CHAP. XLVI.

Guzman, on his journey to Saragossa, makes acquaintance and falls in love with a young Widow. Progress and conclusion of this new passion.

I steered clear of the high roads, for the reasons I have already told you, and spurring on my mule through all the byeways towards the Ebro, intending to coast it from thence to Saragossa, I travelled with as much speed as fear. In three days we reached the banks of the river. My mind became now more at ease; and I began to believe myself beyond the reach of pursuit, and to congratulate myself on my riches, without reflecting that I was travelling through a country in which there were as many robbers as in Italy. I had taken the precaution, however, to purchase two firelocks in Barcelona, with which I armed my footman and the muleteer. In addition to this, I concealed my jewels about me so cautiously, that no one could perceive them without stripping me.

I shall pass over in silence, friendly reader, the adventures I met with on the banks of Ebro, which are not worthy to be related, and proceed to make you acquainted with one which fortune prepared for me between Ossera and Saragossa. Night surprised me near a fine abbey, which I took for a castle, and which I approached in the hope of obtaining a lodging; but finding that a wretched village lay under it, I changed my opinion. We stopped before a paltry hovel, at which a sign was suspended, and, knocking loudly at the door, demanded admission. Nobody answered us at first, but at length a country fellow appeared at one of the windows. This was the landlord, who, having surveyed me from top to toe by the light of a lamp which he held in his hand, began to laugh, saying, “Do not waste any further time here, Signor Cavalier, my house is not fit to receive you; go to the abbey, where you will meet with a hearty welcome, and be more suitably entertained.” I answered the peasant, that I would follow his advice, and, as we were ignorant of the road, requested him to conduct us to the convent, at the same time slipping a few reals into his hand, to add more efficacy to my entreaty.

The monastery stood on an eminence, so that we were nearly half an hour ascending it by a very rough road, which to me, who was already much fatigued, was very distressing. Nevertheless, as there is nothing so good as to be entirely free from unpleasantry, so neither is there any thing so bad but has something agreeable to recommend it. The inn-keeper informed me that this was a convent for nuns, all of whom were ladies of quality; that it was one of the richest in Spain, and received all strangers that passed through the village with hospitality. I felt, without knowing wherefore, that this report pleased me; either from reviving my natural predilection for the fair sex, or from a presentiment of what would happen to me. When we reached the great gate we rang several times before any body from within made answer. At length a voice asked us, through the wicket, what we wanted. The inn-keeper, who was known to the porter, told him, “that we were looking for lodging; that he could not entertain us himself, and had, consequently, conducted us to the abbey.” The muleteer added, by my orders, “that an asylum was requested, for one night only, for a foreign nobleman, who had lost his way travelling to Saragossa.”

The porter answered, “that the convent-gate was always shut at eight o’clock, and that it was now nine; that, notwithstanding such was the rule, he would go, from the consideration he naturally had for persons of quality, and inform the lady abbess of my situation, and obey her orders.” I was obliged to wait with patience at the gate for her answer. The porter at length returned and informed us that the abbess could not think of opening the gate at such an unseasonable hour to gentlemen entirely unknown to her. This refusal vexed me extremely. I dismounted from my mule, and advanced towards the wicket; and, speaking myself to the porter, entreated him to return to the abbess, and tell her, on my behalf, that if she knew the favour she would confer on me, in affording me a retreat for that night, she would cease to be inexorable. The porter told me, “it was to no purpose to persist in requesting what she would never permit.” Not being able to influence the porter in my favour by prayers, I offered a bribe, which he refused with disdain, and shut the wicket in my face. I feared there was now no chance of sleeping that night in the monastery, and, yielding to necessity, told my servants to lead the three mules back again to the peasant’s; that, for my own part, rather than be stived up in that wretched tavern, I felt desirous to pass away a few hours where I was, in listening to the murmuring of the Ebro.

It was a lovely night. I strolled round the house, observing with an eye of curiosity whatever I could discern by the light of the stars, which shone extremely bright. I followed a sloping path which led me under a balcony that commanded a view of the river. I sat down at the foot of a tree opposite the balcony, which I considered attentively, supposing it to be my lady abbess’s apartment. I could perceive a light, and shortly after a confused noise of female voices struck my ear; then all of a sudden a profound silence ensued, which was interrupted in its turn by a Spanish song warbled by a very delicate voice. The singer seemed to please her company exceedingly, and she was much applauded. Another lady then sang an Italian air with which I was well acquainted, and was equally complimented. So immoderate a desire then possessed me to amuse the ladies with my melodious voice, that I could scarcely have the patience to hear this song out. I was half inclined to sing the same over again, for it was one of those for which I had been most applauded at the Grand Duke’s concert at Florence. However, I was prudent enough to spare the lady the mortification of the comparison; and having remembered another air which had particularly pleased the Grand Duchess, I chose that in its stead.

