With a low and feeble voice, and my hands in my bosom, the good God before my eyes, and my tongue repeating His Name, I began to pray for bread at the largest houses and doors I came upon. As this method was sucked in with my mother’s milk, or I should say that I learnt it from that great master of it, the blind man, so good a disciple was I that, although in this city little is known of charity, nor had it been an abundant year, I made such a good haul that, before the clock struck , I had several pounds of bread inside me, and two loaves up my sleeve and in my bosom. I returned to the house, and, in passing a tripe-shop, I begged of one of the shopwomen, who gave me a piece of a cow’s foot and several pieces of boiled tripe.
When I got back to the house my good master was already there. The cloak was folded and put on the bench, and he was pacing up and down. He came up to me, and I thought he was going to scold me for being late. He asked me where I had been, and I said, “Sir! I was here until it struck . But when I saw that you were not coming, I went over the city, to commend myself to the kind people, and they have given me what you see.” I showed him the bread and the tripe, which I carried in the end of my skirt. At this he seemed well pleased and said, “Well, I waited for you to eat, and when you did not come I ate what there was, but you have done well in this, for it is better to beg in the name of God than to steal. He helps me as He sees fit. I merely charge you that people must not be told that you live with me, for it touches my honour; though I well believe that it will be kept secret, because very few people know me here.”
“Do not be troubled about that, sir,” I replied to him, “for cursed be he who asks the question, and myself if I tell him anything. No, we shall soon be free from want. When I saw that nothing good came into this house I went out. Surely the ground must be bad, or there must be unlucky houses which bring ill-luck to those who live in them.” “This one must be so without doubt,” he replied. “I promise you that after a month I will not stay in it, even if it is given me as my own.”
I sat down at the end of the bench, and, that he might not take me for a glutton, I said nothing about the meal. I began supper, and to bite my bread and tripe. Looking stealthily I saw that my unhappy master could not take his eyes off my skirt, which served as a plate. May God have as much pity for me as I had for him! I could feel what he felt, and have been feeling so every day. I thought whether it would be right for me to invite him to share, for as he had told me that he had dined, he might decline the invitation. Finally, I asked that sinner to help me in my work, and to break his fast as he did the day before. He had a better chance, the food being better and my hunger less. It pleased God to comply with my wish, and I even think with his. For as he passed, in walking up and down, he came to me and said: “I assure you, Lazaro, that you have the best grace in eating that I ever saw in anyone, and that no one can see you doing it, without having a longing to eat, even when he had no such longing before.” “The great longing that you have makes you think my way of eating so beautiful,” I said to myself, “and causes your wish to help me.”
He longed to join me, and I opened a way by saying, “Sir, the good tools make the good craftsman. This bread is delicious, and this cow’s foot is so well cooked and seasoned that there is no one that would not be drawn to it by the smell alone.” “Cow’s foot, is it?” he said. “Yes, sir!” “I tell you that is the best mouthful in the world, there is not even a pheasant that is so good.” “Try it, sir!” said I, “and see whether it is as good as you think.” I put on one side the cow’s foot and three or four pieces of bread, and he sat down by my side, and began to eat as if he would like to devour every little bone. “This wonderful food is like a hotch-potch,” he said. “You eat with the best kind of sauce,” I replied. “Before God,” said he, “if I had known I would not have eaten a mouthful all day.” “Thus the good years avenge me,” I said to myself. He asked me for the jug of water, and I gave it to him just as I had brought it. My master had not over-eaten, and it is a sign of this that there was no want of water. We both drank, and went to bed in the same way as the night before, well contented. To avoid prolixity I may say that the same thing went on for the next eight or ten days.
In the
