Don Quixote

 

 

DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John Ormsby
CHAPTER I. WHICH TREATS OF THE CHARACTER AND PURSUITS OF THEFAMOUS GENTLEMAN DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHAIn a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a lance in the lance-rack, an old buckler, a lean hack, and a greyhound for coursing. An olla of rathermore beef than mutton, a salad on most nights, scraps on Saturdays, lentils onFridays, and a pigeon or so extra on Sundays, made away with three-quarters ofhis income. The rest of it went in a doublet of fine cloth and velvet breeches andshoes to match for holidays, while on week-days he made a brave figure in hisbest homespun. He had in his house a housekeeper past forty, a niece undertwenty, and a lad for the field and market-place, who used to saddle the hack aswell as handle the bill-hook. The age of this gentleman of ours was bordering onfifty; he was of a hardy habit, spare, gaunt-featured, a very early riser and a greatsportsman. They will have it his surname was Quixada or Quesada (for here thereis some difference of opinion among the authors who write on the subject), although from reasonable conjectures it seems plain that he was called Quexana. This, however, is of but little importance to our tale; it will be enough not to straya hair's breadth from the truth in the telling of it. You must know, then, that the above-named gentleman whenever he was atleisure (which was mostly all the year round) gave himself up to reading books ofchivalry with such ardour and avidity that he almost entirely neglected the pursuitof his field-sports, and even the management of his property; and to such a pitchdid his eagerness and infatuation go that he sold many an acre of tillageland tobuy books of chivalry to read, and brought home as many of them as he could get. But of all there were none he liked so well as those of the famous Feliciano deSilva's composition, for their lucidity of style and complicated conceits were aspearls in his sight, particularly when in his reading he came upon courtships andcartels, where he often found passages like "the reason of the unreason withwhich my reason is afflicted so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur atyour beauty;" or again, "the high heavens, that of your divinity divinely fortify youwith the stars, render you deserving of the desert your greatness deserves. " Overconceits of this sort the poor gentleman lost his wits, and used to lie awakestriving to understand them and worm the meaning out of them; what Aristotlehimself could not have made out or extracted had he come to life again for thatspecial purpose. He was not at all easy about the wounds which Don Belianis gaveand took, because it seemed to him that, great as were the surgeons who hadcured him, he must have had his face and body covered all over with seams andscars. He commended, however, the author's way of ending his book with thepromise of that interminable adventure, and many a time was he tempted to takeup his pen and finish it properly as is there proposed, which no doubt he wouldhave done, and made a successful piece of work of it too, had not greater andmore absorbing thoughts prevented him. Many an argument did he have with the curate of his village (a learned man, and a graduate of Siguenza) as to which had been the better knight, Palmerin ofEngland or Amadis of Gaul. Master Nicholas, the village barber, however, used tosay that neither of them came up to the Knight of Phoebus, and that if there wasany that could compare with him it was Don Galaor, the brother of Amadis ofGaul, because he had a spirit that was equal to every occasion, and was no finikinknight, nor lachrymose like his brother, while in the matter of valour he was not awhit behind him. In short, he became so absorbed in his books that he spent hisnights from sunset to sunrise, and his days from dawn to dark, poring over them;and what with little sleep and much reading his brains got so dry that he lost hiswits. His fancy grew full of what he used to read about in his books, enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, wooings, loves, agonies, andall sorts of impossible nonsense; and it so possessed his mind that the wholefabric of invention and fancy he read of was true, that to him no history in theworld had more reality in it. He used to say the Cid Ruy Diaz was a very goodknight, but that he was not to be compared with the Knight of the Burning Swordwho with one back-stroke cut in half two fierce and monstrous giants. He thoughtmore of Bernardo del Carpio because at Roncesvalles he slew Roland in spite ofenchantments, availing himself of the artifice of Hercules when he strangledAntaeus the son of Terra in his arms. He approved highly of the giant Morgante, because, although of the giant breed which is always arrogant and ill-conditioned, he alone was affable and well-bred. But above all he admired Reinaldos ofMontalban, especially when he saw him sallying forth from his castle and robbingeveryone he met, and when beyond the seas he stole that image of Mahometwhich, as his history says, was entirely of gold. To have a bout of kicking at thattraitor of a Ganelon he would have given his housekeeper, and his niece into thebargain. In short, his wits being quite gone, he hit upon the strangest notion that evermadman in this world hit upon, and that was that he fancied it was right andrequisite, as well for the support of his own honour as for the service of hiscountry, that he should make a knight-errant of himself, roaming the world overin full armour and on horseback in quest of adventures, and putting in practicehimself all that he had read of as being the usual practices of knights-errant;righting every kind of wrong, and exposing himself to peril and danger fromwhich, in the issue, he was to reap eternal renown and fame. Already the poorman saw himself crowned by the might of his arm Emperor of Trebizond at least;and so, led away by the intense enjoyment he found in these pleasant fancies, heset himself forthwith to put his scheme into execution. The first thing he did was to clean up some armour that had belonged to hisgreat-grandfather, and had been for ages lying forgotten in a corner eaten withrust and covered with mildew. He scoured and polished it as best he could, but heperceived one great defect in it, that it had no closed helmet, nothing but a simplemorion. This deficiency, however, his ingenuity supplied, for he contrived a kindof half-helmet of pasteboard which, fitted on to the morion, looked like a wholeone. It is true that, in order to see if it was strong and fit to stand a cut, he drewhis sword and gave it a couple of slashes, the first of which undid in an instantwhat had taken him a week to do. The ease with which he had knocked it topieces disconcerted him somewhat, and to guard against that danger he set towork again, fixing bars of iron on the inside until he was satisfied with itsstrength; and then, not caring to try any more experiments with it, he passed itand adopted it as a helmet of the most perfect construction. He next proceeded to inspect his hack, which, with more quartos than a realand more blemishes than the steed of Gonela, that "tantum pellis et ossa fuit, "surpassed in his eyes the Bucephalus of Alexander or the Babieca of the Cid. Fourdays were spent in thinking what name to give him, because (as he said tohimself) it was not right that a horse belonging to a knight so famous, and onewith such merits of his own, should be without some distinctive name, and hestrove to adapt it so as to indicate what he had been before belonging to a knight-errant, and what he then was; for it was only reasonable that, his master taking anew character, he should take a new name, and that it should be a distinguishedand full-sounding one, befitting the new order and calling he was about to follow. And so, after having composed, struck out, rejected, added to, unmade, andremade a multitude of names out of his memory and fancy, he decided uponcalling him Rocinante, a name, to his thinking, lofty, sonorous, and significant ofhis condition as a hack before he became what he now was, the first and foremostof all the hacks in the world. Having got a name for his horse so much to his taste, he was anxious to get onefor himself, and he was eight days more pondering over this point, till at last hemade up his mind to call himself "Don Quixote, " whence, as has been alreadysaid, the authors of this veracious history have inferred that his name must havebeen beyond a doubt Quixada, and not Quesada as others would have it. Recollecting, however, that the valiant Amadis was not content to call himselfcurtly Amadis and nothing more, but added the name of his kingdom and countryto make it famous, and called himself Amadis of Gaul, he, like a good knight, resolved to add on the name of his, and to style himself Don Quixote of LaMancha, whereby, he considered, he described accurately his origin and country, and did honour to it in taking his surname from it. So then, his armour being furbished, his morion turned into a helmet, his hackchristened, and he himself confirmed, he came to the conclusion that nothingmore was needed now but to look out for a lady to be in love with; for a knight-errant without love was like a tree without leaves or fruit, or a body without asoul. As he said to himself, "If, for my sins, or by my good fortune, I come acrosssome giant hereabouts, a common occurrence with knights-errant, and overthrowhim in one onslaught, or cleave him asunder to the waist, or, in short, vanquishand subdue him, will it not be well to have some one I may send him to as apresent, that he may come in and fall on his knees before my sweet lady, and in ahumble, submissive voice say, 'I am the giant Caraculiambro, lord of the island ofMalindrania, vanquished in single combat by the never sufficiently extolled knightDon Quixote of La Mancha, who has commanded me to present myself beforeyour Grace, that your Highness dispose of me at your pleasure'?" Oh, how ourgood gentleman enjoyed the delivery of this speech, especially when he hadthought of some one to call his Lady! There was, so the story goes, in a villagenear his own a very good-looking farm-girl with whom he had been at one time inlove, though, so far as is known, she never knew it nor gave a thought to thematter. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo, and upon her he thought fit to confer thetitle of Lady of his Thoughts; and after some search for a name which should notbe out of harmony with her own, and should suggest and indicate that of aprincess and great lady, he decided upon calling her Dulcinea del Toboso--shebeing of El Toboso--a name, to his mind, musical, uncommon, and significant, like all those he had already bestowed upon himself and the things belonging tohim. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER II. WHICH TREATS OF THE FIRST SALLY THE INGENIOUS DONQUIXOTE MADE FROM HOMEThese preliminaries settled, he did not care to put off any longer the executionof his design, urged on to it by the thought of all the world was losing by hisdelay, seeing what wrongs he intended to right, grievances to redress, injustices torepair, abuses to remove, and duties to discharge. So, without giving notice of hisintention to anyone, and without anybody seeing him, one morning before thedawning of the day (which was one of the hottest of the month of July) he donnedhis suit of armour, mounted Rocinante with his patched-up helmet on, braced hisbuckler, took his lance, and by the back door of the yard sallied forth upon theplain in the highest contentment and satisfaction at seeing with what ease he hadmade a beginning with his grand purpose. But scarcely did he find himself uponthe open plain, when a terrible thought struck him, one all but enough to makehim abandon the enterprise at the very outset. It occurred to him that he had notbeen dubbed a knight, and that according to the law of chivalry he neither couldnor ought to bear arms against any knight; and that even if he had been, still heought, as a novice knight, to wear white armour, without a device upon the shielduntil by his prowess he had earned one. These reflections made him waver in hispurpose, but his craze being stronger than any reasoning, he made up his mind tohave himself dubbed a knight by the first one he came across, following theexample of others in the same case, as he had read in the books that brought himto this pass. As for white armour, he resolved, on the first opportunity, to scourhis until it was whiter than an ermine; and so comforting himself he pursued hisway, taking that which his horse chose, for in this he believed lay the essence ofadventures. Thus setting out, our new-fledged adventurer paced along, talking to himselfand saying, "Who knows but that in time to come, when the veracious history ofmy famous deeds is made known, the sage who writes it, when he has to set forthmy first sally in the early morning, will do it after this fashion? 'Scarce had therubicund Apollo spread o'er the face of the broad spacious earth the goldenthreads of his bright hair, scarce had the little birds of painted plumage attunedtheir notes to hail with dulcet and mellifluous harmony the coming of the rosyDawn, that, deserting the soft couch of her jealous spouse, was appearing tomortals at the gates and balconies of the Manchegan horizon, when the renownedknight Don Quixote of La Mancha, quitting the lazy down, mounted his celebratedsteed Rocinante and began to traverse the ancient and famous Campo deMontiel;'" which in fact he was actually traversing. "Happy the age, happy thetime, " he continued, "in which shall be made known my deeds of fame, worthy tobe moulded in brass, carved in marble, limned in pictures, for a memorial forever. And thou, O sage magician, whoever thou art, to whom it shall fall to be thechronicler of this wondrous history, forget not, I entreat thee, my good Rocinante, the constant companion of my ways and wanderings. " Presently he broke outagain, as if he were love-stricken in earnest, "O Princess Dulcinea, lady of thiscaptive heart, a grievous wrong hast thou done me to drive me forth with scorn, and with inexorable obduracy banish me from the presence of thy beauty. O lady, deign to hold in remembrance this heart, thy vassal, that thus in anguish pines forlove of thee. "So he went on stringing together these and other absurdities, all in the style ofthose his books had taught him, imitating their language as well as he could; andall the while he rode so slowly and the sun mounted so rapidly and with suchfervour that it was enough to melt his brains if he had any. Nearly all day hetravelled without anything remarkable happening to him, at which he was indespair, for he was anxious to encounter some one at once upon whom to try themight of his strong arm. Writers there are who say the first adventure he met with was that of PuertoLapice; others say it was that of the windmills; but what I have ascertained onthis point, and what I have found written in the annals of La Mancha, is that hewas on the road all day, and towards nightfall his hack and he found themselvesdead tired and hungry, when, looking all around to see if he could discover anycastle or shepherd's shanty where he might refresh himself and relieve his sorewants, he perceived not far out of his road an inn, which was as welcome as astar guiding him to the portals, if not the palaces, of his redemption; andquickening his pace he reached it just as night was setting in. At the door werestanding two young women, girls of the district as they call them, on their way toSeville with some carriers who had chanced to halt that night at the inn; and as, happen what might to our adventurer, everything he saw or imaged seemed tohim to be and to happen after the fashion of what he read of, the moment he sawthe inn he pictured it to himself as a castle with its four turrets and pinnacles ofshining silver, not forgetting the drawbridge and moat and all the belongingsusually ascribed to castles of the sort. To this inn, which to him seemed a castle, he advanced, and at a short distance from it he checked Rocinante, hoping thatsome dwarf would show himself upon the battlements, and by sound of trumpetgive notice that a knight was approaching the castle. But seeing that they wereslow about it, and that Rocinante was in a hurry to reach the stable, he made forthe inn door, and perceived the two gay damsels who were standing there, andwho seemed to him to be two fair maidens or lovely ladies taking their ease at thecastle gate. At this moment it so happened that a swineherd who was going through thestubbles collecting a drove of pigs (for, without any apology, that is what they arecalled) gave a blast of his horn to bring them together, and forthwith it seemed toDon Quixote to be what he was expecting, the signal of some dwarf announcinghis arrival; and so with prodigious satisfaction he rode up to the inn and to theladies, who, seeing a man of this sort approaching in full armour and with lanceand buckler, were turning in dismay into the inn, when Don Quixote, guessingtheir fear by their flight, raising his pasteboard visor, disclosed his dry dustyvisage, and with courteous bearing and gentle voice addressed them, "Yourladyships need not fly or fear any rudeness, for that it belongs not to the order ofknighthood which I profess to offer to anyone, much less to highborn maidens asyour appearance proclaims you to be. " The girls were looking at him and strainingtheir eyes to make out the features which the clumsy visor obscured, but whenthey heard themselves called maidens, a thing so much out of their line, theycould not restrain their laughter, which made Don Quixote wax indignant, andsay, "Modesty becomes the fair, and moreover laughter that has little cause isgreat silliness; this, however, I say not to pain or anger you, for my desire is noneother than to serve you. "The incomprehensible language and the unpromising looks of our cavalier onlyincreased the ladies' laughter, and that increased his irritation, and matters mighthave gone farther if at that moment the landlord had not come out, who, being avery fat man, was a very peaceful one. He, seeing this grotesque figure clad inarmour that did not match any more than his saddle, bridle, lance, buckler, orcorselet, was not at all indisposed to join the damsels in their manifestations ofamusement; but, in truth, standing in awe of such a complicated armament, hethought it best to speak him fairly, so he said, "Senor Caballero, if your worshipwants lodging, bating the bed (for there is not one in the inn) there is plenty ofeverything else here. " Don Quixote, observing the respectful bearing of the Alcaideof the fortress (for so innkeeper and inn seemed in his eyes), made answer, "SirCastellan, for me anything will suffice, for'My armour is my only wear, My only rest the fray. '"The host fancied he called him Castellan because he took him for a "worthy ofCastile, " though he was in fact an Andalusian, and one from the strand of SanLucar, as crafty a thief as Cacus and as full of tricks as a student or a page. "Inthat case, " said he, "'Your bed is on the flinty rock, Your sleep to watch alway;'and if so, you may dismount and safely reckon upon any quantity ofsleeplessness under this roof for a twelvemonth, not to say for a single night. " Sosaying, he advanced to hold the stirrup for Don Quixote, who got down with greatdifficulty and exertion (for he had not broken his fast all day), and then chargedthe host to take great care of his horse, as he was the best bit of flesh that everate bread in this world. The landlord eyed him over but did not find him as goodas Don Quixote said, nor even half as good; and putting him up in the stable, hereturned to see what might be wanted by his guest, whom the damsels, who hadby this time made their peace with him, were now relieving of his armour. Theyhad taken off his breastplate and backpiece, but they neither knew nor saw howto open his gorget or remove his make-shift helmet, for he had fastened it withgreen ribbons, which, as there was no untying the knots, required to be cut. This, however, he would not by any means consent to, so he remained all the eveningwith his helmet on, the drollest and oddest figure that can be imagined; and whilethey were removing his armour, taking the baggages who were about it for ladiesof high degree belonging to the castle, he said to them with great sprightliness:"Oh, never, surely, was there knightSo served by hand of dame, As served was he, Don Quixote hight, When from his town he came;With maidens waiting on himself, Princesses on his hack----or Rocinante, for that, ladies mine, is my horse's name, and Don Quixote ofLa Mancha is my own; for though I had no intention of declaring myself until myachievements in your service and honour had made me known, the necessity ofadapting that old ballad of Lancelot to the present occasion has given you theknowledge of my name altogether prematurely. A time, however, will come foryour ladyships to command and me to obey, and then the might of my arm willshow my desire to serve you. "The girls, who were not used to hearing rhetoric of this sort, had nothing to sayin reply; they only asked him if he wanted anything to eat. "I would gladly eat abit of something, " said Don Quixote, "for I feel it would come very seasonably. "The day happened to be a Friday, and in the whole inn there was nothing butsome pieces of the fish they call in Castile "abadejo, " in Andalusia "bacallao, " andin some places "curadillo, " and in others "troutlet;" so they asked him if he thoughthe could eat troutlet, for there was no other fish to give him. "If there be troutletsenough, " said Don Quixote, "they will be the same thing as a trout; for it is all oneto me whether I am given eight reals in small change or a piece of eight;moreover, it may be that these troutlets are like veal, which is better than beef, orkid, which is better than goat. But whatever it be let it come quickly, for theburden and pressure of arms cannot be borne without support to the inside. " Theylaid a table for him at the door of the inn for the sake of the air, and the hostbrought him a portion of ill-soaked and worse cooked stockfish, and a piece ofbread as black and mouldy as his own armour; but a laughable sight it was to seehim eating, for having his helmet on and the beaver up, he could not with his ownhands put anything into his mouth unless some one else placed it there, and thisservice one of the ladies rendered him. But to give him anything to drink wasimpossible, or would have been so had not the landlord bored a reed, and puttingone end in his mouth poured the wine into him through the other; all which hebore with patience rather than sever the ribbons of his helmet. While this was going on there came up to the inn a sowgelder, who, as heapproached, sounded his reed pipe four or five times, and thereby completelyconvinced Don Quixote that he was in some famous castle, and that they wereregaling him with music, and that the stockfish was trout, the bread the whitest, the wenches ladies, and the landlord the castellan of the castle; and consequentlyhe held that his enterprise and sally had been to some purpose. But still itdistressed him to think he had not been dubbed a knight, for it was plain to himhe could not lawfully engage in any adventure without receiving the order ofknighthood. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER III. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE DROLL WAY IN WHICH DONQUIXOTE HAD HIMSELF DUBBED A KNIGHTHarassed by this reflection, he made haste with his scanty pothouse supper, and having finished it called the landlord, and shutting himself into the stablewith him, fell on his knees before him, saying, "From this spot I rise not, valiantknight, until your courtesy grants me the boon I seek, one that will redound toyour praise and the benefit of the human race. " The landlord, seeing his guest athis feet and hearing a speech of this kind, stood staring at him in bewilderment, not knowing what to do or say, and entreating him to rise, but all to no purposeuntil he had agreed to grant the boon demanded of him. "I looked for no less, mylord, from your High Magnificence, " replied Don Quixote, "and I have to tell youthat the boon I have asked and your liberality has granted is that you shall dubme knight to-morrow morning, and that to-night I shall watch my arms in thechapel of this your castle; thus tomorrow, as I have said, will be accomplishedwhat I so much desire, enabling me lawfully to roam through all the four quartersof the world seeking adventures on behalf of those in distress, as is the duty ofchivalry and of knights-errant like myself, whose ambition is directed to suchdeeds. "The landlord, who, as has been mentioned, was something of a wag, and hadalready some suspicion of his guest's want of wits, was quite convinced of it onhearing talk of this kind from him, and to make sport for the night he determinedto fall in with his humour. So he told him he was quite right in pursuing theobject he had in view, and that such a motive was natural and becoming incavaliers as distinguished as he seemed and his gallant bearing showed him to be;and that he himself in his younger days had followed the same honourable calling, roaming in quest of adventures in various parts of the world, among others theCuring-grounds of Malaga, the Isles of Riaran, the Precinct of Seville, the LittleMarket of Segovia, the Olivera of Valencia, the Rondilla of Granada, the Strand ofSan Lucar, the Colt of Cordova, the Taverns of Toledo, and divers other quarters, where he had proved the nimbleness of his feet and the lightness of his fingers, doing many wrongs, cheating many widows, ruining maids and swindling minors, and, in short, bringing himself under the notice of almost every tribunal and courtof justice in Spain; until at last he had retired to this castle of his, where he wasliving upon his property and upon that of others; and where he received allknights-errant of whatever rank or condition they might be, all for the great lovehe bore them and that they might share their substance with him in return for hisbenevolence. He told him, moreover, that in this castle of his there was no chapelin which he could watch his armour, as it had been pulled down in order to berebuilt, but that in a case of necessity it might, he knew, be watched anywhere, and he might watch it that night in a courtyard of the castle, and in the morning, God willing, the requisite ceremonies might be performed so as to have himdubbed a knight, and so thoroughly dubbed that nobody could be more so. Heasked if he had any money with him, to which Don Quixote replied that he hadnot a farthing, as in the histories of knights-errant he had never read of any ofthem carrying any. On this point the landlord told him he was mistaken; for, though not recorded in the histories, because in the author's opinion there was noneed to mention anything so obvious and necessary as money and clean shirts, itwas not to be supposed therefore that they did not carry them, and he mightregard it as certain and established that all knights-errant (about whom there wereso many full and unimpeachable books) carried well-furnished purses in case ofemergency, and likewise carried shirts and a little box of ointment to cure thewounds they received. For in those plains and deserts where they engaged incombat and came out wounded, it was not always that there was some one tocure them, unless indeed they had for a friend some sage magician to succourthem at once by fetching through the air upon a cloud some damsel or dwarf witha vial of water of such virtue that by tasting one drop of it they were cured oftheir hurts and wounds in an instant and left as sound as if they had not receivedany damage whatever. But in case this should not occur, the knights of old tookcare to see that their squires were provided with money and other requisites, suchas lint and ointments for healing purposes; and when it happened that knightshad no squires (which was rarely and seldom the case) they themselves carriedeverything in cunning saddle-bags that were hardly seen on the horse's croup, as ifit were something else of more importance, because, unless for some such reason, carrying saddle-bags was not very favourably regarded among knights-errant. Hetherefore advised him (and, as his godson so soon to be, he might even commandhim) never from that time forth to travel without money and the usualrequirements, and he would find the advantage of them when he least expected it. Don Quixote promised to follow his advice scrupulously, and it was arrangedforthwith that he should watch his armour in a large yard at one side of the inn;so, collecting it all together, Don Quixote placed it on a trough that stood by theside of a well, and bracing his buckler on his arm he grasped his lance and beganwith a stately air to march up and down in front of the trough, and as he beganhis march night began to fall. The landlord told all the people who were in the inn about the craze of hisguest, the watching of the armour, and the dubbing ceremony he contemplated. Full of wonder at so strange a form of madness, they flocked to see it from adistance, and observed with what composure he sometimes paced up and down, or sometimes, leaning on his lance, gazed on his armour without taking his eyesoff it for ever so long; and as the night closed in with a light from the moon sobrilliant that it might vie with his that lent it, everything the novice knight didwas plainly seen by all. Meanwhile one of the carriers who were in the inn thought fit to water histeam, and it was necessary to remove Don Quixote's armour as it lay on thetrough; but he seeing the other approach hailed him in a loud voice, "O thou, whoever thou art, rash knight that comest to lay hands on the armour of the mostvalorous errant that ever girt on sword, have a care what thou dost; touch it notunless thou wouldst lay down thy life as the penalty of thy rashness. " The carriergave no heed to these words (and he would have done better to heed them if hehad been heedful of his health), but seizing it by the straps flung the armour somedistance from him. Seeing this, Don Quixote raised his eyes to heaven, and fixinghis thoughts, apparently, upon his lady Dulcinea, exclaimed, "Aid me, lady mine, in this the first encounter that presents itself to this breast which thou holdest insubjection; let not thy favour and protection fail me in this first jeopardy;" and, with these words and others to the same purpose, dropping his buckler he liftedhis lance with both hands and with it smote such a blow on the carrier's head thathe stretched him on the ground, so stunned that had he followed it up with asecond there would have been no need of a surgeon to cure him. This done, hepicked up his armour and returned to his beat with the same serenity as before. Shortly after this, another, not knowing what had happened (for the carrier stilllay senseless), came with the same object of giving water to his mules, and wasproceeding to remove the armour in order to clear the trough, when Don Quixote, without uttering a word or imploring aid from anyone, once more dropped hisbuckler and once more lifted his lance, and without actually breaking the secondcarrier's head into pieces, made more than three of it, for he laid it open in four. At the noise all the people of the inn ran to the spot, and among them thelandlord. Seeing this, Don Quixote braced his buckler on his arm, and with hishand on his sword exclaimed, "O Lady of Beauty, strength and support of my faintheart, it is time for thee to turn the eyes of thy greatness on this thy captiveknight on the brink of so mighty an adventure. " By this he felt himself so inspiredthat he would not have flinched if all the carriers in the world had assailed him. The comrades of the wounded perceiving the plight they were in began from adistance to shower stones on Don Quixote, who screened himself as best he couldwith his buckler, not daring to quit the trough and leave his armour unprotected. The landlord shouted to them to leave him alone, for he had already told themthat he was mad, and as a madman he would not be accountable even if he killedthem all. Still louder shouted Don Quixote, calling them knaves and traitors, andthe lord of the castle, who allowed knights-errant to be treated in this fashion, avillain and a low-born knight whom, had he received the order of knighthood, hewould call to account for his treachery. "But of you, " he cried, "base and vile rabble, I make no account; fling, strike, come on, do all ye can against me, ye shall see what the reward of your folly andinsolence will be. " This he uttered with so much spirit and boldness that he filledhis assailants with a terrible fear, and as much for this reason as at the persuasionof the landlord they left off stoning him, and he allowed them to carry off thewounded, and with the same calmness and composure as before resumed thewatch over his armour. But these freaks of his guest were not much to the liking of the landlord, so hedetermined to cut matters short and confer upon him at once the unlucky order ofknighthood before any further misadventure could occur; so, going up to him, heapologised for the rudeness which, without his knowledge, had been offered tohim by these low people, who, however, had been well punished for theiraudacity. As he had already told him, he said, there was no chapel in the castle, nor was it needed for what remained to be done, for, as he understood theceremonial of the order, the whole point of being dubbed a knight lay in theaccolade and in the slap on the shoulder, and that could be administered in themiddle of a field; and that he had now done all that was needful as to watchingthe armour, for all requirements were satisfied by a watch of two hours only, while he had been more than four about it. Don Quixote believed it all, and toldhim he stood there ready to obey him, and to make an end of it with as muchdespatch as possible; for, if he were again attacked, and felt himself to be dubbedknight, he would not, he thought, leave a soul alive in the castle, except such asout of respect he might spare at his bidding. Thus warned and menaced, the castellan forthwith brought out a book in whichhe used to enter the straw and barley he served out to the carriers, and, with alad carrying a candle-end, and the two damsels already mentioned, he returned towhere Don Quixote stood, and bade him kneel down. Then, reading from hisaccount-book as if he were repeating some devout prayer, in the middle of hisdelivery he raised his hand and gave him a sturdy blow on the neck, and then, with his own sword, a smart slap on the shoulder, all the while muttering betweenhis teeth as if he was saying his prayers. Having done this, he directed one of theladies to gird on his sword, which she did with great self-possession and gravity, and not a little was required to prevent a burst of laughter at each stage of theceremony; but what they had already seen of the novice knight's prowess kepttheir laughter within bounds. On girding him with the sword the worthy lady saidto him, "May God make your worship a very fortunate knight, and grant yousuccess in battle. " Don Quixote asked her name in order that he might from thattime forward know to whom he was beholden for the favour he had received, ashe meant to confer upon her some portion of the honour he acquired by the mightof his arm. She answered with great humility that she was called La Tolosa, andthat she was the daughter of a cobbler of Toledo who lived in the stalls ofSanchobienaya, and that wherever she might be she would serve and esteem himas her lord. Don Quixote said in reply that she would do him a favour ifthenceforward she assumed the "Don" and called herself Dona Tolosa. Shepromised she would, and then the other buckled on his spur, and with herfollowed almost the same conversation as with the lady of the sword. He askedher name, and she said it was La Molinera, and that she was the daughter of arespectable miller of Antequera; and of her likewise Don Quixote requested thatshe would adopt the "Don" and call herself Dona Molinera, making offers to herfurther services and favours. Having thus, with hot haste and speed, brought to a conclusion these never-till-now-seen ceremonies, Don Quixote was on thorns until he saw himself onhorseback sallying forth in quest of adventures; and saddling Rocinante at once hemounted, and embracing his host, as he returned thanks for his kindness inknighting him, he addressed him in language so extraordinary that it is impossibleto convey an idea of it or report it. The landlord, to get him out of the inn, repliedwith no less rhetoric though with shorter words, and without calling upon him topay the reckoning let him go with a Godspeed. