Gil Blas Alain-René Lesage (novel books to read TXT) 📖

could not be too soon gratified, left me without ceremony; but he left me in the utmost consternation, to hear him called Don, and thus ennobled, in spite of Master Chrysostom the barber’s escutcheon, who had the honor to call him father. XIV

Fabricio finds a situation for Gil Blas in the establishment of Count Galiano, a Sicilian nobleman.

I was too happy in Fabricio’s society not to hunt him out again early the next morning. “Good day to you, Señor Don Fabricio,” said I on my first approach; “it seems you are the picked and chosen flower, or rather, saving your presence, the nondescript excrescence of the Asturian nobility.”

This sarcasm had no other effect than to set him laughing heartily. “Then the title of Don was not lost upon you!” exclaimed he.

“No, indeed, my noble lord,” answered I; “and you will give me leave to tell you that when you were recounting your transformations to me yesterday, you forgot the most extraordinary.”

“Exactly so,” replied he; “but to speak sincerely, if I have taken up that prefix of dignity, it is less to tickle my own vanity, than in tenderness to that of others. You know what stuff the Spaniards are made of; an honest man is no honest man to them, if his honor is not bolstered up with escutcheons, pedigree, and patrimony. I may tell you, moreover, that there are so many gentry, and very queer sort of gentry too, dubbed Don Francisco, Don Pedro, Don What-do-you-call-him, or Don Devil, that if they owe their coats of arms to any herald but their own impudence, modern nobility is a mere drug in the market, so that a plebeian of nature’s ennobling confers infinite honor on the upstarts of an artificial creation, by herding with their order.”

“But let us change the subject,” added he. “Last night, supping at the Duke de Medina Sidonia’s, where, among other company, we had Count Galiano, a great Sicilian nobleman, the conversation turned upon the ridiculous effects of self-love. Delighted at having a case in point by way of illustration, I treated them with the story of the homilies. You may well suppose that there was a hearty laugh, and that the archbishop’s dignity was not saved in the concussion; but the effect was not amiss for you, since the company felt for your situation; and Count Galiano, after a long string of questions, which of course I answered to your advantage, commissioned me to introduce you. I was just now going to look after you for that purpose. In all probability he means to offer you a situation as one of his secretaries. I advise you not to hang back. The count is rich, and lives away at Madrid, on the scale of an ambassador. He is said to have come to court on a negotiation with the Duke of Lerma, respecting some crown lands which that minister thinks of alienating in Sicily. In one word, Count Galiano, though a Sicilian, has every feature of generosity, fair dealing, and gentlemanly conduct. You cannot do better than get upon that nobleman’s establishment. In all probability the flattering prophecy respecting you at Grenada is to be fulfilled in his person.”

“It was my full determination,” said I to Núñez, “to take my swing about town and look at men and manners a little, before the harness was buckled on my back again; but you paint your Sicilian nobleman in colors which fascinate my imagination and change my purpose. I should like to close with him at once.”

“You will do so very soon,” replied he, “or I am much deceived.”

We sallied forth together immediately, and went to the count’s, who resided in the house of his friend, Don Sancho d’Avila, the latter being then in the country.

The courtyard was overrun with pages and footmen in rich and elegant liveries, while the antechamber was blockaded by esquires, gentlemen, and various officers of the household. They were all as fine as possible, but with so whimsical an assortment of features, that you might have taken them for a cluster of monkeys dressed up to satirize the Spanish fashions. Do what you will, there is a certain class of men and women in nature, whom no art can trick out into anything human.

At the very name of Don Fabricio, a lane was formed for my patron, and I followed in the rear. The count was in his dressing-gown, sitting on a sofa and taking his chocolate. We made our obeisance in the most respectful manner; while an inclination of the head on his part, accompanied with a condescending smile, won my heart at once. It is very wonderful, and yet very common, how the most trifling notice from the great penetrates the very soul of those who are not accustomed to it! They must have behaved like fiends before their behavior will be complained of.

After taking his chocolate, he recreated himself with the humors of a large ape, which underwent the name of Cupid: why the ape was made a god, or the god likened to an ape, the parties concerned can best answer; the only point of resemblance seemed to be mischief. At all events, this hairy brat of the sylvan Venus had so gambolled himself into his master’s good graces, had established such a character for wit and humor, that the life of society was extinguished in his absence. As for Núñez and myself, though we had a better turn for drollery, we were cunning enough to chime in with the prevailing taste.

The Sicilian was highly delighted with this, and tore himself away for a moment from his favorite pastime, just to tell me, “My friend, you have only to say whether you choose to be one of my secretaries. If the situation suits you, the salary is two hundred pistoles a year. If Don Fabricio gives you a character, that is enough.”

“Yes, my lord,” cried Núñez, “I am not such a cowardly fellow as Plato,