rgest 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."

"Then taste it, sir," said I, "and try whether this is as good as you
have eaten." Presently he was grinding the food as ravenously as a
greyhound.

In this manner we passed eight or ten days, my master taking the air
every day with the most perfect ease of a man of fashion, and returning
home to feast on the contributions of the charitable, levied by poor
Lazaro. Whereas my former masters declined to feed me, this one expected
that I should maintain him. But I was much more sorry for him than angry
at him, and with all his poverty I found greater satisfaction in serving
him than either of the others.