Part 4

One day when my wretched master was out, a locksmith came to the door by chance. I thought that he was an angel sent to me by the hand of God, in the dress of a workman. He asked me whether I had any work for him to do. Inspired by the Holy Spirit I replied: “Uncle! I have lost a key, and I fear that my master will whip me. Kindly see if there are any on your bunch that will fit the lock, and I will pay you for it.” [Sidenote: The chest opened.] The angelic locksmith began to try his keys, and soon the chest was opened, and I beheld the Lord’s gift in the form of bread. “I have no money,” I said, “to give you for the key, but take what you like in payment.” He took one of the loaves that looked the best, and went away quite satisfied, leaving the key with me. [Sidenote: Lazaro is happy until the clergyman begins to smell a rat.] I did not touch anything, at the moment, because I did not feel the need. My wretched master came back, and, as God willed it, he did not look into the trunk which that angel had opened. But next day, when he had gone out, I opened my bread paradise and took a loaf between the hands and teeth. In two _credos_ I made it invisible. Not forgetting the open chest, I rejoiced to think that, with this remedy, my life would be less miserable. Thus I was happy with him for two days, but it was not destined that this should continue. [Sidenote: The clergyman counts the loaves of bread.] For on the third day, at the very time that I was dying of hunger, he was to be seen at our chest, counting and recounting the loaves. I dissimulated, and, in my secret prayers and devotions, I implored that he might be blinded. After he had been counting for a long time, he said: “If I did not keep such an exact account I should think that some loaves have been taken from this chest. From this day I shall have a more accurate account. There are now nine loaves and part of another.” “New misfortunes have come,” I said to myself, and I felt that my stomach would soon be in the same wretched state as before.

When the priest went out, I opened the chest as some consolation, and when I saw the bread I began to worship it, giving it a thousand kisses. But I did not pass that day so happily as the day before. As my hunger increased, so did my longing for more bread. At length God, who helps the afflicted, showed me a remedy. I said to myself: “This chest is old, and broken in some parts, though the holes are very small. The belief might be suggested that rats had got through these holes and had eaten some of the bread.” It would not do to eat wholesale, but I began to crumble the bread over some not very valuable cloth, taking some and leaving some, and thus I got a meal. When the priest came to examine the damage, he did not doubt that it had been done by the rats, because it seemed to be done just in the way that rats would do it. He looked over the chest from one end to the other, and saw the holes by which the rats might have entered.

He then called to me and said: “Lazaro, look! Look what damage has been done to our bread last night!” I appeared to be much astonished, and wondered how it could have happened. [Sidenote: It was the rats.] “It is the rats,” he declared, “they would leave us nothing.” We went to our meal, and even there it pleased God that I should come off well; for he gave me more than usual, including all the parts he thought the rats had touched, saying: “Eat this which the rat has cleaned.” Thus the work of my hands, or rather nails, was added to my allowance.

[Sidenote: The clergyman boards up all the rat holes in the old chest.]

Presently I beheld another piece of work. The wretched priest was pulling nails out of the wall, and looking for small boards with which to cover all the holes in the ancient chest. “O Lord!” I then said to myself, “to what miseries and disasters are we born, and how brief are our pleasures in this our toilsome life! I thought that by this poor little contrivance I might find a way to pass out of my misery, and I even ventured to rejoice at my good-fortune, and now my ill-luck has returned.” Using all the diligence in his power, for misers as a rule are not wanting in that commodity, he shut the door of my consolation while he boarded up the holes in the chest. Thus I made my lamentation, as an end was made to the work, with many small boards and nails. “Now,” said the priest, “the traitor rats will find little in this house, and had better leave us, for there is not a hole left large enough for a mosquito to get in.”