Hoping thus agreeably to surprise these recluses by my fine voice, as well as by the singularity of the adventure, I sang, and, when I had finished the air, had the pleasure of hearing exclamations of astonishment mingled with admiration. The glass-door of the balcony flew open, and several ladies hurried forward in the hope of seeing who it could be that sang so sweetly. I affected not to observe them, and, after having paused a moment, began my air again. As soon as I ceased, I could hear myself again applauded by the ladies, who, however, in the hopes of being favoured with another, communicated their admiration only in whispers. I perceived their design, and was malicious enough to provoke them by remaining silent, without stirring from the spot. One of the ladies, more impatient than the rest, then addressed me, saying, “That one song from so charming a voice was but very insufficient for so many ladies who were so passionately fond of music.” “’Tis too little,” replied I in Italian, “for so many ladies, but far too much for a pilgrim, to whom they have so cruelly refused shelter.”

My answer excited great laughter, from which they supposed I was the stranger who had requested to lodge in the abbey. “Signor Cavalier,” cried one of them, “be not displeased at the refusal that was returned you. It is a law established in this convent not to admit any strange gentleman after eight o’clock in the evening; but your charming voice has had such influence, that the lady abbess consents, for once, to dispense with the regulation, and, unless you are so true a knight-errant as to prefer passing the night on the banks of this river, has just given order to open the gates to you.” I made answer, “that I was rejoiced to learn that to obtain shelter from my lady abbess it was only necessary to set my request to music.” This little trait of raillery excited their laughter afresh, more especially as it was the lady abbess herself to whom I was speaking. They were by no means displeased with my apparent gaiety, and, as they wished to take a nearer view of my figure, of which they could form but an indistinct idea where I sat, they entreated me to walk in, telling me “that the lady abbess would soon be reconciled to me.”

At these words, to shew them that I desired nothing better than such an invitation, I rose instantly, and bowing to the company in the most respectful manner as I passed the balcony, I soon regained the abbey-gate, where the porter met me, and, desiring me to follow him, conducted me into a large and very elegant parlour. Here I was received by the lady abbess and a secular lady; they were both seated on cushions of violet-coloured damask, and six or seven nuns stood behind them. All these ladies kept profoundly silent, and preserved an air of gravity which would have disconcerted any other but myself; but I had so often visited the grate at Rome, that I knew well what behaviour to adopt. I accosted them, therefore, in a jocose manner, and some lucky sallies which escaped me soon dissipated their affected gravity. I then complained in so good-natured a manner of the law which forbids them to admit strangers into the convent at night, that I soon succeeded in amusing them.

In the mean time a small table was laid out with some venison pasties, wine, and sweetmeats. I needed no very pressing invitation to eat and drink, for I acquitted myself like a hungry traveller as I was, not forgetting, however, to whisper occasional compliments to the lady abbess, as well as to the secular lady, whom I thought very handsome. She had an air of youth and peculiar sprightliness, which rendered her particularly engaging. Some of the nuns remarking that I admired her, asked me if I did not think that their community had reason to be proud of the acquisition of such a lady. This inspired me with a thousand thoughts in her favour. I spoke nothing but Italian, and being dressed also in the Italian fashion, I easily passed for one of that nation. Such of the ladies as were acquainted with that language were so condescending as not to speak to me in Spanish. When they perceived that I had done eating, they contrived to turn the conversation on music, and one and all entreated me to favour them with one of the newest Italian airs. I consented willingly, and, animated by degrees, by the praises bestowed on me at the end of each couplet, such a rage for singing possessed me, that no sooner had I finished one song than I began another. As to the company, and especially the secular lady, they were so delighted to listen to me, that they seemed not to have the least thought of retiring, though it was already after midnight. I really believe that day would have surprised us in the parlour, had not the abbess, for the sake of preserving the DECORUM of a monastic life, thought proper to put an end to a pastime so contrary to their established regulations, by reminding the ladies that they were imposing on my good nature. “Our guest,” said she, “cannot but be fatigued; besides, you ought to reserve some pleasure for to-morrow. He will not, I trust, think of departing before we have had the pleasure of seeing him again.” This was a polite way of desiring me to sing no more; so that, wishing the company good night, I joined the porter, who was waiting at the parlour-door to conduct me to the apartment that was prepared for me.

