Behold me now, friendly reader, in the best inn at Cazalla, twelve leagues from Seville, where the money I had left was sufficient to pay for a good supper and a good bed to lie down on. Instead, however, of enjoying a profound sleep, which such excellent fare was calculated to procure me, the state of my affairs presented itself to my imagination in a thousand distressing forms, and prevented me from sleeping a wink the whole of the night. “Hitherto,” said I to myself, “I have always had plenty to eat and drink. But this will now soon be over. When a man has bread to eat he may support himself under any affliction. ’Tis well to have a father; ’tis well to have a mother; but nothing is to be compared to a good bellyful.”
Necessity, with her heretic visage, now stared me full in the face, and occasioned the most terrible apprehensions in my mind; and I would gladly have returned to Seville, had I not considered that money was quite as necessary to repair my folly as to pursue my fortune. I could compare myself to nothing but some half-starved cur, who having lost his way, finds himself surrounded by a number of larger dogs barking and growling at him on all sides. In addition to this, how could I, without shame, return to my mother’s house after having left it with so much resolution. The loss of my cloak also recurred to my remembrance, which I imagined would be a fine subject for ridicule on my return. This last consideration was sufficient to determine me not to return to Seville; in addition to which, I was not less concerned that I must stop when I was in so fair a way. A point of honour then seized me, and I resolved to continue my journey, abandoning myself to Providence. I took the direct road to Madrid, the ordinary residence of our Kings, hoping to see something of the Court, which I had been told was most brilliant, from the great number of noblemen that composed it, and above all from the presence of a young king newly married. All this excited my curiosity, and I encouraged the most flattering ideas, building castles in the air without number. I fancied that a lad of my air and figure would soon be noticed in such a country, where I should soon make friends, and could not fail of making my fortune. Full of these deceitful visions, I had little inclination to sleep, and lay expecting the day with impatience. But no sooner had it arrived, and I had set out for Madrid, than all these chimeras vanished, leaving nothing before my eyes but a long and tedious journey.
“Courage, Signor Guzman,” said I to myself; “consider that you cannot now retreat. Keep up your spirits, therefore, my friend, and do your best whatever may happen. Instead of having a cloak upon your shoulders, which would only incommode you at this time of the year, be content that you have a good stick, which will assist you in walking.” I passed the whole day without eating, and at night lay myself down on the grass at the foot of a large tree, where I fell asleep from fatigue, and did not wake until the sun had risen the next morning, when I began to feel that I could have made a very hearty breakfast if I had had any provisions; but not having even a morsel of the coarsest bread, I found myself obliged to set forward again upon an empty stomach, and with an appetite increasing every moment. Towards night, my hunger became such, that I could scarcely walk from weakness. In vain did my stomach plead its emptiness; my legs seemed unwilling to support my weight any farther.
Just at this moment two gentlemen, who by their looks seemed to be rich merchants, trotted briskly past me upon mules. “Thank God!” thought I, “here are two gentlemen who will in all probability defray my charges to-day.” The hope of obtaining a good meal at their expense inspired me with fresh strength, and I resolved not to lose sight of them. A meal was now of the most serious consideration for me. With this impression I followed them so closely that we arrived together at the inn where they stopped. I looked more dead than alive when I came up with them; yet, tired as I was, I shewed myself disposed to make myself useful by holding the bridles of their mules while they alighted, and offering my services to carry their portmanteau, with a bag containing their provisions, into their apartments. But, whether my officiousness rendered me suspected by them, or that they were naturally rough and distrustful, no sooner had I laid my hands on the bag, than one of them called out to me, in a voice which made me tremble from head to foot, “Out of the way, boy! stand off!” I obeyed without making any answer to this disagreeable reception, and formed but a bad presage in favour of the gratification of my appetite; but determined not to be so easily got rid of. I therefore walked behind them to their room, in a very humble manner, with my hat in my hand. They had brought good provisions with them, as is customary in Spain. I saw a roast shoulder of mutton drawn from their bags, with part of a ham, some bread and wine. This only increased my extreme desire to serve them. To obtain their favour, therefore, I advanced towards the table, and took up a glass, intending to rinse it for their use, but the other merchant, who had not yet spoken, snatched it from me, saying, in a rougher manner than his friend, “No, no, leave that glass alone. We have no occasion for your services.”