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 2. Chapters 4-5EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER IV. OF WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR KNIGHT WHEN HE LEFT THE INNDay was dawning when Don Quixote quitted the inn, so happy, so gay, soexhilarated at finding himself now dubbed a knight, that his joy was like to bursthis horse-girths. However, recalling the advice of his host as to the requisites heought to carry with him, especially that referring to money and shirts, hedetermined to go home and provide himself with all, and also with a squire, for hereckoned upon securing a farm-labourer, a neighbour of his, a poor man with afamily, but very well qualified for the office of squire to a knight. With this objecthe turned his horse's head towards his village, and Rocinante, thus reminded ofhis old quarters, stepped out so briskly that he hardly seemed to tread the earth. He had not gone far, when out of a thicket on his right there seemed to comefeeble cries as of some one in distress, and the instant he heard them heexclaimed, "Thanks be to heaven for the favour it accords me, that it so soonoffers me an opportunity of fulfilling the obligation I have undertaken, andgathering the fruit of my ambition. These cries, no doubt, come from some man orwoman in want of help, and needing my aid and protection;" and wheeling, heturned Rocinante in the direction whence the cries seemed to proceed. He hadgone but a few paces into the wood, when he saw a mare tied to an oak, and tiedto another, and stripped from the waist upwards, a youth of about fifteen years ofage, from whom the cries came. Nor were they without cause, for a lusty farmerwas flogging him with a belt and following up every blow with scoldings andcommands, repeating, "Your mouth shut and your eyes open!" while the youthmade answer, "I won't do it again, master mine; by God's passion I won't do itagain, and I'll take more care of the flock another time. "Seeing what was going on, Don Quixote said in an angry voice, "Discourteousknight, it ill becomes you to assail one who cannot defend himself; mount yoursteed and take your lance" (for there was a lance leaning against the oak to whichthe mare was tied), "and I will make you know that you are behaving as acoward. " The farmer, seeing before him this figure in full armour brandishing alance over his head, gave himself up for dead, and made answer meekly, "SirKnight, this youth that I am chastising is my servant, employed by me to watch aflock of sheep that I have hard by, and he is so careless that I lose one every day, and when I punish him for his carelessness and knavery he says I do it out ofniggardliness, to escape paying him the wages I owe him, and before God, and onmy soul, he lies. ""Lies before me, base clown!" said Don Quixote. "By the sun that shines on us Ihave a mind to run you through with this lance. Pay him at once without anotherword; if not, by the God that rules us I will make an end of you, and annihilateyou on the spot; release him instantly. "The farmer hung his head, and without a word untied his servant, of whom DonQuixote asked how much his master owed him. He replied, nine months at seven reals a month. Don Quixote added it up, found that it came to sixty-three reals, and told the farmer to pay it downimmediately, if he did not want to die for it. The trembling clown replied that as he lived and by the oath he had sworn(though he had not sworn any) it was not so much; for there were to be taken intoaccount and deducted three pairs of shoes he had given him, and a real for twoblood-lettings when he was sick. "All that is very well, " said Don Quixote; "but let the shoes and the blood-lettings stand as a setoff against the blows you have given him without any cause;for if he spoiled the leather of the shoes you paid for, you have damaged that ofhis body, and if the barber took blood from him when he was sick, you havedrawn it when he was sound; so on that score he owes you nothing. ""The difficulty is, Sir Knight, that I have no money here; let Andres come homewith me, and I will pay him all, real by real. ""I go with him!" said the youth. "Nay, Godforbid! No, senor, not for the world;for once alone with me, he would ray me like a Saint Bartholomew. ""He will do nothing of the kind, " said Don Quixote; "I have only to command, and he will obey me; and as he has sworn to me by the order of knighthood whichhe has received, I leave him free, and I guarantee the payment. ""Consider what you are saying, senor, " said the youth; "this master of mine isnot a knight, nor has he received any order of knighthood; for he is Juan Haldudothe Rich, of Quintanar. ""That matters little, " replied Don Quixote; "there may be Haldudos knights;moreover, everyone is the son of his works. ""That is true, " said Andres; "but this master of mine--of what works is he theson, when he refuses me the wages of my sweat and labour?""I do not refuse, brother Andres, " said the farmer, "be good enough to comealong with me, and I swear by all the orders of knighthood there are in the worldto pay you as I have agreed, real by real, and perfumed. ""For the perfumery I excuse you, " said Don Quixote; "give it to him in reals, andI shall be satisfied; and see that you do as you have sworn; if not, by the sameoath I swear to come back and hunt you out and punish you; and I shall find youthough you should lie closer than a lizard. And if you desire to know who it is laysthis command upon you, that you be more firmly bound to obey it, know that Iam the valorous Don Quixote of La Mancha, the undoer of wrongs and injustices;and so, God be with you, and keep in mind what you have promised and swornunder those penalties that have been already declared to you. "So saying, he gave Rocinante the spur and was soon out of reach. The farmerfollowed him with his eyes, and when he saw that he had cleared the wood andwas no longer in sight, he turned to his boy Andres, and said, "Come here, myson, I want to pay you what I owe you, as that undoer of wrongs has commandedme. ""My oath on it, " said Andres, "your worship will be well advised to obey thecommand of that good knight--may he live a thousand years--for, as he is avaliant and just judge, by Roque, if you do not pay me, he will come back and doas he said. ""My oath on it, too, " said the farmer; "but as I have a strong affection for you, Iwant to add to the debt in order to add to the payment;" and seizing him by thearm, he tied him up again, and gave him such a flogging that he left him for dead. "Now, Master Andres, " said the farmer, "call on the undoer of wrongs; you willfind he won't undo that, though I am not sure that I have quite done with you, forI have a good mind to flay you alive. " But at last he untied him, and gave himleave to go look for his judge in order to put the sentence pronounced intoexecution. Andres went off rather down in the mouth, swearing he would go to look for thevaliant Don Quixote of La Mancha and tell him exactly what had happened, andthat all would have to be repaid him sevenfold; but for all that, he went offweeping, while his master stood laughing. Thus did the valiant Don Quixote right that wrong, and, thoroughly satisfiedwith what had taken place, as he considered he had made a very happy and noblebeginning with his knighthood, he took the road towards his village in perfect self-content, saying in a low voice, "Well mayest thou this day call thyself fortunateabove all on earth, O Dulcinea del Toboso, fairest of the fair! since it has fallen tothy lot to hold subject and submissive to thy full will and pleasure a knight sorenowned as is and will be Don Quixote of La Mancha, who, as all the worldknows, yesterday received the order of knighthood, and hath to-day righted thegreatest wrong and grievance that ever injustice conceived and crueltyperpetrated: who hath to-day plucked the rod from the hand of yonder ruthlessoppressor so wantonly lashing that tender child. "He now came to a road branching in four directions, and immediately he wasreminded of those cross-roads where knights-errant used to stop to consider whichroad they should take. In imitation of them he halted for a while, and after havingdeeply considered it, he gave Rocinante his head, submitting his own will to thatof his hack, who followed out his first intention, which was to make straight forhis own stable. After he had gone about two miles Don Quixote perceived a largeparty of people, who, as afterwards appeared, were some Toledo traders, on theirway to buy silk at Murcia. There were six of them coming along under theirsunshades, with four servants mounted, and three muleteers on foot. Scarcely hadDon Quixote descried them when the fancy possessed him that this must be somenew adventure; and to help him to imitate as far as he could those passages hehad read of in his books, here seemed to come one made on purpose, which heresolved to attempt. So with a lofty bearing and determination he fixed himselffirmly in his stirrups, got his lance ready, brought his buckler before his breast, and planting himself in the middle of the road, stood waiting the approach ofthese knights-errant, for such he now considered and held them to be; and whenthey had come near enough to see and hear, he exclaimed with a haughty gesture, "All the world stand, unless all the world confess that in all the world there is nomaiden fairer than the Empress of La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso. "The traders halted at the sound of this language and the sight of the strangefigure that uttered it, and from both figure and language at once guessed the crazeof their owner; they wished, however, to learn quietly what was the object of thisconfession that was demanded of them, and one of them, who was rather fond ofa joke and was very sharp-witted, said to him, "Sir Knight, we do not know whothis good lady is that you speak of; show her to us, for, if she be of such beautyas you suggest, with all our hearts and without any pressure we will confess thetruth that is on your part required of us. ""If I were to show her to you, " replied Don Quixote, "what merit would youhave in confessing a truth so manifest? The essential point is that without seeingher you must believe, confess, affirm, swear, and defend it; else ye have to dowith me in battle, ill-conditioned, arrogant rabble that ye are; and come ye on, one by one as the order of knighthood requires, or all together as is the customand vile usage of your breed, here do I bide and await you relying on the justice ofthe cause I maintain. ""Sir Knight, " replied the trader, "I entreat your worship in the name of thispresent company of princes, that, to save us from charging our consciences withthe confession of a thing we have never seen or heard of, and one moreover somuch to the prejudice of the Empresses and Queens of the Alcarria andEstremadura, your worship will be pleased to show us some portrait of this lady, though it be no bigger than a grain of wheat; for by the thread one gets at theball, and in this way we shall be satisfied and easy, and you will be content andpleased; nay, I believe we are already so far agreed with you that even though herportrait should show her blind of one eye, and distilling vermilion and sulphurfrom the other, we would nevertheless, to gratify your worship, say all in herfavour that you desire. ""She distils nothing of the kind, vile rabble, " said Don Quixote, burning withrage, "nothing of the kind, I say, only ambergris and civet in cotton; nor is sheone-eyed or humpbacked, but straighter than a Guadarrama spindle: but ye mustpay for the blasphemy ye have uttered against beauty like that of my lady. "And so saying, he charged with levelled lance against the one who had spoken, with such fury and fierceness that, if luck had not contrived that Rocinanteshould stumble midway and come down, it would have gone hard with the rashtrader. Down went Rocinante, and over went his master, rolling along the groundfor some distance; and when he tried to rise he was unable, so encumbered washe with lance, buckler, spurs, helmet, and the weight of his old armour; and allthe while he was struggling to get up he kept saying, "Fly not, cowards andcaitiffs! stay, for not by my fault, but my horse's, am I stretched here. "One of the muleteers in attendance, who could not have had much good naturein him, hearing the poor prostrate man blustering in this style, was unable torefrain from giving him an answer on his ribs; and coming up to him he seized hislance, and having broken it in pieces, with one of them he began so to belabourour Don Quixote that, notwithstanding and in spite of his armour, he milled himlike a measure of wheat. His masters called out not to lay on so hard and to leavehim alone, but the muleteers blood was up, and he did not care to drop the gameuntil he had vented the rest of his wrath, and gathering up the remainingfragments of the lance he finished with a discharge upon the unhappy victim, whoall through the storm of sticks that rained on him never ceased threateningheaven, and earth, and the brigands, for such they seemed to him. At last themuleteer was tired, and the traders continued their journey, taking with themmatter for talk about the poor fellow who had been cudgelled. He when he foundhimself alone made another effort to rise; but if he was unable when whole andsound, how was he to rise after having been thrashed and well-nigh knocked topieces? And yet he esteemed himself fortunate, as it seemed to him that this wasa regular knight-errant's mishap, and entirely, he considered, the fault of hishorse. However, battered in body as he was, to rise was beyond his power. CHAPTER V. IN WHICH THE NARRATIVE OF OUR KNIGHT'S MISHAP ISCONTINUEDFinding, then, that, in fact he could not move, he thought himself of havingrecourse to his usual remedy, which was to think of some passage in his books, and his craze brought to his mind that about Baldwin and the Marquis of Mantua, when Carloto left him wounded on the mountain side, a story known by heart bythe children, not forgotten by the young men, and lauded and even believed bythe old folk; and for all that not a whit truer than the miracles of Mahomet. Thisseemed to him to fit exactly the case in which he found himself, so, making ashow of severe suffering, he began to roll on the ground and with feeble breathrepeat the very words which the wounded knight of the wood is said to haveuttered:Where art thou, lady mine, that thouMy sorrow dost not rue?Thou canst not know it, lady mine, Or else thou art untrue. And so he went on with the ballad as far as the lines:O noble Marquis of Mantua, My Uncle and liege lord!As chance would have it, when he had got to this line there happened to comeby a peasant from his own village, a neighbour of his, who had been with a loadof wheat to the mill, and he, seeing the man stretched there, came up to him andasked him who he was and what was the matter with him that he complained sodolefully. Don Quixote was firmly persuaded that this was the Marquis of Mantua, hisuncle, so the only answer he made was to go on with his ballad, in which he toldthe tale of his misfortune, and of the loves of the Emperor's son and his wife allexactly as the ballad sings it. The peasant stood amazed at hearing such nonsense, and relieving him of thevisor, already battered to pieces by blows, he wiped his face, which was coveredwith dust, and as soon as he had done so he recognised him and said, "SenorQuixada" (for so he appears to have been called when he was in his senses andhad not yet changed from a quiet country gentleman into a knight-errant), "whohas brought your worship to this pass?" But to all questions the other only wenton with his ballad. Seeing this, the good man removed as well as he could his breastplate andbackpiece to see if he had any wound, but he could perceive no blood nor anymark whatever. He then contrived to raise him from the ground, and with no littledifficulty hoisted him upon his ass, which seemed to him to be the easiest mountfor him; and collecting the arms, even to the splinters of the lance, he tied themon Rocinante, and leading him by the bridle and the ass by the halter he took theroad for the village, very sad to hear what absurd stuff Don Quixote was talking. Nor was Don Quixote less so, for what with blows and bruises he could not situpright on the ass, and from time to time he sent up sighs to heaven, so that oncemore he drove the peasant to ask what ailed him. And it could have been only thedevil himself that put into his head tales to match his own adventures, for now, forgetting Baldwin, he bethought himself of the Moor Abindarraez, when theAlcaide of Antequera, Rodrigo de Narvaez, took him prisoner and carried himaway to his castle; so that when the peasant again asked him how he was andwhat ailed him, he gave him for reply the same words and phrases that thecaptive Abindarraez gave to Rodrigo de Narvaez, just as he had read the story inthe "Diana" of Jorge de Montemayor where it is written, applying it to his owncase so aptly that the peasant went along cursing his fate that he had to listen tosuch a lot of nonsense; from which, however, he came to the conclusion that hisneighbour was mad, and so made all haste to reach the village to escape thewearisomeness of this harangue of Don Quixote's; who, at the end of it, said, "Senor Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, your worship must know that this fair Xarifa Ihave mentioned is now the lovely Dulcinea del Toboso, for whom I have done, amdoing, and will do the most famous deeds of chivalry that in this world have beenseen, are to be seen, or ever shall be seen. "To this the peasant answered, "Senor--sinner that I am!--cannot your worshipsee that I am not Don Rodrigo de Narvaez nor the Marquis of Mantua, but PedroAlonso your neighbour, and that your worship is neither Baldwin nor Abindarraez, but the worthy gentleman Senor Quixada?""I know who I am, " replied Don Quixote, "and I know that I may be not onlythose I have named, but all the Twelve Peers of France and even all the NineWorthies, since my achievements surpass all that they have done all together andeach of them on his own account. "With this talk and more of the same kind they reached the village just as nightwas beginning to fall, but the peasant waited until it was a little later that thebelaboured gentleman might not be seen riding in such a miserable trim. When itwas what seemed to him the proper time he entered the village and went to DonQuixote's house, which he found all in confusion, and there were the curate andthe village barber, who were great friends of Don Quixote, and his housekeeperwas saying to them in a loud voice, "What does your worship think can havebefallen my master, Senor Licentiate Pero Perez?" for so the curate was called; "itis three days now since anything has been seen of him, or the hack, or thebuckler, lance, or armour. Miserable me! I am certain of it, and it is as true asthat I was born to die, that these accursed books of chivalry he has, and has gotinto the way of reading so constantly, have upset his reason; for now I rememberhaving often heard him saying to himself that he would turn knight-errant and goall over the world in quest of adventures. To the devil and Barabbas with suchbooks, that have brought to ruin in this way the finest understanding there was inall La Mancha!"The niece said the same, and, more: "You must know, Master Nicholas"--forthat was the name of the barber--"it was often my uncle's way to stay two daysand nights together poring over these unholy books of misventures, after which hewould fling the book away and snatch up his sword and fall to slashing the walls;and when he was tired out he would say he had killed four giants like four towers;and the sweat that flowed from him when he was weary he said was the blood ofthe wounds he had received in battle; and then he would drink a great jug of coldwater and become calm and quiet, saying that this water was a most preciouspotion which the sage Esquife, a great magician and friend of his, had broughthim. But I take all the blame upon myself for never having told your worships ofmy uncle's vagaries, that you might put a stop to them before things had come tothis pass, and burn all these accursed books--for he has a great number--thatrichly deserve to be burned like heretics. ""So say I too, " said the curate, "and by my faith to-morrow shall not passwithout public judgment upon them, and may they be condemned to the flameslest they lead those that read to behave as my good friend seems to havebehaved. "All this the peasant heard, and from it he understood at last what was thematter with his neighbour, so he began calling aloud, "Open, your worships, toSenor Baldwin and to Senor the Marquis of Mantua, who comes badly wounded, and to Senor Abindarraez, the Moor, whom the valiant Rodrigo de Narvaez, theAlcaide of Antequera, brings captive. "At these words they all hurried out, and when they recognised their friend, master, and uncle, who had not yet dismounted from the ass because he couldnot, they ran to embrace him. "Hold!" said he, "for I am badly wounded through my horse's fault; carry me tobed, and if possible send for the wise Urganda to cure and see to my wounds. ""See there! plague on it!" cried the housekeeper at this: "did not my heart tellthe truth as to which foot my master went lame of? To bed with your worship atonce, and we will contrive to cure you here without fetching that Hurgada. Acurse I say once more, and a hundred times more, on those books of chivalry thathave brought your worship to such a pass. "They carried him to bed at once, and after searching for his wounds could findnone, but he said they were all bruises from having had a severe fall with hishorse Rocinante when in combat with ten giants, the biggest and the boldest to befound on earth. "So, so!" said the curate, "are there giants in the dance? By the sign of the CrossI will burn them to-morrow before the day over. "They put a host of questions to Don Quixote, but his only answer to all was--give him something to eat, and leave him to sleep, for that was what he neededmost. They did so, and the curate questioned the peasant at great length as tohow he had found Don Quixote. He told him, and the nonsense he had talkedwhen found and on the way home, all which made the licentiate the more eager todo what he did the next day, which was to summon his friend the barber, MasterNicholas, and go with him to Don Quixote's house. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 3. Chapters 6-8EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER VI. OF THE DIVERTING AND IMPORTANT SCRUTINY WHICH THECURATE AND THE BARBER MADE IN THE LIBRARY OF OURINGENIOUS GENTLEMANHe was still sleeping; so the curate asked the niece for the keys of the roomwhere the books, the authors of all the mischief, were, and right willingly shegave them. They all went in, the housekeeper with them, and found more than ahundred volumes of big books very well bound, and some other small ones. Themoment the housekeeper saw them she turned about and ran out of the room, andcame back immediately with a saucer of holy water and a sprinkler, saying, "Here, your worship, senor licentiate, sprinkle this room; don't leave any magician of themany there are in these books to bewitch us in revenge for our design of banishingthem from the world. "The simplicity of the housekeeper made the licentiate laugh, and he directed thebarber to give him the books one by one to see what they were about, as theremight be some to be found among them that did not deserve the penalty of fire. "No, " said the niece, "there is no reason for showing mercy to any of them; theyhave every one of them done mischief; better fling them out of the window intothe court and make a pile of them and set fire to them; or else carry them into theyard, and there a bonfire can be made without the smoke giving any annoyance. "The housekeeper said the same, so eager were they both for the slaughter of thoseinnocents, but the curate would not agree to it without first reading at any ratethe titles. The first that Master Nicholas put into his hand was "The four books of Amadisof Gaul. " "This seems a mysterious thing, " said the curate, "for, as I have heardsay, this was the first book of chivalry printed in Spain, and from this all theothers derive their birth and origin; so it seems to me that we ought inexorably tocondemn it to the flames as the founder of so vile a sect. ""Nay, sir, " said the barber, "I too, have heard say that this is the best of all thebooks of this kind that have been written, and so, as something singular in itsline, it ought to be pardoned. ""True, " said the curate; "and for that reason let its life be spared for the present. Let us see that other which is next to it. ""It is, " said the barber, "the 'Sergas de Esplandian, ' the lawful son of Amadis ofGaul. ""Then verily, " said the curate, "the merit of the father must not be put down tothe account of the son. Take it, mistress housekeeper; open the window and flingit into the yard and lay the foundation of the pile for the bonfire we are to make. "The housekeeper obeyed with great satisfaction, and the worthy "Esplandian"went flying into the yard to await with all patience the fire that was in store forhim. "Proceed, " said the curate. "This that comes next, " said the barber, "is 'Amadis of Greece, ' and, indeed, Ibelieve all those on this side are of the same Amadis lineage. ""Then to the yard with the whole of them, " said the curate; "for to have theburning of Queen Pintiquiniestra, and the shepherd Darinel and his eclogues, andthe bedevilled and involved discourses of his author, I would burn with them thefather who begot me if he were going about in the guise of a knight-errant. ""I am of the same mind, " said the barber. "And so am I, " added the niece. "In that case, " said the housekeeper, "here, into the yard with them!"They were handed to her, and as there were many of them, she spared herselfthe staircase, and flung them down out of the window. "Who is that tub there?" said the curate. "This, " said the barber, "is 'Don Olivante de Laura. '""The author of that book, " said the curate, "was the same that wrote 'TheGarden of Flowers, ' and truly there is no deciding which of the two books is themore truthful, or, to put it better, the less lying; all I can say is, send this one intothe yard for a swaggering fool. ""This that follows is 'Florismarte of Hircania, '" said the barber. "Senor Florismarte here?" said the curate; "then by my faith he must take up hisquarters in the yard, in spite of his marvellous birth and visionary adventures, forthe stiffness and dryness of his style deserve nothing else; into the yard with himand the other, mistress housekeeper. ""With all my heart, senor, " said she, and executed the order with great delight. "This, " said the barber, "is The Knight Platir. '""An old book that, " said the curate, "but I find no reason for clemency in it;send it after the others without appeal;" which was done. Another book was opened, and they saw it was entitled, "The Knight of theCross. ""For the sake of the holy name this book has, " said the curate, "its ignorancemight be excused; but then, they say, 'behind the cross there's the devil; to the firewith it. "Taking down another book, the barber said, "This is 'The Mirror of Chivalry. '""I know his worship, " said the curate; "that is where Senor Reinaldos ofMontalvan figures with his friends and comrades, greater thieves than Cacus, andthe Twelve Peers of France with the veracious historian Turpin; however, I am notfor condemning them to more than perpetual banishment, because, at any rate, they have some share in the invention of the famous Matteo Boiardo, whence toothe Christian poet Ludovico Ariosto wove his web, to whom, if I find him here, and speaking any language but his own, I shall show no respect whatever; but ifhe speaks his own tongue I will put him upon my head. ""Well, I have him in Italian, " said the barber, "but I do not understand him. ""Nor would it be well that you should understand him, " said the curate, "and onthat score we might have excused the Captain if he had not brought him intoSpain and turned him into Castilian. He robbed him of a great deal of his naturalforce, and so do all those who try to turn books written in verse into anotherlanguage, for, with all the pains they take and all the cleverness they show, theynever can reach the level of the originals as they were first produced. In short, Isay that this book, and all that may be found treating of those French affairs, should be thrown into or deposited in some dry well, until after moreconsideration it is settled what is to be done with them; excepting always one'Bernardo del Carpio' that is going about, and another called 'Roncesvalles;' forthese, if they come into my hands, shall pass at once into those of thehousekeeper, and from hers into the fire without any reprieve. "To all this the barber gave his assent, and looked upon it as right and proper, being persuaded that the curate was so staunch to the Faith and loyal to the Truththat he would not for the world say anything opposed to them. Opening anotherbook he saw it was "Palmerin de Oliva, " and beside it was another called"Palmerin of England, " seeing which the licentiate said, "Let the Olive be madefirewood of at once and burned until no ashes even are left; and let that Palm ofEngland be kept and preserved as a thing that stands alone, and let such anothercase be made for it as that which Alexander found among the spoils of Darius andset aside for the safe keeping of the works of the poet Homer. This book, gossip, is of authority for two reasons, first because it is very good, and secondly becauseit is said to have been written by a wise and witty king of Portugal. All theadventures at the Castle of Miraguarda are excellent and of admirablecontrivance, and the language is polished and clear, studying and observing thestyle befitting the speaker with propriety and judgment. So then, provided itseems good to you, Master Nicholas, I say let this and 'Amadis of Gaul' beremitted the penalty of fire, and as for all the rest, let them perish without furtherquestion or query. ""Nay, gossip, " said the barber, "for this that I have here is the famous 'DonBelianis. '""Well, " said the curate, "that and the second, third, and fourth parts all stand inneed of a little rhubarb to purge their excess of bile, and they must be cleared ofall that stuff about the Castle of Fame and other greater affectations, to which endlet them be allowed the over-seas term, and, according as they mend, so shallmercy or justice be meted out to them; and in the mean time, gossip, do you keepthem in your house and let no one read them. ""With all my heart, " said the barber; and not caring to tire himself with readingmore books of chivalry, he told the housekeeper to take all the big ones and throwthem into the yard. It was not said to one dull or deaf, but to one who enjoyedburning them more than weaving the broadest and finest web that could be; andseizing about eight at a time, she flung them out of the window. In carrying so many together she let one fall at the feet of the barber, who tookit up, curious to know whose it was, and found it said, "History of the FamousKnight, Tirante el Blanco. ""God bless me!" said the curate with a shout, "'Tirante el Blanco' here! Hand itover, gossip, for in it I reckon I have found a treasury of enjoyment and a mine ofrecreation. Here is Don Kyrieleison of Montalvan, a valiant knight, and hisbrother Thomas of Montalvan, and the knight Fonseca, with the battle the boldTirante fought with the mastiff, and the witticisms of the damsel Placerdemivida, and the loves and wiles of the widow Reposada, and the empress in love with thesquire Hipolito--in truth, gossip, by right of its style it is the best book in theworld. Here knights eat and sleep, and die in their beds, and make their willsbefore dying, and a great deal more of which there is nothing in all the otherbooks. Nevertheless, I say he who wrote it, for deliberately composing suchfooleries, deserves to be sent to the galleys for life. Take it home with you andread it, and you will see that what I have said is true. ""As you will, " said the barber; "but what are we to do with these little booksthat are left?""These must be, not chivalry, but poetry, " said the curate; and opening one hesaw it was the "Diana" of Jorge de Montemayor, and, supposing all the others tobe of the same sort, "these, " he said, "do not deserve to be burned like the others, for they neither do nor can do the mischief the books of chivalry have done, beingbooks of entertainment that can hurt no one. ""Ah, senor!" said the niece, "your worship had better order these to be burned aswell as the others; for it would be no wonder if, after being cured of his chivalrydisorder, my uncle, by reading these, took a fancy to turn shepherd and range thewoods and fields singing and piping; or, what would be still worse, to turn poet, which they say is an incurable and infectious malady. ""The damsel is right, " said the curate, "and it will be well to put this stumbling-block and temptation out of our friend's way. To begin, then, with the 'Diana' ofMontemayor. I am of opinion it should not be burned, but that it should becleared of all that about the sage Felicia and the magic water, and of almost allthe longer pieces of verse: let it keep, and welcome, its prose and the honour ofbeing the first of books of the kind. ""This that comes next, " said the barber, "is the 'Diana, ' entitled the 'Second Part, by the Salamancan, ' and this other has the same title, and its author is Gil Polo. ""As for that of the Salamancan, " replied the curate, "let it go to swell thenumber of the condemned in the yard, and let Gil Polo's be preserved as if it camefrom Apollo himself: but get on, gossip, and make haste, for it is growing late. ""This book, " said the barber, opening another, "is the ten books of the 'Fortuneof Love, ' written by Antonio de Lofraso, a Sardinian poet. ""By the orders I have received, " said the curate, "since Apollo has been Apollo, and the Muses have been Muses, and poets have been poets, so droll and absurda book as this has never been written, and in its way it is the best and the mostsingular of all of this species that have as yet appeared, and he who has not readit may be sure he has never read what is delightful. Give it here, gossip, for Imake more account of having found it than if they had given me a cassock ofFlorence stuff. "He put it aside with extreme satisfaction, and the barber went on, "These thatcome next are 'The Shepherd of Iberia, ' 'Nymphs of Henares, ' and 'TheEnlightenment of Jealousy. '""Then all we have to do, " said the curate, "is to hand them over to the seculararm of the housekeeper, and ask me not why, or we shall never have done. ""This next is the 'Pastor de Filida. '""No Pastor that, " said the curate, "but a highly polished courtier; let it bepreserved as a precious jewel. ""This large one here, " said the barber, "is called 'The Treasury of variousPoems. '""If there were not so many of them, " said the curate, "they would be morerelished: this book must be weeded and cleansed of certain vulgarities which ithas with its excellences; let it be preserved because the author is a friend of mine, and out of respect for other more heroic and loftier works that he has written. ""This, " continued the barber, "is the 'Cancionero' of Lopez de Maldonado. ""The author of that book, too, " said the curate, "is a great friend of mine, andhis verses from his own mouth are the admiration of all who hear them, for suchis the sweetness of his voice that he enchants when he chants them: it gives rathertoo much of its eclogues, but what is good was never yet plentiful: let it be keptwith those that have been set apart. But what book is that next it?""The 'Galatea' of Miguel de Cervantes, " said the barber. "That Cervantes has been for many years a great friend of mine, and to myknowledge he has had more experience in reverses than in verses. His book hassome good invention in it, it presents us with something but brings nothing to aconclusion: we must wait for the Second Part it promises: perhaps withamendment it may succeed in winning the full measure of grace that is nowdenied it; and in the mean time do you, senor gossip, keep it shut up in your ownquarters. ""Very good, " said the barber; "and here come three together, the 'Araucana' ofDon Alonso de Ercilla, the 'Austriada' of Juan Rufo, Justice of Cordova, and the'Montserrate' of Christobal de Virues, the Valencian poet. ""These three books, " said the curate, "are the best that have been written inCastilian in heroic verse, and they may compare with the most famous of Italy; letthem be preserved as the richest treasures of poetry that Spain possesses. "The curate was tired and would not look into any more books, and so hedecided that, "contents uncertified, " all the rest should be burned; but just thenthe barber held open one, called "The Tears of Angelica. ""I should have shed tears myself, " said the curate when he heard the title, "had Iordered that book to be burned, for its author was one of the famous poets of theworld, not to say of Spain, and was very happy in the translation of some ofOvid's fables. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER VII. OF THE SECOND SALLY OF OUR WORTHY KNIGHT DON QUIXOTEOF LA MANCHAAt this instant Don Quixote began shouting out, "Here, here, valiant knights!here is need for you to put forth the might of your strong arms, for they of theCourt are gaining the mastery in the tourney!" Called away by this noise andoutcry, they proceeded no farther with the scrutiny of the remaining books, andso it is thought that "The Carolea, " "The Lion of Spain, " and "The Deeds of theEmperor, " written by Don Luis de Avila, went to the fire unseen and unheard; forno doubt they were among those that remained, and perhaps if the curate hadseen them they would not have undergone so severe a sentence. When they reached Don Quixote he was already out of bed, and was stillshouting and raving, and slashing and cutting all round, as wide awake as if hehad never slept. They closed with him and by force got him back to bed, and when he hadbecome a little calm, addressing the curate, he said to him, "Of a truth, SenorArchbishop Turpin, it is a great disgrace for us who call ourselves the TwelvePeers, so carelessly to allow the knights of the Court to gain the victory in thistourney, we the adventurers having carried off the honour on the three formerdays. ""Hush, gossip, " said the curate; "please God, the luck may turn, and what is lostto-day may be won to-morrow; for the present let your worship have a care ofyour health, for it seems to me that you are over-fatigued, if not badly wounded. ""Wounded no, " said Don Quixote, "but bruised and battered no doubt, for thatbastard Don Roland has cudgelled me with the trunk of an oak tree, and all forenvy, because he sees that I alone rival him in his achievements. But I should notcall myself Reinaldos of Montalvan did he not pay me for it in spite of all hisenchantments as soon as I rise from this bed. For the present let them bring mesomething to eat, for that, I feel, is what will be more to my purpose, and leave itto me to avenge myself. "They did as he wished; they gave him something to eat, and once more he fellasleep, leaving them marvelling at his madness. That night the housekeeper burned to ashes all the books that were in the yardand in the whole house; and some must have been consumed that deservedpreservation in everlasting archives, but their fate and the laziness of the examinerdid not permit it, and so in them was verified the proverb that the innocent sufferfor the guilty. One of the remedies which the curate and the barber immediately applied totheir friend's disorder was to wall up and plaster the room where the books were, so that when he got up he should not find them (possibly the cause being removedthe effect might cease), and they might say that a magician had carried them off, room and all; and this was done with all despatch. Two days later Don Quixotegot up, and the first thing he did was to go and look at his books, and not findingthe room where he had left it, he wandered from side to side looking for it. Hecame to the place where the door used to be, and tried it with his hands, andturned and twisted his eyes in every direction without saying a word; but after agood while he asked his housekeeper whereabouts was the room that held hisbooks. The housekeeper, who had been already well instructed in what she was toanswer, said, "What room or what nothing is it that your worship is looking for?There are neither room nor books in this house now, for the devil himself hascarried all away. ""It was not the devil, " said the niece, "but a magician who came on a cloud onenight after the day your worship left this, and dismounting from a serpent that herode he entered the room, and what he did there I know not, but after a littlewhile he made off, flying through the roof, and left the house full of smoke; andwhen we went to see what he had done we saw neither book nor room: but weremember very well, the housekeeper and I, that on leaving, the old villain said ina loud voice that, for a private grudge he owed the owner of the books and theroom, he had done mischief in that house that would be discovered by-and-by: hesaid too that his name was the Sage Munaton. ""He must have said Friston, " said Don Quixote. "I don't know whether he called himself Friston or Friton, " said the housekeeper, "I only know that his name ended with 'ton. '""So it does, " said Don Quixote, "and he is a sage magician, a great enemy ofmine, who has a spite against me because he knows by his arts and lore that inprocess of time I am to engage in single combat with a knight whom he befriendsand that I am to conquer, and he will be unable to prevent it; and for this reasonhe endeavours to do me all the ill turns that he can; but I promise him it will behard for him to oppose or avoid what is decreed by Heaven. ""Who doubts that?" said the niece; "but, uncle, who mixes you up in thesequarrels? Would it not be better to remain at peace in your own house instead ofroaming the world looking for better bread than ever came of wheat, neverreflecting that many go for wool and come back shorn?""Oh, niece of mine, " replied Don Quixote, "how much astray art thou in thyreckoning: ere they shear me I shall have plucked away and stripped off thebeards of all who dare to touch only the tip of a hair of mine. "The two were unwilling to make any further answer, as they saw that his angerwas kindling. In short, then, he remained at home fifteen days very quietly without showingany signs of a desire to take up with his former delusions, and during this time heheld lively discussions with his two gossips, the curate and the barber, on thepoint he maintained, that knights-errant were what the world stood most in needof, and that in him was to be accomplished the revival of knight-errantry. Thecurate sometimes contradicted him, sometimes agreed with him, for if he had notobserved this precaution he would have been unable to bring him to reason. Meanwhile Don Quixote worked upon a farm labourer, a neighbour of his, anhonest man (if indeed that title can be given to him who is poor), but with verylittle wit in his pate. In a word, he so talked him over, and with such persuasionsand promises, that the poor clown made up his mind to sally forth with him andserve him as esquire. Don Quixote, among other things, told him he ought to beready to go with him gladly, because any moment an adventure might occur thatmight win an island