I was not a little astonished in entering to find my servants there, whom they had been kind enough to send for, with my baggage, and who had been entertained like myself. I found also that even my three mules had not been forgotten, and that, thanks to their master’s fine voice, they had had a good bellyful of provender in the convent stables. The chamber in which I lay, occupied my attention for some time. There was in the furniture, although plain, a certain air of simplicity far superior to magnificence; and my bed could not have been better prepared even for the Archbishop of Saragossa. Having got into it, I told my servants to follow the porter to their beds. I then called the muleteer to me, who was no fool, and charged him to be sure to ascertain who the secular lady was whom I had seen with the Lady Abbess. He acquitted himself well of this commission: “Sir,” said he, when I rose the next morning, “I have questioned one of the footmen respecting the lady of whom you wish to know, and he has told me every particular without hesitation. She is a widow, as he says, very rich, and of one of the best families in Saragossa. She has many admirers; and among others, a nephew of the Lady Abbess, a young man of about two and twenty at most, wonderfully well made, and extremely handsome. Unless, however, I am much mistaken,” added he, “my mistress is but very indifferent to his addresses; while on the contrary my Lady Abbess, who has a great affection for this unlicked cub, is most anxious to promote the match. This is all,” said the muleteer, “that I have learnt from the footman; but the porter has just informed me that this young widow, who arrived at the abbey only an hour or two before you, intends to return home this afternoon.”

At the word widow, I sighed deeply. It brought to my recollection my fair one at Florence, and I at first imagined that I was sighing for her; but to say the truth, I soon felt that my heart, less intent upon the past than the present, was captivated by the charms of the widow of Saragossa. I could no longer doubt it when I beheld her again in the parlour, where the abbess, after mass was over, invited me. I appeared there again with all the good humour of the preceding evening. There were but three nuns with the abbess besides the object of my new passion. The conversation soon became lively and facetious, and was by no means damped by the arrival of several more of the most sprightly nuns in the convent, who joined us soon after. My lovely widow, who possessed a fund of wit, contributed her share, and I applauded, from the bottom of my heart, every little repartee that escaped her lips. She saw plainly that I was in admiration at every thing she said, and that I distinguished her from the rest of the company, and she was evidently not a little pleased by my attentions.

In the midst of our laughter, a servant announced to the abbess that Don Antonio de Miras was on the stairs, which seemed to please her extremely; for this was her dear nephew whom she wished to see united to the beautiful widow. His aunt had sent him word the evening before, that Donna Lucia (for that was my charmer’s name) was at the abbey, and he could not of course neglect so favourable an opportunity of waiting upon a lady whom he aspired to marry. The portrait that the muleteer had given me of this young gentleman, was by no means flattering, for I never beheld a handsomer cavalier. No woman ever so vain of her beauty but might have been proud to have had such a face. Add to which he was of a handsome figure, and had every appearance of a man of quality. His dress, which was extremely elegant, added also to his prepossessing appearance. I should certainly have died with jealousy at sight of such a rival, had I not been previously informed that he was by no means eminently gifted with understanding. This thought helped to support me against such formidable disadvantages, and an observation which I afterwards made emboldened me at least to dispute with him the heart of Donna Lucia; for I perceived that this lady, so far from testifying any joy at his arrival, seemed to look upon him with an eye of indifference, and replied very coldly to all his compliments.

Don Antonio and I at first looked at each other like two young cocks; but as it was my interest to be on good terms with him, I loaded him with compliments, and in less than an hour we were the best friends in the world. When dinner hour arrived, the abbess caused two tables to be laid in the parlour, one without the grate for her nephew and myself, and the other within for the ladies. Our repast, which was fit for the first nobleman to sit down to, was seasoned with jests and anecdotes, which amused us all exceedingly. More than half the afternoon was passed away in the same agreeable manner.

