Part 5

He lay down on the bed, using his hose and doublet for a pillow, and ordered me to put myself at his feet. I did so, but not to go to sleep, for the canes of the hurdle and my protruding bones struggled with each other without ceasing. What with my hardships, misery, and starvation I do not think there was a pound’s weight of flesh on my body. [Sidenote: A very bad night.] As I had scarcely eaten anything all day I was wild with hunger, which is not a friend of sleep. I cursed my fate and my ill-luck a thousand times, may God pardon me! I was like that most of the night, not daring to turn for fear of awakening my master; and I prayed to God many times for death.

[Sidenote: The esquire attends to his outward appearance.]

When morning came we got up and began to shake and brush the doublet and hose, the coat and cloak. My master dressed himself very carefully, combed his hair, washed his hands, and put his sword on. As he did so he said to me: “Ah, my boy, if you only knew what a weapon this sword is. There is not a mark of gold in the whole world for which I would give it. Moreover, there is not a sword among all that Antonio ever made that has the steel so tempered as this one.” Then he drew it out and tried it with his finger, saying, “Look here, I am obliged to use a ball of wool for it.” I said to myself, “And I need a piece of bread for my teeth, though they are not made of steel.” He put his sword back, and with a stately pace, his body erect, his head turned gently from side to side, throwing the end of his cloak over his shoulder, and putting his right hand on his side, he said, “Lazaro, take care of the house, make the bed, fetch water from the river for the jug, as it is getting low. I am going to hear Mass. Lock the door that nothing may be stolen, placing the key on the hook by the hinge, that I may be able to come in when I return.”

[Illustration: “_What there was we spread out._”]

[Sidenote: Stately appearance of the esquire when he walked abroad.]

He then marched down the street with such a contained and noble air that any one who did not know the contrary would have thought that he was a very near relation to the Count of Arcos,[25] or at least his chamberlain who had been clothed by him. “A blessing on you, my lord,” I was left saying, “who gives the disease and provides the remedy.” Who would meet my master, and, judging from his satisfied look, not suppose that he had supped well and slept in a comfortable bed, and that in the morning he had had a good breakfast? [Sidenote: Lazaro’s reflections on the secrets hidden under the esquire’s cloak.] Great secrets, sir, are those which you keep and of which the world is ignorant. Who would not be deceived by that fair presence and decent cloak? And who would think that the same gentleman passed all that day without eating anything but the bit of bread which his servant Lazaro had carried all day in his bosom, where it was not likely to find much cleanliness? To-day, washing his hands and face, he had to wipe them with the end of his cloak for want of a towel. Certainly no one would have suspected it. O Lord! how many such as him must be scattered over the world, who suffer for the jade they call honour that which they would not suffer for a friend.

[25] The Duke of Arcos was a very grand nobleman. The title belonged to the family of Ponce de Leon, but before this was written the head of the family had become Duke of Cadiz, a title which was afterwards changed to that of Duke of Arcos. The second Duke was flourishing at this time, and died in 1590. Count, in the text, is a mistake. It should be Duke.

[Sidenote: Lazaro’s reflections. He goes for water and finds his master flirting on the river bank.]

I was standing at the door, looking out and thinking of these and many other things until my master disappeared down the long and narrow street. Then I went back into the house, and in the time that it would take to say a _credo_ I had run all over it without finding anything. I made the hard bed, took up the jug and went with it to the river. There I saw my master in great request with two fair ladies in a garden. There were other ladies, for many think it fashionable to go and refresh themselves on summer mornings by those pleasant banks. In confidence that they will be well received, several gentlemen of the place also frequent the river-side. As I have said, my master was among them, saying the sweetest things that Ovid ever wrote. They had no shame in asking him to pay for their breakfasts, but he, finding that he was as cold in the purse as he was empty in the stomach, began to have that feeling which robs the face of its colour, and to make not very valid excuses. When they saw his infirmity, they went to those who were not suffering from it. I was breaking my fast with some stalks of vegetables with great diligence, and not seeing any more of my master I went back to the house.

I thought of sweeping some part of it, which was very necessary, but I could find nothing with which to do it; so I set myself to think what I should do next. [Sidenote: Lazaro waits long for his master to bring food, but he never came.] I thought I would wait for my master until noon. When he came he might by good luck bring something for us to eat. But there was no such experience for me. It was two o’clock, my master had not come, and I was desperately hungry. So I shut the door, put the key where I was told, and gave all my attention to my own necessities.

[Sidenote: Lazaro’s successful begging expedition.]

With a low and feeble voice, and my hands in my bosom, the good God before my eyes, and my tongue repeating His Name, I began to pray for bread at the largest houses and doors I came upon. As this method was sucked in with my mother’s milk, or I should say that I learnt it from that great master of it, the blind man, so good a disciple was I that, although in this city little is known of charity, nor had it been an abundant year, I made such a good haul that, before the clock struck four, I had several pounds of bread inside me, and two loaves up my sleeve and in my bosom. I returned to the house, and, in passing a tripe-shop, I begged of one of the shopwomen, who gave me a piece of a cow’s foot and several pieces of boiled tripe.