“O traitors!” thought I, “enemies to God and man! hearts of flint! I find that I have exhausted my breath and strength to little purpose in following you hither.” I resolved, however, not to leave them, in the hope that they might feel more charitably disposed when their bellies were full, and throw me a bone to pick, or even a bit of bread, out of compassion. I was again mistaken; they continued eating without deigning to cast a look towards me. I devoured their provisions with my eyes all this time; but this would not satisfy my craving appetite. To complete my mortification, I saw these monsters put up the remains of their dinner in their wallet, even to the smallest bit of bread, with which they left the inn. What barbarity! what a sight for a lad starving with hunger! I was ready to run distracted with grief and inanition, when a friar of the order of St. Francis entered the room in which I stood.
I conceived but little hope of relief from this quarter. What assistance could I expect from a poor monk, who travelled on foot, from a begging friar, who seemed himself to stand in need of assistance? He perspired freely, and appeared much fatigued. He brought a wallet with him, which he placed on the table, and upon which I fixed the most attentive and eager looks. I could have stolen it even from the altar; it made my mouth water before I knew its contents. When his reverence took out his provisions, which consisted of a large loaf of white bread, and a piece of salt beef, which I should have longed for even at my mother’s table, I fixed my eyes upon them, and stood in an ecstacy with my mouth wide open. How did I wish that I had been his little brother! I fancied that I felt in my own throat every morsel that he swallowed.
He happened to look at me by chance in the course of his meal, and perceiving what I wanted, for my looks spoke, “Good God!” cried he, animated by a holy zeal, “approach, my child, I will not allow thee to languish from want; though I had but this bit of bread, it should be thine. Here, my son,” added he, giving me half his bread and meat, “take a little nourishment. I were unworthy to exist did I not share with thee.”
O Providence! who makest many of thy creatures to subsist even in stone, thy divine goodness never forsakes us! I implored blessings on the head of the reverend father, for this act of charity towards me; and began to shew him that he was not deceived in my half-starved appearance; and being now pretty well replenished, I returned thanks to Heaven for this fortunate rencounter. How pleased should I have been had I been doomed to travel any distance with this friar! My fate would have been enviable; but, as chance would have it, he was going to Seville, so that we parted immediately after dinner. Before we separated, he put his hand into his wallet, and gave me half of another small loaf, saying, that I should have my full share of all he had. I put up this last half-loaf in my pocket, and after having eaten the first with the beef, and drunk some good fresh water, for the good friar had nothing better to offer me, I set out again in good spirits towards Madrid.
I travelled about three leagues further during the day, and in the evening reached Campanis, a large village in New Castile, where I entered an inn, and supped upon the half-loaf I brought with me, having nothing better to eat. This inn was where the muleteers of Tuxillo lodged, for whom all the beds were engaged, and who came in towards night. The landlord allotted me a lodge in the hay-loft, whither I mounted very contentedly, not being in a situation to make any difficulties. I stretched myself on the straw, and slept soundly until day-break, when I rose with a light stomach, which, as you will recollect, was by no means overloaded the preceding night, and had already got out of the inn, when the rascally landlord was uncivil enough to stop me, demanding payment for my night’s lodging, for which he charged four marvedis. As I had not even one in the world, I struggled to escape from his grasp; but he held me fast, and perceiving that my coat was made of good cloth, he was on the point of taking it off, by way of settling the dispute, had not a muleteer, who was standing by, taken pity on me. “Leave the lad alone,” said he to the host, “I will pay for him. I see how the matter stands; this young man has run away either from his father’s or his master’s house.” At these words the landlord looked at me, and asked me if I was disposed to serve him, having occasion for the assistance of a boy like me in his inn.
At any other time such a proposal would have appeared ridiculous to me, and I should even have been offended at it; but misery relieves one from such scruples, and reconciles the greatest hardships. After having considered for a few moments, the prospect of starvation made me accept his offer. “Enter my house, then,” said he; “there are but two things I shall require of you: to give out the oats and straw to the passengers, and to be sure to render me a good and faithful account.” I promised to acquit myself in this noble post to the utmost of my abilities; after which I was engaged beyond the power of retracting.