“Thank God,” he exclaimed, “that the rats and snakes which have so long devoured my substance are at last discovered!”

As soon as my wounds were healed, he turned me out of his door as if I had been in league with the evil one.

III.—­The Poor Gentleman

By the assistance of some kind people I made my way to Toledo, where I sought my living by begging from door to door.  But one day I encountered a certain esquire; he was well dressed, and walked with an air of ease and consequence.  “Are you seeking a master, my boy?” he said.  I replied that I was, and he bade me follow him.

He led me through a dark and dismal entry to a house absolutely bare of furniture; and the hopes I had formed when he engaged me were further depressed when he told me that he had already breakfasted, and that it was not his custom to eat again till the evening.  Disconsolately I began to eat some crusts that I had about me.

“Come here, boy,” said my master.  “What are you eating?” I showed him the bread.  “Upon my life, but this seems exceedingly nice bread,” he exclaimed; and seizing the largest piece, he attacked it fiercely.

When night came on, and I was expecting supper, my master said, “The market is distant, and the city abounds with rogues; we had better pass the night as we can, and to-morrow we will fare better.  Nothing will ensure length of life so much as eating little.”

“Then truly,” said I to myself in despair, “I shall never die.”

I spent the night miserably on a hard cane bedstead without a mattress.  In the morning my master arose, washed his hands and face, dried them on his garments for want of a towel, and then carefully dressed himself, with my assistance.  Having girded on his sword, he went forth to hear mass, without saying a word about breakfast.  “Who would believe,” I said, observing his erect bearing and air of gentility as he walked up the street, “that such a fine gentleman had passed the whole of yesterday without any other food than a morsel of bread?  How many are there in this world who voluntarily suffer more for their false idea of honour, than they would undergo for their hopes of an hereafter!”

The day advanced, and my master did not return; my hopes of dinner disappeared like those of breakfast.  In desperation, I went out begging, and such was the talent I had acquired in this art that I came back with four pounds of bread, a piece of cow-heel, and some tripe.  I found my master at home, and he did not disapprove of what I had done.

“It is much better,” said he, “to ask, for the love of God, than to steal.  I only charge you on no account to say you live with me.”

When I sat down to supper, my poor master eyed me so longingly that I resolved to invite him to partake of my repast; yet I wondered whether he would take it amiss if I did so.  But my wishes towards him were soon gratified.

“Ah!” said he; “cow-heel is delicious.  There is nothing I am more fond of.”