in the twinkling of an eye and leave him governor of it. Onthese and the like promises Sancho Panza (for so the labourer was called) left wifeand children, and engaged himself as esquire to his neighbour. Don Quixote next set about getting some money; and selling one thing andpawning another, and making a bad bargain in every case, he got together a fairsum. He provided himself with a buckler, which he begged as a loan from afriend, and, restoring his battered helmet as best he could, he warned his squireSancho of the day and hour he meant to set out, that he might provide himselfwith what he thought most needful. Above all, he charged him to take alforjaswith him. The other said he would, and that he meant to take also a very good asshe had, as he was not much given to going on foot. About the ass, Don Quixotehesitated a little, trying whether he could call to mind any knight-errant takingwith him an esquire mounted on ass-back, but no instance occurred to hismemory. For all that, however, he determined to take him, intending to furnishhim with a more honourable mount when a chance of it presented itself, byappropriating the horse of the first discourteous knight he encountered. Himselfhe provided with shirts and such other things as he could, according to the advicethe host had given him; all which being done, without taking leave, Sancho Panzaof his wife and children, or Don Quixote of his housekeeper and niece, theysallied forth unseen by anybody from the village one night, and made such goodway in the course of it that by daylight they held themselves safe from discovery, even should search be made for them. Sancho rode on his ass like a patriarch, with his alforjas and bota, and longingto see himself soon governor of the island his master had promised him. DonQuixote decided upon taking the same route and road he had taken on his firstjourney, that over the Campo de Montiel, which he travelled with less discomfortthan on the last occasion, for, as it was early morning and the rays of the sun fellon them obliquely, the heat did not distress them. And now said Sancho Panza to his master, "Your worship will take care, SenorKnight-errant, not to forget about the island you have promised me, for be it everso big I'll be equal to governing it. "To which Don Quixote replied, "Thou must know, friend Sancho Panza, that itwas a practice very much in vogue with the knights-errant of old to make theirsquires governors of the islands or kingdoms they won, and I am determined thatthere shall be no failure on my part in so liberal a custom; on the contrary, I meanto improve upon it, for they sometimes, and perhaps most frequently, waited untiltheir squires were old, and then when they had had enough of service and harddays and worse nights, they gave them some title or other, of count, or at themost marquis, of some valley or province more or less; but if thou livest and Ilive, it may well be that before six days are over, I may have won some kingdomthat has others dependent upon it, which will be just the thing to enable thee tobe crowned king of one of them. Nor needst thou count this wonderful, for thingsand chances fall to the lot of such knights in ways so unexampled and unexpectedthat I might easily give thee even more than I promise thee. ""In that case, " said Sancho Panza, "if I should become a king by one of thosemiracles your worship speaks of, even Juana Gutierrez, my old woman, wouldcome to be queen and my children infantes. ""Well, who doubts it?" said Don Quixote. "I doubt it, " replied Sancho Panza, "because for my part I am persuaded thatthough God should shower down kingdoms upon earth, not one of them would fitthe head of Mari Gutierrez. Let me tell you, senor, she is not worth two maravedisfor a queen; countess will fit her better, and that only with God's help. ""Leave it to God, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote, "for he will give her whatsuits her best; but do not undervalue thyself so much as to come to be contentwith anything less than being governor of a province. ""I will not, senor, " answered Sancho, "specially as I have a man of such qualityfor a master in your worship, who will know how to give me all that will besuitable for me and that I can bear. "CHAPTER VIII. OF THE GOOD FORTUNE WHICH THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTEHAD IN THE TERRIBLE AND UNDREAMT-OF ADVENTURE OF THEWINDMILLS, WITH OTHER OCCURRENCES WORTHY TO BE FITLYRECORDEDAt this point they came in sight of thirty forty windmills that there are on plain, and as soon as Don Quixote saw them he said to his squire, "Fortune is arrangingmatters for us better than we could have shaped our desires ourselves, for lookthere, friend Sancho Panza, where thirty or more monstrous giants presentthemselves, all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay, and with whosespoils we shall begin to make our fortunes; for this is righteous warfare, and it isGod's good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth. ""What giants?" said Sancho Panza. "Those thou seest there, " answered his master, "with the long arms, and somehave them nearly two leagues long. ""Look, your worship, " said Sancho; "what we see there are not giants butwindmills, and what seem to be their arms are the sails that turned by the windmake the millstone go. ""It is easy to see, " replied Don Quixote, "that thou art not used to this businessof adventures; those are giants; and if thou art afraid, away with thee out of thisand betake thyself to prayer while I engage them in fierce and unequal combat. "So saying, he gave the spur to his steed Rocinante, heedless of the cries hissquire Sancho sent after him, warning him that most certainly they werewindmills and not giants he was going to attack. He, however, was so positivethey were giants that he neither heard the cries of Sancho, nor perceived, near ashe was, what they were, but made at them shouting, "Fly not, cowards and vilebeings, for a single knight attacks you. "A slight breeze at this moment sprang up, and the great sails began to move, seeing which Don Quixote exclaimed, "Though ye flourish more arms than thegiant Briareus, ye have to reckon with me. "So saying, and commending himself with all his heart to his lady Dulcinea, imploring her to support him in such a peril, with lance in rest and covered by hisbuckler, he charged at Rocinante's fullest gallop and fell upon the first mill thatstood in front of him; but as he drove his lance-point into the sail the windwhirled it round with such force that it shivered the lance to pieces, sweepingwith it horse and rider, who went rolling over on the plain, in a sorry condition. Sancho hastened to his assistance as fast as his ass could go, and when he cameup found him unable to move, with such a shock had Rocinante fallen with him. "God bless me!" said Sancho, "did I not tell your worship to mind what youwere about, for they were only windmills? and no one could have made anymistake about it but one who had something of the same kind in his head. ""Hush, friend Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "the fortunes of war more than anyother are liable to frequent fluctuations; and moreover I think, and it is the truth, that that same sage Friston who carried off my study and books, has turned thesegiants into mills in order to rob me of the glory of vanquishing them, such is theenmity he bears me; but in the end his wicked arts will avail but little against mygood sword. ""God order it as he may, " said Sancho Panza, and helping him to rise got him upagain on Rocinante, whose shoulder was half out; and then, discussing the lateadventure, they followed the road to Puerto Lapice, for there, said Don Quixote, they could not fail to find adventures in abundance and variety, as it was a greatthoroughfare. For all that, he was much grieved at the loss of his lance, andsaying so to his squire, he added, "I remember having read how a Spanish knight, Diego Perez de Vargas by name, having broken his sword in battle, tore from anoak a ponderous bough or branch, and with it did such things that day, andpounded so many Moors, that he got the surname of Machuca, and he and hisdescendants from that day forth were called Vargas y Machuca. I mention thisbecause from the first oak I see I mean to rend such another branch, large andstout like that, with which I am determined and resolved to do such deeds thatthou mayest deem thyself very fortunate in being found worthy to come and seethem, and be an eyewitness of things that will with difficulty be believed. ""Be that as God will, " said Sancho, "I believe it all as your worship says it; butstraighten yourself a little, for you seem all on one side, may be from the shakingof the fall. ""That is the truth, " said Don Quixote, "and if I make no complaint of the pain itis because knights-errant are not permitted to complain of any wound, eventhough their bowels be coming out through it. ""If so, " said Sancho, "I have nothing to say; but God knows I would rather yourworship complained when anything ailed you. For my part, I confess I mustcomplain however small the ache may be; unless this rule about not complainingextends to the squires of knights-errant also. "Don Quixote could not help laughing at his squire's simplicity, and he assuredhim he might complain whenever and however he chose, just as he liked, for, sofar, he had never read of anything to the contrary in the order of knighthood. Sancho bade him remember it was dinner-time, to which his master answeredthat he wanted nothing himself just then, but that he might eat when he had amind. With this permission Sancho settled himself as comfortably as he could onhis beast, and taking out of the alforjas what he had stowed away in them, hejogged along behind his master munching deliberately, and from time to timetaking a pull at the bota with a relish that the thirstiest tapster in Malaga mighthave envied; and while he went on in this way, gulping down draught afterdraught, he never gave a thought to any of the promises his master had madehim, nor did he rate it as hardship but rather as recreation going in quest ofadventures, however dangerous they might be. Finally they passed the nightamong some trees, from one of which Don Quixote plucked a dry branch to servehim after a fashion as a lance, and fixed on it the head he had removed from thebroken one. All that night Don Quixote lay awake thinking of his lady Dulcinea, in order to conform to what he had read in his books, how many a night in theforests and deserts knights used to lie sleepless supported by the memory of theirmistresses. Not so did Sancho Panza spend it, for having his stomach full ofsomething stronger than chicory water he made but one sleep of it, and, if hismaster had not called him, neither the rays of the sun beating on his face nor allthe cheery notes of the birds welcoming the approach of day would have hadpower to waken him. On getting up he tried the bota and found it somewhat lessfull than the night before, which grieved his heart because they did not seem to beon the way to remedy the deficiency readily. Don Quixote did not care to breakhis fast, for, as has been already said, he confined himself to savoury recollectionsfor nourishment. They returned to the road they had set out with, leading to Puerto Lapice, andat three in the afternoon they came in sight of it. "Here, brother Sancho Panza, "said Don Quixote when he saw it, "we may plunge our hands up to the elbows inwhat they call adventures; but observe, even shouldst thou see me in the greatestdanger in the world, thou must not put a hand to thy sword in my defence, unlessindeed thou perceivest that those who assail me are rabble or base folk; for in thatcase thou mayest very properly aid me; but if they be knights it is on no accountpermitted or allowed thee by the laws of knighthood to help me until thou hastbeen dubbed a knight. ""Most certainly, senor, " replied Sancho, "your worship shall be fully obeyed inthis matter; all the more as of myself I am peaceful and no friend to mixing instrife and quarrels: it is true that as regards the defence of my own person I shallnot give much heed to those laws, for laws human and divine allow each one todefend himself against any assailant whatever. ""That I grant, " said Don Quixote, "but in this matter of aiding me againstknights thou must put a restraint upon thy natural impetuosity. ""I will do so, I promise you, " answered Sancho, "and will keep this precept ascarefully as Sunday. "While they were thus talking there appeared on the road two friars of the orderof St. Benedict, mounted on two dromedaries, for not less tall were the two mulesthey rode on. They wore travelling spectacles and carried sunshades; and behindthem came a coach attended by four or five persons on horseback and twomuleteers on foot. In the coach there was, as afterwards appeared, a Biscay ladyon her way to Seville, where her husband was about to take passage for the Indieswith an appointment of high honour. The friars, though going the same road, werenot in her company; but the moment Don Quixote perceived them he said to hissquire, "Either I am mistaken, or this is going to be the most famous adventurethat has ever been seen, for those black bodies we see there must be, anddoubtless are, magicians who are carrying off some stolen princess in that coach, and with all my might I must undo this wrong. ""This will be worse than the windmills, " said Sancho. "Look, senor; those arefriars of St. Benedict, and the coach plainly belongs to some travellers: I tell youto mind well what you are about and don't let the devil mislead you. ""I have told thee already, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "that on the subject ofadventures thou knowest little. What I say is the truth, as thou shalt seepresently. "So saying, he advanced and posted himself in the middle of the road alongwhich the friars were coming, and as soon as he thought they had come nearenough to hear what he said, he cried aloud, "Devilish and unnatural beings, release instantly the highborn princesses whom you are carrying off by force inthis coach, else prepare to meet a speedy death as the just punishment of yourevil deeds. "The friars drew rein and stood wondering at the appearance of Don Quixote aswell as at his words, to which they replied, "Senor Caballero, we are not devilishor unnatural, but two brothers of St. Benedict following our road, nor do we knowwhether or not there are any captive princesses coming in this coach. ""No soft words with me, for I know you, lying rabble, " said Don Quixote, andwithout waiting for a reply he spurred Rocinante and with levelled lance chargedthe first friar with such fury and determination, that, if the friar had not flunghimself off the mule, he would have brought him to the ground against his will, and sore wounded, if not killed outright. The second brother, seeing how hiscomrade was treated, drove his heels into his castle of a mule and made off acrossthe country faster than the wind. Sancho Panza, when he saw the friar on the ground, dismounting briskly fromhis ass, rushed towards him and began to strip off his gown. At that instant thefriars muleteers came up and asked what he was stripping him for. Sanchoanswered them that this fell to him lawfully as spoil of the battle which his lordDon Quixote had won. The muleteers, who had no idea of a joke and did notunderstand all this about battles and spoils, seeing that Don Quixote was somedistance off talking to the travellers in the coach, fell upon Sancho, knocked himdown, and leaving hardly a hair in his beard, belaboured him with kicks and lefthim stretched breathless and senseless on the ground; and without any more delayhelped the friar to mount, who, trembling, terrified, and pale, as soon as he foundhimself in the saddle, spurred after his companion, who was standing at adistance looking on, watching the result of the onslaught; then, not caring to waitfor the end of the affair just begun, they pursued their journey making morecrosses than if they had the devil after them. Don Quixote was, as has been said, speaking to the lady in the coach: "Yourbeauty, lady mine, " said he, "may now dispose of your person as may be most inaccordance with your pleasure, for the pride of your ravishers lies prostrate on theground through this strong arm of mine; and lest you should be pining to knowthe name of your deliverer, know that I am called Don Quixote of La Mancha, knight-errant and adventurer, and captive to the peerless and beautiful ladyDulcinea del Toboso: and in return for the service you have received of me I askno more than that you should return to El Toboso, and on my behalf presentyourself before that lady and tell her what I have done to set you free. "One of the squires in attendance upon the coach, a Biscayan, was listening toall Don Quixote was saying, and, perceiving that he would not allow the coach togo on, but was saying it must return at once to El Toboso, he made at him, andseizing his lance addressed him in bad Castilian and worse Biscayan after hisfashion, "Begone, caballero, and ill go with thee; by the God that made me, unlessthou quittest coach, slayest thee as art here a Biscayan. "Don Quixote understood him quite well, and answered him very quietly, "Ifthou wert a knight, as thou art none, I should have already chastised thy folly andrashness, miserable creature. " To which the Biscayan returned, "I no gentleman!--I swear to God thou liest as I am Christian: if thou droppest lance and drawestsword, soon shalt thou see thou art carrying water to the cat: Biscayan on land, hidalgo at sea, hidalgo at the devil, and look, if thou sayest otherwise thou liest. ""'"You will see presently, " said Agrajes, '" replied Don Quixote; and throwing hislance on the ground he drew his sword, braced his buckler on his arm, andattacked the Biscayan, bent upon taking his life. The Biscayan, when he saw him coming on, though he wished to dismount fromhis mule, in which, being one of those sorry ones let out for hire, he had noconfidence, had no choice but to draw his sword; it was lucky for him, however, that he was near the coach, from which he was able to snatch a cushion thatserved him for a shield; and they went at one another as if they had been twomortal enemies. The others strove to make peace between them, but could not, forthe Biscayan declared in his disjointed phrase that if they did not let him finishhis battle he would kill his mistress and everyone that strove to prevent him. Thelady in the coach, amazed and terrified at what she saw, ordered the coachman todraw aside a little, and set herself to watch this severe struggle, in the course ofwhich the Biscayan smote Don Quixote a mighty stroke on the shoulder over thetop of his buckler, which, given to one without armour, would have cleft him tothe waist. Don Quixote, feeling the weight of this prodigious blow, cried aloud, saying, "O lady of my soul, Dulcinea, flower of beauty, come to the aid of thisyour knight, who, in fulfilling his obligations to your beauty, finds himself in thisextreme peril. " To say this, to lift his sword, to shelter himself well behind hisbuckler, and to assail the Biscayan was the work of an instant, determined as hewas to venture all upon a single blow. The Biscayan, seeing him come on in thisway, was convinced of his courage by his spirited bearing, and resolved to followhis example, so he waited for him keeping well under cover of his cushion, beingunable to execute any sort of manoeuvre with his mule, which, dead tired andnever meant for this kind of game, could not stir a step. On, then, as aforesaid, came Don Quixote against the wary Biscayan, withuplifted sword and a firm intention of splitting him in half, while on his side theBiscayan waited for him sword in hand, and under the protection of his cushion;and all present stood trembling, waiting in suspense the result of blows such asthreatened to fall, and the lady in the coach and the rest of her following weremaking a thousand vows and offerings to all the images and shrines of Spain, thatGod might deliver her squire and all of them from this great peril in which theyfound themselves. But it spoils all, that at this point and crisis the author of thehistory leaves this battle impending, giving as excuse that he could find nothingmore written about these achievements of Don Quixote than what has beenalready set forth. It is true the second author of this work was unwilling to believethat a history so curious could have been allowed to fall under the sentence ofoblivion, or that the wits of La Mancha could have been so undiscerning as not topreserve in their archives or registries some documents referring to this famousknight; and this being his persuasion, he did not despair of finding the conclusionof this pleasant history, which, heaven favouring him, he did find in a way thatshall be related in the Second Part. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 4. Chapters 9-13EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER IX. IN WHICH IS CONCLUDED AND FINISHED THE TERRIFIC BATTLEBETWEEN THE GALLANT BISCAYAN AND THE VALIANTMANCHEGANIn the First Part of this history we left the valiant Biscayan and the renownedDon Quixote with drawn swords uplifted, ready to deliver two such furiousslashing blows that if they had fallen full and fair they would at least have splitand cleft them asunder from top to toe and laid them open like a pomegranate;and at this so critical point the delightful history came to a stop and stood cutshort without any intimation from the author where what was missing was to befound. This distressed me greatly, because the pleasure derived from having read sucha small portion turned to vexation at the thought of the poor chance thatpresented itself of finding the large part that, so it seemed to me, was missing ofsuch an interesting tale. It appeared to me to be a thing impossible and contraryto all precedent that so good a knight should have been without some sage toundertake the task of writing his marvellous achievements; a thing that was neverwanting to any of those knights-errant who, they say, went after adventures; forevery one of them had one or two sages as if made on purpose, who not onlyrecorded their deeds but described their most trifling thoughts and follies, however secret they might be; and such a good knight could not have been sounfortunate as not to have what Platir and others like him had in abundance. Andso I could not bring myself to believe that such a gallant tale had been leftmaimed and mutilated, and I laid the blame on Time, the devourer and destroyerof all things, that had either concealed or consumed it. On the other hand, it struck me that, inasmuch as among his books there hadbeen found such modern ones as "The Enlightenment of Jealousy" and the"Nymphs and Shepherds of Henares, " his story must likewise be modern, and thatthough it might not be written, it might exist in the memory of the people of hisvillage and of those in the neighbourhood. This reflection kept me perplexed andlonging to know really and truly the whole life and wondrous deeds of our famousSpaniard, Don Quixote of La Mancha, light and mirror of Manchegan chivalry, and the first that in our age and in these so evil days devoted himself to thelabour and exercise of the arms of knight-errantry, righting wrongs, succouringwidows, and protecting damsels of that sort that used to ride about, whip inhand, on their palfreys, with all their virginity about them, from mountain tomountain and valley to valley--for, if it were not for some ruffian, or boor with ahood and hatchet, or monstrous giant, that forced them, there were in days ofyore damsels that at the end of eighty years, in all which time they had neverslept a day under a roof, went to their graves as much maids as the mothers thatbore them. I say, then, that in these and other respects our gallant Don Quixote isworthy of everlasting and notable praise, nor should it be withheld even from mefor the labour and pains spent in searching for the conclusion of this delightfulhistory; though I know well that if Heaven, chance and good fortune had nothelped me, the world would have remained deprived of an entertainment andpleasure that for a couple of hours or so may well occupy him who shall read itattentively. The discovery of it occurred in this way. One day, as I was in the Alcana of Toledo, a boy came up to sell somepamphlets and old papers to a silk mercer, and, as I am fond of reading even thevery scraps of paper in the streets, led by this natural bent of mine I took up oneof the pamphlets the boy had for sale, and saw that it was in characters which Irecognised as Arabic, and as I was unable to read them though I could recognisethem, I looked about to see if there were any Spanish-speaking Morisco at hand toread them for me; nor was there any great difficulty in finding such an interpreter, for even had I sought one for an older and better language I should have foundhim. In short, chance provided me with one, who when I told him what I wantedand put the book into his hands, opened it in the middle and after reading a littlein it began to laugh. I asked him what he was laughing at, and he replied that itwas at something the book had written in the margin by way of a note. I bade himtell it to me; and he still laughing said, "In the margin, as I told you, this iswritten: 'This Dulcinea del Toboso so often mentioned in this history, had, theysay, the best hand of any woman in all La Mancha for salting pigs. '"When I heard Dulcinea del Toboso named, I was struck with surprise andamazement, for it occurred to me at once that these pamphlets contained thehistory of Don Quixote. With this idea I pressed him to read the beginning, anddoing so, turning the Arabic offhand into Castilian, he told me it meant, "Historyof Don Quixote of La Mancha, written by Cide Hamete Benengeli, an Arabhistorian. " It required great caution to hide the joy I felt when the title of the bookreached my ears, and snatching it from the silk mercer, I bought all the papersand pamphlets from the boy for half a real; and if he had had his wits about himand had known how eager I was for them, he might have safely calculated onmaking more than six reals by the bargain. I withdrew at once with the Moriscointo the cloister of the cathedral, and begged him to turn all these pamphlets thatrelated to Don Quixote into the Castilian tongue, without omitting or addinganything to them, offering him whatever payment he pleased. He was satisfiedwith two arrobas of raisins and two bushels of wheat, and promised to translatethem faithfully and with all despatch; but to make the matter easier, and not tolet such a precious find out of my hands, I took him to my house, where in littlemore than a month and a half he translated the whole just as it is set down here. In the first pamphlet the battle between Don Quixote and the Biscayan wasdrawn to the very life, they planted in the same attitude as the history describes, their swords raised, and the one protected by his buckler, the other by hiscushion, and the Biscayan's mule so true to nature that it could be seen to be ahired one a bowshot off. The Biscayan had an inscription under his feet whichsaid, "Don Sancho de Azpeitia, " which no doubt must have been his name; and atthe feet of Rocinante was another that said, "Don Quixote. " Rocinante wasmarvellously portrayed, so long and thin, so lank and lean, with so muchbackbone and so far gone in consumption, that he showed plainly with whatjudgment and propriety the name of Rocinante had been bestowed upon him. Near him was Sancho Panza holding the halter of his ass, at whose feet wasanother label that said, "Sancho Zancas, " and according to the picture, he musthave had a big belly, a short body, and long shanks, for which reason, no doubt, the names of Panza and Zancas were given him, for by these two surnames thehistory several times calls him. Some other trifling particulars might bementioned, but they are all of slight importance and have nothing to do with thetrue relation of the history; and no history can be bad so long as it is true. If against the present one any objection be raised on the score of its truth, it canonly be that its author was an Arab, as lying is a very common propensity withthose of that nation; though, as they are such enemies of ours, it is conceivablethat there were omissions rather than additions made in the course of it. And thisis my own opinion; for, where he could and should give freedom to his pen inpraise of so worthy a knight, he seems to me deliberately to pass it over insilence; which is ill done and worse contrived, for it is the business and duty ofhistorians to be exact, truthful, and wholly free from passion, and neither interestnor fear, hatred nor love, should make them swerve from the path of truth, whosemother is history, rival of time, storehouse of deeds, witness for the past, exampleand counsel for the present, and warning for the future. In this I know will befound all that can be desired in the pleasantest, and if it be wanting in any goodquality, I maintain it is the fault of its hound of an author and not the fault of thesubject. To be brief, its Second Part, according to the translation, began in thisway:With trenchant swords upraised and poised on high, it seemed as though thetwo valiant and wrathful combatants stood threatening heaven, and earth, andhell, with such resolution and determination did they bear themselves. The fieryBiscayan was the first to strike a blow, which was delivered with such force andfury that had not the sword turned in its course, that single stroke would havesufficed to put an end to the bitter struggle and to all the adventures of ourknight; but that good fortune which reserved him for greater things, turned asidethe sword of his adversary, so that although it smote him upon the left shoulder, it did him no more harm than to strip all that side of its armour, carrying away agreat part of his helmet with half of his ear, all which with fearful ruin fell to theground, leaving him in a sorry plight. Good God! Who is there that could properly describe the rage that filled theheart of our Manchegan when he saw himself dealt with in this fashion? All thatcan be said is, it was such that he again raised himself in his stirrups, and, grasping his sword more firmly with both hands, he came down on the Biscayanwith such fury, smiting him full over the cushion and over the head, that--even sogood a shield proving useless--as if a mountain had fallen on him, he began tobleed from nose, mouth, and ears, reeling as if about to fall backwards from hismule, as no doubt he would have done had he not flung his arms about its neck;at the same time, however, he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and thenunclasped his arms, and the mule, taking fright at the terrible blow, made offacross the plain, and with a few plunges flung its master to the ground. DonQuixote stood looking on very calmly, and, when he saw him fall, leaped from hishorse and with great briskness ran to him, and, presenting the point of his swordto his eyes, bade him surrender, or he would cut his head off. The Biscayan wasso bewildered that he was unable to answer a word, and it would have gone hardwith him, so blind was Don Quixote, had not the ladies in the coach, who hadhitherto been watching the combat in great terror, hastened to where he stood andimplored him with earnest entreaties to grant them the great grace and favour ofsparing their squire's life; to which Don Quixote replied with much gravity anddignity, "In truth, fair ladies, I am well content to do what ye ask of me; but itmust be on one condition and understanding, which is that this knight promiseme to go to the village of El Toboso, and on my behalf present himself before thepeerless lady Dulcinea, that she deal with him as shall be most pleasing to her. "The terrified and disconsolate ladies, without discussing Don Quixote's demandor asking who Dulcinea might be, promised that their squire should do all thathad been commanded. "Then, on the faith of that promise, " said Don Quixote, "I shall do him nofurther harm, though he well deserves it of me. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER X. OF THE PLEASANT DISCOURSE THAT PASSED BETWEEN DONQUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZANow by this time Sancho had risen, rather the worse for the handling of thefriars' muleteers, and stood watching the battle of his master, Don Quixote, andpraying to God in his heart that it might be his will to grant him the victory, andthat he might thereby win some island to make him governor of, as he hadpromised. Seeing, therefore, that the struggle was now over, and that his masterwas returning to mount Rocinante, he approached to hold the stirrup for him, and, before he could mount, he went on his knees before him, and taking hishand, kissed it saying, "May it please your worship, Senor Don Quixote, to giveme the government of that island which has been won in this hard fight, for be itever so big I feel myself in sufficient force to be able to govern it as much and aswell as anyone in the world who has ever governed islands. "To which Don Quixote replied, "Thou must take notice, brother Sancho, thatthis adventure and those like it are not adventures of islands, but of cross-roads, in which nothing is got except a broken head or an ear the less: have patience, foradventures will present themselves from which I may make you, not only agovernor, but something more. "Sancho gave him many thanks, and again kissing his hand and the skirt of hishauberk, helped him to mount Rocinante, and mounting his ass himself, proceeded to follow his master, who at a brisk pace, without taking leave, orsaying anything further to the ladies belonging to the coach, turned into a woodthat was hard by. Sancho followed him at his ass's best trot, but Rocinantestepped out so that, seeing himself left behind, he was forced to call to his masterto wait for him. Don Quixote did so, reining in Rocinante until his weary squirecame up, who on reaching him said, "It seems to me, senor, it would be prudentin us to go and take refuge in some church, for, seeing how mauled he with whomyou fought has been left, it will be no wonder if they give information of the affairto the Holy Brotherhood and arrest us, and, faith, if they do, before we come outof gaol we shall have to sweat for it. ""Peace, " said Don Quixote; "where hast thou ever seen or heard that a knight-errant has been arraigned before a court of justice, however many homicides hemay have committed?""I know nothing about omecils, " answered Sancho, "nor in my life have hadanything to do with one; I only know that the Holy Brotherhood looks after thosewho fight in the fields, and in that other matter I do not meddle. ""Then thou needst have no uneasiness, my friend, " said Don Quixote, "for I willdeliver thee out of the hands of the Chaldeans, much more out of those of theBrotherhood. But tell me, as thou livest, hast thou seen a more valiant knight thanI in all the known world; hast thou read in history of any who has or had highermettle in attack, more spirit in maintaining it, more dexterity in wounding or skillin overthrowing?""The truth is, " answered Sancho, "that I have never read any history, for I canneither read nor write, but what I will venture to bet is that a more daring masterthan your worship I have never served in all the days of my life, and God grantthat this daring be not paid for where I have said; what I beg of your worship is todress your wound, for a great deal of blood flows from that ear, and I have heresome lint and a little white ointment in the alforjas. ""All that might be well dispensed with, " said Don Quixote, "if I had rememberedto make a vial of the balsam of Fierabras, for time and medicine are saved by onesingle drop. ""What vial and what balsam is that?" said Sancho Panza. "It is a balsam, " answered Don Quixote, "the receipt of which I have in mymemory, with which one need have no fear of death, or dread dying of anywound; and so when I make it and give it to thee thou hast nothing to do when insome battle thou seest they have cut me in half through the middle of the body--as is wont to happen frequently, --but neatly and with great nicety, ere the bloodcongeal, to place that portion of the body which shall have fallen to the groundupon the other half which remains in the saddle, taking care to fit it on evenlyand exactly. Then thou shalt give me to drink but two drops of the balsam I havementioned, and thou shalt see me become sounder than an apple. ""If that be so, " said Panza, "I renounce henceforth the government of thepromised island, and desire nothing more in payment of my many and faithfulservices than that your worship give me the receipt of this supreme liquor, for Iam persuaded it will be worth more than two reals an ounce anywhere, and Iwant no more to pass the rest of my life in ease and honour; but it remains to betold if it costs much to make it. ""With less than three reals, six quarts of it may be made, " said Don Quixote. "Sinner that I am!" said Sancho, "then why does your worship put off making itand teaching it to me?""Peace, friend, " answered Don Quixote; "greater secrets I mean to teach theeand greater favours to bestow upon thee; and for the present let us see to thedressing, for my ear pains me more than I could wish. "Sancho took out some lint and ointment from the alforjas; but when DonQuixote came to see his helmet shattered, he was like to lose his senses, andclapping his hand upon his sword and raising his eyes to heaven, be said, "I swearby the Creator of all things and the four Gospels in their fullest extent, to do asthe great Marquis of Mantua did when he swore to avenge the death of hisnephew Baldwin (and that was not to eat bread from a table-cloth, nor embracehis wife, and other points which, though I cannot now call them to mind, I heregrant as expressed) until I take complete vengeance upon him who has committedsuch an offence against me. "Hearing this, Sancho said to him, "Your worship should bear in mind, SenorDon Quixote, that if the knight has done what was commanded him in going topresent himself before my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he will have done all that hewas bound to do, and does not deserve further punishment unless he commitssome new offence. ""Thou hast said well and hit the point, " answered Don Quixote; and so I recallthe oath in so far as relates to taking fresh vengeance on him, but I make andconfirm it anew to lead the life I have said until such time as I take by force fromsome knight another helmet such as this and as good; and think not, Sancho, thatI am raising smoke with straw in doing so, for I have one to imitate in the matter, since the very same thing to a hair happened in the case of Mambrino's helmet, which cost Sacripante so dear. ""Senor, " replied Sancho, "let your worship send all such oaths to the devil, forthey are very pernicious to salvation and prejudicial to the conscience; just tell menow, if for several days to come we fall in with no man armed with a helmet, what are we to do? Is the oath to be observed in spite of all the inconvenience anddiscomfort it will be to sleep in your clothes, and not to sleep in a house, and athousand other mortifications contained in the oath of that old fool the Marquis ofMantua, which your worship is now wanting to revive? Let your worship observethat there are no men in armour travelling on any of these roads, nothing butcarriers and carters, who not only do not wear helmets, but perhaps never heardtell of them all their lives. ""Thou art wrong there, " said Don Quixote, "for we shall not have been abovetwo hours among these cross-roads before we see more men in armour than cameto Albraca to win the fair Angelica. ""Enough, " said Sancho; "so be it then, and God grant us success, and that thetime for winning that island which is costing me so dear may soon come, and thenlet me die. ""I have already told thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "not to give thyself anyuneasiness on that score; for if an island should fail, there is the kingdom ofDenmark, or of Sobradisa, which will fit thee as a ring fits the finger, and all themore that, being on terra firma, thou wilt all the better enjoy thyself. But let usleave that to its own time; see if thou hast anything for us to eat in those alforjas, because we must presently go in quest of some castle where we may lodge to-night and make the balsam I told thee of, for I swear to thee by God, this ear isgiving me great pain. ""I have here an onion and a little cheese and a few scraps of bread, "

saidSancho, "but they are not victuals fit for a valiant knight like your worship. ""How little thou knowest about it, " answered Don Quixote; "I would have theeto know, Sancho, that it is the glory of knights-errant to go without eating for amonth, and even when they do eat, that it should be of what comes first to hand;and this would have been clear to thee hadst thou read as many histories as Ihave, for, though they are very many, among them all I have found no mentionmade of knights-errant eating, unless by accident or at some sumptuous banquetsprepared for them, and the rest of the time they passed in dalliance. And thoughit is plain they could not do without eating and performing all the other naturalfunctions, because, in fact, they were men like ourselves, it is plain too that, wandering as they did the most part of their lives through woods and wilds andwithout a cook, their most usual fare would be rustic viands such as those thounow offer me; so that, friend Sancho, let not that distress thee which pleases me, and do not seek to make a new world or pervert knight-errantry. ""Pardon me, your worship, " said Sancho, "for, as I cannot read or write, as Isaid just now, I neither know nor comprehend the rules of the profession ofchivalry: henceforward I will stock the alforjas with every kind of dry fruit foryour worship, as you are a knight; and for myself, as I am not one, I will furnishthem with poultry and other things more substantial. ""I do not say, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "that it is imperative on knights-errant not to eat anything else but the fruits thou speakest of; only that their moreusual diet must be those, and certain herbs they found in the fields which theyknew and I know too. ""A good thing it is, " answered Sancho, "to know those herbs, for to my thinkingit will be needful some day to put that knowledge into practice. "And here taking out what he said he had brought, the pair made their repastpeaceably and sociably. But anxious to find quarters for the night, they with alldespatch made an end of their poor dry fare, mounted at once, and made haste toreach some habitation before night set in; but daylight and the hope of succeedingin their object failed them close by the huts of some goatherds, so theydetermined to pass the night there, and it was as much to Sancho's discontent notto have reached a house, as it was to his master's satisfaction to sleep under theopen heaven, for he fancied that each time this happened to him he performed anact of ownership that helped to prove his chivalry. CHAPTER XI. WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH CERTAIN GOATHERDSHe was cordially welcomed by the goatherds, and Sancho, having as best hecould put up Rocinante and the ass, drew towards the fragrance that came fromsome pieces of salted goat simmering in a pot on the fire; and though he wouldhave liked at once to try if they were ready to be transferred from the pot to thestomach, he refrained from doing so as the goatherds removed them from the fire, and laying sheepskins on the ground, quickly spread their rude table, and withsigns of hearty good-will invited them both to share what they had. Round theskins six of the men belonging to the fold seated themselves, having first withrough politeness pressed Don Quixote to take a seat upon a trough which theyplaced for him upside down. Don Quixote seated himself, and Sancho remainedstanding to serve the cup, which was made of horn. Seeing him standing, hismaster said to him:"That thou mayest see, Sancho, the good that knight-errantry contains in itself, and how those who fill any office in it are on the high road to be speedilyhonoured and esteemed by the world, I desire that thou seat thyself here at myside and in the company of these worthy people, and that thou be one with mewho am thy master and natural lord, and that thou eat from my plate and drinkfrom whatever I drink from; for the same may be said of knight-errantry as oflove, that it levels all. ""Great thanks, " said Sancho, "but I may tell your worship that provided I haveenough to eat, I can eat it as well, or better, standing, and by myself, than seatedalongside of an emperor. And indeed, if the truth is to be told, what I eat in mycorner without form or fuss has much more relish for me, even though it be breadand onions, than the turkeys of those other tables where I am forced to chewslowly, drink little, wipe my mouth every minute, and cannot sneeze or cough if Iwant or do other things that are the privileges of liberty and solitude. So, senor, as for these honours which your worship would put upon me as a servant andfollower of knight-errantry, exchange them for other things which may be of moreuse and advantage to me; for these, though I fully acknowledge them as received, I renounce from this moment to the end of the world. ""For all that, " said Don Quixote, "thou must seat thyself, because him whohumbleth himself God exalteth;" and seizing him by the arm he forced him to sitdown beside himself. The goatherds did not understand this jargon about squires and knights-errant, and all they did was to eat in silence and stare at their guests, who with greatelegance and appetite were stowing away pieces as big as one's fist. The course ofmeat finished, they spread upon the sheepskins a great heap of parched acorns, and with them they put down a half cheese harder than if it had been made ofmortar. All this while the horn was not idle, for it went round so constantly, nowfull, now empty, like the bucket of a water-wheel, that it soon drained one of thetwo wine-skins that were in sight. When Don Quixote had quite appeased hisappetite he took up a handful of the acorns, and contemplating them attentivelydelivered himself somewhat in this fashion:"Happy the age, happy the time, to which the ancients gave the name of golden, not because in that fortunate age the gold so coveted in this our iron one wasgained without toil, but because they that lived in it knew not the two words"mine" and "thine"! In that blessed age all things were in common; to win the dailyfood no labour was required of any save to stretch forth his hand and gather itfrom the sturdy oaks that stood generously inviting him with their sweet ripefruit. The clear streams and running brooks yielded their savoury limpid waters innoble abundance. The busy and sagacious bees fixed their republic in the clefts ofthe rocks and hollows of the trees, offering without usance the plenteous produceof their fragrant toil to every hand. The mighty cork trees, unenforced save oftheir own courtesy, shed the broad light bark that served at first to roof thehouses supported by rude stakes, a protection against the inclemency of heavenalone. Then all was peace, all friendship, all concord; as yet the dull share of thecrooked plough had not dared to rend and pierce the tender bowels of our firstmother that without compulsion yielded from every portion of her broad fertilebosom all that could satisfy, sustain, and delight the children that then possessedher. Then was it that the innocent and fair young shepherdess roamed from valeto vale and hill to hill, with flowing locks, and no more garments than wereneedful modestly to cover what modesty seeks and ever sought to hide. Nor weretheir ornaments like those in use to-day, set off by Tyrian purple, and silktortured in endless fashions, but the wreathed leaves of the green dock and ivy, wherewith they went as bravely and becomingly decked as our Court dames withall the rare and far-fetched artifices that idle curiosity has taught them. Then thelove-thoughts of the heart clothed themselves simply and naturally as the heartconceived them, nor sought to commend themselves by forced and ramblingverbiage. Fraud, deceit, or malice had then not yet mingled with truth andsincerity. Justice held her ground, undisturbed and unassailed by the efforts offavour and of interest, that now so much impair, pervert, and beset her. Arbitrarylaw had not yet established itself in the mind of the judge, for then there was nocause to judge and no one to be judged. Maidens and modesty, as I have said, wandered at will alone and unattended, without fear of insult