My uncle gave me an excellent education. He even learned to read so as
to be able to teach me himself. There were few ecclesiastics of his rank
in Spain in the early part of the seventeenth century who could read a
breviary as well as he could when I left him, at the age of seventeen,
to continue my duties at the University of Salamanca.

"Here are forty ducats, Gil Blas," he said to me when we parted. "And
you can take my old mule and sell it when you reach Salamanca. Then you
will be able to live comfortable until you obtain a good position."

It is, I suppose, about two hundred miles from Oviedo to Salamanca. Not
very far, you will say, but it took me two years to cover the distance.
When one travels along a high road at the age of seventeen, master of
one's actions, of an old mule, and forty ducats, one is bound to meet
with adventures on the way. I was out to see the world, and I meant to
see it; my self-confidence was equalled only by my utter inexperience.
Out of my first misadventure came an extraordinary piece of good luck. I
fell into the hands of some brigands, and lost my mule and my money.
Among my fellow prisoners was a wealthy lady, Doña Mencia, of Burgos. I
helped her to escape and got away myself, and when I came to Zurgos she
rewarded me very handsomely with a diamond ring and a thousand ducats.
This changed my plan of life completely. Why should I go and study at
Salamanca? Did I want to become a priest or a pedant? I was now sure
that I didn't.

"Gil Blas," I said, "you are a good-looking lad, clever, well-educated,
and ambitious. Why not go to Madrid and try to get some place at the
court of King Philip the Third?"

I spent sixty ducats in dressing myself out gaily in the manner of a