Olla Podrida. Фредерик Марриет

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If then so wide, there's room for him elsewhere. But here comes Sancho with intelligence. (Enter Sancho.)

      How now, Sancho—what have you discovered?

      San. (Affectedly.) I am not quite a fool, Santa Petronila knows that, good sirs—not quite a fool. I think you are fortunate in your servant. You'll excuse me, but I have seen the person whom you mentioned.

      Perez. Well—

      San. I have seen him, sir, by Saint Petronila!

      Perez. And spoke to him, I trust.

      San. Yes, sir, and, by the same holy saint! I have spoken to him.

      Perez. To what purpose have you spoken to this Antonio?

      San. To your purpose, sir.

      Perez. What did he tell you? I cry your patience, Felix, but this mule cannot be driven. What did he tell you, sirrah?

      San. You do not know what first I said to him—would you have the answer before the question?

      Perez. Well, what said you first to him?

      San. With all good courtesy I wished him a good morning. He did the same to me.

      Perez. Well.

      San. I then discoursed about Saint Petronila, the wind, the pope, and the weather. No, I recollect, it was the weather before the saint. I think—yes—I am sure it was; how the saint brought in the wine, I know not; but we proceeded on to wine and women, which last discourse made us thirsty, so we adjourned into a wine-house. Saint Petronila shrive me! when we became most intimate, and after much beating about the bush, I discovered that his master—

      Perez. Who—what?

      San. Don Gaspar, sir.

      Perez. Idiot! is that all?

      San. No—only half; I found out more without him. He finished off his wine and left me without any more information, declaring that was all he knew himself; and that he had to meet a lady. Let me alone for finding out, Saint Petronila be my guide! I watched him, and as I turned the corner, found him in close whispering with the Señora Beppa.

      Perez. The attendant of Donna Serafina; then are my doubts confirmed. Treacherous sex!—but I'll be revenged! Did you speak to them?

      San. Not when Antonio was there. I never interfere between man and wife, the blessed saint knows that.

      Perez. His wife!

      San. Yes, his wife; but when Antonio quitted her, I then accosted her; and to my cross questions—

      Perez. She gave you crooked answers.

      San. Precisely so, signor, and record it, Saint Petronila; she said that I was a fool!

      Perez. The wisdom of the woman! Come, Felix—Sancho, you will go home and await my return.

      [Exit Perez and Felix.

      San. That Antonio is a good fellow, Saint Petronila assist him! how he does make me laugh! we were sworn friends in two hours; and he promised to drink with me whenever I pleased: I wonder why he never offers to pay his share of the reckoning? He thinks it would affront me, I suppose! but when we are more intimate, I'll hint the contrary. Excellent fellow! how he did make me laugh! Then when next we meet, I'll ask his advice about my love affair! I am sadly in want of a confidant; now I've only my own wit, and the good saint. He's a man you may trust, I'll be sworn. Lord! how he did make me laugh! [Exit.

      Scene II.

      Street opposite Anselmo's lodgings.

      Enter Antonio.

      Well, I'm supposed to have as much wit as my neighbours, and yet I cannot make out this master of mine. He's a perfect mystery, and the more I try to unriddle him the more he riddles me. If I am deep, he is deeper. In short, I am no match for him, and thus I prove it. In the first place, he finds out everything I would conceal, and conceals everything I would find out. Secondly, he reads all my thoughts, and takes care that I shall read none of his. Then he disappears when I turn my back, and re-appears before I turn my face. He has discovered that I am a rogue, yet retains me in his service. His chamber is always locked when he goes out, and I am obliged to wait below upon board wages. There's some mystery about that chamber. I have watched repeatedly on the staircase to see him enter, but never can; and when I would swear that he is not in, it is I only who am out; for I am summoned to his presence. There's mystery! When he does appear, who is he? Don Gaspar; but of what family, and from what part of Spain, no one can tell. Mystery upon mystery! He may be the devil, and I feel my conscience touched; for no good ever came from the devil's wages. I'll to my confessor, and seek his counsel. He's a good man, and lenient too, to such poor rogues as I. But he insists that I appear each se'nnight, and sum the catalogue of my offences: perhaps he's right; for if I staid longer away, some of them—as I am no scholar—say half—would be forgotten. [Enter Nina veiled, who passed by him, and exit.] There's a nice girl! What a foot and ankle! Now had my master seen her, there had been a job for me to dog her home. We lacqueys are like sporting dogs; we follow up the game, and when they stop their running, make a dead point, until our masters bag them for themselves. [Nina returns. Enter.] She's coming back. This time I'll poach a little for myself. Fair lady, can I serve you? [Nina stops, but turns away. Antonio kneels.]

      "Turn not away, fair angel, for since last

       You bless'd my eyes, my thoughts have been on you;

       For weeks I've follow'd, not daring to address you.

       As I'm a bachelor, and free to wed,

       Might I your favour gain, a life of tenderness,

       To you, my love, I'd tender."

      (Aside.) I borrow'd that speech, excepting the last flourish, from my master: but since he has used it like his cast-off clothes, 'tis mine by custom. (Aloud.) Will you not answer? I love you, madam, have loved you long; and, by my soul! ne'er said so much before to any woman breathing. [Nina turns round and lifts her veil, Antonio turns away.] (Aside.) By all that's intolerable, my Toledo wife! (Turning to her.) Holy Saint Frances! It is, it is my wife!

      Nina. Yes, sir, your injured, your deserted wife!

      Ant. And are you still alive? then I am once more happy! (Offers to embrace her.)

      Nina. Forbear! When was I dead, you wretch?

      Ant. Why, Nina, I've a letter from Toledo, that states that you are dead; you died a treble death, yourself and twins.

      Nina. What?

      Ant. Twins, my love, sweet pledges of affection. I've the letter in my pocket; I've kept it there for months, pored over it for weeks, and cried over it for days. (Fumbles in his pocket.) Now I recollect it is in the pocket of my gala suit. What an infamous forgery! Come to my arms, my dear

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