from lawlessness orlibertine assault, and if they were undone it was of their own will and pleasure. But now in this hateful age of ours not one is safe, not though some new labyrinthlike that of Crete conceal and surround her; even there the pestilence of gallantrywill make its way to them through chinks or on the air by the zeal of its accursedimportunity, and, despite of all seclusion, lead them to ruin. In defence of these, as time advanced and wickedness increased, the order of knights-errant wasinstituted, to defend maidens, to protect widows and to succour the orphans andthe needy. To this order I belong, brother goatherds, to whom I return thanks forthe hospitality and kindly welcome ye offer me and my squire; for though bynatural law all living are bound to show favour to knights-errant, yet, seeing thatwithout knowing this obligation ye have welcomed and feasted me, it is right thatwith all the good-will in my power I should thank you for yours. "All this long harangue (which might very well have been spared) our knightdelivered because the acorns they gave him reminded him of the golden age; andthe whim seized him to address all this unnecessary argument to the goatherds, who listened to him gaping in amazement without saying a word in reply. Sancholikewise held his peace and ate acorns, and paid repeated visits to the secondwine-skin, which they had hung up on a cork tree to keep the wine cool. Don Quixote was longer in talking than the supper in finishing, at the end ofwhich one of the goatherds said, "That your worship, senor knight-errant, may saywith more truth that we show you hospitality with ready good-will, we will giveyou amusement and pleasure by making one of our comrades sing: he will be herebefore long, and he is a very intelligent youth and deep in love, and what is morehe can read and write and play on the rebeck to perfection. "The goatherd had hardly done speaking, when the notes of the rebeck reachedtheir ears; and shortly after, the player came up, a very good-looking young manof about two-and-twenty. His comrades asked him if he had supped, and on hisreplying that he had, he who had already made the offer said to him:"In that case, Antonio, thou mayest as well do us the pleasure of singing a little, that the gentleman, our guest, may see that even in the mountains and woodsthere are musicians: we have told him of thy accomplishments, and we want theeto show them and prove that we say true; so, as thou livest, pray sit down andsing that ballad about thy love that thy uncle the prebendary made thee, and thatwas so much liked in the town. ""With all my heart, " said the young man, and without waiting for more pressinghe seated himself on the trunk of a felled oak, and tuning his rebeck, presentlybegan to sing to these words. ANTONIO'S BALLADThou dost love me well, Olalla;Well I know it, even thoughLove's mute tongues, thine eyes, have neverBy their glances told me so. For I know my love thou knowest, Therefore thine to claim I dare:Once it ceases to be secret, Love need never feel despair. True it is, Olalla, sometimesThou hast all too plainly shownThat thy heart is brass in hardness, And thy snowy bosom stone. Yet for all that, in thy coyness, And thy fickle fits between, Hope is there--at least the borderOf her garment may be seen. Lures to faith are they, those glimpses, And to faith in thee I hold;Kindness cannot make it stronger, Coldness cannot make it cold. If it be that love is gentle, In thy gentleness I seeSomething holding out assuranceTo the hope of winning thee. If it be that in devotionLies a power hearts to move, That which every day I show thee, Helpful to my suit should prove. Many a time thou must have noticed--If to notice thou dost care--How I go about on MondayDressed in all my Sunday wear. Love's eyes love to look on brightness;Love loves what is gaily drest;Sunday, Monday, all I care isThou shouldst see me in my best. No account I make of dances, Or of strains that pleased thee so, Keeping thee awake from midnightTill the cocks began to crow;Or of how I roundly swore itThat there's none so fair as thou;True it is, but as I said it, By the girls I'm hated now. For Teresa of the hillsideAt my praise of thee was sore;Said, "You think you love an angel;It's a monkey you adore;"Caught by all her glittering trinkets, And her borrowed braids of hair, And a host of made-up beautiesThat would Love himself ensnare. "'T was a lie, and so I told her, And her cousin at the wordGave me his defiance for it;And what followed thou hast heard. Mine is no high-flown affection, Mine no passion par amours--As they call it--what I offerIs an honest love, and pure. Cunning cords the holy Church has, Cords of softest silk they be;Put thy neck beneath the yoke, dear;Mine will follow, thou wilt see. Else--and once for all I swear itBy the saint of most renown--If I ever quit the mountains, 'T will be in a friar's gown. Here the goatherd brought his song to an end, and though Don Quixoteentreated him to sing more, Sancho had no mind that way, being more inclinedfor sleep than for listening to songs; so said he to his master, "Your worship willdo well to settle at once where you mean to pass the night, for the labour thesegood men are at all day does not allow them to spend the night in singing. ""I understand thee, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote; "I perceive clearly that thosevisits to the wine-skin demand compensation in sleep rather than in music. ""It's sweet to us all, blessed be God, " said Sancho. "I do not deny it, " replied Don Quixote; "but settle thyself where thou wilt;those of my calling are more becomingly employed in watching than in sleeping;still it would be as well if thou wert to dress this ear for me again, for it is givingme more pain than it need. "Sancho did as he bade him, but one of the goatherds, seeing the wound, toldhim not to be uneasy, as he would apply a remedy with which it would be soonhealed; and gathering some leaves of rosemary, of which there was a greatquantity there, he chewed them and mixed them with a little salt, and applyingthem to the ear he secured them firmly with a bandage, assuring him that noother treatment would be required, and so it proved. CHAPTER XII. OF WHAT A GOATHERD RELATED TO THOSE WITH DONQUIXOTEJust then another young man, one of those who fetched their provisions fromthe village, came up and said, "Do you know what is going on in the village, comrades?""How could we know it?" replied one of them. "Well, then, you must know, " continued the young man, "this morning thatfamous student-shepherd called Chrysostom died, and it is rumoured that he diedof love for that devil of a village girl the daughter of Guillermo the Rich, she thatwanders about the wolds here in the dress of a shepherdess. ""You mean Marcela?" said one. "Her I mean, " answered the goatherd; "and the best of it is, he has directed inhis will that he is to be buried in the fields like a Moor, and at the foot of the rockwhere the Cork-tree spring is, because, as the story goes (and they say he himselfsaid so), that was the place where he first saw her. And he has also left otherdirections which the clergy of the village say should not and must not be obeyedbecause they savour of paganism. To all which his great friend Ambrosio thestudent, he who, like him, also went dressed as a shepherd, replies thateverything must be done without any omission according to the directions left byChrysostom, and about this the village is all in commotion; however, report saysthat, after all, what Ambrosio and all the shepherds his friends desire will bedone, and to-morrow they are coming to bury him with great ceremony where Isaid. I am sure it will be something worth seeing; at least I will not fail to go andsee it even if I knew I should not return to the village tomorrow. ""We will do the same, " answered the goatherds, "and cast lots to see who muststay to mind the goats of all. ""Thou sayest well, Pedro, " said one, "though there will be no need of taking thattrouble, for I will stay behind for all; and don't suppose it is virtue or want ofcuriosity in me; it is that the splinter that ran into my foot the other day will notlet me walk. ""For all that, we thank thee, " answered Pedro. Don Quixote asked Pedro to tell him who the dead man was and who theshepherdess, to which Pedro replied that all he knew was that the dead man wasa wealthy gentleman belonging to a village in those mountains, who had been astudent at Salamanca for many years, at the end of which he returned to hisvillage with the reputation of being very learned and deeply read. "Above all, theysaid, he was learned in the science of the stars and of what went on yonder in theheavens and the sun and the moon, for he told us of the cris of the sun and moonto exact time. ""Eclipse it is called, friend, not cris, the darkening of those two luminaries, " saidDon Quixote; but Pedro, not troubling himself with trifles, went on with his story, saying, "Also he foretold when the year was going to be one of abundance orestility. ""Sterility, you mean, " said Don Quixote. "Sterility or estility, " answered Pedro, "it is all the same in the end. And I cantell you that by this his father and friends who believed him grew very richbecause they did as he advised them, bidding them 'sow barley this year, notwheat; this year you may sow pulse and not barley; the next there will be a full oilcrop, and the three following not a drop will be got. '""That science is called astrology, " said Don Quixote. "I do not know what it is called, " replied Pedro, "but I know that he knew allthis and more besides. But, to make an end, not many months had passed after hereturned from Salamanca, when one day he appeared dressed as a shepherd withhis crook and sheepskin, having put off the long gown he wore as a scholar; andat the same time his great friend, Ambrosio by name, who had been hiscompanion in his studies, took to the shepherd's dress with him. I forgot to saythat Chrysostom, who is dead, was a great man for writing verses, so much sothat he made carols for Christmas Eve, and plays for Corpus Christi, which theyoung men of our village acted, and all said they were excellent. When thevillagers saw the two scholars so unexpectedly appearing in shepherd's dress, theywere lost in wonder, and could not guess what had led them to make soextraordinary a change. About this time the father of our Chrysostom died, and hewas left heir to a large amount of property in chattels as well as in land, no smallnumber of cattle and sheep, and a large sum of money, of all of which the youngman was left dissolute owner, and indeed he was deserving of it all, for he was avery good comrade, and kind-hearted, and a friend of worthy folk, and had acountenance like a benediction. Presently it came to be known that he hadchanged his dress with no other object than to wander about these wastes afterthat shepherdess Marcela our lad mentioned a while ago, with whom the deceasedChrysostom had fallen in love. And I must tell you now, for it is well you shouldknow it, who this girl is; perhaps, and even without any perhaps, you will nothave heard anything like it all the days of your life, though you should live moreyears than sarna. ""Say Sarra, " said Don Quixote, unable to endure the goatherd's confusion ofwords. "The sarna lives long enough, " answered Pedro; "and if, senor, you must gofinding fault with words at every step, we shall not make an end of it thistwelvemonth. ""Pardon me, friend, " said Don Quixote; "but, as there is such a differencebetween sarna and Sarra, I told you of it; however, you have answered veryrightly, for sarna lives longer than Sarra: so continue your story, and I will notobject any more to anything. ""I say then, my dear sir, " said the goatherd, "that in our village there was afarmer even richer than the father of Chrysostom, who was named Guillermo, andupon whom God bestowed, over and above great wealth, a daughter at whosebirth her mother died, the most respected woman there was in thisneighbourhood; I fancy I can see her now with that countenance which had thesun on one side and the moon on the other; and moreover active, and kind to thepoor, for which I trust that at the present moment her soul is in bliss with God inthe other world. Her husband Guillermo died of grief at the death of so good awife, leaving his daughter Marcela, a child and rich, to the care of an uncle ofhers, a priest and prebendary in our village. The girl grew up with such beautythat it reminded us of her mother's, which was very great, and yet it was thoughtthat the daughter's would exceed it; and so when she reached the age of fourteento fifteen years nobody beheld her but blessed God that had made her sobeautiful, and the greater number were in love with her past redemption. Heruncle kept her in great seclusion and retirement, but for all that the fame of hergreat beauty spread so that, as well for it as for her great wealth, her uncle wasasked, solicited, and importuned, to give her in marriage not only by those of ourtown but of those many leagues round, and by the persons of highest quality inthem. But he, being a good Christian man, though he desired to give her inmarriage at once, seeing her to be old enough, was unwilling to do so without herconsent, not that he had any eye to the gain and profit which the custody of thegirl's property brought him while he put off her marriage; and, faith, this was saidin praise of the good priest in more than one set in the town. For I would haveyou know, Sir Errant, that in these little villages everything is talked about andeverything is carped at, and rest assured, as I am, that the priest must be overand above good who forces his parishioners to speak well of him, especially invillages. ""That is the truth, " said Don Quixote; "but go on, for the story is very good, andyou, good Pedro, tell it with very good grace. ""May that of the Lord not be wanting to me, " said Pedro; "that is the one tohave. To proceed; you must know that though the uncle put before his niece anddescribed to her the qualities of each one in particular of the many who had askedher in marriage, begging her to marry and make a choice according to her owntaste, she never gave any other answer than that she had no desire to marry justyet, and that being so young she did not think herself fit to bear the burden ofmatrimony. At these, to all appearance, reasonable excuses that she made, heruncle ceased to urge her, and waited till she was somewhat more advanced in ageand could mate herself to her own liking. For, said he--and he said quite right--parents are not to settle children in life against their will. But when one leastlooked for it, lo and behold! one day the demure Marcela makes her appearanceturned shepherdess; and, in spite of her uncle and all those of the town thatstrove to dissuade her, took to going a-field with the other shepherd-lasses of thevillage, and tending her own flock. And so, since she appeared in public, and herbeauty came to be seen openly, I could not well tell you how many rich youths, gentlemen and peasants, have adopted the costume of Chrysostom, and go aboutthese fields making love to her. One of these, as has been already said, was ourdeceased friend, of whom they say that he did not love but adore her. But youmust not suppose, because Marcela chose a life of such liberty and independence, and of so little or rather no retirement, that she has given any occasion, or eventhe semblance of one, for disparagement of her purity and modesty; on thecontrary, such and so great is the vigilance with which she watches over herhonour, that of all those that court and woo her not one has boasted, or can withtruth boast, that she has given him any hope however small of obtaining hisdesire. For although she does not avoid or shun the society and conversation ofthe shepherds, and treats them courteously and kindly, should any one of themcome to declare his intention to her, though it be one as proper and holy as thatof matrimony, she flings him from her like a catapult. And with this kind ofdisposition she does more harm in this country than if the plague had got into it, for her affability and her beauty draw on the hearts of those that associate withher to love her and to court her, but her scorn and her frankness bring them tothe brink of despair; and so they know not what to say save to proclaim her aloudcruel and hard-hearted, and other names of the same sort which well describe thenature of her character; and if you should remain here any time, senor, you wouldhear these hills and valleys resounding with the laments of the rejected ones whopursue her. Not far from this there is a spot where there are a couple of dozen oftall beeches, and there is not one of them but has carved and written on itssmooth bark the name of Marcela, and above some a crown carved on the sametree as though her lover would say more plainly that Marcela wore and deservedthat of all human beauty. Here one shepherd is sighing, there another islamenting; there love songs are heard, here despairing elegies. One will pass allthe hours of the night seated at the foot of some oak or rock, and there, withouthaving closed his weeping eyes, the sun finds him in the morning bemused andbereft of sense; and another without relief or respite to his sighs, stretched on theburning sand in the full heat of the sultry summer noontide, makes his appeal tothe compassionate heavens, and over one and the other, over these and all, thebeautiful Marcela triumphs free and careless. And all of us that know her arewaiting to see what her pride will come to, and who is to be the happy man thatwill succeed in taming a nature so formidable and gaining possession of a beautyso supreme. All that I have told you being such well-established truth, I ampersuaded that what they say of the cause of Chrysostom's death, as our lad toldus, is the same. And so I advise you, senor, fail not to be present to-morrow at hisburial, which will be well worth seeing, for Chrysostom had many friends, and itis not half a league from this place to where he directed he should be buried. ""I will make a point of it, " said Don Quixote, "and I thank you for the pleasureyou have given me by relating so interesting a tale. ""Oh, " said the goatherd, "I do not know even the half of what has happened tothe lovers of Marcela, but perhaps to-morrow we may fall in with some shepherdon the road who can tell us; and now it will be well for you to go and sleep undercover, for the night air may hurt your wound, though with the remedy I haveapplied to you there is no fear of an untoward result. "Sancho Panza, who was wishing the goatherd's loquacity at the devil, on hispart begged his master to go into Pedro's hut to sleep. He did so, and passed allthe rest of the night in thinking of his lady Dulcinea, in imitation of the lovers ofMarcela. Sancho Panza settled himself between Rocinante and his ass, and slept, not like a lover who had been discarded, but like a man who had been soundlykicked. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH IS ENDED THE STORY OF THE SHEPHERDESSMARCELA, WITH OTHER INCIDENTSBit hardly had day begun to show itself through the balconies of the east, whenfive of the six goatherds came to rouse Don Quixote and tell him that if he wasstill of a mind to go and see the famous burial of Chrysostom they would bear himcompany. Don Quixote, who desired nothing better, rose and ordered Sancho tosaddle and pannel at once, which he did with all despatch, and with the samethey all set out forthwith. They had not gone a quarter of a league when at themeeting of two paths they saw coming towards them some six shepherds dressedin black sheepskins and with their heads crowned with garlands of cypress andbitter oleander. Each of them carried a stout holly staff in his hand, and alongwith them there came two men of quality on horseback in handsome travellingdress, with three servants on foot accompanying them. Courteous salutations wereexchanged on meeting, and inquiring one of the other which way each party wasgoing, they learned that all were bound for the scene of the burial, so they wenton all together. One of those on horseback addressing his companion said to him, "It seems tome, Senor Vivaldo, that we may reckon as well spent the delay we shall incur inseeing this remarkable funeral, for remarkable it cannot but be judging by thestrange things these shepherds have told us, of both the dead shepherd andhomicide shepherdess. ""So I think too, " replied Vivaldo, "and I would delay not to say a day, but four, for the sake of seeing it. "Don Quixote asked them what it was they had heard of Marcela andChrysostom. The traveller answered that the same morning they had met theseshepherds, and seeing them dressed in this mournful fashion they had asked themthe reason of their appearing in such a guise; which one of them gave, describingthe strange behaviour and beauty of a shepherdess called Marcela, and the lovesof many who courted her, together with the death of that Chrysostom to whoseburial they were going. In short, he repeated all that Pedro had related to DonQuixote. This conversation dropped, and another was commenced by him who was calledVivaldo asking Don Quixote what was the reason that led him to go armed in thatfashion in a country so peaceful. To which Don Quixote replied, "The pursuit ofmy calling does not allow or permit me to go in any other fashion; easy life, enjoyment, and repose were invented for soft courtiers, but toil, unrest, and armswere invented and made for those alone whom the world calls knights-errant, ofwhom I, though unworthy, am the least of all. "The instant they heard this all set him down as mad, and the better to settle thepoint and discover what kind of madness his was, Vivaldo proceeded to ask himwhat knights-errant meant. "Have not your worships, " replied Don Quixote, "read the annals and historiesof England, in which are recorded the famous deeds of King Arthur, whom we inour popular Castilian invariably call King Artus, with regard to whom it is anancient tradition, and commonly received all over that kingdom of Great Britain, that this king did not die, but was changed by magic art into a raven, and that inprocess of time he is to return to reign and recover his kingdom and sceptre; forwhich reason it cannot be proved that from that time to this any Englishman everkilled a raven? Well, then, in the time of this good king that famous order ofchivalry of the Knights of the Round Table was instituted, and the amour of DonLancelot of the Lake with the Queen Guinevere occurred, precisely as is thererelated, the go-between and confidante therein being the highly honourable dameQuintanona, whence came that ballad so well known and widely spread in ourSpain--O never surely was there knightSo served by hand of dame, As served was he Sir Lancelot hightWhen he from Britain came--with all the sweet and delectable course of his achievements in love and war. Handed down from that time, then, this order of chivalry went on extending andspreading itself over many and various parts of the world; and in it, famous andrenowned for their deeds, were the mighty Amadis of Gaul with all his sons anddescendants to the fifth generation, and the valiant Felixmarte of Hircania, andthe never sufficiently praised Tirante el Blanco, and in our own days almost wehave seen and heard and talked with the invincible knight Don Belianis of Greece. This, then, sirs, is to be a knight-errant, and what I have spoken of is the order ofhis chivalry, of which, as I have already said, I, though a sinner, have madeprofession, and what the aforesaid knights professed that same do I profess, andso I go through these solitudes and wilds seeking adventures, resolved in soul tooppose my arm and person to the most perilous that fortune may offer me in aidof the weak and needy. "By these words of his the travellers were able to satisfy themselves of DonQuixote's being out of his senses and of the form of madness that overmasteredhim, at which they felt the same astonishment that all felt on first becomingacquainted with it; and Vivaldo, who was a person of great shrewdness and of alively temperament, in order to beguile the short journey which they said wasrequired to reach the mountain, the scene of the burial, sought to give him anopportunity of going on with his absurdities. So he said to him, "It seems to me, Senor Knight-errant, that your worship has made choice of one of the mostaustere professions in the world, and I imagine even that of the Carthusian monksis not so austere. ""As austere it may perhaps be, " replied our Don Quixote, "but so necessary forthe world I am very much inclined to doubt. For, if the truth is to be told, thesoldier who executes what his captain orders does no less than the captain himselfwho gives the order. My meaning, is, that churchmen in peace and quiet pray toHeaven for the welfare of the world, but we soldiers and knights carry into effectwhat they pray for, defending it with the might of our arms and the edge of ourswords, not under shelter but in the open air, a target for the intolerable rays ofthe sun in summer and the piercing frosts of winter. Thus are we God's ministerson earth and the arms by which his justice is done therein. And as the business ofwar and all that relates and belongs to it cannot be conducted without exceedinggreat sweat, toil, and exertion, it follows that those who make it their professionhave undoubtedly more labour than those who in tranquil peace and quiet areengaged in praying to God to help the weak. I do not mean to say, nor does itenter into my thoughts, that the knight-errant's calling is as good as that of themonk in his cell; I would merely infer from what I endure myself that it is beyonda doubt a more laborious and a more belaboured one, a hungrier and thirstier, awretcheder, raggeder, and lousier; for there is no reason to doubt that the knights-errant of yore endured much hardship in the course of their lives. And if some ofthem by the might of their arms did rise to be emperors, in faith it cost them dearin the matter of blood and sweat; and if those who attained to that rank had nothad magicians and sages to help them they would have been completely baulkedin their ambition and disappointed in their hopes. ""That is my own opinion, " replied the traveller; "but one thing among manyothers seems to me very wrong in knights-errant, and that is that when they findthemselves about to engage in some mighty and perilous adventure in which thereis manifest danger of losing their lives, they never at the moment of engaging in itthink of commending themselves to God, as is the duty of every good Christian inlike peril; instead of which they commend themselves to their ladies with as muchdevotion as if these were their gods, a thing which seems to me to savoursomewhat of heathenism. ""Sir, " answered Don Quixote, "that cannot be on any account omitted, and theknight-errant would be disgraced who acted otherwise: for it is usual andcustomary in knight-errantry that the knight-errant, who on engaging in any greatfeat of arms has his lady before him, should turn his eyes towards her softly andlovingly, as though with them entreating her to favour and protect him in thehazardous venture he is about to undertake, and even though no one hear him, heis bound to say certain words between his teeth, commending himself to her withall his heart, and of this we have innumerable instances in the histories. Nor is itto be supposed from this that they are to omit commending themselves to God, for there will be time and opportunity for doing so while they are engaged in theirtask. ""For all that, " answered the traveller, "I feel some doubt still, because often Ihave read how words will arise between two knights-errant, and from one thing toanother it comes about that their anger kindles and they wheel their horses roundand take a good stretch of field, and then without any more ado at the top of theirspeed they come to the charge, and in mid-career they are wont to commendthemselves to their ladies; and what commonly comes of the encounter is that onefalls over the haunches of his horse pierced through and through by hisantagonist's lance, and as for the other, it is only by holding on to the mane of hishorse that he can help falling to the ground; but I know not how the dead manhad time to commend himself to God in the course of such rapid work as this; itwould have been better if those words which he spent in commending himself tohis lady in the midst of his career had been devoted to his duty and obligation asa Christian. Moreover, it is my belief that all knights-errant have not ladies tocommend themselves to, for they are not all in love. ""That is impossible, " said Don Quixote: "I say it is impossible that there couldbe a knight-errant without a lady, because to such it is as natural and proper to bein love as to the heavens to have stars: most certainly no history has been seen inwhich there is to be found a knight-errant without an amour, and for the simplereason that without one he would be held no legitimate knight but a bastard, andone who had gained entrance into the stronghold of the said knighthood, not bythe door, but over the wall like a thief and a robber. ""Nevertheless, " said the traveller, "if I remember rightly, I think I have read thatDon Galaor, the brother of the valiant Amadis of Gaul, never had any special ladyto whom he might commend himself, and yet he was not the less esteemed, andwas a very stout and famous knight. "To which our Don Quixote made answer, "Sir, one solitary swallow does notmake summer; moreover, I know that knight was in secret very deeply in love;besides which, that way of falling in love with all that took his fancy was anatural propensity which he could not control. But, in short, it is very manifestthat he had one alone whom he made mistress of his will, to whom hecommended himself very frequently and very secretly, for he prided himself onbeing a reticent knight. ""Then if it be essential that every knight-errant should be in love, " said thetraveller, "it may be fairly supposed that your worship is so, as you are of theorder; and if you do not pride yourself on being as reticent as Don Galaor, Ientreat you as earnestly as I can, in the name of all this company and in my own, to inform us of the name, country, rank, and beauty of your lady, for she willesteem herself fortunate if all the world knows that she is loved and served bysuch a knight as your worship seems to be. "At this Don Quixote heaved a deep sigh and said, "I cannot say positivelywhether my sweet enemy is pleased or not that the world should know I serveher; I can only say in answer to what has been so courteously asked of me, thather name is Dulcinea, her country El Toboso, a village of La Mancha, her rankmust be at least that of a princess, since she is my queen and lady, and herbeauty superhuman, since all the impossible and fanciful attributes of beautywhich the poets apply to their ladies are verified in her; for her hairs are gold, herforehead Elysian fields, her eyebrows rainbows, her eyes suns, her cheeks roses, her lips coral, her teeth pearls, her neck alabaster, her bosom marble, her handsivory, her fairness snow, and what modesty conceals from sight such, I think andimagine, as rational reflection can only extol, not compare. ""We should like to know her lineage, race, and ancestry, " said Vivaldo. To which Don Quixote replied, "She is not of the ancient Roman Curtii, Caii, orScipios, nor of the modern Colonnas or Orsini, nor of the Moncadas orRequesenes of Catalonia, nor yet of the Rebellas or Villanovas of Valencia;Palafoxes, Nuzas, Rocabertis, Corellas, Lunas, Alagones, Urreas, Foces, or Gurreasof Aragon; Cerdas, Manriques, Mendozas, or Guzmans of Castile; Alencastros, Pallas, or Meneses of Portugal; but she is of those of El Toboso of La Mancha, alineage that though modern, may furnish a source of gentle blood for the mostillustrious families of the ages that are to come, and this let none dispute with mesave on the condition that Zerbino placed at the foot of the trophy of Orlando'sarms, saying, 'These let none move Who dareth not his might with Roland prove. '""Although mine is of the Cachopins of Laredo, " said the traveller, "I will notventure to compare it with that of El Toboso of La Mancha, though, to tell thetruth, no such surname has until now ever reached my ears. ""What!" said Don Quixote,

"has that never reached them?"The rest of the party went along listening with great attention to theconversation of the pair, and even the very goatherds and shepherds perceivedhow exceedingly out of his wits our Don Quixote was. Sancho Panza alonethought that what his master said was the truth, knowing who he was and havingknown him from his birth; and all that he felt any difficulty in believing was thatabout the fair Dulcinea del Toboso, because neither any such name nor any suchprincess had ever come to his knowledge though he lived so close to El Toboso. They were going along conversing in this way, when they saw descending a gapbetween two high mountains some twenty shepherds, all clad in sheepskins ofblack wool, and crowned with garlands which, as afterwards appeared, were, some of them of yew, some of cypress. Six of the number were carrying a biercovered with a great variety of flowers and branches, on seeing which one of thegoatherds said, "Those who come there are the bearers of Chrysostom's body, andthe foot of that mountain is the place where he ordered them to bury him. " Theytherefore made haste to reach the spot, and did so by the time those who camehad laid the bier upon the ground, and four of them with sharp pickaxes weredigging a grave by the side of a hard rock. They greeted each other courteously, and then Don Quixote and those who accompanied him turned to examine thebier, and on it, covered with flowers, they saw a dead body in the dress of ashepherd, to all appearance of one thirty years of age, and showing even in deaththat in life he had been of comely features and gallant bearing. Around him on thebier itself were laid some books, and several papers open and folded; and thosewho were looking on as well as those who were opening the grave and all theothers who were there preserved a strange silence, until one of those who hadborne the body said to another, "Observe carefully, Ambrosia if this is the placeChrysostom spoke of, since you are anxious that what he directed in his willshould be so strictly complied with. ""This is the place, " answered Ambrosia "for in it many a time did my poor friendtell me the story of his hard fortune. Here it was, he told me, that he saw for thefirst time that mortal enemy of the human race, and here, too, for the first time hedeclared to her his passion, as honourable as it was devoted, and here it was thatat last Marcela ended by scorning and rejecting him so as to bring the tragedy ofhis wretched life to a close; here, in memory of misfortunes so great, he desired tobe laid in the bowels of eternal oblivion. " Then turning to Don Quixote and thetravellers he went on to say, "That body, sirs, on which you are looking withcompassionate eyes, was the abode of a soul on which Heaven bestowed a vastshare of its riches. That is the body of Chrysostom, who was unrivalled in wit, unequalled in courtesy, unapproached in gentle bearing, a phoenix in friendship, generous without limit, grave without arrogance, gay without vulgarity, and, inshort, first in all that constitutes goodness and second to none in all that makesup misfortune. He loved deeply, he was hated; he adored, he was scorned; hewooed a wild beast, he pleaded with marble, he pursued the wind, he cried to thewilderness, he served ingratitude, and for reward was made the prey of death inthe mid-course of life, cut short by a shepherdess whom he sought to immortalisein the memory of man, as these papers which you see could fully prove, had henot commanded me to consign them to the fire after having consigned his body tothe earth. ""You would deal with them more harshly and cruelly than their owner himself, "said Vivaldo, "for it is neither right nor proper to do the will of one who enjoinswhat is wholly unreasonable; it would not have been reasonable in AugustusCaesar had he permitted the directions left by the divine Mantuan in his will to becarried into effect. So that, Senor Ambrosia while you consign your friend's bodyto the earth, you should not consign his writings to oblivion, for if he gave theorder in bitterness of heart, it is not right that you should irrationally obey it. Onthe contrary, by granting life to those papers, let the cruelty of Marcela live forever, to serve as a warning in ages to come to all men to shun and avoid fallinginto like danger; or I and all of us who have come here know already the story ofthis your love-stricken and heart-broken friend, and we know, too, yourfriendship, and the cause of his death, and the directions he gave at the close ofhis life; from which sad story may be gathered how great was the cruelty ofMarcela, the love of Chrysostom, and the loyalty of your friendship, together withthe end awaiting those who pursue rashly the path that insane passion opens totheir eyes. Last night we learned the death of Chrysostom and that he was to beburied here, and out of curiosity and pity we left our direct road and resolved tocome and see with our eyes that which when heard of had so moved ourcompassion, and in consideration of that compassion and our desire to prove it ifwe might by condolence, we beg of you, excellent Ambrosia, or at least I on myown account entreat you, that instead of burning those papers you allow me tocarry away some of them. "And without waiting for the shepherd's answer, he stretched out his hand andtook up some of those that were nearest to him; seeing which Ambrosio said, "Outof courtesy, senor, I will grant your request as to those you have taken, but it isidle to expect me to abstain from burning the remainder. "Vivaldo, who was eager to see what the papers contained, opened one of themat once, and saw that its title was "Lay of Despair. "Ambrosio hearing it said, "That is the last paper the unhappy man wrote; andthat you may see, senor, to what an end his misfortunes brought him, read it sothat you may be heard, for you will have time enough for that while we arewaiting for the grave to be dug. ""I will do so very willingly, " said Vivaldo; and as all the bystanders were equallyeager they gathered round him, and he, reading in a loud voice, found that it ranas follows. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 5. Chapters 14-15EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XIV. WHEREIN ARE INSERTED THE DESPAIRING VERSES OF THE DEADSHEPHERD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER INCIDENTS NOT LOOKEDFORTHE LAY OF CHRYSOSTOMSince thou dost in thy cruelty desireThe ruthless rigour of thy tyrannyFrom tongue to tongue, from land to land proclaimed, The very Hell will I constrain to lendThis stricken breast of mine deep notes of woeTo serve my need of fitting utterance. And as I strive to body forth the taleOf all I suffer, all that thou hast done, Forth shall the dread voice roll, and bear alongShreds from my vitals torn for greater pain. Then listen, not to dulcet harmony, But to a discord wrung by mad despairOut of this bosom's depths of bitterness, To ease my heart and plant a sting in thine. The lion's roar, the fierce wolf's savage howl, The horrid hissing of the scaly snake, The awesome cries of monsters yet unnamed, The crow's ill-boding croak, the hollow moanOf wild winds wrestling with the restless sea, The wrathful bellow of the vanquished bull, The plaintive sobbing of the widowed dove, The envied owl's sad note, the wail of woeThat rises from the dreary choir of Hell, Commingled in one sound, confusing sense, Let all these come to aid my soul's complaint, For pain like mine demands new modes of song. No echoes of that discord shall be heardWhere Father Tagus rolls, or on the banksOf olive-bordered Betis; to the rocksOr in deep caverns shall my plaint be told, And by a lifeless tongue in living words;Or in dark valleys or on lonely shores, Where neither foot of man nor sunbeam falls;Or in among the poison-breathing swarmsOf monsters nourished by the sluggish Nile. For, though it be to solitudes remoteThe hoarse vague echoes of my sorrows soundThy matchless cruelty, my dismal fateShall carry them to all the spacious world. Disdain hath power to kill, and patience diesSlain by suspicion, be it false or true;And deadly is the force of jealousy;Long absence makes of life a dreary void;No hope of happiness can give reposeTo him that ever fears to be forgot;And death, inevitable, waits in hall. But I, by some strange miracle, live onA prey to absence, jealousy, disdain;Racked by suspicion as by certainty;Forgotten, left to feed my flame alone. And while I suffer thus, there comes no rayOf hope to gladden me athwart the gloom;Nor do I look for it in my despair;But rather clinging to a cureless woe, All hope do I abjure for evermore. Can there be hope where fear is? Were it well, When far more certain are the grounds of fear?Ought I to shut mine eyes to jealousy, If through a thousand heart-wounds it appears?Who would not give free access to distrust, Seeing disdain unveiled, and--bitter change!