and went in a great hurry to get a light. Coming back he found me with
the key in my mouth, half of it projecting, in the same way as it was
when I was whistling with it. The killer of snakes was astounded that
it should have been the key. He took it out of my mouth to see what it
was. Then he went to try it in the lock, and found out my practices.
He said that the rats and the snake that devoured his substance were
found. What happened in the next three days I know not, for I was in
the belly of the whale. At the end of that time my senses returned. I
found myself lying on my straw, and my head covered with unguents and
plasters. I was astounded and said: “What is this?” The cruel priest
answered that he had caught the rats and the serpent. Finding myself
so evilly treated, I began to understand what had happened. At this
time an old woman came in and dressed my wound. Then the neighbours
began to take off the bandages. They rejoiced when they saw that I had
recovered my senses, and began to laugh over my misfortunes while I,
as the sinner, mourned over them. [Sidenote: Lazaro recovers and is
shown the door.] With all this they gave me something to eat, so that
in a fortnight I could get up and was out of danger, though suffering
from hunger. On another day, when I was up, my master took me by the
hand and put me outside the door. Being in the street, he said:
“From to-day, Lazaro, you are your own master and not my servant.
Seek another master, and go, in God’s name; for I do not want such a
diligent person in my service, who is only fit to be a blind man’s
guide.” He then crossed himself as if he thought I had a devil, went
back into the house, and shut the door.
[Illustration]
THIRD MASTER
HOW LAZARO TOOK SERVICE WITH A GENTLEMAN, AND WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM
Thus I was obliged to seek strength out of weakness, and little by
little, with the help of kind people, I reached this famous city of
Toledo. [Sidenote: Lazaro reaches Toledo, and seeks for a master.] At
the end of fifteen days, by the mercy of God, my wound was healed.
While I was ill people gave me some alms, but as soon as I was well
they all said, “You lazy little vagabond, go and seek for a master whom
you may serve.” “But where can I find one?” I said to myself.
[Sidenote: On the road to Toledo.]
I was wandering about from door to door, without any settled purpose,
when I came upon an esquire,[24] who was walking down the street,
fairly well dressed and groomed. He looked at me and I at him.
[Sidenote: The esquire.] He then said, “Boy! are you seeking for a
master?” I replied, “Yes, sir!” “Then come along behind me,” he said,
“for God has shown mercy to you by letting you meet with me.” So I
followed him, giving thanks to God. Judging from his dress and manner I
thought he was the sort of master of whom I stood in need.
[24] Escudero. The English equivalent is _esquire_; Latin,
_armiger_. Selden says that the original of this title was the
office or function of _armiger_ or _scutifer_. Our _esquire_ and
the French _escuyer_ are derived from Scutarius. In Froissart
we have knights and esquires, in Spain cavalleros (knights) and
escuderos (esquires).
[Sidenote: Lazaro enters the service of an esquire.]
It was in the morning when I met with my third master, and I followed
him over a great part of the city. He passed by the place where they
sell bread and other provisions, and I thought and desired that he
would employ me to carry what he bought, for it was the time for
marketing. But, with a slow step, he passed by all these things.
Perhaps, I thought, he is not satisfied with them and intends to make
his purchases in some other place. In this way we walked about until
eleven in the forenoon, when he entered the principal church, and I
at his heels. I saw him hear Mass and the other divine offices very
devoutly until the service was all finished, and the people had gone.
Then we left the church and began to walk down the street. I was the
happiest boy in the world to see that my master had not troubled
himself about marketing, for I deduced from that the belief that he
had everything at home, where I should find all that I desired. At last
we came to a house before which my master stopped, and I with him.
[Illustration: “_I followed him over a great part of the city._”]
[Sidenote: The esquire takes Lazaro to his house.]
Throwing the end of his cloak over his left shoulder, he took a key out
of his sleeve and opened the door. We entered the house. It was so dark
and dismal that it might cause fear to any one coming in. Within there
was a small court and fair-sized rooms. He then took off his cloak and,
first asking whether I had clean hands, he shook it and folded it.
Then, after very carefully blowing the dust off a bench that was there,
he put the cloak on it. Having done this he sat upon it and began to
ask me questions, in great detail, as to where I came from and how I
reached the city. I had to give him a much longer account than I cared
for, as it seemed to me that it was a more convenient time for laying
the cloth and getting the meal ready than for answering what he asked.
