiting at the door. Nevertheless, I withdrew, well enough pleased with my success, though it still fell short of the only perfect issue. “If,” said I to myself, “I have obtained indulgences but by halves, it is because this lady, forsooth, is a highborn dame, and thinks it beneath her quality to play the very woman at the first interview. The pride of pedigree stands in the way of my advancement just now, but in a few days we shall be better acquainted.” To be sure, it did not once come into my head that she might be one of those cunning gypsies always on the catch. Yet I liked better to look at things on the right side than on the wrong, and thus maintained a favorable opinion of my widow. We had agreed at parting to meet again on the day after the morrow; and the hope of arriving at the summit of my wishes gave me a foretaste of the pleasures with which I tickled my fancy.

With my brain full of joyous traces, I returned to my barber. Having changed my dress, I went to attend my master at the tennis-court. I found him at play, and saw that he won; for he was not one of those impenetrable gamesters who make or mar a fortune without moving a muscle. In prosperity he was flippant and overbearing, but quite peevish on the losing side. He left the tennis-court in high spirits, and went for the Prince’s Theatre. I followed him to the box-door, then putting a ducat into my hand: “Here, Gil Blas,” said he, “as I have been a winner today, you shall not be the worse for it; go, divert yourself with your friends, and come to me about midnight at Arsenia’s, where I am to sup with Don Alexo Segiar.”

He then went in, and I stood debating with whom I should disburse my ducat, according to the pious will of the founder. I did not muse long. Clarín, Don Alexo’s servant, just then came in my way, I took him to the next tavern, and we amused ourselves there till midnight. Thence we repaired to Arsenia’s house, where Clarín had orders to attend. A little footboy opened the door, and showed us into a room downstairs, where Arsenia’s waiting-woman, and the lady who held the same office about Florimonde, were laughing ready to split their sides, while their mistresses were above stairs with our masters.

The addition of two jolly fellows just come from a good supper, could not be unwelcome to abigails, and to the abigails of actresses too; but what was my astonishment when in one of these lowly ladies I discovered my widow⁠—my adorable widow⁠—whom I took for a countess or a marchioness! She appeared equally amazed to see her dear Don Caesar de Ribera metamorphosed into the valet of a beau. However, we looked at one another without being out of countenance; indeed, such a tingling sensation of laughter came over us both, as we could not help indulging in. After which Laura, for that was her name, drawing me aside while Clarín was speaking to her fellow-servant, held out her hand to me very kindly, and said in a low voice: “Accept this pledge, Señor Don Caesar; mutual congratulations are more to the purpose than mutual reproaches, my friend. You topped your part to perfection, and I was not quite contemptible in mine. What say you? confess now, did not you take me for one of those precious peeresses who are fond of a little smuggled amusement?”

“It is even so,” answered I, “but whoever you are, my empress, I have not changed my sentiments with my paraphernalia. Accept my services in good part, and let the valet-de-chamber of Don Matthias consummate what Don Caesar has so happily begun.”

“Get you gone,” replied she, “I like you ten times better in your natural than in your artificial character. You are as a man what I am as a woman, and that is the greatest compliment I can pay you. You are admitted into the number of my adorers. We have no longer any need of the old woman as a blind, you may come and see me whenever you like. We theatrical ladies are no slaves to form, but live higgledy piggledy with the men. I allow that the effects are sometimes visible, but the public wink hard at our irregularities; the drama’s patrons, as you well know, give the drama’s laws, and absolve us from all others.”

We went no further, because there were bystanders. The conversation became general, lively, jovial, inclining to loose jokes, not very carefully wrapped up. We all of us bore a bob. Arsenia’s