--All his suspicions turned to certainties, And the fair truth transformed into a lie?Oh, thou fierce tyrant of the realms of love, Oh, Jealousy! put chains upon these hands, And bind me with thy strongest cord, Disdain. But, woe is me! triumphant over all, My sufferings drown the memory of you. And now I die, and since there is no hopeOf happiness for me in life or death, Still to my fantasy I'll fondly cling. I'll say that he is wise who loveth well, And that the soul most free is that most boundIn thraldom to the ancient tyrant Love. I'll say that she who is mine enemyIn that fair body hath as fair a mind, And that her coldness is but my desert, And that by virtue of the pain he sendsLove rules his kingdom with a gentle sway. Thus, self-deluding, and in bondage sore, And wearing out the wretched shred of lifeTo which I am reduced by her disdain, I'll give this soul and body to the winds, All hopeless of a crown of bliss in store. Thou whose injustice hath supplied the causeThat makes me quit the weary life I loathe, As by this wounded bosom thou canst seeHow willingly thy victim I become, Let not my death, if haply worth a tear, Cloud the clear heaven that dwells in thy bright eyes;I would not have thee expiate in aughtThe crime of having made my heart thy prey;But rather let thy laughter gaily ringAnd prove my death to be thy festival. Fool that I am to bid thee! well I knowThy glory gains by my untimely end. And now it is the time; from Hell's abyssCome thirsting Tantalus, come SisyphusHeaving the cruel stone, come TityusWith vulture, and with wheel Ixion come, And come the sisters of the ceaseless toil;And all into this breast transfer their pains, And (if such tribute to despair be due)Chant in their deepest tones a doleful dirgeOver a corse unworthy of a shroud. Let the three-headed guardian of the gate, And all the monstrous progeny of hell, The doleful concert join: a lover deadMethinks can have no fitter obsequies. Lay of despair, grieve not when thou art goneForth from this sorrowing heart: my miseryBrings fortune to the cause that gave thee birth;Then banish sadness even in the tomb. The "Lay of Chrysostom" met with the approbation of the listeners, though thereader said it did not seem to him to agree with what he had heard of Marcela'sreserve and propriety, for Chrysostom complained in it of jealousy, suspicion, andabsence, all to the prejudice of the good name and fame of Marcela; to whichAmbrosio replied as one who knew well his friend's most secret thoughts, "Senor, to remove that doubt I should tell you that when the unhappy man wrote this layhe was away from Marcela, from whom he had voluntarily separated himself, totry if absence would act with him as it is wont; and as everything distresses andevery fear haunts the banished lover, so imaginary jealousies and suspicions, dreaded as if they were true, tormented Chrysostom; and thus the truth of whatreport declares of the virtue of Marcela remains unshaken, and with her envyitself should not and cannot find any fault save that of being cruel, somewhathaughty, and very scornful. ""That is true, " said Vivaldo; and as he was about to read another paper of thosehe had preserved from the fire, he was stopped by a marvellous vision (for such itseemed) that unexpectedly presented itself to their eyes; for on the summit of therock where they were digging the grave there appeared the shepherdess Marcela, so beautiful that her beauty exceeded its reputation. Those who had never tillthen beheld her gazed upon her in wonder and silence, and those who wereaccustomed to see her were not less amazed than those who had never seen herbefore. But the instant Ambrosio saw her he addressed her, with manifestindignation:"Art thou come, by chance, cruel basilisk of these mountains, to see if in thypresence blood will flow from the wounds of this wretched being thy cruelty hasrobbed of life; or is it to exult over the cruel work of thy humours that thou artcome; or like another pitiless Nero to look down from that height upon the ruin ofhis Rome in embers; or in thy arrogance to trample on this ill-fated corpse, as theungrateful daughter trampled on her father Tarquin's? Tell us quickly for whatthou art come, or what it is thou wouldst have, for, as I know the thoughts ofChrysostom never failed to obey thee in life, I will make all these who callthemselves his friends obey thee, though he be dead. ""I come not, Ambrosia for any of the purposes thou hast named, " repliedMarcela, "but to defend myself and to prove how unreasonable are all those whoblame me for their sorrow and for Chrysostom's death; and therefore I ask all ofyou that are here to give me your attention, for will not take much time or manywords to bring the truth home to persons of sense. Heaven has made me, so yousay, beautiful, and so much so that in spite of yourselves my beauty leads you tolove me; and for the love you show me you say, and even urge, that I am boundto love you. By that natural understanding which God has given me I know thateverything beautiful attracts love, but I cannot see how, by reason of being loved, that which is loved for its beauty is bound to love that which loves it; besides, itmay happen that the lover of that which is beautiful may be ugly, and uglinessbeing detestable, it is very absurd to say, "I love thee because thou art beautiful, thou must love me though I be ugly. " But supposing the beauty equal on bothsides, it does not follow that the inclinations must be therefore alike, for it is notevery beauty that excites love, some but pleasing the eye without winning theaffection; and if every sort of beauty excited love and won the heart, the willwould wander vaguely to and fro unable to make choice of any; for as there is aninfinity of beautiful objects there must be an infinity of inclinations, and true love, I have heard it said, is indivisible, and must be voluntary and not compelled. Ifthis be so, as I believe it to be, why do you desire me to bend my will by force, for no other reason but that you say you love me? Nay--tell me--had Heavenmade me ugly, as it has made me beautiful, could I with justice complain of youfor not loving me? Moreover, you must remember that the beauty I possess wasno choice of mine, for, be it what it may, Heaven of its bounty gave it me withoutmy asking or choosing it; and as the viper, though it kills with it, does not deserveto be blamed for the poison it carries, as it is a gift of nature, neither do I deservereproach for being beautiful; for beauty in a modest woman is like fire at adistance or a sharp sword; the one does not burn, the other does not cut, thosewho do not come too near. Honour and virtue are the ornaments of the mind, without which the body, though it be so, has no right to pass for beautiful; but ifmodesty is one of the virtues that specially lend a grace and charm to mind andbody, why should she who is loved for her beauty part with it to gratify one whofor his pleasure alone strives with all his might and energy to rob her of it? I wasborn free, and that I might live in freedom I chose the solitude of the fields; in thetrees of the mountains I find society, the clear waters of the brooks are mymirrors, and to the trees and waters I make known my thoughts and charms. I ama fire afar off, a sword laid aside. Those whom I have inspired with love by lettingthem see me, I have by words undeceived, and if their longings live on hope--andI have given none to Chrysostom or to any other--it cannot justly be said that thedeath of any is my doing, for it was rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty thatkilled him; and if it be made a charge against me that his wishes were honourable, and that therefore I was bound to yield to them, I answer that when on this veryspot where now his grave is made he declared to me his purity of purpose, I toldhim that mine was to live in perpetual solitude, and that the earth alone shouldenjoy the fruits of my retirement and the spoils of my beauty; and if, after thisopen avowal, he chose to persist against hope and steer against the wind, whatwonder is it that he should sink in the depths of his infatuation? If I hadencouraged him, I should be false; if I had gratified him, I should have actedagainst my own better resolution and purpose. He was persistent in spite ofwarning, he despaired without being hated. Bethink you now if it be reasonablethat his suffering should be laid to my charge. Let him who has been deceivedcomplain, let him give way to despair whose encouraged hopes have proved vain, let him flatter himself whom I shall entice, let him boast whom I shall receive; butlet not him call me cruel or homicide to whom I make no promise, upon whom Ipractise no deception, whom I neither entice nor receive. It has not been so farthe will of Heaven that I should love by fate, and to expect me to love by choice isidle. Let this general declaration serve for each of my suitors on his own account, and let it be understood from this time forth that if anyone dies for me it is not ofjealousy or misery he dies, for she who loves no one can give no cause for jealousyto any, and candour is not to be confounded with scorn. Let him who calls mewild beast and basilisk, leave me alone as something noxious and evil; let himwho calls me ungrateful, withhold his service; who calls me wayward, seek notmy acquaintance; who calls me cruel, pursue me not; for this wild beast, thisbasilisk, this ungrateful, cruel, wayward being has no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow them. If Chrysostom's impatience and violent passion killedhim, why should my modest behaviour and circumspection be blamed? If Ipreserve my purity in the society of the trees, why should he who would have mepreserve it among men, seek to rob me of it? I have, as you know, wealth of myown, and I covet not that of others; my taste is for freedom, and I have no relishfor constraint; I neither love nor hate anyone; I do not deceive this one or courtthat, or trifle with one or play with another. The modest converse of the shepherdgirls of these hamlets and the care of my goats are my recreations; my desires arebounded by these mountains, and if they ever wander hence it is to contemplatethe beauty of the heavens, steps by which the soul travels to its primeval abode. "With these words, and not waiting to hear a reply, she turned and passed intothe thickest part of a wood that was hard by, leaving all who were there lost inadmiration as much of her good sense as of her beauty. Some--those wounded bythe irresistible shafts launched by her bright eyes--made as though they wouldfollow her, heedless of the frank declaration they had heard; seeing which, anddeeming this a fitting occasion for the exercise of his chivalry in aid of distresseddamsels, Don Quixote, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword, exclaimed in aloud and distinct voice:"Let no one, whatever his rank or condition, dare to follow the beautifulMarcela, under pain of incurring my fierce indignation. She has shown by clearand satisfactory arguments that little or no fault is to be found with her for thedeath of Chrysostom, and also how far she is from yielding to the wishes of any ofher lovers, for which reason, instead of being followed and persecuted, she shouldin justice be honoured and esteemed by all the good people of the world, for sheshows that she is the only woman in it that holds to such a virtuous resolution. "Whether it was because of the threats of Don Quixote, or because Ambrosio toldthem to fulfil their duty to their good friend, none of the shepherds moved orstirred from the spot until, having finished the grave and burned Chrysostom'spapers, they laid his body in it, not without many tears from those who stood by. They closed the grave with a heavy stone until a slab was ready which Ambrosiosaid he meant to have prepared, with an epitaph which was to be to this effect:Beneath the stone before your eyesThe body of a lover lies;In life he was a shepherd swain, In death a victim to disdain. Ungrateful, cruel, coy, and fair, Was she that drove him to despair, And Love hath made her his allyFor spreading wide his tyranny. They then strewed upon the grave a profusion of flowers and branches, and allexpressing their condolence with his friend ambrosio, took their Vivaldo and hiscompanion did the same; and Don Quixote bade farewell to his hosts and to thetravellers, who pressed him to come with them to Seville, as being such aconvenient place for finding adventures, for they presented themselves in everystreet and round every corner oftener than anywhere else. Don Quixote thankedthem for their advice and for the disposition they showed to do him a favour, andsaid that for the present he would not, and must not go to Seville until he hadcleared all these mountains of highwaymen and robbers, of whom report said theywere full. Seeing his good intention, the travellers were unwilling to press himfurther, and once more bidding him farewell, they left him and pursued theirjourney, in the course of which they did not fail to discuss the story of Marcelaand Chrysostom as well as the madness of Don Quixote. He, on his part, resolvedto go in quest of the shepherdess Marcela, and make offer to her of all the servicehe could render her; but things did not fall out with him as he expected, accordingto what is related in the course of this veracious history, of which the Second Partends here. CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH IS RELATED THE UNFORTUNATE ADVENTURE THATDON QUIXOTE FELL IN WITH WHEN HE FELL OUT WITHCERTAIN HEARTLESS YANGUESANSThe sage Cide Hamete Benengeli relates that as soon as Don Quixote took leaveof his hosts and all who had been present at the burial of Chrysostom, he and hissquire passed into the same wood which they had seen the shepherdess Marcelaenter, and after having wandered for more than two hours in all directions insearch of her without finding her, they came to a halt in a glade covered withtender grass, beside which ran a pleasant cool stream that invited and compelledthem to pass there the hours of the noontide heat, which by this time wasbeginning to come on oppressively. Don Quixote and Sancho dismounted, andturning Rocinante and the ass loose to feed on the grass that was there inabundance, they ransacked the alforjas, and without any ceremony very peacefullyand sociably master and man made their repast on what they found in them. Sancho had not thought it worth while to hobble Rocinante, feeling sure, fromwhat he knew of his staidness and freedom from incontinence, that all the maresin the Cordova pastures would not lead him into an impropriety. Chance, however, and the devil, who is not always asleep, so ordained it that feeding inthis valley there was a drove of Galician ponies belonging to certain Yanguesancarriers, whose way it is to take their midday rest with their teams in places andspots where grass and water abound; and that where Don Quixote chanced to besuited the Yanguesans' purpose very well. It so happened, then, that Rocinantetook a fancy to disport himself with their ladyships the ponies, and abandoninghis usual gait and demeanour as he scented them, he, without asking leave of hismaster, got up a briskish little trot and hastened to make known his wishes tothem; they, however, it seemed, preferred their pasture to him, and received himwith their heels and teeth to such effect that they soon broke his girths and lefthim naked without a saddle to cover him; but what must have been worse to himwas that the carriers, seeing the violence he was offering to their mares, camerunning up armed with stakes, and so belaboured him that they brought himsorely battered to the ground. By this time Don Quixote and Sancho, who had witnessed the drubbing ofRocinante, came up panting, and said Don Quixote to Sancho:"So far as I can see, friend Sancho, these are not knights but base folk of lowbirth: I mention it because thou canst lawfully aid me in taking due vengeance forthe insult offered to Rocinante before our eyes. ""What the devil vengeance can we take, " answered Sancho, "if they are morethan twenty, and we no more than two, or, indeed, perhaps not more than oneand a half?""I count for a hundred, " replied Don Quixote, and without more words he drewhis sword and attacked the Yanguesans and excited and impelled by the exampleof his master, Sancho did the same; and to begin with, Don Quixote delivered aslash at one of them that laid open the leather jerkin he wore, together with agreat portion of his shoulder. The Yanguesans, seeing themselves assaulted byonly two men while they were so many, betook themselves to their stakes, anddriving the two into the middle they began to lay on with great zeal and energy; infact, at the second blow they brought Sancho to the ground, and Don Quixotefared the same way, all his skill and high mettle availing him nothing, and fatewilled it that he should fall at the feet of Rocinante, who had not yet risen;whereby it may be seen how furiously stakes can pound in angry boorish hands. Then, seeing the mischief they had done, the Yanguesans with all the haste theycould loaded their team and pursued their journey, leaving the two adventurers asorry sight and in sorrier mood. Sancho was the first to come to, and finding himself close to his master hecalled to him in a weak and doleful voice, "Senor Don Quixote, ah, Senor DonQuixote!""What wouldst thou, brother Sancho?" answered Don Quixote in the same feeblesuffering tone as Sancho. "I would like, if it were possible, " answered Sancho Panza, "your worship to giveme a couple of sups of that potion of the fiery Blas, if it be that you have any tohand there; perhaps it will serve for broken bones as well as for wounds. ""If I only had it here, wretch that I am, what more should we want?" said DonQuixote; "but I swear to thee, Sancho Panza, on the faith of a knight-errant, eretwo days are over, unless fortune orders otherwise, I mean to have it in mypossession, or my hand will have lost its cunning. ""But in how many does your worship think we shall have the use of our feet?"answered Sancho Panza. "For myself I must say I cannot guess how many, " said the battered knight DonQuixote; "but I take all the blame upon myself, for I had no business to put handto sword against men who where not dubbed knights like myself, and so I believethat in punishment for having transgressed the laws of chivalry the God of battleshas permitted this chastisement to be administered to me; for which reason, brother Sancho, it is well thou shouldst receive a hint on the matter which I amnow about to mention to thee, for it is of much importance to the welfare of bothof us. It is at when thou shalt see rabble of this sort offering us insult thou art notto wait till I draw sword against them, for I shall not do so at all; but do thoudraw sword and chastise them to thy heart's content, and if any knights come totheir aid and defence I will take care to defend thee and assail them with all mymight; and thou hast already seen by a thousand signs and proofs what the mightof this strong arm of mine is equal to"--so uplifted had the poor gentlemanbecome through the victory over the stout Biscayan. But Sancho did not so fully approve of his master's admonition as to let it passwithout saying in reply, "Senor, I am a man of peace, meek and quiet, and I canput up with any affront because I have a wife and children to support and bringup; so let it be likewise a hint to your worship, as it cannot be a mandate, that onno account will I draw sword either against clown or against knight, and that herebefore God I forgive the insults that have been offered me, whether they havebeen, are, or shall be offered me by high or low, rich or poor, noble or commoner, not excepting any rank or condition whatsoever. "To all which his master said in reply, "I wish I had breath enough to speaksomewhat easily, and that the pain I feel on this side would abate so as to let meexplain to thee, Panza, the mistake thou makest. Come now, sinner, suppose thewind of fortune, hitherto so adverse, should turn in our favour, filling the sails ofour desires so that safely and without impediment we put into port in some one ofthose islands I have promised thee, how would it be with thee if on winning it Imade thee lord of it? Why, thou wilt make it well-nigh impossible through notbeing a knight nor having any desire to be one, nor possessing the courage nor thewill to avenge insults or defend thy lordship; for thou must know that in newlyconquered kingdoms and provinces the minds of the inhabitants are never soquiet nor so well disposed to the new lord that there is no fear of their makingsome move to change matters once more, and try, as they say, what chance maydo for them; so it is essential that the new possessor should have good sense toenable him to govern, and valour to attack and defend himself, whatever maybefall him. ""In what has now befallen us, " answered Sancho, "I'd have been well pleased tohave that good sense and that valour your worship speaks of, but I swear on thefaith of a poor man I am more fit for plasters than for arguments. See if yourworship can get up, and let us help Rocinante, though he does not deserve it, forhe was the main cause of all this thrashing. I never thought it of Rocinante, for Itook him to be a virtuous person and as quiet as myself. After all, they say rightthat it takes a long time to come to know people, and that there is nothing sure inthis life. Who would have said that, after such mighty slashes as your worshipgave that unlucky knight-errant, there was coming, travelling post and at the veryheels of them, such a great storm of sticks as has fallen upon our shoulders?""And yet thine, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "ought to be used to such squalls;but mine, reared in soft cloth and fine linen, it is plain they must feel more keenlythe pain of this mishap, and if it were not that I imagine--why do I sayimagine?--know of a certainty that all these annoyances are very necessaryaccompaniments of the calling of arms, I would lay me down here to die of purevexation. "To this the squire replied, "Senor, as these mishaps are what one reaps ofchivalry, tell me if they happen very often, or if they have their own fixed timesfor coming to pass; because it seems to me that after two harvests we shall be nogood for the third, unless God in his infinite mercy helps us. ""Know, friend Sancho, " answered Don Quixote, "that the life of knights-errant issubject to a thousand dangers and reverses, and neither more nor less is it withinimmediate possibility for knights-errant to become kings and emperors, asexperience has shown in the case of many different knights with whose histories Iam thoroughly acquainted; and I could tell thee now, if the pain would let me, ofsome who simply by might of arm have risen to the high stations I havementioned; and those same, both before and after, experienced divers misfortunesand miseries; for the valiant Amadis of Gaul found himself in the power of hismortal enemy Arcalaus the magician, who, it is positively asserted, holding himcaptive, gave him more than two hundred lashes with the reins of his horse whiletied to one of the pillars of a court; and moreover there is a certain reconditeauthor of no small authority who says that the Knight of Phoebus, being caught ina certain pitfall, which opened under his feet in a certain castle, on falling foundhimself bound hand and foot in a deep pit underground, where they administeredto him one of those things they call clysters, of sand and snow-water, that well-nigh finished him; and if he had not been succoured in that sore extremity by asage, a great friend of his, it would have gone very hard with the poor knight; so Imay well suffer in company with such worthy folk, for greater were the indignitieswhich they had to suffer than those which we suffer. For I would have thee know, Sancho, that wounds caused by any instruments which happen by chance to be inhand inflict no indignity, and this is laid down in the law of the duel in expresswords: if, for instance, the cobbler strikes another with the last which he has inhis hand, though it be in fact a piece of wood, it cannot be said for that reasonthat he whom he struck with it has been cudgelled. I say this lest thou shouldstimagine that because we have been drubbed in this affray we have thereforesuffered any indignity; for the arms those men carried, with which they poundedus, were nothing more than their stakes, and not one of them, so far as Iremember, carried rapier, sword, or dagger. ""They gave me no time to see that much, " answered Sancho, "for hardly had Ilaid hand on my tizona when they signed the cross on my shoulders with theirsticks in such style that they took the sight out of my eyes and the strength out ofmy feet, stretching me where I now lie, and where thinking of whether all thosestake-strokes were an indignity or not gives me no uneasiness, which the pain ofthe blows does, for they will remain as deeply impressed on my memory as on myshoulders. ""For all that let me tell thee, brother Panza, " said Don Quixote, "that there is norecollection which time does not put an end to, and no pain which death does notremove. ""And what greater misfortune can there be, " replied Panza, "than the one thatwaits for time to put an end to it and death to remove it? If our mishap were oneof those that are cured with a couple of plasters, it would not be so bad; but I ambeginning to think that all the plasters in a hospital almost won't be enough to putus right. ""No more of that: pluck strength out of weakness, Sancho, as I mean to do, "returned Don Quixote, "and let us see how Rocinante is, for it seems to me thatnot the least share of this mishap has fallen to the lot of the poor beast. ""There is nothing wonderful in that, " replied Sancho, "since he is a knight-erranttoo; what I wonder at is that my beast should have come off scot-free where wecome out scotched. ""Fortune always leaves a door open in adversity in order to bring relief to it, "said Don Quixote; "I say so because this little beast may now supply the want ofRocinante, carrying me hence to some castle where I may be cured of my wounds. And moreover I shall not hold it any dishonour to be so mounted, for I rememberhaving read how the good old Silenus, the tutor and instructor of the gay god oflaughter, when he entered the city of the hundred gates, went very contentedlymounted on a handsome ass. ""It may be true that he went mounted as your worship says, " answered Sancho, "but there is a great difference between going mounted and going slung like a sackof manure. "To which Don Quixote replied, "Wounds received in battle confer honourinstead of taking it away; and so, friend Panza, say no more, but, as I told theebefore, get up as well as thou canst and put me on top of thy beast in whateverfashion pleases thee best, and let us go hence ere night come on and surprise us inthese wilds. ""And yet I have heard your worship say, " observed Panza, "that it is very meetfor knights-errant to sleep in wastes and deserts, and that they esteem it verygood fortune. ""That is, " said Don Quixote, "when they cannot help it, or when they are inlove; and so true is this that there have been knights who have remained twoyears on rocks, in sunshine and shade and all the inclemencies of heaven, withouttheir ladies knowing anything of it; and one of these was Amadis, when, underthe name of Beltenebros, he took up his abode on the Pena Pobre for--I know notif it was eight years or eight months, for I am not very sure of the reckoning; atany rate he stayed there doing penance for I know not what pique the PrincessOriana had against him; but no more of this now, Sancho, and make haste beforea mishap like Rocinante's befalls the ass. ""The very devil would be in it in that case, " said Sancho; and letting off thirty"ohs, " and sixty sighs, and a hundred and twenty maledictions and execrations onwhomsoever it was that had brought him there, he raised himself, stopping half-way bent like a Turkish bow without power to bring himself upright, but with allhis pains he saddled his ass, who too had gone astray somewhat, yielding to theexcessive licence of the day; he next raised up Rocinante, and as for him, had hepossessed a tongue to complain with, most assuredly neither Sancho nor hismaster would have been behind him. To be brief, Sancho fixed Don Quixote on the ass and secured Rocinante with aleading rein, and taking the ass by the halter, he proceeded more or less in thedirection in which it seemed to him the high road might be; and, as chance wasconducting their affairs for them from good to better, he had not gone a shortleague when the road came in sight, and on it he perceived an inn, which to hisannoyance and to the delight of Don Quixote must needs be a castle. Sanchoinsisted that it was an inn, and his master that it was not one, but a castle, andthe dispute lasted so long that before the point was settled they had time to reachit, and into it Sancho entered with all his team without any further controversy. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 6. Chapters 16-17EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XVI. OF WHAT HAPPENED TO THE INGENIOUS GENTLEMAN IN THEINN WHICH HE TOOK TO BE A CASTLEThe innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote slung across the ass, asked Sancho whatwas amiss with him. Sancho answered that it was nothing, only that he had fallendown from a rock and had his ribs a little bruised. The innkeeper had a wifewhose disposition was not such as those of her calling commonly have, for shewas by nature kind-hearted and felt for the sufferings of her neighbours, so she atonce set about tending Don Quixote, and made her young daughter, a very comelygirl, help her in taking care of her guest. There was besides in the inn, as servant, an Asturian lass with a broad face, flat poll, and snub nose, blind of one eye andnot very sound in the other. The elegance of her shape, to be sure, made up for allher defects; she did not measure seven palms from head to foot, and hershoulders, which overweighted her somewhat, made her contemplate the groundmore than she liked. This graceful lass, then, helped the young girl, and the twomade up a very bad bed for Don Quixote in a garret that showed evident signs ofhaving formerly served for many years as a straw-loft, in which there was alsoquartered a carrier whose bed was placed a little beyond our Don Quixote's, and, though only made of the pack-saddles and cloths of his mules, had much theadvantage of it, as Don Quixote's consisted simply of four rough boards on twonot very even trestles, a mattress, that for thinness might have passed for a quilt, full of pellets which, were they not seen through the rents to be wool, would tothe touch have seemed pebbles in hardness, two sheets made of buckler leather, and a coverlet the threads of which anyone that chose might have countedwithout missing one in the reckoning. On this accursed bed Don Quixote stretched himself, and the hostess and herdaughter soon covered him with plasters from top to toe, while Maritornes--forthat was the name of the Asturian--held the light for them, and while plasteringhim, the hostess, observing how full of wheals Don Quixote was in some places, remarked that this had more the look of blows than of a fall. It was not blows, Sancho said, but that the rock had many points andprojections, and that each of them had left its mark. "Pray, senora, " he added, "manage to save some tow, as there will be no want of some one to use it, for myloins too are rather sore. ""Then you must have fallen too, " said the hostess. "I did not fall, " said Sancho Panza, "but from the shock I got at seeing mymaster fall, my body aches so that I feel as if I had had a thousand thwacks. ""That may well be, " said the young girl, "for it has many a time happened to meto dream that I was falling down from a tower and never coming to the ground, and when I awoke from the dream to find myself

as weak and shaken as if I hadreally fallen. ""There is the point, senora, " replied Sancho Panza, "that I without dreaming atall, but being more awake than I am now, find myself with scarcely less whealsthan my master, Don Quixote. ""How is the gentleman called?" asked Maritornes the Asturian. "Don Quixote of La Mancha, " answered Sancho Panza, "and he is a knight-adventurer, and one of the best and stoutest that have been seen in the world thislong time past. ""What is a knight-adventurer?" said the lass. "Are you so new in the world as not to know?" answered Sancho Panza. "Well, then, you must know, sister, that a knight-adventurer is a thing that in two wordsis seen drubbed and emperor, that is to-day the most miserable and needy beingin the world, and to-morrow will have two or three crowns of kingdoms to give hissquire. ""Then how is it, " said the hostess, "that belonging to so good a master as this, you have not, to judge by appearances, even so much as a county?""It is too soon yet, " answered Sancho, "for we have only been a month going inquest of adventures, and so far we have met with nothing that can be called one, for it will happen that when one thing is looked for another thing is found;however, if my master Don Quixote gets well of this wound, or fall, and I am leftnone the worse of it, I would not change my hopes for the best title in Spain. "To all this conversation Don Quixote was listening very attentively, and sittingup in bed as well as he could, and taking the hostess by the hand he said to her, "Believe me, fair lady, you may call yourself fortunate in having in this castle ofyours sheltered my person, which is such that if I do not myself praise it, it isbecause of what is commonly said, that self-praise debaseth; but my squire willinform you who I am. I only tell you that I shall preserve for ever inscribed on mymemory the service you have rendered me in order to tender you my gratitudewhile life shall last me; and would to Heaven love held me not so enthralled andsubject to its laws and to the eyes of that fair ingrate whom I name between myteeth, but that those of this lovely damsel might be the masters of my liberty. "The hostess, her daughter, and the worthy Maritornes listened in bewildermentto the words of the knight-errant; for they understood about as much of them as ifhe had been talking Greek, though they could perceive they were all meant forexpressions of good-will and blandishments; and not being accustomed to thiskind of language, they stared at him and wondered to themselves, for he seemedto them a man of a different sort from those they were used to, and thanking himin pothouse phrase for his civility they left him, while the Asturian gave herattention to Sancho, who needed it no less than his master. The carrier had made an arrangement with her for recreation that night, andshe had given him her word that when the guests were quiet and the family asleepshe would come in search of him and meet his wishes unreservedly. And it is saidof this good lass that she never made promises of the kind without fulfilling them, even though she made them in a forest and without any witness present, for sheplumed herself greatly on being a lady and held it no disgrace to be in such anemployment as servant in an inn, because, she said, misfortunes and ill-luck hadbrought her to that position. The hard, narrow, wretched, rickety bed of DonQuixote stood first in the middle of this star-lit stable, and close beside it Sanchomade his, which merely consisted of a rush mat and a blanket that looked as if itwas of threadbare canvas rather than of wool. Next to these two beds was that ofthe carrier, made up, as has been said, of the pack-saddles and all the trappings ofthe two best mules he had, though there were twelve of them, sleek, plump, andin prime condition, for he was one of the rich carriers of Arevalo, according to theauthor of this history, who particularly mentions this carrier because he knew himvery well, and they even say was in some degree a relation of his; besides whichCide Hamete Benengeli was a historian of great research and accuracy in allthings, as is very evident since he would not pass over in silence those that havebeen already mentioned, however trifling and insignificant they might be, anexample that might be followed by those grave historians who relate transactionsso curtly and briefly that we hardly get a taste of them, all the substance of thework being left in the inkstand from carelessness, perverseness, or ignorance. Athousand blessings on the author of "Tablante de Ricamonte" and that of the otherbook in which the deeds of the Conde Tomillas are recounted; with whatminuteness they describe everything!To proceed, then: after having paid a visit to his team and given them theirsecond feed, the carrier stretched himself on his pack-saddles and lay waiting forhis conscientious Maritornes. Sancho was by this time plastered and had laindown, and though he strove to sleep the pain of his ribs would not let him, whileDon Quixote with the pain of his had his eyes as wide open as a hare's. The inn was all in silence, and in the whole of it there was no light except thatgiven by a lantern that hung burning in the middle of the gateway. This strangestillness, and the thoughts, always present to our knight's mind, of the incidentsdescribed at every turn in the books that were the cause of his misfortune, conjured up to his imagination as extraordinary a delusion as can well beconceived, which was that he fancied himself to have reached a famous castle(for, as has been said, all the inns he lodged in were castles to his eyes), and thatthe daughter of the innkeeper was daughter of the lord of the castle, and that she, won by his high-bred bearing, had fallen in love with him, and had promised tocome to his bed for a while that night without the knowledge of her parents; andholding all this fantasy that he had constructed as solid fact, he began to feeluneasy and to consider the perilous risk which his virtue was about to encounter, and he resolved in his heart to commit no treason to his lady Dulcinea delToboso, even though the queen Guinevere herself and the dame Quintanonashould present themselves before him. While he was taken up with these vagaries, then, the time and the hour--anunlucky one for him--arrived for the Asturian to come, who in her smock, withbare feet and her hair gathered into a fustian coif, with noiseless and cautioussteps entered the chamber where the three were quartered, in quest of the carrier;but scarcely had she gained the door when Don Quixote perceived her, and sittingup in his bed in spite of his plasters and the pain of his ribs, he stretched out hisarms to receive his beauteous damsel. The Asturian, who went all doubled up andin silence with her hands before her feeling for her lover, encountered the arms ofDon Quixote, who grasped her tightly by the wrist, and drawing her towards him, while she dared not utter a word, made her sit down on the bed. He then felt hersmock, and although it was of sackcloth it appeared to him to be of the finest andsoftest silk: on her wrists she wore some glass beads, but to him they had thesheen of precious Orient pearls: her hair, which in some measure resembled ahorse's mane, he rated as threads of the brightest gold of Araby, whose refulgencedimmed the sun himself: her breath, which no doubt smelt of yesterday's stalesalad, seemed to him to diffuse a sweet aromatic fragrance from her mouth; and, in short, he drew her portrait in his imagination with the same features and in thesame style as that which he had seen in his books of the other princesses who, smitten by love, came with all the adornments that are here set down, to see thesorely wounded knight; and so great was the poor gentleman's blindness thatneither touch, nor smell, nor anything else about the good lass that would havemade any but a carrier vomit, were enough to undeceive him; on the contrary, hewas persuaded he had the goddess of beauty in his arms, and holding her firmlyin his grasp he went on to say in low, tender voice:"Would that found myself, lovely and exalted lady, in a position to repay such afavour as that which you, by the sight of your great beauty, have granted me; butfortune, which is never weary of persecuting the good, has chosen to place meupon this bed, where I lie so bruised and broken that though my inclinationwould gladly comply with yours it is impossible; besides, to this impossibilityanother yet greater is to be added, which is the faith that I have pledged to thepeerless Dulcinea del Toboso, sole lady of my most secret thoughts; and were itnot that this stood in the way I should not be so insensible a knight as to miss thehappy opportunity which your great goodness has offered me. "Maritornes was fretting and sweating at finding herself held so fast by DonQuixote, and not understanding or heeding the words he addressed to her, shestrove without speaking to free herself. The worthy carrier, whose unholythoughts kept him awake, was aware of his doxy the moment she entered thedoor, and was listening attentively to all Don Quixote said; and jealous that theAsturian should have broken her word with him for another, drew nearer to DonQuixote's bed and stood still to see what would come of this talk which he couldnot understand; but when he perceived the wench struggling to get free and DonQuixote striving to hold her, not relishing the joke he raised his arm and deliveredsuch a terrible cuff on the lank jaws of the amorous knight that he bathed all hismouth in blood, and not content with this he mounted on his ribs and with hisfeet tramped all over them at a pace rather smarter than a trot. The bed whichwas somewhat crazy and not very firm on its feet, unable to support theadditional weight of the carrier, came to the ground, and at the mighty crash ofthis the innkeeper awoke and at once concluded that it must be some brawl ofMaritornes', because after calling loudly to her he got no answer. With thissuspicion he got up, and lighting a lamp hastened to the quarter where he hadheard the disturbance. The wench, seeing that her master was coming andknowing that his temper was terrible, frightened and panic-stricken made for thebed of Sancho Panza, who still slept, and crouching upon it made a ball of herself. The innkeeper came in exclaiming, "Where art thou, strumpet? Of course this issome of thy work. " At this Sancho awoke, and feeling this mass almost on top ofhim fancied he had the nightmare and began to distribute fisticuffs all round, ofwhich a certain share fell upon Maritornes, who, irritated by the pain and flingingmodesty aside, paid back so many in return to Sancho that she woke him up inspite of himself. He then, finding himself so handled, by whom he knew not, raising himself up as well as he could, grappled with Maritornes, and he and shebetween them began the bitterest and drollest scrimmage in the world. Thecarrier, however, perceiving by the light of the innkeeper candle how it fared withhis ladylove, quitting Don Quixote, ran to bring her the help she needed; and theinnkeeper did the same but with a different intention, for his was to chastise thelass, as he believed that beyond a doubt she alone was the cause of all theharmony. And so, as the saying is, cat to rat, rat to rope, rope to stick, the carrierpounded Sancho, Sancho the lass, she him, and the innkeeper her, and all workedaway so briskly that they did not give themselves a moment's rest; and the best ofit was that the innkeeper's lamp went out, and as they were left in the dark theyall laid on one upon the other in a mass so unmercifully that there was not asound spot left where a hand could light. It so happened that there was lodging that night in the inn a caudrillero of whatthey call the Old Holy Brotherhood of Toledo, who, also hearing the extraordinarynoise of the conflict, seized his staff and the tin case with his warrants, and madehis way in the dark into the room crying: "Hold! in the name of the Jurisdiction!Hold! in the name of the Holy Brotherhood!"The first that he came upon was the pummelled Don Quixote, who lay stretchedsenseless on his back upon his broken-down bed, and, his hand falling on thebeard as he felt about, he continued to cry, "Help for the Jurisdiction!" butperceiving that he whom he had laid hold of did not move or stir, he concludedthat he was dead and that those in the room were his murderers, and with thissuspicion he raised his voice still higher, calling out, "Shut the inn gate; see thatno one goes out; they have killed a man here!" This cry startled them all, and eachdropped the contest at the point at which the voice reached him. The innkeeperretreated to his room, the carrier to his pack-saddles, the lass to her crib; theunlucky Don Quixote and Sancho alone were unable to move from where theywere. The cuadrillero on this let go Don Quixote's beard, and went out to look fora light to search for and apprehend the culprits; but not finding one, as theinnkeeper had purposely extinguished the lantern