his will.
"That's a pack of lies," they said. "Because the day you say he
died, he was here, and he told us he didn't have any company."
When I realized that he hadn't given his will to a notary, and
that those women were threatening me, along with the experience
I'd had with the law and with lawsuits, I decided to be courteous
to them. I wanted to try to get hold of what I would lose if it
came into the hands of the law. Besides, the new widow's tears
had touched my heart. So I told them to calm down, they wouldn't
lose anything with me; that if I had accepted the inheritance, it
was only because I didn't know the dead man was married--in fact,
I had never heard of hermits being married.
Putting aside all their sadness and melancholy, they began to
laugh, saying that it was easy to see that I was new and
inexperienced in that position since I didn't know that when
people talked about solitary hermits they didn't mean they had to
give up the company of women. In fact, there wasn't one who
didn't have at least one woman to spend some time with after he
was through contemplating, and together they would engage in
active exercises--so sometimes he would imitate Martha and other
times Mary. Because they were people who had a better
understanding of the will of God they knew that He doesn't want
man to be alone. So, like obedient sons, they have one or two
women they maintain, even if it is by alms.
"And this one was especially obedient because he maintained four:
this poor widow, me (her mother), these two (her sisters), and
these three children who are his sons (or, at least, he
considered them his)."
Then the woman they called his wife said she didn't want them to
call her the widow of that rotten old carcass who hadn't
remembered her the day he died, and that she would swear those
children weren't his, and from then on she was renouncing the
marriage contract.
"What is that marriage contract?" I asked.
The mother said, "The marriage contract I drew up when my
daughter married that ungrateful wretch was this.... But before
I tell that, I'll have to give you the background.
"I was living in a village called Duennas, twenty miles from
here. I was left with these three daughters from three different
fathers who were, as near as I can figure out, a monk, an abbot,
and a priest (I have always been devoted to the Church). I came
to this city to live, to get away from all the gossiping that
always goes on in small towns. Everyone called me the
ecclesiastical widow because, unfortunately, all three men had
died. And even though others came to take their place, they were
only mediocre men of lower positions, and not being content with
the sheep, they went after the young lambs.
"Well, when I saw the obvious danger we were in and that what we
earned wouldn't make us rich, I called a halt and set up my camp
here. And with the fame of the three girls, they swarmed here
like bees to honey. And the ones I favored most of all were the
clergy because they were silent, rich, family men, and
understanding. Among them, the Father of Saint Lazarus came here
to beg alms. And when he saw this girl, she went to his heart,
and in his saintliness and simplicity he asked me to give her to
him as his wife.
"So I did, under the following conditions and articles:
"First, he would have to maintain our household, and what we
could earn ourselves would go for our clothes and our savings.
"Second, because he was a little decrepit, if my daughter should
at any time take on an ecclesiastical assistant, he would be as
quiet as if he were at mass.
"Third, that all the children she would have, he would have to
take as his own and promise them what he did or might possess.
And if my daughter didn't have any children, he would make her
his sole and lawful heir.
"Fourth, that he would not come into our house when he saw a jug,
a pot, or any other vessel in the window because that was a
signal that there wasn't any place for him.
"Fifth, that when he was in the house and someone else came, he
would have to hide where we told him until the other person left.
"Sixth and last, that twice a week he would have to bring us some
friend or acquaintance who would provide us with a great feast.
"These are the articles of the marriage contract," she continued,
"that that poor wretch and my daughter swore to. The marriage
took place without their having to go to a priest because he said
it wasn't necessary. The most important part, he said, was for
there to be mutual agreement about their wishes and intentions."
I was astonished at what that second Celestina* was telling me
and at the marriage contract she had used to marry her daughter.
I was confused: I didn't know what to say. But they lit up the
road to my desire because the young widow grabbed me around the
neck and said, "If that poor fellow had had the face of this
angel, I would really have loved him."
And with that she kissed me. After that kiss something started
up in me--I don't know what it was--and I began to burn inside.
I told her that if she wanted to stop being a widow and take me
as her own, I would keep not only the contract of the old man but
any other articles she wanted to add. They were happy with that
and said they only wanted me to give them everything in the
hermitage for safekeeping. I promised to do that, but I intended
to hold back the money in case I ever needed it.
The marriage ceremony was to take place the next morning, and
that afternoon they sent a cart to take away everything but the
nails that held the place together. They didn't overlook the
altarcloth or the saint's clothing. I was so bedazzled that if
they had asked me for the phoenix or the waters from the river
Styx, I would have given it to them. The only thing they left me
was a poor piece of sackcloth to lie on like a dog. When that
lady--my future wife--who had come with the cart saw that there
wasn't any money she was angry. Because the old man had told her
that he had some, but he didn't say where. She asked me if I
knew where the treasure was. I told her I didn't. Being astute,
she took me by the hand so we could go looking for it. She led
me to every corner and crevice in the hermitage, including the
base of the altar. And when she saw that it had recently been
fixed, she became very suspicious.
