"Well,dig in,sir,and you'll see how good it really is."
I put the cow's hooves into his,along with three or four of the whiter pieces of bread.And he sat down beside me and began to eat like a man who was really hungry.He chewed the meat off of every little bone better than any hound of his would have done.
"With garlic sauce,"he said,"this is an exceptional dish."
"You don't need any sauce with your appetite,"I said under my breath."By God,that tasted so good you'd think I hadn't had a bite to eat all day."
That's true as sure as I was born,I said to myself.
He asked me for the water jug,and when I gave it to him it was as full as when I'd first brought it in.Since there was no water gone from it,there was a sure sign that my master hadn't been overeating that day.We drank and went to sleep,very content,like we'd done the night before.
Well,to make a long story short,that's the way we spent the next nine or ten days:that sinner would go out in the morning with his satisfied,leisurely pace,to dawdle around the streets while I was out hoofing it for him.
I used to think lots of times about my catastrophe:having escaped from those terrible masters I'd had and looking for someone better,I ran into a man who not only couldn't support me but who I had to support.Still,I really liked him because I saw that he didn't have anything and he couldn't do more than he was already doing.I felt more sorry for him than angry.And lots of times,just so I could bring back something for him to eat,I didn't eat anything myself.
I did this because one morning the pitiful fellow got up in his shirt and went to the top floor of the house to take care of a certain necessity.And to satisfy my curiosity I unfolded the jacket and pants he'd left at the head of the bed.And I found an old,crumpled-up little purse of satiny velvet that didn't have a damned cent in it,and there wasn't any sign that it had had one for a long time.
"This man,"I said,"is poor.And no one can give what he doesn't have.But both the stingy blind man and that blasted miser of a priest did all right in God's name--one of them with a quick tongue and the other one with his hand-kissing.And they were starving me to death.So it's only right that I should hate them and feel sorry for this man."
As God is my witness,even today when I run into someone like him,with that pompous way of walking of his,I feel sorry for them because I think that they may be suffering what I saw this one go through.But even with all his poverty,I'd still be glad to serve him more than the others because of the things I've just mentioned.There was only one little thing that I didn't like about him:I wished that he wouldn't act so superior;if only he'd let his vanity come down a little to be in line with his growing necessity.But it seems to me that that's a rule his kind always keeps:even if they don't have a red cent to their name,they have to keep up the masquerade.God help them or that's the way they'll go to their graves.
Well,while I was there,getting along the way I said,my bad luck (which never got tired of haunting me)decided that that hard,foul way of life shouldn't last.The way it happened was that,since there had been a crop failure there that year,the town council decided to make all the beggars who came from other towns get out of the city.And they announced that from then on if they found one of them there,he'd be whipped.So the law went into effect,and four days after the announcement was given I saw a procession of beggars being led through the streets and whipped.And I got so scared that I didn't dare go out begging any more.
It's not hard to imagine the dieting that went on in my house and the sadness and silence of the people living there.It was so bad that for two or three days at a time we wouldn't have a bite to eat or even say one word to each other.I knew some ladies who lived next door to us;they spun cotton and made hats,and they kept me alive.From what little they brought in they always gave me something,and I just about managed to get by.
But I didn't feel as sorry for myself as I did for my poor master:he didn't have a damned bite to eat in a week.At least,we didn't have anything to eat at the house.When he went out I don't know how he got along,where he went or what he ate.And if you could only have seen him coming down the street at noon,holding himself straight,and skinnier than a full-blooded greyhound!And because of his damn what-do-you-call it--honor--he would take a toothpick (and there weren't very many of those in the house either)and go out the door,picking at what didn't have anything between them and still grumbling about the cursed place.He'd say,"Look how bad things are.And it's this blasted house that's causing it all.Look how gloomy and dark and dismal it is.As long as we stay here,we're going to suffer.I wish the month were over so we could get out of here."
Well,while we were in this terrible,hungry state,one day--I don't know by what stroke of luck or good fortune--a silver piece found its way into the poor hands of my master.And he brought it home with him,looking as proud as if he had all the money in Venice,and smiling very happily,he gave it to me and said:"Take this,Lazaro.God is beginning to be good to us.Go down to the square and buy bread and wine and meat.Let's shoot the works!And also--this should make you happy--I want you to know that I've rented another house,so we'll only stay in this unlucky place until the end of the month.Damn the place and damn the person who put the first tile on its roof--I should never have rented it.I swear to God that as long as I've lived here I haven't had a drop of wine or a bite of meat,and I haven't gotten any rest.And it's all because of the way this place looks--so dark and gloomy!Go on now,and come back as quick as you can:we'll eat like kings today."
