As I walked along the street in a very despondent mood, not knowing how to get a meal, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Good gracious, Gil Blas, I hardly knew you!  What a princely dress you’ve got on.  A fine sword, silk stockings, a velvet mantle and doublet with silver lacings!  Have you come into a fortune?”

I turned around, and found it was Fabrice, an old schoolfellow, the son of a barber at Oviedo.  I told him of my adventure.

“Pride comes before a fall, you see,” he said with a laugh.  “But I can get you a place if you care to take it.  One of the principal physicians of the town, Dr. Sang-Tado, is looking for a secretary.  I know you write a very good hand.  Sell your fine raiment and buy some plain clothes, and I will take you to the doctor.”

I am glad to say that I obtained the post, but I wasn’t altogether satisfied with it.  Dr. Sangrado believed in vegetarianism, and he gave me only peas and beans and baked apples to eat, and not much of those.  At the end of a fortnight I resolved to go as a servant in some house:  where meat and wine were to be had.

“Don’t be foolish,” said Sangrado.  “Your fortune is made if you only stay with me.  I am getting old and I require someone to help me in my practice.  You can do it.  You need not waste your time in studying all the nonsense written by other doctors.  You have only to follow my method.  Never give a patient medicine.  Bleed him well, and tell him to drink a pint of hot water every half hour.  If that doesn’t cure him—­well, it’s time he died.”

So I donned one of Sangrado’s gowns, which gave me a very original appearance, as it was much too long and ample for me, and then I began to attend his patients.  A few of them, I believe, managed to recover.  One day a woman stopped me and took me into her house to look at her niece.  I recognised the girl as soon as I saw her.  It was the pretty adventuress, Camilla, who had decoyed me and helped to rob me of my thousand ducats.  When I took her hand to feel her pulse I perceived that she was wearing my diamond ring.  Happily, she was too ill to know me.  After ordering her to be bled and given a pint of warm water every half hour, I went out and talked the matter over with Fabrice.  We resolved not to call in the police, as they would certainly keep whatever money of mine they recovered.  The ways of the law in Spain in the seventeenth century are very strange and intricate.

Nevertheless, I returned late at night to the house accompanied by a sergeant of the police and five of his men, all well armed.  I then awoke Camilla, and told her to dress herself and attend before the magistrate.

“Oh, Gil Blas,” she cried, “have pity on me.  Lamela and Raphael have run off with the money, and left me alone here on a bed of sickness.”

I knew this was true, as I had made inquiries; but I also knew that Camilla had had a share of the spoil, and had bought some valuable jewelry with it.  So I said, “Very well, I won’t be hard on you.  But you must give me back the diamond ring which you are wearing, and you must satisfy these officers of the police.”