I talked, sang, laughed, and in short shewed that I could do any thing; insomuch that the nuns, though accustomed to receive the visits of gentlemen, assured me that they had never yet seen one possessing such a fund of amusement. In the mean time the hour of separation drew nigh. It was time for the fair widow to set off for Saragossa, if she hoped to arrive there before night. She took leave, therefore, of the Lady Abbess and the nuns, and ascended into her litter, which was in waiting for her at the door. As it was my intention to accompany her, I had ordered my equipage also to be in readiness. I vaulted nimbly on my mule, which cut but a sorry figure by the side of Don Antonio’s hunter. Besides his having one of the finest horses in Spain, this young gentleman was an experienced horseman, and before we started made his horse pass through a thousand manœuvres with considerable grace. I was extremely mortified that I could not by any means provoke my peaceable and stupid mule to imitate him; my endeavours to make him caper a little, served only to amuse the ladies who were observing us from the windows.

The Don pranced on one side of the litter, and I trotted on the other, for the sake of conversing with Donna Lucia on the road. We began, or rather, I began to discourse with her, for young Miras took so little part in the conversation, that he seldom went beyond a monosyllable, contenting himself with showing off his elegant person on horse-back to the best advantage. Knowing Don Antonio to be no great wit, I should have been a greater simpleton than he, had I not availed myself of so favourable an opportunity. Lucia asked me “if I intended to make a long stay at Saragossa.” “That will depend on the pleasure in store for me at that place,” replied I: “should my wishes be realized, I shall remain there a considerable time.” A tender glance with which I accompanied these words, spoke volumes. Lucia understood my meaning, and blushed deeply; but her eyes informed me that she felt not offended, and I was well pleased that I had hazarded this declaration, since it had not proved disagreeable to her, nor excited the jealousy of Miras, to whom it was a complete enigma.

I was somewhat surprised that so young and lovely a person as Lucia, should travel above a league from Saragossa, with a retinue consisting only of a duenna, one lackey and a muleteer. I had yet to know the privileges of widows in that country, where they enjoy unrestricted freedom. Travelling with so feeble an escort they frequently expose themselves to unexpected and unpleasant rencontres. Thus Donna Lucia, though accompanied by two cavaliers and her own attendants, was somewhat alarmed at a trifling adventure that befel us on our journey. We were already half way to Saragossa, when we perceived at a distance a most beautiful hunter, whose speed was equal to that of Bayarte or Brigliador,[B] and who, galloping towards us, raised such a cloud of dust that we could not at first distinguish who was the cavalier who rode him; but no sooner could we discern him, than I fancied I saw the furious Rolando before me, such fierceness was in his looks.

When he came up within ten or twelve paces of us, he stopped short to look at me. My foreign dress attracted his attention, and he seemed still more surprised at the familiar manner in which I was conversing with the fair widow. He was himself one of this lady’s suitors, and flattered himself with great hopes of winning her, relying upon the opinion he imagined all the world must have of his bravery, to ensure him success over all his rivals. Seeing then Don Antonio on one side and me on the other, he rode most furiously between Miras and the litter, so that he almost overturned the one and dismounted the other. The lady was much alarmed at this insolent action, and told this bully in a rage, that the road was wide enough to allow of his passing, without presuming to insult persons who deserved more respect. He apologized to Lucia in a tone and manner more insolent than the action itself.

Miras, at the first impulse of his resentment, clapped his hands upon his pistol, but whether from the fear of missing his aim, or from an excessive respect towards his mistress, he did not venture further in an engagement, for which, by the bye, he felt no great inclination. I pitied his awkward situation, and felt much disposed to take up his quarrel, thinking that this swaggerer was but a braggadocio. I reflected, however, that I might find myself mistaken; and seeing that the party most interested was not very forward in resenting the affront, I was wise enough to refrain from taking up his cudgels. All that I could do for him was, to request him to come to my side, and yield my place to him, which offer he accepted willingly, quite indifferent as to Lucia’s opinion of his courage in being obliged thus to quit his post. Our blustering companion called himself Don Lucio de Ribera. He had been informed that the beautiful widow had slept at the monastery the preceding night, and intended to return this day. Accordingly he rode from the city to meet her, and offer his services to escort her home.

