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Volume One: I.11 37 chapter xi. The history of Donna Mencia of Mosquera. Iwas born at Valladolid, and my name is Donna Mencia of Mosquera. Don Martin, my father, after having spent almost his whole patrimony in the service of his king, was killed in Portugal,1 at the head of his own regiment, and left me so moderately provided, that though I was an only child, I was far from being a good match. I did not want admirers, however, in spite of the lowness of my fortune: a good many of the most considerable cavaliers in Spain made their addresses to me; but he who attracted my attention most, was Don Alvaro de Mello: he was indeed more handsome than any of his rivals; but more substantial qualifications determined me in his favour: he was endued with wit, prudence, probity and valour, and withal the most gallant man in the world: when he gave entertainments, nothing could be more elegant, and when he appeared at tournaments, every body admired his vigour and address: I preferred him therefore to all others, and married him accordingly. A few days after our marriage, he happened to meet with Don Andrea de Baesa, who had been one of his rivals, in a private place, where quarreling with each other, they came to blows, and Don Andrea lost his life in the rencounter. As he was nephew to the corregidor of Valladolid, a violent man, and mortal enemy to the family of Mello, Don Alvaro knew he could not leave the city too soon: he returned home in a hurry, and, while they saddled his horse, told me what had happened.——“My dear Mencia , (said he) we must part! you know the corregidor: don’t let us then flatter ourselves, for he will prosecute me with the utmost rancour; and as you are not ignorant of his credit, you know I cannot be safe in this kingdom.” He was so much penetrated with his own sorrow, and with that which he saw take possession of my breast, that he could say no more; and when I had prevailed upon him to furnish himself with some money and jewels, he clasped me in his arms, and, during a whole quarter of an hour, we did nothing but mingle our sighs and tears. At last, being told the horse was ready, he tore himself from me; he departed, and left me in a condition not to be described. Happy! had the excess of my affliction, at that time, put an end to my life! what troubles and sorrows would my death have prevented! Some hours after Don Alvaro was gone, the corregidor being informed of his flight, ordered him to be pursued, and spared nothing to have him in his power: but my husband always baffled his pursuit, and kept himself secure, in such a manner, that the judge found himself obliged to limit his revenge to the sole satisfaction of ruining the fortune of a man, whose blood he wanted to shed: his efforts were not unsuccessful, all the effects of Don Alvaro being confiscated. Left in a most afflicting situation, and having scarce wherewithal to subsist, I began to live a very solitary life, all my attendants being reduced to one maid: I spent the day in bemoaning, not an indigence, which I could have borne with patience; but the absence of my dear husband, whose condition I was utterly ignorant of, although he had promised, in his last melancholy adieu, that he would take care to inform me of his lot, 38 The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane into whatever part of the world his cruel fate should conduct him. Nevertheless, seven long years elapsed, without my hearing the least account of him; and this uncertainty of his destiny, plunged me into an abyss of sorrow! At last I was told, that, in fighting for the king of Portugal in Fez, he had lost his life in battle: a man lately returned from Afric confirmed this report, assuring me, that he was perfectly well acquainted with Don Alvaro de Mello, had served with him in the Portugueze army, and even seen him fall in the action: to this he added many other circumstances, which persuaded me, that my husband was no more.2 At that time, Don Ambrosio Mesia Carrillo, marquis of Guardia, came to Valladolid: he was one of those old lords who...

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