CHAP. V. Guzman sets out from Seville. His first adventure at an Inn.

As I remembered to have heard said that it was usual with such as have to to seek their fortunes to give themselves names of consequence, without which they would pass for nobody in strange countries, I took my mother’s name, which was Guzman, and to add to it d’Alfarache. This appeared to me so well imagined, that I felt fully persuaded in my own imagination that I was already nothing less than the illustrious Don Guzman d’Alfarache.

This newly created signor not having set out until late in the afternoon, went but a short distance the first day, though he made what haste he could for fear of being pursued. In fact I went no farther than the chapel of St. Lazarus, which is but a short way from the city. Being already fatigued I sat down on the steps rather sorrowfully, beginning to feel some anxiety as to what would become of me. After having sat there thinking for some time, a religious idea came across my mind, which I immediately gratified by entering the chapel, where I addressed myself to God, beseeching him to inspire me with his counsels. My prayer was fervent, but short, the time not allowing me to make it longer, for it was just the hour for closing the chapel, which I was therefore obliged to quit, and I was left on the steps again, where I remained not without fear of what might happen to me.

Represent to yourself at the door of this chapel a child who had been accustomed to every indulgence and maintained in plenty. Consider that I knew not where to go, nor what to decide on. There was no inn near to the place, though my appetite informed me that it was quite supper-time. There was certainly plenty of clear water running within a few paces of me, but this was a cheerless prospect. I began now to find the difference between an hungry man and one who has his bellyful; between a man who is accustomed to a table covered with good victuals, and one who has not a morsel of bread to eat. Not knowing what to do with myself, nor at what door to venture to rap, I made up my mind to pass the night where I was. I laid myself down, therefore, at full length, covering my face with my cloak as well as I was able, not without fear of being devoured by wolves, which I sometimes fancied I heard not far from me. Sleep, however, at last suspended my uneasiness, and took so fast possession of my senses, that the sun had been up two hours before I awoke, and which perhaps I had not done then, but for the noise of tambours, made by a number of country wenches who passed me singing and dancing along the road, on their way to some festival. I rose quickly, and perceiving several ways equally unknown to me, I chose the pleasantest, saying; “may this road, which I take by chance, conduct me in a straight line to the temple of fortune.” I was like that ignorant quack of la Mancha, who generally carried about with him a bag full of prescriptions, and when he visited any sick person, put his hand in at random, giving the first that came uppermost, saying, God grant it may do thee good. My feet performed the office of my head, and I followed them without knowing whither they led me.

I walked two leagues that morning, which was not a short distance for a lad to do, who had never travelled so far in his life before. I believed myself already arrived at the Antipodes, and that I had discovered another world, like the famous Christopher Columbus. This new world, however, was nothing but a miserable tavern, which I entered all in a perspiration, covered with dust, and dying with fatigue and hunger. I asked for dinner, and was informed that there was nothing but fresh eggs in the house. “Fresh eggs,” cried I; “well, I must be content; make haste then, and prepare me an omelet of about half a dozen.” The hostess, who was a frightful old woman, began to examine me with attention, and seeing that I was a raw, herring-gutted looking lad, and very hungry, she thought she might safely venture to pass upon me for fresh, some eggs which were about half hatched. With this opinion she came up to me, and laughing in my face with as pleasant an air as she could affect, she asked me whence I came? I told her from Seville, and entreated her afresh to let me have the eggs; but before she did what I desired, she thrust her nasty hand under my chin, saying, “And where is my little wag of Seville going?” At the same time she wished to kiss me; but I turned quickly round to avoid this felicity. I was not, however, so quick as entirely to escape her stinking breath, the fumes of which made me fear it would have communicated her age and distempers to me; fortunately, I had nothing but wind on my stomach, or I should certainly have vomited over her, as the only return I could make her for such a compliment.

I told her I was going to Court, and entreated her again to let me have something to eat. She then made me sit down on a broken stool, before a stone table, on which she laid a napkin, which looked as if it had but newly cleaned the oven. On this she placed, for a saltcellar, the bottom of a broken earthen pot, and some water in a vessel of the same ware, out of which her fowls generally drank, together with a coarse piece of cake, as black as the before-mentioned table cloth. After making me wait about a quarter of an hour longer, she served up, on a filthy platter, an omelet, or what might more properly have been termed an egg poultice. The omelet, plate, bread, drinking-pot, saltcellar, salt, napkin, and hostess, appeared to be precisely of the same colour. My stomach ought to have revolted against such disgusting appearances; but, independent of my being a young traveller, I had fasted so long, that my bowels reproached me most violently with their unkind usage; so that notwithstanding the uncleanly arrangements on the table, and the bad seasoning of the eggs, I attacked the omelet as hogs do acorns. I felt, indeed, something grate between my teeth, which ought to have made me suspect that all was not right, but I took no notice of it; but when I had got to the few last mouthfuls, I could not help thinking that this omelet had not exactly the same taste as those I had eaten at my mother’s house; but this I good-naturedly attributed to the difference of the country, imagining that eggs were not in all places equally good, as if I had been five hundred leagues from home. After I had demolished this excellent dish, I felt myself so much better than I was before, that I was more than usually happy in having got so good a meal; so true is it, that hunger is the best sauce.

I did not so soon get through the bread, it being so bad that I was obliged to eat slowly, or I should certainly have choaked myself with it. I began with the crust and ended with the crumb, which indeed, was so little baked that it was little better than dough; notwithstanding which, however, I played my part very creditably, but not without the assistance of the wine, which was delicious. I rose from table as soon as I had finished my dinner, paid my hostess, and set forward on my journey again in good spirits. My feet, which before were scarce able to bear me, seemed now to have completely regained their former activity.

I had already got about a league from the inn, when what I had eaten beginning to digest, seemed to create such a combustion in my belly, accompanied by such a rising in my stomach, that I began to suspect something. I had not forgotten the resistance that my teeth had met with in getting through the eggs, and after reflecting what it could be for some time, I doubted no longer, that my omelet had been amphibious, and must have had something in it that should not have been there. So that not being able to carry such a burden about with me any longer, I was obliged to stop to relieve myself.