No sooner did this fellow perceive that Don Antonio had resigned his post, instead of thinking of maintaining it, than he took immediate possession of it himself, and prepared to converse with the lady, who, however, deceived his expectation; for, to mortify him, she answered not a word to all he had to say. She deigned not even to look at him, keeping her eyes and attention fixed on Miras and me. In this manner we arrived at Saragossa, and conducted Donna Lucia to her house, where she thanked me most politely for my attentions, adding, that she hoped that the city had sufficient charms to detain me some time. She observed but little ceremony towards the other two gentlemen, acknowledging their civility with a slight bow only. I took no notice of the haughty Don Lucio in parting, but paid a thousand compliments to Don Antonio, which so much pleased him, that he insisted on accompanying me to the Angel, a famous inn at the entrance of the town, and whither I had desired my luggage to be conveyed. Here Miras took his leave of me, in terms which convinced me that so far from suspecting me for a rival, he believed me to be one of his best friends.

I found my servant and muleteer at the inn, where they had engaged a very commodious apartment for me, in which I supped alone. The landlord, who was one of those inveterate jesters who abound with witticisms and puns, joined me soon after, thinking I should be vastly entertained with his company. He began the conversation by telling me all that was going on in the town, the privileges of which he much extolled, not forgetting to praise the spirit with which the inhabitants maintained those privileges. I was not averse to listening to him, for in the midst of a thousand impertinences, a most excellent stroke of wit would occasionally escape him, as is often the case with babblers like him. When I had finished my supper, however, he ceased worrying me any longer with his nonsense, made his bow, and was about to retire. Stop friend, said I, be kind enough to desire a tailor to call upon me to-morrow morning; I have some work to give him. The entrusting mine host with this commission, furnished him with a new topic for conversation, and he took occasion to enlarge upon the knavery of tailors in general, abusing them as other people usually do. Nevertheless, after having railed at them most vehemently as a body, he finished by assuring me, that he knew one who knew how to behave himself to his customers, without cabbaging an inch of their cloth, and who, he doubted not, would please me.

He was as good as his word; for as soon as I was up the next morning, he introduced a tailor, who appeared to be by no means extravagant, and who understood his business well. I gave orders for a Spanish habit, in the fashion I wished it to be made, and he promised he would send it home in three days, made in so fashionable a style as could not fail to attract the admiration of every one. In the mean time, I wore the Italian suit I had purchased at Florence, in which I cut a tolerable good figure on the Corso, which is the place of resort for all the fashionables at Saragossa, and where I was at least not ashamed to appear as one of Donna Lucia’s suitors; but as soon as I made my appearance amongst them in my new dress, I completely eclipsed them all, not only from its elegance, but from the fine jewels with which I thought proper to deck myself out. I was soon looked upon as the favoured lover of the lady, whose attention I certainly attracted; for, whether I accompanied her in her walks, or chanced to pass under her balcony, she evidently distinguished me in preference to all my rivals. The haughty Don Lucio could not conceal his envy of my happiness, and darted the most furious looks at me. With the others I lived on tolerable good terms, especially with Miras, who scarcely ever left me, and procured me all the pleasure he could, by introducing me into the most distinguished families in the city.

Thus I found myself esteemed and honoured at Saragossa, where I was as much in Lucia’s favour as I had been in that of my Florence widow, when one morning, my servant announced to me, that there was a gentleman at my chamber-door who wanted to speak to me. Being still in bed, and thinking that it must be one of Don Antonio’s friends, I desired that he might be admitted, and was not a little surprised at sight of the person who had thus announced himself, who was a huge ugly looking fellow whom I had never seen before. He wore mustachios turned up, a high crowned hat which nearly reached the ceiling, and a very long sword, the hilt of which he was very careful in holding up, that it might not dangle on the floor; thus, shrugging up his shoulders, he walked with so heavy a foot, that the chamber shook at every step he took.

You will naturally expect that after so grand an entrance, he would address himself to me in a corresponding style; but no such thing; he was content to strut up and down my chamber, eyeing me from time to time in a most threatening manner. I soon grew tired of this dumb scene, so that jumping up on a sudden, I seized my pistols, and demanded what business he had there. This action seemed to bring him to his senses. “Do you know,” said he, with an agitated voice, “the brave Don Lucio de Ribera, the flower and boast of Arragon?” I replied, “that I knew him merely by sight, and that it was but of little consequence whether I knew him or not.” “I am come,” continued he, presenting me a letter, “to find you on his behalf. This letter will explain the rest.” I took the note very calmly, for I perceived plainly that the bearer was more frightened than myself, and having opened it, read these words:

“Be you an Italian or a Spaniard, your presumption is unpardonable in coming into this country to dispute our ladies’ hearts with us: but as you appear to be a foreigner, we are willing to excuse your extreme rashness, on condition that you leave Saragossa within four and twenty hours. Should your evil genius induce you to despise our resentment, be prepared to encounter Don Lucio de Ribera, whom no one has hitherto been able to vanquish, but whom you must overcome before you can offer any pretensions to Donna Lucia.”

