Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

in particular, is involved in considerable mystery.”

“And, if you knew all that it was possible to know about them, to what would it amount? to what earthly purpose could you turn it? have you acquired any knowledge of your profession?”

“Very little, father.”

“Very little! Have you acquired all in your power?”

“I can’t say that I have, father.”

“And yet it was your duty to have done so. But I see how it is, you have shamefully misused your opportunities; you are like one, who, sent into the field to labour, passes his time in flinging stones at the birds of heaven.”

“I would scorn to fling a stone at a bird, father.”

“You know what I mean, and all too well, and this attempt to evade deserved reproof by feigned simplicity is quite in character with your general behaviour. I have ever observed about you a want of frankness, which has distressed me; you never speak of what you are about, your hopes, or your projects, but cover yourself with mystery. I never knew till the present moment that you were acquainted with Armenian.”

“Because you never asked me, father; there’s nothing to conceal in the matter⁠—I will tell you in a moment how I came to learn Armenian. A lady whom I met at one of Mrs. ⸻’s parties took a fancy to me, and has done me the honour to allow me to go and see her sometimes. She is the widow of a rich clergyman, and on her husband’s death came to this place to live bringing her husband’s library with her. I soon found my way to it, and examined every book. Her husband must have been a learned man, for amongst much Greek and Hebrew I found several volumes in Armenian, or relating to the language.”

“And why did you not tell me of this before?”

“Because you never questioned me; but, I repeat, there is nothing to conceal in the matter. The lady took a fancy to me, and, being fond of the arts, drew my portrait; she said the expression of my countenance put her in mind of Alfieri’s Saul.”

“And do you still visit her?”

“No, she soon grew tired of me, and told people that she found me very stupid; she gave me the Armenian books, however.”

“Saul,” said my father, musingly, “Saul, I am afraid she was only too right there; he disobeyed the commands of his master, and brought down on his head the vengeance of Heaven⁠—he became a maniac, prophesied, and flung weapons about him.”

“He was, indeed, an awful character⁠—I hope I shan’t turn out like him.”

“God forbid!” said my father, solemnly; “but in many respects you are headstrong and disobedient like him. I placed you in a profession, and besought you to make yourself master of it, by giving it your undivided attention. This, however, you did not do, you know nothing of it, but tell me that you are acquainted with Armenian; but what I dislike most is your want of candour⁠—you are my son, but I know little of your real history; you may know fifty things for what I am aware; you may know how to shoe a horse, for what I am aware.”

“Not only to shoe a horse, father, but to make horseshoes.”

“Perhaps so,” said my father; “and it only serves to prove what I was just saying, that I know little about you.”

“But you easily may, my dear father; I will tell you anything that you may wish to know⁠—shall I inform you how I learnt to make horseshoes?”

“No,” said my father; “as you kept it a secret so long, it may as well continue so still. Had you been a frank, openhearted boy, like one I could name, you would have told me all about it of your own accord. But I now wish to ask you a serious question⁠—what do you propose to do?”

“To do, father?”

“Yes! the time for which you were articled to your profession will soon be expired, and I shall be no more.”

“Do not talk so, my dear father, I have no doubt that you will soon be better.”

“Do not flatter yourself; I feel that my days are numbered. I am soon going to my rest, and I have need of rest, for I am weary. There, there, don’t weep! Tears will help me as little as they will you; you have not yet answered my question. Tell me what you intend to do?”

“I really do not know what I shall do.”

“The military pension which I enjoy will cease with my life. The property which I shall leave behind me will be barely sufficient for the maintenance of your mother respectably. I again ask you what you intend to do. Do you think you can support yourself by your Armenian or your other acquirements?”

“Alas! I think little at all about it; but I suppose I must push into the world, and make a good fight, as becomes the son of him who fought Big Ben: if I can’t succeed, and am driven to the worst, it is but dying⁠—”

“What do you mean by dying?”

“Leaving the world; my loss would scarcely be felt. I have never held life in much value, and everyone has a right to dispose as he thinks best of that which is his own.”

“Ah! now I understand you; and well I know how and where you imbibed that horrible doctrine, and many similar ones which I have heard from your own mouth; but I wish not to reproach you⁠—I view in your conduct a punishment for my own sins, and I bow to the will of God. Few and evil have been my days upon the earth; little have I done to which I can look back with satisfaction. It is true I have served my king fifty years, and I have fought with⁠—Heaven forgive me, what was I about to say!⁠—but you mentioned the man’s name, and our minds willingly recall our ancient follies. Few and evil have been my days upon earth,