on retreating to his room, hewas compelled to have recourse to the hearth, where after much time and troublehe lit another lamp. CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH ARE CONTAINED THE INNUMERABLE TROUBLESWHICH THE BRAVE DON QUIXOTE AND HIS GOOD SQUIRESANCHO PANZA ENDURED IN THE INN, WHICH TO HISMISFORTUNE HE TOOK TO BE A CASTLEBy this time Don Quixote had recovered from his swoon; and in the same toneof voice in which he had called to his squire the day before when he lay stretched"in the vale of the stakes, " he began calling to him now, "Sancho, my friend, artthou asleep? sleepest thou, friend Sancho?""How can I sleep, curses on it!" returned Sancho discontentedly and bitterly, "when it is plain that all the devils have been at me this night?""Thou mayest well believe that, " answered Don Quixote, "because, either I knowlittle, or this castle is enchanted, for thou must know--but this that I am nowabout to tell thee thou must swear to keep secret until after my death. ""I swear it, " answered Sancho. "I say so, " continued Don Quixote, "because I hate taking away anyone's goodname. ""I say, " replied Sancho, "that I swear to hold my tongue about it till the end ofyour worship's days, and God grant I may be able to let it out tomorrow. ""Do I do thee such injuries, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that thou wouldst seeme dead so soon?""It is not for that, " replied Sancho, "but because I hate keeping things long, andI don't want them to grow rotten with me from over-keeping. ""At any rate, " said Don Quixote, "I have more confidence in thy affection andgood nature; and so I would have thee know that this night there befell me one ofthe strangest adventures that I could describe, and to relate it to thee briefly thoumust know that a little while ago the daughter of the lord of this castle came tome, and that she is the most elegant and beautiful damsel that could be found inthe wide world. What I could tell thee of the charms of her person! of her livelywit! of other secret matters which, to preserve the fealty I owe to my ladyDulcinea del Toboso, I shall pass over unnoticed and in silence! I will only tellthee that, either fate being envious of so great a boon placed in my hands by goodfortune, or perhaps (and this is more probable) this castle being, as I have alreadysaid, enchanted, at the time when I was engaged in the sweetest and mostamorous discourse with her, there came, without my seeing or knowing whence itcame, a hand attached to some arm of some huge giant, that planted such a cuffon my jaws that I have them all bathed in blood, and then pummelled me in sucha way that I am in a worse plight than yesterday when the carriers, on account ofRocinante's misbehaviour, inflicted on us the injury thou knowest of; whenceconjecture that there must be some enchanted Moor guarding the treasure of thisdamsel's beauty, and that it is not for me. ""Not for me either, " said Sancho, "for more than four hundred Moors have sothrashed me that the drubbing of the stakes was cakes and fancy-bread to it. Buttell me, senor, what do you call this excellent and rare adventure that has left usas we are left now? Though your worship was not so badly off, having in yourarms that incomparable beauty you spoke of; but I, what did I have, except theheaviest whacks I think I had in all my life? Unlucky me and the mother that boreme! for I am not a knight-errant and never expect to be one, and of all themishaps, the greater part falls to my share. ""Then thou hast been thrashed too?" said Don Quixote. "Didn't I say so? worse luck to my line!" said Sancho. "Be not distressed, friend, " said Don Quixote, "for I will now make the preciousbalsam with which we shall cure ourselves in the twinkling of an eye. "By this time the cuadrillero had succeeded in lighting the lamp, and came in tosee the man that he thought had been killed; and as Sancho caught sight of him atthe door, seeing him coming in his shirt, with a cloth on his head, and a lamp inhis hand, and a very forbidding countenance, he said to his master, "Senor, can itbe that this is the enchanted Moor coming back to give us more castigation ifthere be anything still left in the ink-bottle?""It cannot be the Moor, " answered Don Quixote, "for those under enchantmentdo not let themselves be seen by anyone. ""If they don't let themselves be seen, they let themselves be felt, " said Sancho;"if not, let my shoulders speak to the point. ""Mine could speak too, " said Don Quixote, "but that is not a sufficient reasonfor believing that what we see is the enchanted Moor. "The officer came up, and finding them engaged in such a peaceful conversation, stood amazed; though Don Quixote, to be sure, still lay on his back unable tomove from pure pummelling and plasters. The officer turned to him and said, "Well, how goes it, good man?""I would speak more politely if I were you, " replied Don Quixote; "is it the wayof this country to address knights-errant in that style, you booby?"The cuadrillero finding himself so disrespectfully treated by such a sorry-lookingindividual, lost his temper, and raising the lamp full of oil, smote Don Quixotesuch a blow with it on the head that he gave him a badly broken pate; then, allbeing in darkness, he went out, and Sancho Panza said, "That is certainly theenchanted Moor, Senor, and he keeps the treasure for others, and for us only thecuffs and lamp-whacks. ""That is the truth, " answered Don Quixote, "and there is no use in troublingoneself about these matters of enchantment or being angry or vexed at them, foras they are invisible and visionary we shall find no one on whom to avengeourselves, do what we may; rise, Sancho, if thou canst, and call the alcaide of thisfortress, and get him to give me a little oil, wine, salt, and rosemary to make thesalutiferous balsam, for indeed I believe I have great need of it now, because I amlosing much blood from the wound that phantom gave me. "Sancho got up with pain enough in his bones, and went after the innkeeper inthe dark, and meeting the officer, who was looking to see what had become of hisenemy, he said to him, "Senor, whoever you are, do us the favour and kindness togive us a little rosemary, oil, salt, and wine, for it is wanted to cure one of thebest knights-errant on earth, who lies on yonder bed wounded by the hands of theenchanted Moor that is in this inn. "When the officer heard him talk in this way, he took him for a man out of hissenses, and as day was now beginning to break, he opened the inn gate, andcalling the host, he told him what this good man wanted. The host furnished himwith what he required, and Sancho brought it to Don Quixote, who, with his handto his head, was bewailing the pain of the blow of the lamp, which had done himno more harm than raising a couple of rather large lumps, and what he fanciedblood was only the sweat that flowed from him in his sufferings during the latestorm. To be brief, he took the materials, of which he made a compound, mixingthem all and boiling them a good while until it seemed to him they had come toperfection. He then asked for some vial to pour it into, and as there was not onein the inn, he decided on putting it into a tin oil-bottle or flask of which the hostmade him a free gift; and over the flask he repeated more than eighty paternostersand as many more ave-marias, salves, and credos, accompanying each word witha cross by way of benediction, at all which there were present Sancho, theinnkeeper, and the cuadrillero; for the carrier was now peacefully engaged inattending to the comfort of his mules. This being accomplished, he felt anxious to make trial himself, on the spot, ofthe virtue of this precious balsam, as he considered it, and so he drank near aquart of what could not be put into the flask and remained in the pigskin in whichit had been boiled; but scarcely had he done drinking when he began to vomit insuch a way that nothing was left in his stomach, and with the pangs and spasmsof vomiting he broke into a profuse sweat, on account of which he bade themcover him up and leave him alone. They did so, and he lay sleeping more thanthree hours, at the end of which he awoke and felt very great bodily relief and somuch ease from his bruises that he thought himself quite cured, and verilybelieved he had hit upon the balsam of Fierabras; and that with this remedy hemight thenceforward, without any fear, face any kind of destruction, battle, orcombat, however perilous it might be. Sancho Panza, who also regarded the amendment of his master as miraculous, begged him to give him what was left in the pigskin, which was no small quantity. Don Quixote consented, and he, taking it with both hands, in good faith and witha better will, gulped down and drained off very little less than his master. But thefact is, that the stomach of poor Sancho was of necessity not so delicate as that ofhis master, and so, before vomiting, he was seized with such gripings andretchings, and such sweats and faintness, that verily and truly be believed his lasthour had come, and finding himself so racked and tormented he cursed thebalsam and the thief that had given it to him. Don Quixote seeing him in this state said, "It is my belief, Sancho, that thismischief comes of thy not being dubbed a knight, for I am persuaded this liquorcannot be good for those who are not so. ""If your worship knew that, " returned Sancho--"woe betide me and all mykindred!--why did you let me taste it?"At this moment the draught took effect, and the poor squire began to dischargeboth ways at such a rate that the rush mat on which he had thrown himself andthe canvas blanket he had covering him were fit for nothing afterwards. Hesweated and perspired with such paroxysms and convulsions that not only hehimself but all present thought his end had come. This tempest and tribulationlasted about two hours, at the end of which he was left, not like his master, butso weak and exhausted that he could not stand. Don Quixote, however, who, ashas been said, felt himself relieved and well, was eager to take his departure atonce in quest of adventures, as it seemed to him that all the time he loitered therewas a fraud upon the world and those in it who stood in need of his help andprotection, all the more when he had the security and confidence his balsamafforded him; and so, urged by this impulse, he saddled Rocinante himself andput the pack-saddle on his squire's beast, whom likewise he helped to dress andmount the ass; after which he mounted his horse and turning to a corner of theinn he laid hold of a pike that stood there, to serve him by way of a lance. All thatwere in the inn, who were more than twenty persons, stood watching him; theinnkeeper's daughter was likewise observing him, and he too never took his eyesoff her, and from time to time fetched a sigh that he seemed to pluck up from thedepths of his bowels; but they all thought it must be from the pain he felt in hisribs; at any rate they who had seen him plastered the night before thought so. As soon as they were both mounted, at the gate of the inn, he called to the hostand said in a very grave and measured voice, "Many and great are the favours, Senor Alcaide, that I have received in this castle of yours, and I remain under thedeepest obligation to be grateful to you for them all the days of my life; if I canrepay them in avenging you of any arrogant foe who may have wronged you, know that my calling is no other than to aid the weak, to avenge those who sufferwrong, and to chastise perfidy. Search your memory, and if you find anything ofthis kind you need only tell me of it, and I promise you by the order ofknighthood which I have received to procure you satisfaction and reparation tothe utmost of your desire. "The innkeeper replied to him with equal calmness, "Sir Knight, I do not wantyour worship to avenge me of any wrong, because when any is done me I can takewhat vengeance seems good to me; the only thing I want is that you pay me thescore that you have run up in the inn last night, as well for the straw and barleyfor your two beasts, as for supper and beds. ""Then this is an inn?" said Don Quixote. "And a very respectable one, " said the innkeeper. "I have been under a mistake all this time, " answered Don Quixote, "for in truthI thought it was a castle, and not a bad one; but since it appears that it is not acastle but an inn, all that can be done now is that you should excuse the payment, for I cannot contravene the rule of knights-errant, of whom I know as a fact (andup to the present I have read nothing to the contrary) that they never paid forlodging or anything else in the inn where they might be; for any hospitality thatmight be offered them is their due by law and right in return for the insufferabletoil they endure in seeking adventures by night and by day, in summer and inwinter, on foot and on horseback, in hunger and thirst, cold and heat, exposed toall the inclemencies of heaven and all the hardships of earth. ""I have little to do with that, " replied the innkeeper; "pay me what you owe me, and let us have no more talk of chivalry, for all I care about is to get my money. ""You are a stupid, scurvy innkeeper, " said Don Quixote, and putting spurs toRocinante and bringing his pike to the slope he rode out of the inn before anyonecould stop him, and pushed on some distance without looking to see if his squirewas following him. The innkeeper when he saw him go without paying him ran to get payment ofSancho, who said that as his master would not pay neither would he, because, being as he was squire to a knight-errant, the same rule and reason held good forhim as for his master with regard to not paying anything in inns and hostelries. Atthis the innkeeper waxed very wroth, and threatened if he did not pay to compelhim in a way that he would not like. To which Sancho made answer that by thelaw of chivalry his master had received he would not pay a rap, though it cost himhis life; for the excellent and ancient usage of knights-errant was not going to beviolated by him, nor should the squires of such as were yet to come into the worldever complain of him or reproach him with breaking so just a privilege. The ill-luck of the unfortunate Sancho so ordered it that among the company inthe inn there were four woolcarders from Segovia, three needle-makers from theColt of Cordova, and two lodgers from the Fair of Seville, lively fellows, tender-hearted, fond of a joke, and playful, who, almost as if instigated and moved by acommon impulse, made up to Sancho and dismounted him from his ass, while oneof them went in for the blanket of the host's bed; but on flinging him into it theylooked up, and seeing that the ceiling was somewhat lower what they required fortheir work, they decided upon going out into the yard, which was bounded by thesky, and there, putting Sancho in the middle of the blanket, they began to raisehim high, making sport with him as they would with a dog at Shrovetide. The cries of the poor blanketed wretch were so loud that they reached the earsof his master, who, halting to listen attentively, was persuaded that some newadventure was coming, until he clearly perceived that it was his squire whouttered them. Wheeling about he came up to the inn with a laborious gallop, andfinding it shut went round it to see if he could find some way of getting in; but assoon as he came to the wall of the yard, which was not very high, he discoveredthe game that was being played with his squire. He saw him rising and falling inthe air with such grace and nimbleness that, had his rage allowed him, it is mybelief he would have laughed. He tried to climb from his horse on to the top ofthe wall, but he was so bruised and battered that he could not even dismount;and so from the back of his horse he began to utter such maledictions andobjurgations against those who were blanketing Sancho as it would be impossibleto write down accurately: they, however, did not stay their laughter or their workfor this, nor did the flying Sancho cease his lamentations, mingled now withthreats, now with entreaties but all to little purpose, or none at all, until frompure weariness they left off. They then brought him his ass, and mounting him ontop of it they put his jacket round him; and the compassionate Maritornes, seeinghim so exhausted, thought fit to refresh him with a jug of water, and that it mightbe all the cooler she fetched it from the well. Sancho took it, and as he wasraising it to his mouth he was stopped by the cries of his master exclaiming, "Sancho, my son, drink not water; drink it not, my son, for it will kill thee; see, here I have the blessed balsam (and he held up the flask of liquor), and withdrinking two drops of it thou wilt certainly be restored. "At these words Sancho turned his eyes asquint, and in a still louder voice said, "Can it be your worship has forgotten that I am not a knight, or do you want meto end by vomiting up what bowels I have left after last night? Keep your liquor inthe name of all the devils, and leave me to myself!" and at one and the sameinstant he left off talking and began drinking; but as at the first sup he perceivedit was water he did not care to go on with it, and begged Maritornes to fetch himsome wine, which she did with right good will, and paid for it with her ownmoney; for indeed they say of her that, though she was in that line of life, therewas some faint and distant resemblance to a Christian about her. When Sanchohad done drinking he dug his heels into his ass, and the gate of the inn beingthrown open he passed out very well pleased at having paid nothing and carriedhis point, though it had been at the expense of his usual sureties, his shoulders. Itis true that the innkeeper detained his alforjas in payment of what was owing tohim, but Sancho took his departure in such a flurry that he never missed them. The innkeeper, as soon as he saw him off, wanted to bar the gate close, but theblanketers would not agree to it, for they were fellows who would not have caredtwo farthings for Don Quixote, even had he been really one of the knights-errantof the Round Table. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 7. Chapters 18-22EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XVIII. IN WHICH IS RELATED THE DISCOURSE SANCHO PANZA HELDWITH HIS MASTER, DON QUIXOTE, AND OTHER ADVENTURESWORTH RELATINGSancho reached his master so limp and faint that he could not urge on hisbeast. When Don Quixote saw the state he was in he said, "I have now come tothe conclusion, good Sancho, that this castle or inn is beyond a doubt enchanted, because those who have so atrociously diverted themselves with thee, what canthey be but phantoms or beings of another world? and I hold this confirmed byhaving noticed that when I was by the wall of the yard witnessing the acts of thysad tragedy, it was out of my power to mount upon it, nor could I even dismountfrom Rocinante, because they no doubt had me enchanted; for I swear to thee bythe faith of what I am that if I had been able to climb up or dismount, I wouldhave avenged thee in such a way that those braggart thieves would haveremembered their freak for ever, even though in so doing I knew that Icontravened the laws of chivalry, which, as I have often told thee, do not permit aknight to lay hands on him who is not one, save in case of urgent and greatnecessity in defence of his own life and person. ""I would have avenged myself too if I could, " said Sancho, "whether I had beendubbed knight or not, but I could not; though for my part I am persuaded thosewho amused themselves with me were not phantoms or enchanted men, as yourworship says, but men of flesh and bone like ourselves; and they all had theirnames, for I heard them name them when they were tossing me, and one wascalled Pedro Martinez, and another Tenorio Hernandez, and the innkeeper, Iheard, was called Juan Palomeque the Left-handed; so that, senor, your not beingable to leap over the wall of the yard or dismount from your horse came ofsomething else besides enchantments; and what I make out clearly from all this is, that these adventures we go seeking will in the end lead us into suchmisadventures that we shall not know which is our right foot; and that the bestand wisest thing, according to my small wits, would be for us to return home, now that it is harvest-time, and attend to our business, and give over wanderingfrom Zeca to Mecca and from pail to bucket, as the saying is. ""How little thou knowest about chivalry, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote; "holdthy peace and have patience; the day will come when thou shalt see with thineown eyes what an honourable thing it is to wander in the pursuit of this calling;nay, tell me, what greater pleasure can there be in the world, or what delight canequal that of winning a battle, and triumphing over one's enemy? None, beyondall doubt. ""Very likely, " answered Sancho, "though I do not know it; all I know is thatsince we have been knights-errant, or since your worship has been one (for I haveno right to reckon myself one of so honourable a number) we have never won anybattle except the one with the Biscayan, and even out of that your worship camewith half an ear and half a helmet the less; and from that till now it has been allcudgellings and more cudgellings, cuffs and more cuffs, I getting the blanketingover and above, and falling in with enchanted persons on whom I cannot avengemyself so as to know what the delight, as your worship calls it, of conquering anenemy is like. ""That is what vexes me, and what ought to vex thee, Sancho, " replied DonQuixote; "but henceforward I will endeavour to have at hand some sword made bysuch craft that no kind of enchantments can take effect upon him who carries it, and it is even possible that fortune may procure for me that which belonged toAmadis when he was called 'The Knight of the Burning Sword, ' which was one ofthe best swords that ever knight in the world possessed, for, besides having thesaid virtue, it cut like a razor, and there was no armour, however strong andenchanted it might be, that could resist it. ""Such is my luck, " said Sancho, "that even if that happened and your worshipfound some such sword, it would, like the balsam, turn out serviceable and goodfor dubbed knights only, and as for the squires, they might sup sorrow. ""Fear not that, Sancho, " said Don Quixote: "Heaven will deal better by thee. "Thus talking, Don Quixote and his squire were going along, when, on the roadthey were following, Don Quixote perceived approaching them a large and thickcloud of dust, on seeing which he turned to Sancho and said:"This is the day, Sancho, on which will be seen the boon my fortune is reservingfor me; this, I say, is the day on which as much as on any other shall be displayedthe might of my arm, and on which I shall do deeds that shall remain written inthe book of fame for all ages to come. Seest thou that cloud of dust which risesyonder? Well, then, all that is churned up by a vast army composed of variousand countless nations that comes marching there. ""According to that there must be two, " said Sancho, "for on this opposite sidealso there rises just such another cloud of dust. "Don Quixote turned to look and found that it was true, and rejoicingexceedingly, he concluded that they were two armies about to engage andencounter in the midst of that broad plain; for at all times and seasons his fancywas full of the battles, enchantments, adventures, crazy feats, loves, anddefiances that are recorded in the books of chivalry, and everything he said, thought, or did had reference to such things. Now the cloud of dust he had seenwas raised by two great droves of sheep coming along the same road in oppositedirections, which, because of the dust, did not become visible until they drewnear, but Don Quixote asserted so positively that they were armies that Sanchowas led to believe it and say, "Well, and what are we to do, senor?""What?" said Don Quixote: "give aid and assistance to the weak and those whoneed it; and thou must know, Sancho, that this which comes opposite to us isconducted and led by the mighty emperor Alifanfaron, lord of the great isle ofTrapobana; this other that marches behind me is that of his enemy the king of theGaramantas, Pentapolin of the Bare Arm, for he always goes into battle with hisright arm bare. ""But why are these two lords such enemies?""They are at enmity, " replied Don Quixote, "because this Alifanfaron is a furiouspagan and is in love with the daughter of Pentapolin, who is a very beautiful andmoreover gracious lady, and a Christian, and her father is unwilling to bestow herupon the pagan king unless he first abandons the religion of his false prophetMahomet, and adopts his own. ""By my beard, " said Sancho, "but Pentapolin does quite right, and I will helphim as much as I can. ""In that thou wilt do what is thy duty, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "for toengage in battles of this sort it is not requisite to be a dubbed knight. ""That I can well understand, " answered Sancho; "but where shall we put this asswhere we may be sure to find him after the fray is over? for I believe it has notbeen the custom so far to go into battle on a beast of this kind. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote, "and what you had best do with him is to leavehim to take his chance whether he be lost or not, for the horses we shall havewhen we come out victors will be so many that even Rocinante will run a risk ofbeing changed for another. But attend to me and observe, for I wish to give theesome account of the chief knights who accompany these two armies; and thatthou mayest the better see and mark, let us withdraw to that hillock which risesyonder, whence both armies may be seen. "They did so, and placed themselves on a rising ground from which the twodroves that Don Quixote made armies of might have been plainly seen if theclouds of dust they raised had not obscured them and blinded the sight;nevertheless, seeing in his imagination what he did not see and what did notexist, he began thus in a loud voice:"That knight whom thou seest yonder in yellow armour, who bears upon hisshield a lion crowned crouching at the feet of a damsel, is the valiant Laurcalco, lord of the Silver Bridge; that one in armour with flowers of gold, who bears onhis shield three crowns argent on an azure field, is the dreaded Micocolembo, grand duke of Quirocia; that other of gigantic frame, on his right hand, is the everdauntless Brandabarbaran de Boliche, lord of the three Arabias, who for armourwears that serpent skin, and has for shield a gate which, according to tradition, isone of those of the temple that Samson brought to the ground when by his deathhe revenged himself upon his enemies. But turn thine eyes to the other side, andthou shalt see in front and in the van of this other army the ever victorious andnever vanquished Timonel of Carcajona, prince of New Biscay, who comes inarmour with arms quartered azure, vert, white, and yellow, and bears on hisshield a cat or on a field tawny with a motto which says Miau, which is thebeginning of the name of his lady, who according to report is the peerlessMiaulina, daughter of the duke Alfeniquen of the Algarve; the other, who burdensand presses the loins of that powerful charger and bears arms white as snow anda shield blank and without any device, is a novice knight, a Frenchman by birth, Pierres Papin by name, lord of the baronies of Utrique; that other, who with iron-shod heels strikes the flanks of that nimble parti-coloured zebra, and for armsbears azure vair, is the

mighty duke of Nerbia, Espartafilardo del Bosque, whobears for device on his shield an asparagus plant with a motto in Castilian thatsays, Rastrea mi suerte. " And so he went on naming a number of knights of onesquadron or the other out of his imagination, and to all he assigned off-hand theirarms, colours, devices, and mottoes, carried away by the illusions of his unheard-of craze; and without a pause, he continued, "People of divers nations composethis squadron in front; here are those that drink of the sweet waters of the famousXanthus, those that scour the woody Massilian plains, those that sift the pure finegold of Arabia Felix, those that enjoy the famed cool banks of the crystalThermodon, those that in many and various ways divert the streams of the goldenPactolus, the Numidians, faithless in their promises, the Persians renowned inarchery, the Parthians and the Medes that fight as they fly, the Arabs that evershift their dwellings, the Scythians as cruel as they are fair, the Ethiopians withpierced lips, and an infinity of other nations whose features I recognise anddescry, though I cannot recall their names. In this other squadron there comethose that drink of the crystal streams of the olive-bearing Betis, those that makesmooth their countenances with the water of the ever rich and golden Tagus, those that rejoice in the fertilising flow of the divine Genil, those that roam theTartesian plains abounding in pasture, those that take their pleasure in theElysian meadows of Jerez, the rich Manchegans crowned with ruddy ears of corn, the wearers of iron, old relics of the Gothic race, those that bathe in the Pisuergarenowned for its gentle current, those that feed their herds along the spreadingpastures of the winding Guadiana famed for its hidden course, those that tremblewith the cold of the pineclad Pyrenees or the dazzling snows of the loftyApennine; in a word, as many as all Europe includes and contains. "Good God! what a number of countries and nations he named! giving to each itsproper attributes with marvellous readiness; brimful and saturated with what hehad read in his lying books! Sancho Panza hung upon his words without speaking, and from time to time turned to try if he could see the knights and giants hismaster was describing, and as he could not make out one of them he said to him:"Senor, devil take it if there's a sign of any man you talk of, knight or giant, inthe whole thing; maybe it's all enchantment, like the phantoms last night. ""How canst thou say that!" answered Don Quixote; "dost thou not hear theneighing of the steeds, the braying of the trumpets, the roll of the drums?""I hear nothing but a great bleating of ewes and sheep, " said Sancho; which wastrue, for by this time the two flocks had come close. "The fear thou art in, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "prevents thee from seeing orhearing correctly, for one of the effects of fear is to derange the senses and makethings appear different from what they are; if thou art in such fear, withdraw toone side and leave me to myself, for alone I suffice to bring victory to that side towhich I shall give my aid;" and so saying he gave Rocinante the spur, and puttingthe lance in rest, shot down the slope like a thunderbolt. Sancho shouted afterhim, crying, "Come back, Senor Don Quixote; I vow to God they are sheep andewes you are charging! Come back! Unlucky the father that begot me! whatmadness is this! Look, there is no giant, nor knight, nor cats, nor arms, norshields quartered or whole, nor vair azure or bedevilled. What are you about?Sinner that I am before God!" But not for all these entreaties did Don Quixoteturn back; on the contrary he went on shouting out, "Ho, knights, ye who followand fight under the banners of the valiant emperor Pentapolin of the Bare Arm, follow me all; ye shall see how easily I shall give him his revenge over his enemyAlifanfaron of the Trapobana. "So saying, he dashed into the midst of the squadron of ewes, and beganspearing them with as much spirit and intrepidity as if he were transfixing mortalenemies in earnest. The shepherds and drovers accompanying the flock shouted tohim to desist; seeing it was no use, they ungirt their slings and began to salute hisears with stones as big as one's fist. Don Quixote gave no heed to the stones, but, letting drive right and left kept saying:"Where art thou, proud Alifanfaron? Come before me; I am a single knight whowould fain prove thy prowess hand to hand, and make thee yield thy life apenalty for the wrong thou dost to the valiant Pentapolin Garamanta. " Here camea sugar-plum from the brook that struck him on the side and buried a couple ofribs in his body. Feeling himself so smitten, he imagined himself slain or badlywounded for certain, and recollecting his liquor he drew out his flask, and puttingit to his mouth began to pour the contents into his stomach; but ere he hadsucceeded in swallowing what seemed to him enough, there came another almondwhich struck him on the hand and on the flask so fairly that it smashed it topieces, knocking three or four teeth and grinders out of his mouth in its course, and sorely crushing two fingers of his hand. Such was the force of the first blowand of the second, that the poor knight in spite of himself came down backwardsoff his horse. The shepherds came up, and felt sure they had killed him; so in allhaste they collected their flock together, took up the dead beasts, of which therewere more than seven, and made off without waiting to ascertain anythingfurther. All this time Sancho stood on the hill watching the crazy feats his master wasperforming, and tearing his beard and cursing the hour and the occasion whenfortune had made him acquainted with him. Seeing him, then, brought to theground, and that the shepherds had taken themselves off, he ran to him andfound him in very bad case, though not unconscious; and said he:"Did I not tell you to come back, Senor Don Quixote; and that what you weregoing to attack were not armies but droves of sheep?""That's how that thief of a sage, my enemy, can alter and falsify things, "answered Don Quixote; "thou must know, Sancho, that it is a very easy matter forthose of his sort to make us believe what they choose; and this malignant beingwho persecutes me, envious of the glory he knew I was to win in this battle, hasturned the squadrons of the enemy into droves of sheep. At any rate, do thismuch, I beg of thee, Sancho, to undeceive thyself, and see that what I say is true;mount thy ass and follow them quietly, and thou shalt see that when they havegone some little distance from this they will return to their original shape and, ceasing to be sheep, become men in all respects as I described them to thee atfirst. But go not just yet, for I want thy help and assistance; come hither, and seehow many of my teeth and grinders are missing, for I feel as if there was not oneleft in my mouth. "Sancho came so close that he almost put his eyes into his mouth; now just atthat moment the balsam had acted on the stomach of Don Quixote, so, at the veryinstant when Sancho came to examine his mouth, he discharged all its contentswith more force than a musket, and full into the beard of the compassionatesquire. "Holy Mary!" cried Sancho, "what is this that has happened me? Clearly thissinner is mortally wounded, as he vomits blood from the mouth;" but consideringthe matter a little more closely he perceived by the colour, taste, and smell, that itwas not blood but the balsam from the flask which he had seen him drink; and hewas taken with such a loathing that his stomach turned, and he vomited up hisinside over his very master, and both were left in a precious state. Sancho ran tohis ass to get something wherewith to clean himself, and relieve his master, out ofhis alforjas; but not finding them, he well-nigh took leave of his senses, andcursed himself anew, and in his heart resolved to quit his master and returnhome, even though he forfeited the wages of his service and all hopes of thepromised island. Don Quixote now rose, and putting his left hand to his mouth to keep his teethfrom falling out altogether, with the other he laid hold of the bridle of Rocinante, who had never stirred from his master's side--so loyal and well-behaved was he--and betook himself to where the squire stood leaning over his ass with his hand tohis cheek, like one in deep dejection. Seeing him in this mood, looking so sad, Don Quixote said to him:"Bear in mind, Sancho, that one man is no more than another, unless he doesmore than another; all these tempests that fall upon us are signs that fair weatheris coming shortly, and that things will go well with us, for it is impossible forgood or evil to last for ever; and hence it follows that the evil having lasted long, the good must be now nigh at hand; so thou must not distress thyself at themisfortunes which happen to me, since thou hast no share in them. ""How have I not?" replied Sancho; "was he whom they blanketed yesterdayperchance any other than my father's son? and the alforjas that are missing to-daywith all my treasures, did they belong to any other but myself?""What! are the alforjas missing, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Yes, they are missing, " answered Sancho. "In that case we have nothing to eat to-day, " replied Don Quixote. "It would be so, " answered Sancho, "if there were none of the herbs yourworship says you know in these meadows, those with which knights-errant asunlucky as your worship are wont to supply such-like shortcomings. ""For all that, " answered Don Quixote, "I would rather have just now a quarter ofbread, or a loaf and a couple of pilchards' heads, than all the herbs described byDioscorides, even with Doctor Laguna's notes. Nevertheless, Sancho the Good, mount thy beast and come along with me, for God, who provides for all things, will not fail us (more especially when we are so active in his service as we are), since he fails not the midges of the air, nor the grubs of the earth, nor thetadpoles of the water, and is so merciful that he maketh his sun to rise on thegood and on the evil, and sendeth rain on the unjust and on the just. ""Your worship would make a better preacher than knight-errant, " said Sancho. "Knights-errant knew and ought to know everything, Sancho, " said Don Quixote;"for there were knights-errant in former times as well qualified to deliver a sermonor discourse in the middle of an encampment, as if they had graduated in theUniversity of Paris; whereby we may see that the lance has never blunted the pen, nor the pen the lance. ""Well, be it as your worship says, " replied Sancho; "let us be off now and findsome place of shelter for the night, and God grant it may be somewhere wherethere are no blankets, nor blanketeers, nor phantoms, nor enchanted Moors; for ifthere are, may the devil take the whole concern. ""Ask that of God, my son, " said Don Quixote; and do thou lead on where thouwilt, for this time I leave our lodging to thy choice; but reach me here thy hand, and feel with thy finger, and find out how many of my teeth and grinders aremissing from this right side of the upper jaw, for it is there I feel the pain. "Sancho put in his fingers, and feeling about asked him, "How many grindersused your worship have on this side?""Four, " replied Don Quixote, "besides the back-tooth, all whole and quitesound. ""Mind what you are saying, senor. ""I say four, if not five, " answered Don Quixote, "for never in my life have I hadtooth or grinder drawn, nor has any fallen out or been destroyed by any decay orrheum. ""Well, then, " said Sancho, "in this lower side your worship has no more thantwo grinders and a half, and in the upper neither a half nor any at all, for it is allas smooth as the palm of my hand. ""Luckless that I am!" said Don Quixote, hearing the sad news his squire gavehim; "I had rather they despoiled me of an arm, so it were not the sword-arm; forI tell thee, Sancho, a mouth without teeth is like a mill without a millstone, and atooth is much more to be prized than a diamond; but we who profess the austereorder of chivalry are liable to all this. Mount, friend, and lead the way, and I willfollow thee at whatever pace thou wilt. "Sancho did as he bade him, and proceeded in the direction in which he thoughthe might find refuge without quitting the high road, which was there very muchfrequented. As they went along, then, at a slow pace--for the pain in DonQuixote's jaws kept him uneasy and ill-disposed for speed--Sancho thought it wellto amuse and divert him by talk of some kind, and among the things he said tohim was that which will be told in the following chapter. CHAPTER XIX. OF THE SHREWD DISCOURSE WHICH SANCHO HELD WITH HISMASTER, AND OF THE ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL HIM WITH ADEAD BODY, TOGETHER WITH OTHER NOTABLE OCCURRENCES"It seems to me, senor, that all these mishaps that have befallen us of late havebeen without any doubt a punishment for the offence committed by your worshipagainst the order of chivalry in not keeping the oath you made not to eat bread offa tablecloth or embrace the queen, and all the rest of it that your worship sworeto observe until you had taken that helmet of Malandrino's, or whatever the Mooris called, for I do not very well remember. ""Thou art very right, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "but to tell the truth, it hadescaped my memory; and likewise thou mayest rely upon it that the affair of theblanket happened to thee because of thy fault in not reminding me of it in time;but I will make amends, for there are ways of compounding for everything in theorder of chivalry. ""Why! have I taken an oath of some sort, then?" said Sancho. "It makes no matter that thou hast not taken an oath, " said Don Quixote;"suffice it that I see thou art not quite clear of complicity; and whether or no, itwill not be ill done to provide ourselves with a remedy. ""In that case, " said Sancho, "mind that your worship does not forget this as youdid the oath; perhaps the phantoms may take it into their heads to amusethemselves once more with me; or even with your worship if they see you soobstinate. "While engaged in this and other talk, night overtook them on the road beforethey had reached or discovered any place of shelter; and what made it still worsewas that they were dying of hunger, for with the loss of the alforjas they had losttheir entire larder and commissariat; and to complete the misfortune they metwith an adventure which without any invention had really the appearance of one. It so happened that the night closed in somewhat darkly, but for all that theypushed on, Sancho feeling sure that as the road was the king's highway they mightreasonably expect to find some inn within a league or two. Going along, then, inthis way, the night dark, the squire hungry, the master sharp-set, they sawcoming towards them on the road they were travelling a great number of lightswhich looked exactly like stars in motion. Sancho was taken aback at the sight ofthem, nor did Don Quixote altogether relish them: the one pulled up his ass bythe halter, the other his hack by the bridle, and they stood still, watchinganxiously to see what all this would turn out to be, and found that the lights wereapproaching them, and the nearer they came the greater they seemed, at whichspectacle Sancho began to shake like a man dosed with mercury, and DonQuixote's hair stood on end; he, however, plucking up spirit a little, said:"This, no doubt, Sancho, will be a most mighty and perilous adventure, inwhich it will be needful for me to put forth all my valour and resolution. ""Unlucky me!" answered