When I got back to the house my good master was already there. The cloak was folded and put on the bench, and he was pacing up and down. He came up to me, and I thought he was going to scold me for being late. He asked me where I had been, and I said, “Sir! I was here until it struck two. But when I saw that you were not coming, I went over the city, to commend myself to the kind people, and they have given me what you see.” I showed him the bread and the tripe, which I carried in the end of my skirt. At this he seemed well pleased and said, “Well, I waited for you to eat, and when you did not come I ate what there was, but you have done well in this, for it is better to beg in the name of God than to steal. He helps me as He sees fit. [Sidenote: What touches the esquire’s honour.] I merely charge you that people must not be told that you live with me, for it touches my honour; though I well believe that it will be kept secret, because very few people know me here.”

[Illustration: “_Gave me a piece of a cow’s foot and several pieces of boiled tripe._”]

“Do not be troubled about that, sir,“ I replied to him, “for cursed be he who asks the question, and myself if I tell him anything. No, we shall soon be free from want. When I saw that nothing good came into this house I went out. Surely the ground must be bad, or there must be unlucky houses which bring ill-luck to those who live in them.” “This one must be so without doubt,” he replied. “I promise you that after a month I will not stay in it, even if it is given me as my own.”

I sat down at the end of the bench, and, that he might not take me for a glutton, I said nothing about the meal. I began supper, and to bite my bread and tripe. [Sidenote: The esquire longs for a share of Lazaro’s supper.] Looking stealthily I saw that my unhappy master could not take his eyes off my skirt, which served as a plate. May God have as much pity for me as I had for him! I could feel what he felt, and have been feeling so every day. I thought whether it would be right for me to invite him to share, for as he had told me that he had dined, he might decline the invitation. Finally, I asked that sinner to help me in my work, and to break his fast as he did the day before. He had a better chance, the food being better and my hunger less. It pleased God to comply with my wish, and I even think with his. For as he passed, in walking up and down, he came to me and said: “I assure you, Lazaro, that you have the best grace in eating that I ever saw in any one, and that no one can see you doing it, without having a longing to eat, even when he had no such longing before.” “The great longing that you have makes you think my way of eating so beautiful,” I said to myself, “and causes your wish to help me.”

[Sidenote: Lazaro’s courtesy, tact, and kindness.]

He longed to join me, and I opened a way by saying, “Sir, the good tools make the good craftsman. This bread is delicious, and this cow’s foot is so well cooked and seasoned that there is no one that would not be drawn to it by the smell alone.” “Cow’s foot, is it?” he said. “Yes, sir!” “I tell you that is the best mouthful in the world, there is not even a pheasant that is so good.” “Try it, sir!” said I, “and see whether it is as good as you think.” [Sidenote: Lazaro generously provides his master with a supper.] I put on one side the cow’s foot and three or four pieces of bread, and he sat down by my side, and began to eat as if he would like to devour every little bone. “This wonderful food is like a hotch-potch,” he said. “You eat with the best kind of sauce,” I replied. “Before God,” said he, “if I had known I would not have eaten a mouthful all day.” “Thus the good years avenge me,” I said to myself. He asked me for the jug of water, and I gave it to him just as I had brought it. My master had not over-eaten, and it is a sign of this that there was no want of water. We both drank, and went to bed in the same way as the night before, well contented. To avoid prolixity I may say that the same thing went on for the next eight or ten days.

In the mornings my master went out to take the air in the streets with the same satisfied look, leaving poor Lazaro with the head of a wolf. I often reflected on my misfortune that, escaping from the evil masters I had served, and seeking to better myself, I should have found one who not only did not maintain me, but whom I had to support. With all that I liked him well enough, seeing that he could not do better. My feeling was rather of sorrow than of enmity. Often I fared ill in bringing to the house that with which he might be satisfied.

[Sidenote: Lazaro examines the esquire’s clothes, and finds nothing.]

One morning the sad esquire got out of bed in his shirt and went up to the roof of the house. I quickly searched the hose and doublet at the head of the bed, and found a small purse of velvet, but there had not been so much as a blanca in it for many a day. “This man,” I said to myself, “is really poor, and cannot give what he has not got. The avaricious blind man and the ill-conditioned clergyman, may God reward them both! nearly killed me with hunger, the one with a kiss on the hand, the other with a deceitful tongue. Those it is right for me to detest, but for this poor man to have a tender feeling.” God is my witness that even now when I meet with any one dressed like this, and walking with the same pompous air, it makes me sad to think that he might be suffering what I saw my poor master suffer. [Sidenote: Lazaro has a kindly feeling for his third master.] With all his poverty I liked serving him; but not the other two masters. I only felt some discontent, for I should have liked him not to be quite so proud, and to have lowered his pretensions just a little when his necessities were so great. But it seems to me that it is a well-established rule among such people to march with their caps well cocked, though they have not a blanca to their names. The Lord have mercy on those who have to die of this disease!

