The Life and Adventures of Guzman D'Alfarache, or the Spanish Rogue, vol. 33 by Mateo Alemán

Author:Mateo Alemán [Alemán, Mateo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Spanish fiction -- Classical period, 1500-1700, Picaresque fiction
Published: 2016-09-18T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAP. XLVI.

Guzman, on his journey to Saragossa, makes acquaintance and falls in love with a young Widow. Progress and conclusion of this new passion.

I steered clear of the high roads, for the reasons I have already told you, and spurring on my mule through all the byeways towards the Ebro, intending to coast it from thence to Saragossa, I travelled with as much speed as fear. In three days we reached the banks of the river. My mind became now more at ease; and I began to believe myself beyond the reach of pursuit, and to congratulate myself on my riches, without reflecting that I was travelling through a country in which there were as many robbers as in Italy. I had taken the precaution, however, to purchase two firelocks in Barcelona, with which I armed my footman and the muleteer. In addition to this, I concealed my jewels about me so cautiously, that no one could perceive them without stripping me.

I shall pass over in silence, friendly reader, the adventures I met with on the banks of Ebro, which are not worthy to be related, and proceed to make you acquainted with one which fortune prepared for me between Ossera and Saragossa. Night surprised me near a fine abbey, which I took for a castle, and which I approached in the hope of obtaining a lodging; but finding that a wretched village lay under it, I changed my opinion. We stopped before a paltry hovel, at which a sign was suspended, and, knocking loudly at the door, demanded admission. Nobody answered us at first, but at length a country fellow appeared at one of the windows. This was the landlord, who, having surveyed me from top to toe by the light of a lamp which he held in his hand, began to laugh, saying, “Do not waste any further time here, Signor Cavalier, my house is not fit to receive you; go to the abbey, where you will meet with a hearty welcome, and be more suitably entertained.” I answered the peasant, that I would follow his advice, and, as we were ignorant of the road, requested him to conduct us to the convent, at the same time slipping a few reals into his hand, to add more efficacy to my entreaty.

The monastery stood on an eminence, so that we were nearly half an hour ascending it by a very rough road, which to me, who was already much fatigued, was very distressing. Nevertheless, as there is nothing so good as to be entirely free from unpleasantry, so neither is there any thing so bad but has something agreeable to recommend it. The inn-keeper informed me that this was a convent for nuns, all of whom were ladies of quality; that it was one of the richest in Spain, and received all strangers that passed through the village with hospitality. I felt, without knowing wherefore, that this report pleased me; either from reviving my natural predilection for the fair sex, or from a presentiment of what would happen to me.

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