Sancho; "if this adventure happens to be one ofphantoms, as I am beginning to think it is, where shall I find the ribs to bear it?""Be they phantoms ever so much, " said Don Quixote, "I will not permit them totouch a thread of thy garments; for if they played tricks with thee the time before, it was because I was unable to leap the walls of the yard; but now we are on awide plain, where I shall be able to wield my sword as I please. ""And if they enchant and cripple you as they did the last time, " said Sancho, "what difference will it make being on the open plain or not?""For all that, " replied Don Quixote, "I entreat thee, Sancho, to keep a goodheart, for experience will tell thee what mine is. ""I will, please God, " answered Sancho, and the two retiring to one side of theroad set themselves to observe closely what all these moving lights might be; andvery soon afterwards they made out some twenty encamisados, all on horseback, with lighted torches in their hands, the awe-inspiring aspect of whom completelyextinguished the courage of Sancho, who began to chatter with his teeth like onein the cold fit of an ague; and his heart sank and his teeth chattered still morewhen they perceived distinctly that behind them there came a litter covered overwith black and followed by six more mounted figures in mourning down to thevery feet of their mules--for they could perceive plainly they were not horses bythe easy pace at which they went. And as the encamisados came along theymuttered to themselves in a low plaintive tone. This strange spectacle at such anhour and in such a solitary place was quite enough to strike terror into Sancho'sheart, and even into his master's; and (save in Don Quixote's case) did so, for allSancho's resolution had now broken down. It was just the opposite with hismaster, whose imagination immediately conjured up all this to him vividly as oneof the adventures of his books. He took it into his head that the litter was a bier on which was borne somesorely wounded or slain knight, to avenge whom was a task reserved for himalone; and without any further reasoning he laid his lance in rest, fixed himselffirmly in his saddle, and with gallant spirit and bearing took up his position in themiddle of the road where the encamisados must of necessity pass; and as soon ashe saw them near at hand he raised his voice and said:"Halt, knights, or whosoever ye may be, and render me account of who ye are, whence ye come, where ye go, what it is ye carry upon that bier, for, to judge byappearances, either ye have done some wrong or some wrong has been done toyou, and it is fitting and necessary that I should know, either that I may chastiseyou for the evil ye have done, or else that I may avenge you for the injury that hasbeen inflicted upon you. ""We are in haste, " answered one of the encamisados, "and the inn is far off, andwe cannot stop to render you such an account as you demand;" and spurring hismule he moved on. Don Quixote was mightily provoked by this answer, and seizing the mule by thebridle he said, "Halt, and be more mannerly, and render an account of what Ihave asked of you; else, take my defiance to combat, all of you. "The mule was shy, and was so frightened at her bridle being seized that rearingup she flung her rider to the ground over her haunches. An attendant who was onfoot, seeing the encamisado fall, began to abuse Don Quixote, who now moved toanger, without any more ado, laying his lance in rest charged one of the men inmourning and brought him badly wounded to the ground, and as he wheeledround upon the others the agility with which he attacked and routed them was asight to see, for it seemed just as if wings had that instant grown upon Rocinante, so lightly and proudly did he bear himself. The encamisados were all timid folkand unarmed, so they speedily made their escape from the fray and set off at arun across the plain with their lighted torches, looking exactly like maskersrunning on some gala or festival night. The mourners, too, enveloped and swathedin their skirts and gowns, were unable to bestir themselves, and so with entiresafety to himself Don Quixote belaboured them all and drove them off againsttheir will, for they all thought it was no man but a devil from hell come to carryaway the dead body they had in the litter. Sancho beheld all this in astonishment at the intrepidity of his lord, and said tohimself, "Clearly this master of mine is as bold and valiant as he says he is. "A burning torch lay on the ground near the first man whom the mule hadthrown, by the light of which Don Quixote perceived him, and coming up to himhe presented the point of the lance to his face, calling on him to yield himselfprisoner, or else he would kill him; to which the prostrate man replied, "I amprisoner enough as it is; I cannot stir, for one of my legs is broken: I entreat you, if you be a Christian gentleman, not to kill me, which will be committing gravesacrilege, for I am a licentiate and I hold first orders. ""Then what the devil brought you here, being a churchman?" said Don Quixote. "What, senor?" said the other. "My bad luck. ""Then still worse awaits you, " said Don Quixote, "if you do not satisfy me as toall I asked you at first. ""You shall be soon satisfied, " said the licentiate; "you must know, then, thatthough just now I said I was a licentiate, I am only a bachelor, and my name isAlonzo Lopez; I am a native of Alcobendas, I come from the city of Baeza witheleven others, priests, the same who fled with the torches, and we are going to thecity of Segovia accompanying a dead body which is in that litter, and is that of agentleman who died in Baeza, where he was interred; and now, as I said, we aretaking his bones to their burial-place, which is in Segovia, where he was born. ""And who killed him?" asked Don Quixote. "God, by means of a malignant fever that took him, " answered the bachelor. "In that case, " said Don Quixote, "the Lord has relieved me of the task ofavenging his death had any other slain him; but, he who slew him having slainhim, there is nothing for it but to be silent, and shrug one's shoulders; I should dothe same were he to slay myself; and I would have your reverence know that I ama knight of La Mancha, Don Quixote by name, and it is my business and calling toroam the world righting wrongs and redressing injuries. ""I do not know how that about righting wrongs can be, " said the bachelor, "forfrom straight you have made me crooked, leaving me with a broken leg that willnever see itself straight again all the days of its life; and the injury you haveredressed in my case has been to leave me injured in such a way that I shallremain injured for ever; and the height of misadventure it was to fall in with youwho go in search of adventures. ""Things do not all happen in the same way, " answered Don Quixote; "it allcame, Sir Bachelor Alonzo Lopez, of your going, as you did, by night, dressed inthose surplices, with lighted torches, praying, covered with mourning, so thatnaturally you looked like something evil and of the other world; and so I could notavoid doing my duty in attacking you, and I should have attacked you even had Iknown positively that you were the very devils of hell, for such I certainlybelieved and took you to be. ""As my fate has so willed it, " said the bachelor, "I entreat you, sir knight-errant, whose errand has been such an evil one for me, to help me to get from under thismule that holds one of my legs caught between the stirrup and the saddle. ""I would have talked on till to-morrow, " said Don Quixote; "how long were yougoing to wait before telling me of your distress?"He at once called to Sancho, who, however, had no mind to come, as he wasjust then engaged in unloading a sumpter mule, well laden with provender, whichthese worthy gentlemen had brought with them. Sancho made a bag of his coat, and, getting together as much as he could, and as the bag would hold, he loadedhis beast, and then hastened to obey his master's call, and helped him to removethe bachelor from under the mule; then putting him on her back he gave him thetorch, and Don Quixote bade him follow the track of his companions, and begpardon of them on his part for the wrong which he could not help doing them. And said Sancho, "If by chance these gentlemen should want to know who wasthe hero that served them so, your worship may tell them that he is the famousDon Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called the Knight of the RuefulCountenance. "The bachelor then took his departure. I forgot to mention that before he did so he said to Don Quixote, "Rememberthat you stand excommunicated for having laid violent hands on a holy thing, juxta illud, si quis, suadente diabolo. ""I do not understand that Latin, " answered Don Quixote, "but I know well I didnot lay hands, only this pike; besides, I did not think I was committing an assaultupon priests or things of the Church, which, like a Catholic and faithful Christianas I am, I respect and revere, but upon phantoms and spectres of the other world;but even so, I remember how it fared with Cid Ruy Diaz when he broke the chairof the ambassador of that king before his Holiness the Pope, who excommunicatedhim for the same; and yet the good Roderick of Vivar bore himself that day like avery noble and valiant knight. "On hearing this the bachelor took his departure, as has been said, withoutmaking any reply; and Don Quixote asked Sancho what had induced him to callhim the "Knight of the Rueful Countenance" more then than at any other time. "I will tell you, " answered Sancho; "it was because I have been looking at youfor some time by the light of the torch held by that unfortunate, and verily yourworship has got of late the most ill-favoured countenance I ever saw: it must beeither owing to the fatigue of this combat, or else to the want of teeth andgrinders. ""It is not that, " replied Don Quixote, "but because the sage whose duty it will beto write the history of my achievements must have thought it proper that I shouldtake some distinctive name as all knights of yore did; one being 'He of the BurningSword, ' another 'He of the Unicorn, ' this one 'He of the Damsels, ' that 'He of thePhoenix, ' another 'The Knight of the Griffin, ' and another 'He of the Death, ' and bythese names and designations they were known all the world round; and so I saythat the sage aforesaid must have put it into your mouth and mind just now tocall me 'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance, ' as I intend to call myself from thisday forward; and that the said name may fit me better, I mean, when theopportunity offers, to have a very rueful countenance painted on my shield. ""There is no occasion, senor, for wasting time or money on making thatcountenance, " said Sancho; "for all that need be done is for your worship to showyour own, face to face, to those who look at you, and without anything more, either image or shield, they will call you 'Him of the Rueful Countenance' andbelieve me I am telling you the truth, for I assure you, senor (and in good part beit said), hunger and the loss of your grinders have given you such an ill-favouredface that, as I say, the rueful picture may be very well spared. "Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's pleasantry; nevertheless he resolved to callhimself by that name, and have his shield or buckler painted as he had devised. Don Quixote would have looked to see whether the body in the litter werebones or not, but Sancho would not have it, saying:"Senor, you have ended this perilous adventure more safely for yourself thanany of those I have seen: perhaps these people, though beaten and routed, maybethink themselves that it is a single man that has beaten them, and feeling soreand ashamed of it may take heart and come in search of us and give us troubleenough. The ass is in proper trim, the mountains are near at hand, hungerpresses, we have nothing more to do but make good our retreat, and, as thesaying is, the dead to the grave and the living to the loaf. "And driving his ass before him he begged his master to follow, who, feeling thatSancho was right, did so without replying; and after proceeding some littledistance between two hills they found themselves in a wide and retired valley, where they alighted, and Sancho unloaded his beast, and stretched upon thegreen grass, with hunger for sauce, they breakfasted, dined, lunched, and suppedall at once, satisfying their appetites with more than one store of cold meat whichthe dead man's clerical gentlemen (who seldom put themselves on shortallowance) had brought with them on their sumpter mule. But another piece of ill-luck befell them, which Sancho held the worst of all, and that was that they hadno wine to drink, nor even water to moisten their lips; and as thirst tormentedthem, Sancho, observing that the meadow where they were was full of green andtender grass, said what will be told in the following chapter. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XX. OF THE UNEXAMPLED AND UNHEARD-OF ADVENTURE WHICHWAS ACHIEVED BY THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHAWITH LESS PERIL THAN ANY EVER ACHIEVED BY ANY FAMOUSKNIGHT IN THE WORLD"It cannot be, senor, but that this grass is a proof that there must be hard bysome spring or brook to give it moisture, so it would be well to move a littlefarther on, that we may find some place where we may quench this terrible thirstthat plagues us, which beyond a doubt is more distressing than hunger. "The advice seemed good to Don Quixote, and, he leading Rocinante by thebridle and Sancho the ass by the halter, after he had packed away upon him theremains of the supper, they advanced the meadow feeling their way, for thedarkness of the night made it impossible to see anything; but they had not gonetwo hundred paces when a loud noise of water, as if falling from great rocks, struck their ears. The sound cheered them greatly; but halting to make out bylistening from what quarter it came they heard unseasonably another noise whichspoiled the satisfaction the sound of the water gave them, especially for Sancho, who was by nature timid and faint-hearted. They heard, I say, strokes falling witha measured beat, and a certain rattling of iron and chains that, together with thefurious din of the water, would have struck terror into any heart but DonQuixote's. The night was, as has been said, dark, and they had happened to reacha spot in among some tall trees, whose leaves stirred by a gentle breeze made alow ominous sound; so that, what with the solitude, the place, the darkness, thenoise of the water, and the rustling of the leaves, everything inspired awe anddread; more especially as they perceived that the strokes did not cease, nor thewind lull, nor morning approach; to all which might be added their ignorance asto where they were. But Don Quixote, supported by his intrepid heart, leaped on Rocinante, andbracing his buckler on his arm, brought his pike to the slope, and said, "FriendSancho, know that I by Heaven's will have been born in this our iron age to reviverevive in it the age of gold, or the golden as it is called; I am he for whom perils, mighty achievements, and valiant deeds are reserved; I am, I say again, he who isto revive the Knights of the Round Table, the Twelve of France and the NineWorthies; and he who is to consign to oblivion the Platirs, the Tablantes, theOlivantes and Tirantes, the Phoebuses and Belianises, with the whole herd offamous knights-errant of days gone by, performing in these in which I live suchexploits, marvels, and feats of arms as shall obscure their brightest deeds. Thoudost mark well, faithful and trusty squire, the gloom of this night, its strangesilence, the dull confused murmur of those trees, the awful sound of that water inquest of which we came, that seems as though it were precipitating and dashingitself down from the lofty mountains of the Moon, and that incessant hammeringthat wounds and pains our ears; which things all together and each of itself areenough to instil fear, dread, and dismay into the breast of Mars himself, muchmore into one not used to hazards and adventures of the kind. Well, then, all thisthat I put before thee is but an incentive and stimulant to my spirit, making myheart burst in my bosom through eagerness to engage in this adventure, arduousas it promises to be; therefore tighten Rocinante's girths a little, and God be withthee; wait for me here three days and no more, and if in that time I come notback, thou canst return to our village, and thence, to do me a favour and aservice, thou wilt go to El Toboso, where thou shalt say to my incomparable ladyDulcinea that her captive knight hath died in attempting things that might makehim worthy of being called hers. "When Sancho heard his master's words he began to weep in the most patheticway, saying:"Senor, I know not why your worship wants to attempt this so dreadfuladventure; it is night now, no one sees us here, we can easily turn about and takeourselves out of danger, even if we don't drink for three days to come; and asthere is no one to see us, all the less will there be anyone to set us down ascowards; besides, I have many a time heard the curate of our village, whom yourworship knows well, preach that he who seeks danger perishes in it; so it is notright to tempt God by trying so tremendous a feat from which there can be noescape save by a miracle, and Heaven has performed enough of them for yourworship in delivering you from being blanketed as I was, and bringing you outvictorious and safe and sound from among all those enemies that were with thedead man; and if all this does not move or soften that hard heart, let this thoughtand reflection move it, that you will have hardly quitted this spot when from purefear I shall yield my soul up to anyone that will take it. I left home and wife andchildren to come and serve your worship, trusting to do better and not worse; butas covetousness bursts the bag, it has rent my hopes asunder, for just as I hadthem highest about getting that wretched unlucky island your worship has sooften promised me, I see that instead and in lieu of it you mean to desert me nowin a place so far from human reach: for God's sake, master mine, deal not sounjustly by me, and if your worship will not entirely give up attempting this feat, at least put it off till morning, for by what the lore I learned when I was ashepherd tells me it cannot want three hours of dawn now, because the mouth ofthe Horn is overhead and makes midnight in the line of the left arm. ""How canst thou see, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "where it makes that line, orwhere this mouth or this occiput is that thou talkest of, when the night is so darkthat there is not a star to be seen in the whole heaven?""That's true, " said Sancho, "but fear has sharp eyes, and sees thingsunderground, much more above in heavens; besides, there is good reason to showthat it now wants but little of day. ""Let it want what it may, " replied Don Quixote, "it shall not be said of me nowor at any time that tears or entreaties turned me aside from doing what was inaccordance with knightly usage; and so I beg of thee, Sancho, to hold thy peace, for God, who has put it into my heart to undertake now this so unexampled andterrible adventure, will take care to watch over my safety and console thy sorrow;what thou hast to do is to tighten Rocinante's girths well, and wait here, for Ishall come back shortly, alive or dead. "Sancho perceiving it his master's final resolve, and how little his tears, counsels, and entreaties prevailed with him, determined to have recourse to his owningenuity and compel him, if he could, to wait till daylight; and so, whiletightening the girths of the horse, he quietly and without being felt, with his ass'halter tied both Rocinante's legs, so that when Don Quixote strove to go he wasunable as the horse could only move by jumps. Seeing the success of his trick, Sancho Panza said:"See there, senor! Heaven, moved by my tears and prayers, has so ordered itthat Rocinante cannot stir; and if you will be obstinate, and spur and strike him, you will only provoke fortune, and kick, as they say, against the pricks. "Don Quixote at this grew desperate, but the more he drove his heels into thehorse, the less he stirred him; and not having any suspicion of the tying, he wasfain to resign himself and wait till daybreak or until Rocinante could move, firmlypersuaded that all this came of something other than Sancho's ingenuity. So hesaid to him, "As it is so, Sancho, and as Rocinante cannot move, I am content towait till dawn smiles upon us, even though I weep while it delays its coming. ""There is no need to weep, " answered Sancho, "for I will amuse your worship bytelling stories from this till daylight, unless indeed you like to dismount and liedown to sleep a little on the green grass after the fashion of knights-errant, so asto be fresher when day comes and the moment arrives for attempting thisextraordinary adventure you are looking forward to. ""What art thou talking about dismounting or sleeping for?" said Don Quixote. "Am I, thinkest thou, one of those knights that take their rest in the presence ofdanger? Sleep thou who art born to sleep, or do as thou wilt, for I will act as Ithink most consistent with my character. ""Be not angry, master mine, " replied Sancho, "I did not mean to say that;" andcoming close to him he laid one hand on the pommel of the saddle and the otheron the cantle so that he held his master's left thigh in his embrace, not daring toseparate a finger's width from him; so much afraid was he of the strokes whichstill resounded with a regular beat. Don Quixote bade him tell some story toamuse him as he had proposed, to which Sancho replied that he would if hisdread of what he heard would let him; "Still, " said he, "I will strive to tell a storywhich, if I can manage to relate it, and nobody interferes with the telling, is thebest of stories, and let your worship give me your attention, for here I begin. Whatwas, was; and may the good that is to come be for all, and the evil for him whogoes to look for it--your worship must know that the beginning the old folk usedto put to their tales was not just as each one pleased; it was a maxim of CatoZonzorino the Roman, that says 'the evil for him that goes to look for it, ' and itcomes as pat to the purpose now as ring to finger, to show that your worshipshould keep quiet and not go looking for evil in any quarter, and that we shouldgo back by some other road, since nobody forces us to follow this in which somany terrors affright us. ""Go on with thy story, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and leave the choice of ourroad to my care. ""I say then, " continued Sancho, "that in a village of Estremadura there was agoat-shepherd--that is to say, one who tended goats--which shepherd orgoatherd, as my story goes, was called Lope Ruiz, and this Lope Ruiz was in lovewith a shepherdess called Torralva, which shepherdess called Torralva was thedaughter of a rich grazier, and this rich grazier-""If that is the way thou tellest thy tale, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "repeatingtwice all thou hast to say, thou wilt not have done these two days; go straight onwith it, and tell it like a reasonable man, or else say nothing. ""Tales are always told in my country in the very way I am telling this, "answered Sancho, "and I cannot tell it in any other, nor is it right of your worshipto ask me to make new customs. ""Tell it as thou wilt, " replied Don Quixote; "and as fate will have it that I cannothelp listening to thee, go on. ""And so, lord of my soul, " continued Sancho, as I have said, this shepherd wasin love with Torralva the shepherdess, who was a wild buxom lass with somethingof the look of a man about her, for she had little moustaches; I fancy I see hernow. ""Then you knew her?" said Don Quixote. "I did not know her, " said Sancho, "but he who told me the story said it was sotrue and certain that when I told it to another I might safely declare and swear Ihad seen it all myself. And so in course of time, the devil, who never sleeps andputs everything in confusion, contrived that the love the shepherd bore theshepherdess turned into hatred and ill-will, and the reason, according to eviltongues, was some little jealousy she caused him that crossed the line andtrespassed on forbidden ground; and so much did the shepherd hate her from thattime forward that, in order to escape from her, he determined to quit the countryand go where he should never set eyes on her again. Torralva, when she foundherself spurned by Lope, was immediately smitten with love for him, though shehad never loved him before. ""That is the

natural way of women, " said Don Quixote, "to scorn the one thatloves them, and love the one that hates them: go on, Sancho. ""It came to pass, " said Sancho, "that the shepherd carried out his intention, anddriving his goats before him took his way across the plains of Estremadura to passover into the Kingdom of Portugal. Torralva, who knew of it, went after him, andon foot and barefoot followed him at a distance, with a pilgrim's staff in her handand a scrip round her neck, in which she carried, it is said, a bit of looking-glassand a piece of a comb and some little pot or other of paint for her face; but let hercarry what she did, I am not going to trouble myself to prove it; all I say is, thatthe shepherd, they say, came with his flock to cross over the river Guadiana, which was at that time swollen and almost overflowing its banks, and at the spothe came to there was neither ferry nor boat nor anyone to carry him or his flockto the other side, at which he was much vexed, for he perceived that Torralva wasapproaching and would give him great annoyance with her tears and entreaties;however, he went looking about so closely that he discovered a fisherman whohad alongside of him a boat so small that it could only hold one person and onegoat; but for all that he spoke to him and agreed with him to carry himself and histhree hundred goats across. The fisherman got into the boat and carried one goatover; he came back and carried another over; he came back again, and againbrought over another--let your worship keep count of the goats the fisherman istaking across, for if one escapes the memory there will be an end of the story, andit will be impossible to tell another word of it. To proceed, I must tell you thelanding place on the other side was miry and slippery, and the fisherman lost agreat deal of time in going and coming; still he returned for another goat, andanother, and another. ""Take it for granted he brought them all across, " said Don Quixote, "and don'tkeep going and coming in this way, or thou wilt not make an end of bringing themover this twelvemonth. ""How many have gone across so far?" said Sancho. "How the devil do I know?" replied Don Quixote. "There it is, " said Sancho, "what I told you, that you must keep a good count;well then, by God, there is an end of the story, for there is no going any farther. ""How can that be?" said Don Quixote; "is it so essential to the story to know toa nicety the goats that have crossed over, that if there be a mistake of one in thereckoning, thou canst not go on with it?""No, senor, not a bit, " replied Sancho; "for when I asked your worship to tell mehow many goats had crossed, and you answered you did not know, at that veryinstant all I had to say passed away out of my memory, and, faith, there wasmuch virtue in it, and entertainment. ""So, then, " said Don Quixote, "the story has come to an end?""As much as my mother has, " said Sancho. "In truth, " said Don Quixote, "thou hast told one of the rarest stories, tales, orhistories, that anyone in the world could have imagined, and such a way of tellingit and ending it was never seen nor will be in a lifetime; though I expectednothing else from thy excellent understanding. But I do not wonder, for perhapsthose ceaseless strokes may have confused thy wits. ""All that may be, " replied Sancho, "but I know that as to my story, all that canbe said is that it ends there where the mistake in the count of the passage of thegoats begins. ""Let it end where it will, well and good, " said Don Quixote, "and let us see ifRocinante can go;" and again he spurred him, and again Rocinante made jumpsand remained where he was, so well tied was he. Just then, whether it was the cold of the morning that was now approaching, orthat he had eaten something laxative at supper, or that it was only natural (as ismost likely), Sancho felt a desire to do what no one could do for him; but so greatwas the fear that had penetrated his heart, he dared not separate himself from hismaster by as much as the black of his nail; to escape doing what he wanted was, however, also impossible; so what he did for peace's sake was to remove his righthand, which held the back of the saddle, and with it to untie gently and silentlythe running string which alone held up his breeches, so that on loosening it theyat once fell down round his feet like fetters; he then raised his shirt as well as hecould and bared his hind quarters, no slim ones. But, this accomplished, which hefancied was all he had to do to get out of this terrible strait and embarrassment, another still greater difficulty presented itself, for it seemed to him impossible torelieve himself without making some noise, and he ground his teeth and squeezedhis shoulders together, holding his breath as much as he could; but in spite of hisprecautions he was unlucky enough after all to make a little noise, very differentfrom that which was causing him so much fear. Don Quixote, hearing it, said, "What noise is that, Sancho?""I don't know, senor, " said he; "it must be something new, for adventures andmisadventures never begin with a trifle. " Once more he tried his luck, andsucceeded so well, that without any further noise or disturbance he found himselfrelieved of the burden that had given him so much discomfort. But as DonQuixote's sense of smell was as acute as his hearing, and as Sancho was so closelylinked with him that the fumes rose almost in a straight line, it could not be butthat some should reach his nose, and as soon as they did he came to its relief bycompressing it between his fingers, saying in a rather snuffing tone, "Sancho, itstrikes me thou art in great fear. ""I am, " answered Sancho; "but how does your worship perceive it now morethan ever?""Because just now thou smellest stronger than ever, and not of ambergris, "answered Don Quixote. "Very likely, " said Sancho, "but that's not my fault, but your worship's, forleading me about at unseasonable hours and at such unwonted paces. ""Then go back three or four, my friend, " said Don Quixote, all the time with hisfingers to his nose; "and for the future pay more attention to thy person and towhat thou owest to mine; for it is my great familiarity with thee that has bred thiscontempt. ""I'll bet, " replied Sancho, "that your worship thinks I have done something Iought not with my person. ""It makes it worse to stir it, friend Sancho, " returned Don Quixote. With this and other talk of the same sort master and man passed the night, tillSancho, perceiving that daybreak was coming on apace, very cautiously untiedRocinante and tied up his breeches. As soon as Rocinante found himself free, though by nature he was not at all mettlesome, he seemed to feel lively and beganpawing--for as to capering, begging his pardon, he knew not what it meant. DonQuixote, then, observing that Rocinante could move, took it as a good sign and asignal that he should attempt the dread adventure. By this time day had fullybroken and everything showed distinctly, and Don Quixote saw that he wasamong some tall trees, chestnuts, which cast a very deep shade; he perceivedlikewise that the sound of the strokes did not cease, but could not discover whatcaused it, and so without any further delay he let Rocinante feel the spur, andonce more taking leave of Sancho, he told him to wait for him there three days atmost, as he had said before, and if he should not have returned by that time, hemight feel sure it had been God's will that he should end his days in that perilousadventure. He again repeated the message and commission with which he was togo on his behalf to his lady Dulcinea, and said he was not to be uneasy as to thepayment of his services, for before leaving home he had made his will, in whichhe would find himself fully recompensed in the matter of wages in due proportionto the time he had served; but if God delivered him safe, sound, and unhurt outof that danger, he might look upon the promised island as much more thancertain. Sancho began to weep afresh on again hearing the affecting words of hisgood master, and resolved to stay with him until the final issue and end of thebusiness. From these tears and this honourable resolve of Sancho Panza's theauthor of this history infers that he must have been of good birth and at least anold Christian; and the feeling he displayed touched his but not so much as tomake him show any weakness; on the contrary, hiding what he felt as well as hecould, he began to move towards that quarter whence the sound of the water andof the strokes seemed to come. Sancho followed him on foot, leading by the halter, as his custom was, his ass, his constant comrade in prosperity or adversity; and advancing some distancethrough the shady chestnut trees they came upon a little meadow at the foot ofsome high rocks, down which a mighty rush of water flung itself. At the foot ofthe rocks were some rudely constructed houses looking more like ruins thanhouses, from among which came, they perceived, the din and clatter of blows, which still continued without intermission. Rocinante took fright at the noise ofthe water and of the blows, but quieting him Don Quixote advanced step by steptowards the houses, commending himself with all his heart to his lady, imploringher support in that dread pass and enterprise, and on the way commendinghimself to God, too, not to forget him. Sancho who never quitted his side, stretched his neck as far as he could and peered between the legs of Rocinante tosee if he could now discover what it was that caused him such fear andapprehension. They went it might be a hundred paces farther, when on turning acorner the true cause, beyond the possibility of any mistake, of that dread-sounding and to them awe-inspiring noise that had kept them all the night in suchfear and perplexity, appeared plain and obvious; and it was (if, reader, thou artnot disgusted and disappointed) six fulling hammers which by their alternatestrokes made all the din. When Don Quixote perceived what it was, he was struck dumb and rigid fromhead to foot. Sancho glanced at him and saw him with his head bent down uponhis breast in manifest mortification; and Don Quixote glanced at Sancho and sawhim with his cheeks puffed out and his mouth full of laughter, and evidentlyready to explode with it, and in spite of his vexation he could not help laughing atthe sight of him; and when Sancho saw his master begin he let go so heartily thathe had to hold his sides with both hands to keep himself from bursting withlaughter. Four times he stopped, and as many times did his laughter break outafresh with the same violence as at first, whereat Don Quixote grew furious, above all when he heard him say mockingly, "Thou must know, friend Sancho, that of Heaven's will I was born in this our iron age to revive in it the golden orage of gold; I am he for whom are reserved perils, mighty achievements, valiantdeeds;" and here he went on repeating the words that Don Quixote uttered thefirst time they heard the awful strokes. Don Quixote, then, seeing that Sancho was turning him into ridicule, was somortified and vexed that he lifted up his pike and smote him two such blows thatif, instead of catching them on his shoulders, he had caught them on his headthere would have been no wages to pay, unless indeed to his heirs. Sancho seeingthat he was getting an awkward return in earnest for his jest, and fearing hismaster might carry it still further, said to him very humbly, "Calm yourself, sir, for by God I am only joking. ""Well, then, if you are joking I am not, " replied Don Quixote. "Look here, mylively gentleman, if these, instead of being fulling hammers, had been someperilous adventure, have I not, think you, shown the courage required for theattempt and achievement? Am I, perchance, being, as I am, a gentleman, bound toknow and distinguish sounds and tell whether they come from fulling mills or not;and that, when perhaps, as is the case, I have never in my life seen any as youhave, low boor as you are, that have been born and bred among them? But turnme these six hammers into six giants, and bring them to beard me, one by one orall together, and if I do not knock them head over heels, then make what mockeryyou like of me. ""No more of that, senor, " returned Sancho; "I own I went a little too far with thejoke. But tell me, your worship, now that peace is made between us (and mayGod bring you out of all the adventures that may befall you as safe and sound ashe has brought you out of this one), was it not a thing to laugh at, and is it not agood story, the great fear we were in?