[Sidenote: Begging prohibited.]

I was in this condition, passing the life I have described, when my ill-luck again began to pursue me. In that land the year was one which only yielded a bad harvest, so the municipal authorities resolved that all mendicants should leave the town; with the addition that any who remained after four days should be punished by whipping. Then the law took effect, and there were processions of poor people being whipped down the four streets.

This so frightened me that I did not dare to transgress by begging. So you may imagine the abstinence of our house, and the sadness and silence of its inmates. We were two or three days without eating a mouthful or speaking a word. [Sidenote: Lazaro is kept alive by some kind shop-girls.] Some young women, sewers of cotton who made caps and lived near us, kept me alive, for I had made friends with them. From the little they had, they gave me enough to keep body and soul together. I was not so unhappy for myself as for my forlorn master, who in eight days never ate a mouthful, at least in the house. I do not know where he went or what he had to eat when he went out. I used to see him come back at noon, walking along the street with dignified carriage, thinner than a greyhound of good breed, and with regard to what touched the nonsense he called honour, he brought a straw of which we had not enough in the house. [Sidenote: Master and boy in a miserable and starving condition.] Coming to the door he would grind his teeth with nothing between them, complaining all the time of his bad lodging and saying: “It is a bad thing to see, and a most unlucky place to have to live in, and while we have to be here it will always be wretchedly sad. We have got to endure it, but I wish that this month was over, so that we might leave it.”

[Sidenote: The esquire brings home a real, but bemoans his fate.]

Being in this miserable and starving condition, one day, I know not through what good-fortune or chance, my poor master became possessed of a real. He came to the house with it, as delighted as if he had got all the riches of Venice, and smiling at me with a very joyous expression, he said: “Take it, Lazaro, for God has at length begun to open His hand. Go to the market for bread, meat, and wine, for we will break the Devil’s eye. I would further have you to know that I have taken another house, and that we shall not have to be in this wretched one for more than another month. May it be accursed, and he who placed the first tile to build it! O Lord! how have I lived here! Scarcely a drop of wine have I drunk nor a morsel of bread have I eaten, nor have I ever had any rest here, and it looks so sad and forbidding. Go and return quickly, for to-day we will eat like counts.”

I took the jug and the real, and giving speed to my feet, I began to run up the street to the market, very joyful and contented. But of what avail if evil fortune always brought anxiety with my joy. So it was on this occasion.

As I ran up the street I was calculating how I could spend the money to the best advantage and most profitably, giving thanks to God that my master had got something to spend. [Sidenote: Terror of Lazaro, thinking they were bringing a dead body to his house.] Suddenly I met a funeral with many priests and mourners. I got up against the wall to let them pass. Presently they came, one in deep mourning, apparently the wife of the deceased, with other women. She was crying with a loud voice and saying, “O my lord and husband, whither are they taking you, to the sad and empty house, to the dark and wretched place, to the house where there is nothing to eat and drink.” When I heard this the heaven and earth seemed to be joined together. I exclaimed, “O unhappy me! it is to our house that they are taking this dead body.” I turned back, slipped through the crowd of people, and ran down the street as fast as I could to our house. [Sidenote: Lazaro bars the door to keep out the dead body.] When I got there I began to close the door in great haste, calling on my master to come and help, and to defend the entrance. He was rather surprised, thinking it was something else, and said to me, “What is this, my boy, what are you making a noise about, what are you doing, why are you shutting the door in such a fury?” “Oh sir,” I cried, “they are bringing a dead body here!” “How do you know?” he said. “I met it in the street,” I replied, “and the dead man’s wife was crying and shouting, ‘My lord and husband, whither do they take you, to the dark and dismal house, to the sad and wretched place, to the house where they never eat nor drink.’ It must be here, sir, that they are bringing it.” Certainly when my master heard this, though he had no great reason to be merry, he laughed so heartily that it was a long time before he could speak. By this time I had got the beam across the door and put my shoulder against it, to make it more secure.

[Sidenote: Lazaro barring the door.]

The people passed with their corpse, and all the time I pushed against the door, to prevent them from getting into the house. At last, when he had had much more of laughing than of eating, my good master said to me, “In truth, Lazaro, seeing what the widow was saying, you were right to think as you did. But God has been good to us, and they have passed. So open, open, and go and get the food.” “Let me wait, sir, until they are out of the street,” I begged. [Sidenote: At last the esquire unbars the door, and Lazaro does his marketing.] At last my master came and opened the door in spite of me, which was necessary, because I was so upset with fear and excitement. I then went out. We ate well on that day, but I took no pleasure in it, nor did my colour come back for three more days, while my master smiled a good deal, whenever he noticed the state I had been in.