Knowing the letter before I opened it to be from Don Lucio, I guessed that it must be a challenge, or something approaching it; so that I was not in the least astonished at its contents. “Sir,” said I to the messenger, “tell your employer on this occasion, that whether Italian or Spaniard, I have two daggers very much at his service, and that I am ready to fight him in my shirt, to prevent the possibility of foul play. No coats of mail for me; the really brave never make use of them in single combat. Let Don Lucio agree to these articles, and he shall find that I am ready to brave any danger to deserve the heart of Lucia. This is my answer.” “Give it me in writing,” replied the bearer of the letter, “that the regular Don Lucio may be convinced of my having delivered his message like a man of honour.” To satisfy this valiant messenger, I took the trouble of committing to paper the same words that I had just told him aloud, and he left me, promising to return in the afternoon, to fix the hour and the spot on which we should fight. After this rascal had left the room, I congratulated myself exceedingly that I had acquitted myself so manfully on this occasion, for though I had not the slightest inclination to fight, it was not the less necessary to assume the bravo, which has got many a man out of a scrape in similar cases, and which indeed was the only way in which I could receive so boisterous a gentleman. Let the worst come to the worst, however, thought I, my mules being always ready, I can at any time make a retreat. It is true that the idea of leaving Lucia would have caused me some pain, but I was not yet so much in love with her, as to hesitate between the possession of her and the preservation of my own sweet person.

Still this affair caused no inconsiderable anxiety, and I was most intently musing upon it, when mine host entered the room without my perceiving him, to ask whether I was ready for dinner, and seeing me look into my pocket handkerchief after having made use of it, roared out most lustily: “Take care of yourself, Sir, or you are undone!” I shuddered at these words, for my head was so full of the last scene, that I thought nothing less than that Don Lucio was on his way up stairs with the intention of assassinating me; but seeing my landlord laugh at my alarm, I recovered myself a little, and gave him to understand that I did not much admire such jokes; this only caused him to laugh the more at my expence. “How came you then,” said he, “to look into your handkerchief after having blown your nose? Know you not that you have thereby incurred a penalty for having broken the laws established against such ridiculous customs?” Knowing the fellow to be an original who meant no offence, I joined him in the laugh, and asked what the forfeit was. “No stipulated sum,” replied he, “but I dare say I can let you off for a real.” This I paid most willingly, though I would rather have paid twenty times the sum to have dispensed with the fright he had caused me. “In return for this,” continued he, “I receive you from this moment as one of our fraternity, and promise to give you a licence, by virtue of which you may in future commit the like fooleries at your pleasure; and since your real has produced you the honour of a place amongst us, it is but fair that I should amuse you after dinner by the perusal of the list of such habits as will entitle any one to a place in our brotherhood.”

No sooner had I dined, than he entered the room again, with a long tablet carefully sealed with yellow wax, containing the names of the elders and governors of the fraternity. The following pages contained all the fooleries that would entitle a person to be admitted into Fool’s College. I shall quote five or six of these instances, which will suffice to give you an idea of the rest. Preamble: “We declare quite worthy to be admitted into our College, all those who may be addicted to the following habits:”

1st. He who talks to himself either in his room or in the street.

2d. He who in playing at bowls, runs after his own bowl with divers contortions, hoping to make it roll to the exact spot he wishes.

3d. All those who take up their cards one by one, thinking by that means to ensure themselves all the court cards in the pack.

4th. Those who inquire the hour of the day while the clock is striking exactly before them.

5th. Those who, having sent a servant on an errand, plant themselves at the window, thinking thereby to hasten his return.

6th. All those who after having blown their noses, examine their handkerchiefs most attentively, as though they expected to find pearls in them, &c. &c. &c.

