Episode 7

With better sauce dost thou eat it,” answered I softly.

“By God, it hath tasted to me as if I had not eaten a morsel this day!”

“May good fortune come to me as surely as that is true!” said I unto myself.

He asked me for the pitcher of water, and I gave it to him just as I had brought it. It was a sign that, as there was no lack of water, there had been no abundance of dinner for my master. We drank, and right contentedly went to sleep as on the night before.

And to avoid prolixity, in this manner we spent eight or ten days, the poor sinner going forth in the morning with that contented look and measured step to take the air in the streets, having in poor Lázaro a feeder of wolves. Many a time did I contemplate my misfortune: that having escaped from the wicked masters I had served and seeking better fortune, I should stumble upon one who not only maintained me not, but whom I had to maintain.

Yet I loved him well, seeing that he had naught and could do no more, and I felt pity rather than enmity toward him; and many a time, to bring food to the lodging for him to make shift with, I fared poorly myself. For one morning, the poor wretch rising in his shirt, went up to the top of the house to ease himself, and meanwhile I, to satisfy my curiosity, unfolded his doublet and hose which he left at the bedhead, and found a little purse of tawny velvet with a hundred folds, without a single cursed blanca or any sign that it had held one for a long time.

“This man,” said I, “is poor, and no one can give what he hath not. But the greedy blind man and the wretched, stingy priest who, though God gave to both—to the one for kissed hands and to the other for a loosened tongue—starved me to death, those it is right to hate, and this one to pity.”

God is my witness that to this day, when I meet any man of his condition, with that haughty gait and pomp, I have pity on him, thinking whether he suffers what I saw this one endure; whom, with all his poverty, I would rather serve than the others, for the reasons I have told. Only I had one small grievance against him: I could have wished he had not possessed so much presumption, but that he would have lowered his pride a little as his necessity mounted high. But, as it seems to me, it is an established rule among them: though they have not a farthing to bless themselves with, the cap must sit jaunty on the head. May the Lord remedy it, for with this disease they must die.

Being then in such condition, living the life I describe, my evil fortune, not yet satisfied with persecuting me, willed that I should not abide long in that toilsome and shameful lodging. For the year being barren of grain in that country, the Town Council resolved that all foreign beggars should depart from the city, under proclamation that whoever was found thereafter should be punished with whipping. And so, executing the law, four days after the proclamation was published, I saw a procession of poor folk whipped through the Four Crossways, which struck such terror into me that I never dared venture to beg again.

Here might anyone have seen, who could have seen it, the abstinence of our house, and the sadness and silence of the dwellers therein, so that it befell us to remain two or three days without tasting a morsel or speaking a word. As for me, my life was preserved by certain poor women who spun cotton, making bonnets and living hard by us, with whom I had acquaintance and neighborliness; from the wretched pittance brought to them they gave me some small matter, wherewith I made shift to live.

And I felt not so much pity for myself as for my poor afflicted master, who in eight days ate not a cursed mouthful: at least, at home we went without eating. I know not how or whither he went, nor what he ate. But to see him come down the street at midday, with an erect body, longer than a greyhound of good breed! And for the sake of his miserable thing called honor, he would take a straw—of which there were not even enough in the house—and go out to the doorway picking his teeth, which had nothing between them, still complaining of that unlucky house and saying:

“It is plain to see that the misfortune of this dwelling causes it all. As thou seest, it is gloomy, sad, and dark. While we remain here we must suffer. I long for this month to end, that we may get out of it.”

Being then in this afflicted and famished plight one day, I know not by what chance or fortune, there came into my master’s poor possession a real, wherewith he came home as proud as if he held the treasure of Venice; and with a joyful and smiling countenance he gave it to me, saying:

“Take this, Lázaro, for God is opening His hand. Go to the market and buy bread, wine, and meat: let us put out the devil’s eye! And moreover, I would have thee know, for thy comfort, that I have rented another house, and in this disastrous one we shall stay no longer than the end of the month. Accursed be it and he who laid the first tile upon it, for with an ill foot did I enter it! By our Lord, all the time I have lived in it I have not tasted a drop of wine nor a morsel of meat, nor enjoyed any rest; but such a dreary look it hath, and such darkness and sorrow! Go and return quickly, and let us dine today like counts!”

I took my real and pitcher, and making haste with my feet, began to go up the street toward the market right joyful and glad. But what does it avail me, when it is decreed in my sad fortune that no joy shall come to me without a sorrow? And so it proved here; for going up the street, casting up my accounts as to how I might spend it to the best and most profitable advantage, giving infinite thanks to God who had provided my master with money, of a sudden I encountered a corpse which many priests and people were carrying down the street upon a bier. I pressed against the wall to give them room; and when the body had passed, there came following the bier a woman who must have been the widow of the deceased, clothed in deep mourning, and with her many other women; who went weeping aloud and crying:

“My husband and lord, whither do they carry thee away from me? To the sad and unlucky house, to the gloomy and dark house, to the house where they never eat nor drink!”

When I heard that, heaven and earth seemed to join together, and I cried:

“O miserable wretch that I am! They are carrying that dead man to our house!”

I left the road I was taking, burst through the midst of the people, and ran down the street as fast as my legs could carry me toward our house; and entering it, I slammed the door in great haste, crying out for the aid and help of my master, clinging unto him that he might help me defend the entrance. He, being somewhat alarmed, thinking it was something else, said to me:

“What is this, boy? Why dost thou shout? What aileth thee? Why shuttest thou the door with such fury?”

“Oh, sir!” cried I. “Come quickly, for they are bringing a dead man hither!”