Nevertheless, I satisfied his curiosity with the best lies I could
invent, relating all I had done well, and holding my tongue about the
rest, which did not appear to me to be appropriate. [Sidenote: Nothing
to eat in the esquire’s house.] This done, we remained in the same
place for a while. It was now nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, and
there was no more sign of anything to eat than there would be for the
dead.
After this my master closed the door and locked it, and neither above
nor below was there a sign of any other person in the house. All I
had seen was walls, without chairs or table, or even a chest, like
that of the rats and snake. It was like a house bewitched. At this
juncture he said to me, “You, my boy! have you eaten?” “No, sir,” said
I, “for it was not eight o’clock when I met your worship.” “Well,” he
said, “although I have breakfasted this morning, I shall be fasting
until night, so you must hold on, and afterwards we will have supper.”
[Sidenote: Lazaro sees trouble ahead about food, but he dissimulates.]
When I heard this I was very much depressed, not so much from hunger,
as from the knowledge that the luck was continuing to be against me.
For my hardships seemed to be coming back. I mourned over my troubles,
and remembered what I once thought, when I was meditating on leaving
the priest, that ill-fortune might bring me to something worse.
Finally, I began to weep over my miserable past life, and over my
approaching death. At the same time I dissimulated as well as I could.
“Sir,” I said, “I am a boy who does not trouble much about eating,
blessed be God! So that I am able to receive praise among all my
equals, as the one who has the most moderate appetite, and for this I
have even been praised, up to this time, by my former masters.” “This
is a virtue,” he replied, “and for this I like you better. Gluttony is
for pigs and to eat with moderation for respectable people.” “Well do
I understand you,” said I to myself, “and cursed be such medicine, and
such kindness as I have had from my masters, who give me nothing but
starvation.”
[Sidenote: The esquire and Lazaro sup on the boy’s three pieces of
bread.]
I then put myself in one corner of the doorway, and took some pieces
of bread out of my bosom, which remained from what had been given me.
When he saw it he said to me, “Come here, my boy, what is it you are
eating?” I came to him and showed him. He took for himself the largest
of the three pieces I had, and said to me, “By my life! this bread
seems good.” “And sir,” said I, “it is good.” “Yes, by my faith!” said
he, “where did you get it from--are you sure it was kneaded with clean
hands?” “I do not know that,” said I, “but the smell of it does not
turn my stomach.” “Please God!” said my poor master, and, putting it
to his mouth, he began to take as voracious mouthfuls as I did with
mine. “It is most delicious,” he said. I feared he would finish first,
and that he would want to help me with what was left of mine, so we
both came to an end at the same time. [Sidenote: A meagre supper and
a wretched bed.] My master then began to collect with his hand a few
crumbs which had remained on our breasts. Then he went into a small
room and brought out a jug without a spout, and not very new. After
he had had a drink he offered it to me. I said, “Sir! I do not drink
wine.” “It is water,” he replied, “and you can well drink it.” Then
I took the jug and drank, but not very much, as thirst was not my
complaint. So we remained until the night, talking about things he had
asked me, while I gave the best answers I could.
He took me into the chamber out of which he had brought the jug of
water, and said, “Boy, stay here, and see how we make this bed, that
you may know how to make it henceforward.” He put me at one end and
himself at the other, and he made the miserable bed. There was not
much to make. He had a sort of hurdle on trestles. Over this he spread
clothes. They did not look very like a mattress, but served as one,
with much less blanket than was necessary. What there was we spread
out, but it was impossible to soften the bed. It was too hard.
When the bed was made, and the night being come, he said to me:
“Lazaro, it is now too late, it is a long way to the market-place, and
in this city there are many thieves who prowl about at night. We must
do the best we can, and to-morrow, when it is light, God will have
mercy. Being alone I am not provided, for I have been in the habit of
having my meals outside, but now we will arrange things in another
way.” [Sidenote: The esquire’s apology for no supper. His philosophical
view of starvation.] “Sir,” I replied, “do not trouble about me, for I
can pass a night like this.” “You will become more and more healthy,”
he then told me, “for there is nothing in the world that lives long but
it eats little.” “If that is so,” I said to myself, “I shall never die,
for I have always been obliged to observe that rule by force, and even,
if my ill-luck continues, it may be so all my life.”
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.]