I amused myself a great part of the afternoon in reading this budget of extravagances, expecting every moment to hear again from Don Lucio, and was just growing weary of staying so long within doors, when Don Antonio and some friends of his called upon me. They began, by telling me that they were come to offer me their services in the affair of honour that I had on hand, adding that the whole town knew that Don Lucio had sent me a challenge, and that duelling being prohibited, that Cavalier was already arrested. From this circumstance it was pretty clear to me that Don Antonio and his friends were of that description of persons, who are ever most eager to proffer their assistance, when they know that all danger is over. I accordingly related as much to my own advantage as possible, the full particulars of what had passed that morning between me and Don Lucio’s messenger; upon which Don Antonio represented to me that I might also be arrested, and invited me to retire to his house. This I did not fail to accede to, for I dreaded any thing like imprisonment for more reasons than one. I passed the remainder of the day at that gentleman’s house, but not intending to sleep there, I left him about ten o’clock at night to return to my inn.

On my way home I met two ladies, attended by a footman who carried a large lantern, by the light of which, I soon distinguished that they were extremely handsome. I therefore accosted them in the most polite manner, and they answered my civilities with considerable vivacity; and, judging from my appearance and dress that I should be an easy prey, they ogled me in such a manner that I could not resist accompanying them farther than I intended; but having come to the corner of a street, they stopped all of a sudden, and one of them said: “Come no farther, I beg. Sir; we are only going to visit a sick lady who resides a few doors up this street. If you have time to wait, we shall be walking home again in about a quarter of an hour, and you may not repent of having met us. You shall hear a song, and the lute played to admiration.” Thus saying, they escaped from me, leaving me so fully persuaded they would keep their promise, that I was fool enough to wait in the street until near midnight. By that time, however, I was but too well convinced that I had been duped, sharp and cunning as I thought myself; and must further confess, to my confusion, that I had not even saved my purse from the dexterity of these accomplished damsels.

Being obliged, on my way to my lodging, to pass the house of my fair widow, I could not refuse myself the pleasure of gazing on it for some time, and I fancied that I perceived a man at the door. I imagined at first that this must be Don Lucio, knowing that he was in the habit of stationing himself near that spot every night, and this thought was accompanied by an emotion mingled with fear and jealousy. Recollecting, however, that he was in prison, I reflected that it could not be him; I grew confident, and, incited by jealousy, advanced towards the object that created it, and who, apparently, more afraid than myself, disappeared at my approach. Having reached the door, I heard the deafened creakings of a bolt, whence I concluded that some one was opening it as quietly as possible. I was not mistaken in my conjecture, for in a moment after, the door was half opened, so as to admit a man. Curiosity to know the bottom of this affair, in which I believed myself to be more interested than I really was, prompted me to slip in as quietly as possible. I immediately felt a hand held out to conduct me, for there was not a glimpse of light in the passage. I thought from the first, that the person mistook me, and could no longer doubt it, when being led into a back parlour, I was rather roughly regaled with a most fervent embrace, seasoned with the fragrant and delightful smell of pepper, garlic and saffron, which convinced me that this transported lover, who was so profuse of her favours, could be no other than the cook. In the midst of her transports, however, she began to suspect, from touching my clothes and face, that I could not be the favoured swain whom she expected; and at length being convinced of her mistake, she suddenly let go her hold of me, and thought to escape; but I held her fast by the petticoat. She exerted all her strength to disengage herself, and I was as determined to detain her, until at length we both fell down with a tremendous crash. This noise awoke two footmen, who lay in an adjoining closet. They jumped instantly out of bed, thinking they heard thieves, and each arming himself with a sword, crept softly with a lamp into the parlour, where they found us stretched at our length on the floor.

They recognised me immediately, and surprised to see a gentleman who aspired to the hand of their mistress contending with so much violence for the good graces of a kitchen wench, who had never even tempted themselves, they burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, to my utter confusion. The insolence of the creature herself was surprising: she accused me of a deliberate design to violate her honour, and asserted that I had secreted myself in the house with that view. Without waiting to justify myself, I picked up my hat, which had been knocked off my head by a violent box on the ears, and addressing myself to the servant who carried the lamp, desired him to light me to the street door, which he did, grinning all the way in such a manner, that I was almost tempted to knock him down. I soon reached my inn, cruelly mortified at so disgraceful and pitiful an adventure, not doubting that the story would be all over the town the next day, and that I should be the common talk of all the inhabitants. This idea, which afflicted me more than you can possibly imagine, made me resolve to stay no longer in Saragossa than was absolutely necessary to make preparations for my departure. My equipage was ready, therefore, at break of day, and my mules as though they partook of their master’s impatience to leave a place where he could not again make his appearance without shame, commenced their journey with a speed and seeming anxiety which pleased me exceedingly.