“How so?” answered he.

“I met him up yonder, and his wife came crying: ‘My husband and lord, whither do they carry thee? To the gloomy and dark house, to the sad and unlucky house, to the house where they never eat nor drink!’ Hither, sir, are they bringing him to us!”

And certainly, when my master heard this, though he had little cause to be merry, he laughed so heartily that for a long time he could not speak. Meanwhile I had already barred the door and put my shoulder against it for greater defense. The people passed by with their dead man, and I was still dreading that they would bring him into our house; and when my good master was more satisfied with laughing than with eating, he said to me:

“It is true, Lázaro; from what the widow went saying, thou hadst good reason to think what thou didst think. But since God hath ordered it better and they pass on, open, open the door, and go for our dinner.”

“Let them finish passing down the street, sir,” said I.

At last my master came to the street door and opened it, encouraging me, which was sorely needed, considering my fear and trembling; and I set forth on my way again. But though we ate well that day, devil a bit of pleasure did I take in it, nor did my color return for three days after; while my master laughed heartily whenever he remembered that fancy of mine.

In this manner I lived with my third and poor master, who was this squire, for several days, ever desiring to know the purpose of his coming and staying in this city; for from the first day I took service with him I knew him to be a stranger, by the little acquaintance and intercourse he had with the inhabitants thereof. At last my desire was fulfilled, and I learned what I desired to know; for one day, when we had dined reasonably well and he was somewhat cheerful, he recounted his affairs to me, and told me that he was of Old Castile, and that he had left his country for no other cause than refusing to take off his cap to a gentleman his neighbor.

“Sir,” said I, “if he was what you say and had more than you, were you not wrong in not taking it off first, since you say he also took his off to you?”

“He is so, and hath more, and he took off his cap to me likewise; but as often as I took off mine first, it would have been no harm for him to show some courtesy and anticipate me sometimes.”

“Methinks, sir,” said I, “that I should not have looked to that, especially with my elders and those who have more.”

“Thou art a boy,” he answered me, “and feelest not the things of honor, wherein at this day consists the whole treasure of gentlemen. I would have thee know that I am, as thou seest, an esquire; but by God! if I meet the count in the street and he does not take off his cap entirely to me, the next time he comes I will step into a house, feigning some business therein, or slip down another street, if there be one, before he reaches me, so as not to doff my cap to him. For a gentleman owes nothing to any man save God and the King, nor is it right that an honest man should neglect for a moment to hold himself in high esteem. I remember that one day I put an artisan to shame in my town, and was ready to lay hands upon him, because whenever he met me he would say: ‘God keep your honor.’ ‘You villainous knave!’ said I. ‘Why are you not better mannered? “God keep you,” must you say to me, as if I were any common fellow?’ Thenceforward, from here to there, he doffed his cap and spoke as he ought.”

“And is it not a good way for one man to salute another,” asked I, “to say that God keep him?”

“Out upon thee for a simpleton!” said he. “To men of little condition they say that; but to higher men, such as I, they must speak no less than: ‘I kiss your honor’s hands,’ or at least: ‘I kiss your hands, sir,’ if he who speaks to me is a knight. And so, as for that fellow of my town who stuffed me with ‘God keep you,’ I would never endure him again, nor will I endure or suffer any man in the world, from the King down, who shall say to me: ‘God keep you.’”

“Sinner that I am!” said I unto myself. “That is why God takes so little care to keep thee, since thou wilt not suffer anyone to pray Him to do so!”

“Especially,” said he, “seeing that I am not so poor but that I possess in my country a site for houses, which, were they standing and well built, sixteen leagues from where I was born, in that Costanilla of Valladolid, would be worth more than two hundred times a thousand maravedis, so great and good could they be made; and I have a dovecote which, were it not fallen in ruins as it is, would yield each year more than two hundred young pigeons; and other things which I mention not, which I abandoned for the sake of my honor. And I came to this city, thinking I should find a good position, but it hath not fallen out as I thought. Canons and church lords I find in plenty, but they are folk so close-fisted that all the world could not move them out of their pace. Gentlemen of middling rank also seek me; but to serve such is great toil, for from a man you must turn into a lackey, or else they say to you: ‘Go with God.’ And for the most part the wages are paid at long intervals, and most commonly and surely, food serves for pay. Then, when they wish to relieve their conscience and satisfy your sweat, you are paid off in the wardrobe with a sweaty doublet or a threadbare cloak or coat. Even when a man enters the service of a lord of title, he still suffers his misery. Yet is there not in me skill to serve and please such lords? By God, if I met with one, methinks I should become his great favorite and do him a thousand services: for I should know how to lie to him as well as another, and please him to a marvel; to laugh heartily at his jests and humors, though they were not the best in the world; never to tell him anything that might displease him, though it concerned him greatly; to be very diligent about his person in word and deed; not to kill myself doing well the things he was not to see, and to fall to scolding the servants where he might hear it, so as to appear to have great care of what concerned him; if he chid any servant of his, to drop a few sharp words to stir up his anger, which should seem to be in favor of the culprit; to speak well of what pleased him, and on the contrary, to be malicious, mocking, and a slanderer of those within and without the house; to pry into other men’s lives and seek to know them in order to recount them to him; and many other fine accomplishments of this kind which are used nowadays in palaces. And to the lords thereof they seem good, and they desire not to see virtuous men in their houses, but rather abhor them and hold them in little account, calling them simpletons and men unfit for business with whom a lord cannot be easy. And with such lords the crafty nowadays use what I should use; but my ill fortune wills not that I should find one.”