When he was gone I opened the chest with my key without any hope of profit from doing so. There were the three or four loaves which my master thought the rats had not begun upon. Night and day I thought of some other plan, with the help of my hunger, for they say that it is an aid to invention. It certainly was so with me. One night I was deep in thought, meditating how I might use the contents of the chest again. My master was snoring loudly, so I took an old knife and went to the chest. I used the knife in the way of a gimlet, and as the ancient piece of furniture was without strength or heart, it soon surrendered, and allowed me to make a nice hole. This done I opened the chest, had a good meal, and went back to my straw bed, where I rested and slept.

Next day my master saw both the hole and the damage done to his provisions. He began to commend the rats to the devil, saying, “What shall we say to this! Never have I known rats in this house until now.” He may well have spoken the truth, for such creatures do not stay where there is nothing to eat. [Sidenote: What the clergyman did by day, Lazaro undid by night.] He turned to find more nails in the wall, and a small board to cover the hole. Night came and he retired to rest, while I set to work to open by night what he had closed up in the day. It was like the weaving of Penelope, for all he did by day I undid by night. In a few days we got the poor old chest into such a state, that it might be described as a sieve of old time rather than a chest.

When the miserly priest saw that his remedies were of no use he said: “This chest is so knocked about, and the wood is so old and weak that there is not a rat against which it can be defended. We will leave it without defence outside, and I will go to the cost of three or four reals. As the best outside guard is no use, I will attack these cursed rats from the inside.” He presently borrowed a rat-trap, and begged some pieces of cheese from the neighbours. This was a great help to me. In truth I did not need much sauce for my bread, still, I enjoyed the bits of cheese which I got from the rat-trap.

[Sidenote: The rat-trap adds cheese to Lazaro’s bread.]

When he found the bread eaten in rat’s fashion, the cheese gone, and no rats caught, he again commended the rats to the devil. He asked the neighbours how the cheese could have been taken without the rat being caught. They agreed that it could not have been a rat. One neighbour remembered that there used to be a snake in the house, and they all concurred that it must have been the snake. [Sidenote: It must have been a snake.] As it is long it could have taken the cheese without being caught in the trap. This exercised the mind of my master very much, and from that time he slept so lightly that the slightest sound made him think that the snake was going into the chest. Then he would jump up and give the chest many violent blows with a stick, intending to frighten the snake. The noise used to awaken the neighbours, while I could not sleep. He rolled about my straw, and me with it, because the neighbours said that snakes liked to keep warm in the straw, or in cradles where there are babies, where they even bit them and were dangerous. I generally went to sleep again, and he told me about it in the morning, saying: “Did you feel nothing last night, my boy? I was after the snake, and I even think it came to your bed, for when snakes are cold they seek for warmth.” I replied, “It was lucky it did not bite me, but I am terribly frightened.” I did not get up or go to the chest at night, but waited until my master was in church. He used to see the inroads on his bread, but knew not how to apply a remedy.

I began to be afraid that, with all my diligence, he might find my key which I kept amongst the straw. I thought it would be safer to put it in my mouth. [Sidenote: Lazaro determined to keep the key in his mouth--a fatal mistake.] For when I lived with the blind man I used my mouth as a purse, keeping ten or twelve maravedis in it, all in half blancas, without being prevented from eating. Without that plan I could not have kept a blanca from the knowledge of the cursed blind man, for I had not a seam or a lining which he did not examine very minutely. So, as I have said, I put the key in my mouth every night, and slept without fear that my wizard of a master would find it. But when misfortune comes, wit and diligence are of no avail.

It chanced, owing to ill-luck, or rather owing to my sins, that I was sleeping one night with the key in my mouth in such a position that the air went out of the hollow in the key and caused it to whistle so that, for my sins, my master heard it. So he got up with the club in his hand, and came to me very quietly that the snake might not hear, for he felt no doubt that it was the snake. He thought that it was in the straw, and he raised the club with the intention of giving it such a blow as to kill it. So he hit me on the head with all his force and left me senseless.

[Sidenote: Lazaro is found out, and half killed in the process.]

Seeing the quantity of blood he understood the harm he had done me, 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.

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.

[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.”

[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.]