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

“ ‘Don Pompeyo,’ said he, rising, ‘after this act of generosity, honor allows me not to renew the attack upon you. What would the world say of me, were I to wound you mortally? I should be branded as a coward for having murdered a man, at whose mercy I had just before lain prostrate. I cannot, therefore, again lift my arm against your life, and I feel my resentful passions subsiding into the sweet emotions of gratitude. Don Pompeyo, let us mutually lay aside our hatred. Let us go still further; let us be friends.’

“ ‘Ah! my lord,’ exclaimed I, ‘so flattering a proposal I joyfully accept. I proffer you my sincere friendship; and, as an earnest, promise never more to approach Doña Hortensia, though she herself should invite me.’

“ ‘It is my duty,’ said he, ‘to yield that lady to you. Justice requires me to give her up, since her affections are yours already.’

“ ‘No, no,’ interrupted I: ‘you love her. Her partiality in my favor would give you uneasiness; I sacrifice my own pleasure to your peace.’

“ ‘Ah! too generous Castilian,’ replied the duke, embracing me; ‘your sentiments are truly noble. With what remorse do they strike me! Grieved and ashamed, I look back on the outrage you have sustained. The reparation in the king’s chamber seems now too trifling. A better recompense awaits you. To obliterate all remembrance of your shame, take one of my nieces, whose hand is at my disposal. She is a rich heiress, not fifteen, with beauty beyond the attractions of mere youth.’

“I made my acknowledgements to the duke in terms such as the high honor of his alliance might suggest, and married his niece a few days afterwards. All the court complimented this nobleman on having made such generous amends to an insulted rival; and my friends took part in my joy at the happy issue of an adventure which might have led to the most melancholy consequences. From this time, gentlemen, I have lived happily at Lisbon. I am the idol of my wife, and have not sunk the lover in the husband. The Duke d’Almeida gives me new proofs of friendship every day; and I may venture to boast of standing high in the King of Portugal’s good graces. The importance of my errand hither sufficiently assures me of his confidence.”

An accident, in consequence of which Gil Blas was obliged to look out for another place.

Such was Don Pompeyo’s story, which Don Alexo’s servant and myself overheard, though we were prudently sent away before he began his recital. Instead of withdrawing, we skulked behind the door, which we had left half open, and from that station we did not miss a word. After this, the company went on drinking; but they did not prolong their carousals till the morning, because Don Pompeyo, who was to speak with the prime minister, wished for a little rest beforehand. The Marquis de Zenette, and my master took a cordial leave of the stranger, and left him with his kinsman.

We went to bed, for once, before daybreak; and Don Matthias, when he awoke, invested me with a new office. “Gil Blas,” said he, “take pen, ink, and paper, and write two or three letters, as I shall dictate: you shall, henceforth, be my secretary.”

“Well and good!” said I to myself⁠—“a plurality of functions. As footman, I follow my master’s heels; as valet-de-chambre, I help him to dress; and write for him, as his secretary. Heaven be praised, for my apotheosis! Like the triple Hecate of the Pantheon, I am to enact three different characters at the same time.”

“Can you guess my intention?” continued he. “Thus it is: but take care what you are about; your life may depend on it. As I am continually meeting with fellows who boast of their success among the women, I mean by way of getting the upper hand, to fill my pockets with fictitious love-letters, and read them in company. It will be amusing enough. Happier than my competitors, who make conquests only for the pleasure of the boast, I shall take the credit of intrigue, and spare myself the labor. But vary your writing, so that the manufacture may not be detected by the sameness of the hand.”

I then sat down, to comply with the command of Don Matthias, who first dictated a tender epistle to this tune: You did not keep your promise tonight. Ah! Don Matthias, how will you exculpate yourself? My error was a cruel one! But you punish me deservedly for my vanity, in fancying that business and amusement were all to give way before the pleasure of seeing Doña Clara de Mendoza! After this pretty note, he made me write another, as if from a lady, who sacrificed a prince to him; and then a third, whose fair writer offered, if she could rely on his discretion, to embark with him for the shores of Cytherean enchantment. It was not enough to dictate these lovesick strains; he forced me to subscribe them, with the most high-flying names in Madrid. I could not forbear hinting at some little hazard in all this, but he begged me to keep my sage counsels, till they were called for. I was obliged to hold my tongue, and dispatch his orders out of hand. That done, he got up and dressed, with my assistance. The letters were put into his pocket, and out he went. I followed him to dinner, with Don Juan de Moncade, who entertained five or six gentlemen of his acquaintance that day.

There was a grand set-out, and mirth, the best relish, was not wanting to the banquet. All the guests contributed to enliven the conversation, some by wit and humor, others by anecdotes, of which the relaters were the heroes. My master would not lose so fine an opportunity of bringing our joint performances to bear. He read them audibly, and with so