She hugged and kissed me and said, "My life, tell me where that
money is so we can have a happy wedding with it."
I still denied that I knew anything about any money. She took my
hand again and led me outside to walk around the hermitage,
watching my face all the time. When we got to the place where I
had hidden it, my eyes darted there. She called her mother and
told her to look under a stone I had put on top of it. She found
it, and I found my death.
She feigned a smile and said, "Look. With this we'll have a
wonderful life."
She caressed me over and over again, and then, since it was
getting late, they went back to the city, telling me to come to
their house in the morning and we would have the happiest wedding
there had ever been. I hope to God it's full of roses and not
thorns, I said to myself.
All that night I was caught between the hope that those women
wouldn't trick me and the fear that they would, although I
thought it was impossible for there to be any trickery in a woman
who had such a good face. I was expecting to enjoy that little
pigeon, so the night seemed like a year to me.
It wasn't yet dawn when I closed up my hermitage and went to get
married (as if that were nothing), not remembering that I already
was. I arrived just as they were getting up. They welcomed me
so joyfully that I really thought I was fortunate, and with all
my fears gone, I began to act right at home. We ate so well and
the food was so good that I thought I was in paradise. They had
invited six or seven lady friends of theirs in to eat. After
dinner we danced, and although I didn't know how, they made me do
it. To see me dancing with my hermit's garb on was a sight.
When evening came, after a good supper and even better drinking,
they took me into a nicely decorated room where there was a good
bed. They told me to get into it. While my wife was undressing,
a maid pulled off my shoes and stockings and told me to take off
my shirt because, for the ceremonies that would take place, I had
to be completely naked. I obeyed her. Then all the women came
into my room with my wife behind them, dressed in a shift, and
one of the women was carrying the train.
The first thing they made me do was kiss her arse, saying that
was the first ceremony. After this, four of them grabbed me--two
by the feet and two by the arms--and with great care they tied
four ropes to me and fastened the ends to the four bedposts. I
was like a Saint Andrew on the Cross. They all began to laugh
when they saw my jack-in-the-box, and they threw a jar of cold
water on it. I gave out a terrible shriek, but they told me to
be quiet, or else. They took a huge pot of hot water and stuck
my head in it. I was burning up, and the worst part was that if
I tried to shout they whipped me. So I decided to let them do
what they wanted. They sheared off my beard, my hair, my
eyebrows and eyelashes.
"Be patient," they said. "The ceremonies will be over soon, and
you will enjoy what you desire so much."
I begged them to let me go because my appetite had gone away.
They cut away the hair from my crotch, and one of them who was
the boldest took out a knife and said to the others, "Hold him
down tight, and I'll cut off his plums so he'll never again feel
tempted to get married. This hermit thought everything we told
him was the gospel truth. Why, it wasn't even the epistle. He
trusted women, and now he'll see what the payment is."
When I saw my precious stones in danger, I pulled so hard that I
broke a rope and one of the bedposts. I grabbed my jewels with
one hand and clutched them so that even if they had cut off my
fingers, they couldn't have gotten to them. So they wouldn't
break the bed completely apart, they untied me and wrapped me in
a sheet. Then they gave me such a blanketing that they left me
half dead.
"These, my dear sir," they said, "are the ceremonies our wedding
begins with. If you want to come back tomorrow, we'll finish the
rest."
The four of them picked me up and carried me far away from their
house. They put me down in the middle of a street. And when
morning came, boys began to chase and beat me, so that, to get
away from their hands, I ran into a church next to the high
altar where they were saying mass. When the priests saw that
figure, which must have looked like the devil they paint at Saint
Michael's feet, they began to run away, and I was right behind
them, trying to get away from the boys.
The people in the church were shouting. Some said, "Look! There
goes the devil!" Others said, "Look at the madman!"
I was shouting, too, but that I wasn't a devil or a madman; I was
only a poor fellow who looked like that because of my sins. At
this, they all quieted down. The priests went back to their
mass, and the sacristan gave me a cover from a tomb to wrap
myself in. I went over to a corner and thought about the
reverses of fortune and that no matter where you go bad luck is
there. So I decided to stay in that church for the rest of my
life. And if past misfortunes were any indication, my life
wouldn't be a long one. Besides, I wanted to save the priests
the trouble of going somewhere else to get me when I was dead.
This, dear reader, is all of the Second Part of the life of
Lazarillo. I have neither added nor subtracted anything from
what I heard my great-grandmother tell. If you enjoyed it, wait
for the Third Part: you will find it no less enjoyable.
*[The unforgettable and infamous old bawd of the Spanish
masterpiece _La Celestina_ (ca. 1492)--R.S.R.]
THE END
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