--at least that I was in; for as to yourworship I see now that you neither know nor understand what either fear ordismay is. ""I do not deny, " said Don Quixote, "that what happened to us may be worthlaughing at, but it is not worth making a story about, for it is not everyone that isshrewd enough to hit the right point of a thing. ""At any rate, " said Sancho, "your worship knew how to hit the right point withyour pike, aiming at my head and hitting me on the shoulders, thanks be to Godand my own smartness in dodging it. But let that pass; all will come out in thescouring; for I have heard say 'he loves thee well that makes thee weep;' andmoreover that it is the way with great lords after any hard words they give aservant to give him a pair of breeches; though I do not know what they give afterblows, unless it be that knights-errant after blows give islands, or kingdoms onthe mainland. ""It may be on the dice, " said Don Quixote, "that all thou sayest will come true;overlook the past, for thou art shrewd enough to know that our first movementsare not in our own control; and one thing for the future bear in mind, that thoucurb and restrain thy loquacity in my company; for in all the books of chivalrythat I have read, and they are innumerable, I never met with a squire who talkedso much to his lord as thou dost to thine; and in fact I feel it to be a great fault ofthine and of mine: of thine, that thou hast so little respect for me; of mine, that Ido not make myself more respected. There was Gandalin, the squire of Amadis ofGaul, that was Count of the Insula Firme, and we read of him that he alwaysaddressed his lord with his cap in his hand, his head bowed down and his bodybent double, more turquesco. And then, what shall we say of Gasabal, the squireof Galaor, who was so silent that in order to indicate to us the greatness of hismarvellous taciturnity his name is only once mentioned in the whole of thathistory, as long as it is truthful? From all I have said thou wilt gather, Sancho, that there must be a difference between master and man, between lord andlackey, between knight and squire: so that from this day forward in ourintercourse we must observe more respect and take less liberties, for in whateverway I may be provoked with you it will be bad for the pitcher. The favours andbenefits that I have promised you will come in due time, and if they do not yourwages at least will not be lost, as I have already told you. ""All that your worship says is very well, " said Sancho, "but I should like to know(in case the time of favours should not come, and it might be necessary to fallback upon wages) how much did the squire of a knight-errant get in those days, and did they agree by the month, or by the day like bricklayers?""I do not believe, " replied Don Quixote, "that such squires were ever on wages, but were dependent on favour; and if I have now mentioned thine in the sealedwill I have left at home, it was with a view to what may happen; for as yet I knownot how chivalry will turn out in these wretched times of ours, and I do not wishmy soul to suffer for trifles in the other world; for I would have thee know, Sancho, that in this there is no condition more hazardous than that ofadventurers. ""That is true, " said Sancho, "since the mere noise of the hammers of a fullingmill can disturb and disquiet the heart of such a valiant errant adventurer as yourworship; but you may be sure I will not open my lips henceforward to make lightof anything of your worship's, but only to honour you as my master and naturallord. ""By so doing, " replied Don Quixote, "shalt thou live long on the face of theearth; for next to parents, masters are to be respected as though they wereparents. "CHAPTER XXI. WHICH TREATS OF THE EXALTED ADVENTURE AND RICH PRIZEOF MAMBRINO'S HELMET, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGSTHAT HAPPENED TO OUR INVINCIBLE KNIGHTIt now began to rain a little, and Sancho was for going into the fulling mills, butDon Quixote had taken such an abhorrence to them on account of the late jokethat he would not enter them on any account; so turning aside to right they cameupon another road, different from that which they had taken the night before. Shortly afterwards Don Quixote perceived a man on horseback who wore on hishead something that shone like gold, and the moment he saw him he turned toSancho and said:"I think, Sancho, there is no proverb that is not true, all being maxims drawnfrom experience itself, the mother of all the sciences, especially that one that says, 'Where one door shuts, another opens. ' I say so because if last night fortune shutthe door of the adventure we were looking for against us, cheating us with thefulling mills, it now opens wide another one for another better and more certainadventure, and if I do not contrive to enter it, it will be my own fault, and Icannot lay it to my ignorance of fulling mills, or the darkness of the night. I saythis because, if I mistake not, there comes towards us one who wears on his headthe helmet of Mambrino, concerning which I took the oath thou rememberest. ""Mind what you say, your worship, and still more what you do, " said Sancho, "for I don't want any more fulling mills to finish off fulling and knocking oursenses out. ""The devil take thee, man, " said Don Quixote; "what has a helmet to do withfulling mills?""I don't know, " replied Sancho, "but, faith, if I might speak as I used, perhaps Icould give such reasons that your worship would see you were mistaken in whatyou say. ""How can I be mistaken in what I say, unbelieving traitor?" returned DonQuixote; "tell me, seest thou not yonder knight coming towards us on a dappledgrey steed, who has upon his head a helmet of gold?""What I see and make out, " answered Sancho, "is only a man on a grey ass likemy own, who has something that shines on his head. ""Well, that is the helmet of Mambrino, " said Don Quixote; "stand to one sideand leave me alone with him; thou shalt see how, without saying a word, to savetime, I shall bring this adventure to an issue and possess myself of the helmet Ihave so longed for. ""I will take care to stand aside, " said Sancho; "but God grant, I say once more, that it may be marjoram and not fulling mills. ""I have told thee, brother, on no account to mention those fulling mills to meagain, " said Don Quixote, "or I vow--and I say no more--I'll full the soul out ofyou. "Sancho held his peace in dread lest his master should carry out the vow he hadhurled like a bowl at him. The fact of the matter as regards the helmet, steed, and knight that DonQuixote saw, was this. In that neighbourhood there were two villages, one of themso small that it had neither apothecary's shop nor barber, which the other thatwas close to it had, so the barber of the larger served the smaller, and in it therewas a sick man who required to be bled and another man who wanted to beshaved, and on this errand the barber was going, carrying with him a brass basin;but as luck would have it, as he was on the way it began to rain, and not to spoilhis hat, which probably was a new one, he put the basin on his head, and beingclean it glittered at half a league's distance. He rode upon a grey ass, as Sanchosaid, and this was what made it seem to Don Quixote to be a dapple-grey steedand a knight and a golden helmet; for everything he saw he made to fall in withhis crazy chivalry and ill-errant notions; and when he saw the poor knight drawnear, without entering into any parley with him, at Rocinante's top speed he boredown upon him with the pike pointed low, fully determined to run him throughand through, and as he reached him, without checking the fury of his charge, hecried to him:"Defend thyself, miserable being, or yield me of thine own accord that which isso reasonably my due. "The barber, who without any expectation or apprehension of it saw thisapparition coming down upon him, had no other way of saving himself from thestroke of the lance but to let himself fall off his ass; and no sooner had he touchedthe ground than he sprang up more nimbly than a deer and sped away across theplain faster than the wind. He left the basin on the ground, with which Don Quixote contented himself, saying that the pagan had shown his discretion and imitated the beaver, whichfinding itself pressed by the hunters bites and cuts off with its teeth that forwhich, by its natural instinct, it knows it is pursued. He told Sancho to pick up the helmet, and he taking it in his hands said:"By God the basin is a good one, and worth a real of eight if it is worth amaravedis, " and handed it to his master, who immediately put it on his head, turning it round, now this way, now that, in search of fitment, and not finding ithe said, "Clearly the pagan to whose measure this famous head-piece was firstforged must have had a very large head; but the worst of it is half of it iswanting. "When Sancho heard him call the basin a headpiece he was unable to restrain hislaughter, but remembering his master's wrath he checked himself in the midst ofit. "What art thou laughing at, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "I am laughing, " said he, "to think of the great head the pagan must have hadwho owned this helmet, for it looks exactly like a regular barber's basin. ""Dost thou know what I suspect, Sancho?" said Don Quixote; "that thiswonderful piece of this enchanted helmet must by some strange accident havecome into the hands of some one who was unable to recognise or realise its value, and who, not knowing what he did, and seeing it to be of the purest gold, musthave melted down one half for the sake of what it might be worth, and of theother made this which is like a barber's basin as thou sayest; but be it as it may, to me who recognise it, its transformation makes no difference, for I will set it torights at the first village where there is a blacksmith, and in such style that thathelmet the god of smithies forged for the god of battles shall not surpass it oreven come up to it; and in the meantime I will wear it as well as I can, forsomething is better than nothing; all the more as it will be quite enough to protectme from any chance blow of a stone. ""That is, " said Sancho, "if it is not shot with a sling as they were in the battle ofthe two armies, when they signed the cross on your worship's grinders andsmashed the flask with that blessed draught that made me vomit my bowels up. ""It does not grieve me much to have lost it, " said Don Quixote, "for thouknowest, Sancho, that I have the receipt in my memory. ""So have I, " answered Sancho, "but if ever I make it, or try it again as long as Ilive, may this be my last hour; moreover, I have no intention of putting myself inthe way of wanting it, for I mean, with all my five senses, to keep myself frombeing wounded or from wounding anyone: as to being blanketed again I saynothing, for it is hard to prevent mishaps of that sort, and if they come there isnothing for it but to squeeze our shoulders together, hold our breath, shut oureyes, and let ourselves go where luck and the blanket may send us. ""Thou art a bad Christian, Sancho, " said Don Quixote on hearing this, "for oncean injury has been done thee thou never forgettest it: but know that it is the partof noble and generous hearts not to attach importance to trifles. What lame leghast thou got by it, what broken rib, what cracked head, that thou canst notforget that jest? For jest and sport it was, properly regarded, and had I not seen itin that light I would have returned and done more mischief in revenging thee thanthe Greeks did for the rape of Helen, who, if she were alive now, or if myDulcinea had lived then, might depend upon it she would not be so famous forher beauty as she is;" and here he heaved a sigh and sent it aloft; and saidSancho, "Let it pass for a jest as it cannot be revenged in earnest, but I know whatsort of jest and earnest it was, and I know it will never be rubbed out of mymemory any more than off my shoulders. But putting that aside, will yourworship tell me what are we to do with this dapple-grey steed that looks like agrey ass, which that Martino that your worship overthrew has left deserted here?for, from the way he took to his heels and bolted, he is not likely ever to comeback for it; and by my beard but the grey is a good one. ""I have never been in the habit, " said Don Quixote, "of taking spoil of thosewhom I vanquish, nor is it the practice of chivalry to take away their horses andleave them to go on foot, unless indeed it be that the victor have lost his own inthe combat, in which case it is lawful to take that of the vanquished as a thingwon in lawful war; therefore, Sancho, leave this horse, or ass, or whatever thouwilt have it to be; for when its owner sees us gone hence he will come back for it. ""God knows I should like to take it, " returned Sancho, "or at least to change itfor my own, which does not seem to me as good a one: verily the laws of chivalryare strict, since they cannot be stretched to let one ass be changed for another; Ishould like to know if I might at least change trappings. ""On that head I am not quite certain, " answered Don Quixote, "and the matterbeing doubtful, pending better information, I say thou mayest change them, if sobe thou hast urgent need of them. ""So urgent is it, " answered Sancho, "that if they were for my own person I couldnot want them more;" and forthwith, fortified by this licence, he effected themutatio capparum, rigging out his beast to the ninety-nines and making quiteanother thing of it. This done, they broke their fast on the remains of the spoils ofwar plundered from the sumpter mule, and drank of the brook that flowed fromthe fulling mills, without casting a look in that direction, in such loathing did theyhold them for the alarm they had caused them; and, all anger and gloom removed, they mounted and, without taking any fixed road (not to fix upon any being theproper thing for true knights-errant), they set out, guided by Rocinante's will, which carried along with it that of his master, not to say that of the ass, whichalways followed him wherever he led, lovingly and sociably; nevertheless theyreturned to the high road, and pursued it at a venture without any other aim. As they went along, then, in this way Sancho said to his master, "Senor, wouldyour worship give me leave to speak a little to you? For since you laid that hardinjunction of silence on me several things have gone to rot in my stomach, and Ihave now just one on the tip of my tongue that I don't want to be spoiled. ""Say, on, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and be brief in thy discourse, for there isno pleasure in one that is long. ""Well then, senor, " returned Sancho, "I say that for some days past I have beenconsidering how little is got or gained by going in search of these adventures thatyour worship seeks in these wilds and cross-roads, where, even if the mostperilous are victoriously achieved, there is no one to see or know of them, and sothey must be left untold for ever, to the loss of your worship's object and thecredit they deserve; therefore it seems to me it would be better (saving yourworship's better judgment) if we were to go and serve some emperor or other greatprince who may have some war on hand, in whose service your worship mayprove the worth of your person, your great might, and greater understanding, onperceiving which the lord in whose service we may be will perforce have toreward us, each according to his merits; and there you will not be at a loss forsome one to set down your achievements in writing so as to preserve theirmemory for ever. Of my own I say nothing, as they will not go beyond squirelylimits, though I make bold to say that, if it be the practice in chivalry to write theachievements of squires, I think mine must not be left out. ""Thou speakest not amiss, Sancho, " answered Don Quixote, "but before thatpoint is reached it is requisite to roam the world, as it were on probation, seekingadventures, in order that, by achieving some, name and fame may be acquired, such that when he betakes himself to the court of some great monarch the knightmay be already known by his deeds, and that the boys, the instant they see himenter the gate of the city, may all follow him and surround him, crying, 'This isthe Knight of the Sun'-or the Serpent, or any other title under which he may haveachieved great deeds. 'This, ' they will say, 'is he who vanquished in single combatthe gigantic Brocabruno of mighty strength; he who delivered the great Mamelukeof Persia out of the long enchantment under which he had been for almost ninehundred years. ' So from one to another they will go proclaiming his achievements;and presently at the tumult of the boys and the others the king of that kingdomwill appear at the windows of his royal palace, and as soon as he beholds theknight, recognising him by his arms and the device on his shield, he will as amatter of course say, 'What ho! Forth all ye, the knights of my court, to receivethe flower of chivalry who cometh hither!' At which command all will issue forth, and he himself, advancing half-way down the stairs, will embrace him closely, andsalute him, kissing him on the cheek, and will then lead him to the queen'schamber, where the knight will find her with the princess her daughter, who willbe one of the most beautiful and accomplished damsels that could with the utmostpains be discovered anywhere in the known world. Straightway it will come topass that she will fix her eyes upon the knight and he his upon her, and each willseem to the other something more divine than human, and, without knowing howor why they will be taken and entangled in the inextricable toils of love, andsorely distressed in their hearts not to see any way of making their pains andsufferings known by speech. Thence they will lead him, no doubt, to some richlyadorned chamber of the palace, where, having removed his armour, they willbring him a rich mantle of scarlet wherewith to robe himself, and if he lookednoble in his armour he will look still more so in a doublet. When night comes hewill sup with the king, queen, and princess; and all the time he will never take hiseyes off her, stealing stealthy glances, unnoticed by those present, and she will dothe same, and with equal cautiousness, being, as I have said, a damsel of greatdiscretion. The tables being removed, suddenly through the door of the hall therewill enter a hideous and diminutive dwarf followed by a fair dame, between twogiants, who comes with a certain adventure, the work of an ancient sage; and hewho shall achieve it shall be deemed the best knight in the world. "The king will then command all those present to essay it, and none will bring itto an end and conclusion save the stranger knight, to the great enhancement ofhis fame, whereat the princess will be overjoyed and will esteem herself happyand fortunate in having fixed and placed her thoughts so high. And the best of itis that this king, or prince, or whatever he is, is engaged in a very bitter war withanother as powerful as himself, and the stranger knight, after having been somedays at his court, requests leave from him to go and serve him in the said war. The king will grant it very readily, and the knight will courteously kiss his handsfor the favour done to him; and that night he will take leave of his lady theprincess at the grating of the chamber where she sleeps, which looks upon agarden, and at which he has already many times conversed with her, the go-between and confidante in the matter being a damsel much trusted by theprincess. He will sigh, she will swoon, the damsel will fetch water, muchdistressed because morning approaches, and for the honour of her lady he wouldnot that they were discovered; at last the princess will come to herself and willpresent her white hands through the grating to the knight, who will kiss them athousand and a thousand times, bathing them with his tears. It will be arrangedbetween them how they are to inform each other of their good or evil fortunes, and the princess will entreat him to make his absence as short as possible, whichhe will promise to do with many oaths; once more he kisses her hands, and takeshis leave in such grief that he is well-nigh ready to die. He betakes him thence tohis chamber, flings himself on his bed, cannot sleep for sorrow at parting, risesearly in the morning, goes to take leave of the king, queen, and princess, and, ashe takes his leave of the pair, it is told him that the princess is indisposed andcannot receive a visit; the knight thinks it is from grief at his departure, his heartis pierced, and he is hardly able to keep from showing his pain. The confidante ispresent, observes all, goes to tell her mistress, who listens with tears and saysthat one of her greatest distresses is not knowing who this knight is, and whetherhe is of kingly lineage or not; the damsel assures her that so much courtesy, gentleness, and gallantry of bearing as her knight possesses could not exist in anysave one who was royal and illustrious; her anxiety is thus relieved, and shestrives to be of good cheer lest she should excite suspicion in her parents, and atthe end of two days she appears in public. Meanwhile the knight has taken hisdeparture; he fights in the war, conquers the king's enemy, wins many cities, triumphs in many battles, returns to the court, sees his lady where he was wontto see her, and it is agreed that he shall demand her in marriage of her parents asthe reward of his services; the king is unwilling to give her, as he knows not whohe is, but nevertheless, whether carried off or in whatever other way it may be, the princess comes to be his bride, and her father comes to regard it as very goodfortune; for it so happens that this knight is proved to be the son of a valiant kingof some kingdom, I know not what, for I fancy it is not likely to be on the map. The father dies, the princess inherits, and in two words the knight becomes king. And here comes in at once the bestowal of rewards upon his squire and all whohave aided him in rising to so exalted a rank. He marries his squire to a damsel ofthe princess's, who will be, no doubt, the one who was confidante in their amour, and is daughter of a very great duke. ""That's what I want, and no mistake about it!" said Sancho. "That's what I'mwaiting for; for all this, word for word, is in store for your worship under the titleof the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. ""Thou needst not doubt it, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "for in the samemanner, and by the same steps as I have described here, knights-errant rise andhave risen to be kings and emperors; all we want now is to find out what king, Christian or pagan, is at war and has a beautiful daughter; but there will be timeenough to think of that, for, as I have told thee, fame must be won in otherquarters before repairing to the court. There is another thing, too, that is wanting;for supposing we find a king who is at war and has a beautiful daughter, and thatI have won incredible fame throughout the universe, I know not how it can bemade out that I am of royal lineage, or even second cousin to an emperor; for theking will not be willing to give me his daughter in marriage unless he is firstthoroughly satisfied on this point, however much my famous deeds may deserveit; so that by this deficiency I fear I shall lose what my arm has fairly earned. Trueit is I am a gentleman of known house, of estate and property, and entitled to thefive hundred sueldos mulct; and it may be that the sage who shall write myhistory will so clear up my ancestry and pedigree that I may find myself fifth orsixth in descent from a king; for I would have thee know, Sancho, that there aretwo kinds of lineages in the world; some there be tracing and deriving theirdescent from kings and princes, whom time has reduced little by little until theyend in a point like a pyramid upside down; and others who spring from thecommon herd and go on rising step by step until they come to be great lords; sothat the difference is that the one were what they no longer are, and the othersare what they formerly were not. And I may be of such that after investigation myorigin may prove great and famous, with which the king, my father-in-law that isto be, ought to be satisfied; and should he not be, the princess will so love methat even though she well knew me to be the son of a water-carrier, she will takeme for her lord and husband in spite of her father; if not, then it comes to seizingher and carrying her off where I please; for time or death will put an end to thewrath of her parents. ""It comes to this, too, " said Sancho, "what some naughty people say, 'Never askas a favour what thou canst take by force;' though it would fit better to say, 'Aclear escape is better than good men's prayers. ' I say so because if my lord theking, your worship's father-in-law, will not condescend to give you my lady theprincess, there is nothing for it but, as your worship says, to seize her andtransport her. But the mischief is that until peace is made and you come into thepeaceful enjoyment of your kingdom, the poor squire is famishing as far asrewards go, unless it be that the confidante damsel that is to be his wife comeswith the princess, and that with her he tides over his bad luck until Heavenotherwise orders things; for his master, I suppose, may as well give her to him atonce for a lawful wife. ""Nobody can object to that, " said Don Quixote. "Then since that may be, " said Sancho, "there is nothing for it but to commendourselves to God, and let fortune take what course it will. ""God guide it according to my wishes and thy wants, " said Don Quixote, "andmean be he who thinks himself mean. ""In God's name let him be so, " said Sancho: "I am an old Christian, and to fit mefor a count that's enough. ""And more than enough for thee, " said Don Quixote; "and even wert thou not, itwould make no difference, because I being the king can easily give thee nobilitywithout purchase or service rendered by thee, for when I make thee a count, thenthou art at once a gentleman; and they may say what they will, but by my faiththey will have to call thee 'your lordship, ' whether they like it or not. ""Not a doubt of it; and I'll know how to support the tittle, " said Sancho. "Title thou shouldst say, not tittle, " said his master. "So be it, " answered Sancho. "I say I will know how to behave, for once in mylife I was beadle of a brotherhood, and the beadle's gown sat so well on me thatall said I looked as if I was to be steward of the same brotherhood. What will itbe, then, when I put a duke's robe on my back, or dress myself in gold and pearlslike a count? I believe they'll come a hundred leagues to see me. ""Thou wilt look well, " said Don Quixote, "but thou must shave thy beard often, for thou hast it so thick and rough and unkempt, that if thou dost not shave itevery second day at least, they will see what thou art at the distance of a musketshot. ""What more will it be, " said Sancho, "than having a barber, and keeping him atwages in the house? and even if it be necessary, I will make him go behind melike a nobleman's equerry. ""Why, how dost thou know that noblemen have equerries behind them?" askedDon Quixote. "I will tell you, " answered Sancho. "Years ago I was for a month at the capitaland there I saw taking the air a very small gentleman who they said was a verygreat man, and a man following him on horseback in every turn he took, just as ifhe was his tail. I asked why this man did not join the other man, instead ofalways going behind him; they

answered me that he was his equerry, and that itwas the custom with nobles to have such persons behind them, and ever sincethen I know it, for I have never forgotten it. ""Thou art right, " said Don Quixote, "and in the same way thou mayest carry thybarber with thee, for customs did not come into use all together, nor were they allinvented at once, and thou mayest be the first count to have a barber to followhim; and, indeed, shaving one's beard is a greater trust than saddling one's horse. ""Let the barber business be my look-out, " said Sancho; "and your worship's be itto strive to become a king, and make me a count. ""So it shall be, " answered Don Quixote, and raising his eyes he saw what will betold in the following chapter. CHAPTER XXII. OF THE FREEDOM DON QUIXOTE CONFERRED ON SEVERALUNFORTUNATES WHO AGAINST THEIR WILL WERE BEINGCARRIED WHERE THEY HAD NO WISH TO GOCide Hamete Benengeli, the Arab and Manchegan author, relates in this mostgrave, high-sounding, minute, delightful, and original history that after thediscussion between the famous Don Quixote of La Mancha and his squire SanchoPanza which is set down at the end of chapter twenty-one, Don Quixote raised hiseyes and saw coming along the road he was following some dozen men on footstrung together by the neck, like beads, on a great iron chain, and all withmanacles on their hands. With them there came also two men on horseback andtwo on foot; those on horseback with wheel-lock muskets, those on foot withjavelins and swords, and as soon as Sancho saw them he said:"That is a chain of galley slaves, on the way to the galleys by force of the king'sorders. ""How by force?" asked Don Quixote; "is it possible that the king uses forceagainst anyone?""I do not say that, " answered Sancho, "but that these are people condemned fortheir crimes to serve by force in the king's galleys. ""In fact, " replied Don Quixote, "however it may be, these people are going wherethey are taking them by force, and not of their own will. ""Just so, " said Sancho. "Then if so, " said Don Quixote, "here is a case for the exercise of my office, toput down force and to succour and help the wretched. ""Recollect, your worship, " said Sancho, "Justice, which is the king himself, is notusing force or doing wrong to such persons, but punishing them for their crimes. "The chain of galley slaves had by this time come up, and Don Quixote in verycourteous language asked those who were in custody of it to be good enough totell him the reason or reasons for which they were conducting these people in thismanner. One of the guards on horseback answered that they were galley slavesbelonging to his majesty, that they were going to the galleys, and that was all thatwas to be said and all he had any business to know. "Nevertheless, " replied Don Quixote, "I should like to know from each of themseparately the reason of his misfortune;" to this he added more to the same effectto induce them to tell him what he wanted so civilly that the other mounted guardsaid to him:"Though we have here the register and certificate of the sentence of every one ofthese wretches, this is no time to take them out or read them; come and askthemselves; they can tell if they choose, and they will, for these fellows take apleasure in doing and talking about rascalities. "With this permission, which Don Quixote would have taken even had they notgranted it, he approached the chain and asked the first for what offences he wasnow in such a sorry case. He made answer that it was for being a lover. "For that only?" replied Don Quixote; "why, if for being lovers they send peopleto the galleys I might have been rowing in them long ago. ""The love is not the sort your worship is thinking of, " said the galley slave;"mine was that I loved a washerwoman's basket of clean linen so well, and held itso close in my embrace, that if the arm of the law had not forced it from me, Ishould never have let it go of my own will to this moment; I was caught in theact, there was no occasion for torture, the case was settled, they treated me to ahundred lashes on the back, and three years of gurapas besides, and that was theend of it. ""What are gurapas?" asked Don Quixote. "Gurapas are galleys, " answered the galley slave, who was a young man of aboutfour-and-twenty, and said he was a native of Piedrahita. Don Quixote asked the same question of the second, who made no reply, sodowncast and melancholy was he; but the first answered for him, and said, "He, sir, goes as a canary, I mean as a musician and a singer. ""What!" said Don Quixote, "for being musicians and singers are people sent tothe galleys too?""Yes, sir, " answered the galley slave, "for there is nothing worse than singingunder suffering. ""On the contrary, I have heard say, " said Don Quixote, "that he who sings scaresaway his woes. ""Here it is the reverse, " said the galley slave; "for he who sings once weeps allhis life. ""I do not understand it, " said Don Quixote; but one of the guards said to him, "Sir, to sing under suffering means with the non sancta fraternity to confess undertorture; they put this sinner to the torture and he confessed his crime, which wasbeing a cuatrero, that is a cattle-stealer, and on his confession they sentenced himto six years in the galleys, besides two bundred lashes that he has already had onthe back; and he is always dejected and downcast because the other thieves thatwere left behind and that march here ill-treat, and snub, and jeer, and despisehim for confessing and not having spirit enough to say nay; for, say they, 'nay' hasno more letters in it than 'yea, ' and a culprit is well off when life or death withhim depends on his own tongue and not on that of witnesses or evidence; and tomy thinking they are not very far out. ""And I think so too, " answered Don Quixote; then passing on to the third heasked him what he had asked the others, and the man answered very readily andunconcernedly, "I am going for five years to their ladyships the gurapas for thewant of ten ducats. ""I will give twenty with pleasure to get you out of that trouble, " said DonQuixote. "That, " said the galley slave, "is like a man having money at sea when he isdying of hunger and has no way of buying what he wants; I say so because if atthe right time I had had those twenty ducats that your worship now offers me, Iwould have greased the notary's pen and freshened up the attorney's wit withthem, so that to-day I should be in the middle of the plaza of the Zocodover atToledo, and not on this road coupled like a greyhound. But God is great;patience--there, that's enough of it. "Don Quixote passed on to the fourth, a man of venerable aspect with a whitebeard falling below his breast, who on hearing himself asked the reason of hisbeing there began to weep without answering a word, but the fifth acted as histongue and said, "This worthy man is going to the galleys for four years, afterhaving gone the rounds in ceremony and on horseback. ""That means, " said Sancho Panza, "as I take it, to have been exposed to shamein public. ""Just so, " replied the galley slave, "and the offence for which they gave him thatpunishment was having been an ear-broker, nay body-broker; I mean, in short, that this gentleman goes as a pimp, and for having besides a certain touch of thesorcerer about him. ""If that touch had not been thrown in, " said Don Quixote, "be would notdeserve, for mere pimping, to row in the galleys, but rather to command and beadmiral of them; for the office of pimp is no ordinary one, being the office ofpersons of discretion, one very necessary in a well-ordered state, and only to beexercised by persons of good birth; nay, there ought to be an inspector andoverseer of them, as in other offices, and recognised number, as with the brokerson change; in this way many of the evils would be avoided which are caused bythis office and calling being in the hands of stupid and ignorant people, such aswomen more or less silly, and pages and jesters of little standing and experience, who on the most urgent occasions, and when ingenuity of contrivance is needed, let the crumbs freeze on the way to their mouths, and know not which is theirright hand. I should like to go farther, and give reasons to show that it isadvisable to choose those who are to hold so necessary an office in the state, butthis is not the fit place for it; some day I will expound the matter to some one ableto see to and rectify it; all I say now is, that the additional fact of his being asorcerer has removed the sorrow it gave me to see these white hairs and thisvenerable countenance in so painful a position on account of his being a pimp;though I know well there are no sorceries in the world that can move or compelthe will as some simple folk fancy, for our will is free, nor is there herb or charmthat can force it. All that certain silly women and quacks do is to turn men madwith potions and poisons, pretending that they have power to cause love, for, as Isay, it is an impossibility to compel the will. ""It is true, " said the good old man, "and indeed, sir, as far as the charge ofsorcery goes I was not guilty; as to that of being a pimp I cannot deny it; but Inever thought I was doing any harm by it, for my only object was that all theworld should enjoy itself and live in peace and quiet, without quarrels or troubles;but my good intentions were unavailing to save me from going where I neverexpect to come back from, with this weight of years upon me and a urinaryailment that never gives me a moment's ease;" and again he fell to weeping asbefore, and such compassion did Sancho feel for him that he took out a real offour from his bosom and gave it to him in alms. Don Quixote went on and asked another what his crime was, and the mananswered with no less but rather much more sprightliness than the last one. "I am here because I carried the joke too far with a couple of cousins of mine, and with a couple of other cousins who were none of mine; in short, I carried thejoke so far with them all that it ended in such a complicated increase of kindredthat no accountant could make it clear: it was all proved against me, I got nofavour, I had no money, I was near having my neck stretched, they sentenced meto the galleys for six years, I accepted my fate, it is the punishment of my fault; Iam a young man; let life only last, and with that all will come right. If you, sir, have anything wherewith to help the poor, God will repay it to you in heaven, andwe on earth will take care in our petitions to him to pray for the life and health ofyour worship, that they may be as long and as good as your amiable appearancedeserves. "This one was in the dress of a student, and one of the guards said he was agreat talker and a very elegant Latin scholar. Behind all these there came a man of thirty, a very personable fellow, exceptthat when he looked, his eyes turned in a little one towards the other. He wasbound differently from the rest, for he had to his leg a chain so long that it waswound all round his body, and two rings on his neck, one attached to the chain, the other to what they call a "keep-friend" or "friend's foot, " from which hung twoirons reaching to his waist with two manacles fixed to them in which his handswere secured by a big padlock, so that he could neither raise his hands to hismouth nor lower his head to his hands. Don Quixote asked why this man carriedso many more chains than the others. The guard replied that it was because healone had committed more crimes than all the rest put together, and was sodaring and such a villain, that though they marched him in that fashion they didnot feel sure of him, but were in dread of his making his escape. "What crimes can he have committed, " said Don Quixote, "if they have notdeserved a heavier punishment than being sent to the galleys?""He goes for ten years, " replied the guard, "which is the same thing as civildeath, and all that need be said is that this good fellow is the famous Gines dePasamonte, otherwise called Ginesillo de Parapilla. ""Gently, senor commissary, " said the galley slave at this, "let us have no fixingof names or surnames; my name is Gines, not Ginesillo, and my family name isPasamonte, not Parapilla as you say; let each one mind his own business, and hewill be doing enough. ""Speak with less impertinence, master thief of extra measure, " replied thecommissary, "if you don't want me to make you hold your tongue in spite of yourteeth. ""It is easy to see, " returned the galley slave, "that man goes as God pleases, butsome one shall know some day whether I am called Ginesillo de Parapilla or not. ""Don't they call you so, you liar?" said the guard. "They do, " returned Gines, "but I will make them give over calling me so, or Iwill be shaved, where, I only say behind my teeth. If you, sir, have anything togive us, give it to us at once, and God speed you, for you are becoming tiresomewith all this inquisitiveness about the lives of others; if you want to know aboutmine, let me tell you I am Gines de Pasamonte, whose life is written by thesefingers. ""He says true, " said the commissary, "for he has himself written his story asgrand as you please, and has left the book in the prison in pawn for two hundredreals. ""And I mean to take it out of pawn, " said Gines, "though it were in for twohundred ducats. ""Is it so good?" said Don Quixote. "So good is it, " replied Gines, "that a fig for 'Lazarillo de Tormes, ' and all of thatkind that have been written, or shall be written compared with it: all I will sayabout it is that it deals with facts, and facts so neat and diverting that no liescould match them. ""And how is the book entitled?" asked Don Quixote. "The 'Life of Gines de Pasamonte, '" replied the subject of it. "And is it finished?" asked Don Quixote. "How can it be finished, " said the other, "when my life is not yet finished? Allthat is written is from my birth down to the point when they sent me to thegalleys this last time. ""Then you have been there before?" said Don Quixote. "In the service of God and the king I have been there for four years before now, and I know by this time what the biscuit and courbash are like, " replied Gines;"and it is no great grievance to me to go back to them, for there I shall have timeto finish my book; I have still many things left to say, and in the galleys of Spainthere is more than enough leisure; though I do not want much for what I have towrite, for I have it by heart. ""You seem a clever fellow, " said Don Quixote. "And an unfortunate one, " replied Gines, "for misfortune always persecutes goodwit. ""It persecutes rogues, " said the commissary. "I told you already to go gently, master commissary, " said Pasamonte; "theirlordships yonder never gave you that staff to ill-treat us wretches here, but toconduct and take us where his majesty orders you; if not, by the life of-nevermind-; it may be that some day the stains made in the inn will come out in thescouring; let everyone hold his tongue and behave well and speak better; and nowlet us march on, for we have had quite enough of this entertainment. "The commissary lifted his staff to strike Pasamonte in return for his threats, butDon Quixote came between them, and begged him not to ill-use him, as it was nottoo much to allow one who had his hands tied to have his tongue a trifle free; andturning to the whole chain of them he said:"From all you have told me, dear brethren, make out clearly that though theyhave punished you for your faults, the punishments you are about to endure donot give you much pleasure, and that you go to them very much against the grainand against your will, and that perhaps this one's want of courage under torture, that one's want of money, the other's want of advocacy, and lastly the pervertedjudgment of the judge may have been the cause of your ruin and of your failure toobtain the justice you had on your side. All which presents itself now to my mind, urging, persuading, and even compelling me to demonstrate in your case thepurpose for which Heaven sent me into the world and caused me to makeprofession of the order of chivalry to which I belong, and the vow I took thereinto give aid to those in need and under the oppression of the strong. But as I knowthat it is a mark of prudence not to do by foul means what may be done by fair, Iwill ask these gentlemen, the guards and commissary, to be so good as to releaseyou and let you go in peace, as there will be no lack of others to serve the kingunder more favourable circumstances; for it seems to me a hard case to makeslaves of those whom God and nature have made free. Moreover, sirs of theguard, " added Don Quixote, "these poor fellows have done nothing to you; leteach answer for his own sins yonder; there is a God in Heaven who will not forgetto punish the wicked or reward the good; and it is not fitting that honest menshould be the instruments of punishment to others, they being therein no wayconcerned. This request I make thus gently and quietly, that, if you comply withit, I may have reason for thanking you; and, if you will not voluntarily, this lanceand sword together with the might of my arm shall compel you to comply with itby force. ""Nice nonsense!" said the commissary; "a fine piece of pleasantry he has comeout with at last! He wants us to let the king's prisoners go, as if we had anyauthority to release them, or he to order us to do so! Go your way, sir, and goodluck to you; put that basin straight that you've got on your head, and don't golooking for three feet on a cat. ""'Tis you that are the cat, rat, and rascal, " replied Don Quixote, and acting onthe word he fell upon him so suddenly that without giving him time to defendhimself he brought him to the ground sorely wounded with a lance-thrust; andlucky it was for him that it was the one that had the musket. The other guardsstood thunderstruck and amazed at this unexpected event, but recoveringpresence of mind, those on horseback seized their swords, and those on foot theirjavelins, and attacked Don Quixote, who was waiting for them with greatcalmness; and no doubt it would have gone badly with him if the galley slaves, seeing the chance before them of liberating themselves, had not effected it bycontriving to break the chain on which they were strung. Such was the confusion, that the guards, now rushing at the galley slaves who were breaking loose, now toattack Don Quixote who was waiting for them, did nothing at all that was of anyuse. Sancho, on his part, gave a helping hand to release Gines de Pasamonte, whowas the first to leap forth upon the plain free and unfettered, and who, attackingthe prostrate commissary, took from him his sword and the musket, with which, aiming at one and levelling at another, he, without ever discharging it, droveevery one of the guards off the field, for they took to flight, as well to escapePasamonte's musket, as the showers of stones the now released galley slaves wereraining upon them. Sancho was greatly grieved at the affair, because heanticipated that those who had fled would report the matter to the HolyBrotherhood, who at the summons of the alarm-bell would at once sally forth inquest of the offenders; and he said so to his master, and entreated him to leavethe place at once, and go into hiding in the sierra that was close by. "That is all very well, " said Don Quixote, "but I know what must be done now;"and calling together all the galley slaves, who were now running riot, and hadstripped the commissary to the skin, he collected them round him to hear what hehad to say, and addressed them as follows: "To be grateful for benefits received isthe part of persons of good birth, and one of the sins most offensive to God isingratitude; I say so because, sirs, ye have already seen by manifest proof thebenefit ye have received of me; in return for which I desire, and it is my goodpleasure that, laden with that chain which I have taken off your necks, ye at onceset out and proceed to the city of El Toboso, and there present yourselves beforethe lady Dulcinea del Toboso, and say to her that her knight, he of the RuefulCountenance, sends to commend himself to her; and that ye recount to her in fulldetail all the particulars of this notable adventure, up to the recovery of yourlonged-for liberty; and this done ye may go where ye will, and good fortune attendyou. "Gines de Pasamonte made answer for all, saying, "That which you, sir, ourdeliverer, demand of us, is of all impossibilities the most impossible to complywith, because we cannot go together along the roads, but only singly andseparate, and each one his own way, endeavouring to hide ourselves in the bowelsof the earth to escape the Holy Brotherhood, which, no doubt, will come out insearch of us. What your worship may do, and fairly do, is to change this serviceand tribute as regards the lady Dulcinea del Toboso for a certain quantity of ave-marias and credos which we will say for your worship's intention, and this is acondition that can be complied with by night as by day, running or resting, inpeace or in war; but to imagine that we are going now to return to the flesh-potsof Egypt, I mean to take up our chain and set out for El Toboso, is to imagine thatit is now night, though it is not yet ten in the morning, and to ask this of us is likeasking pears of the elm tree. ""Then by all that's good, " said Don Quixote (now stirred to wrath), "Don son ofa bitch, Don Ginesillo de Paropillo, or whatever your name is, you will have to goyourself alone, with your tail between your legs and the whole chain on yourback. "Pasamonte, who was anything but meek (being by this time thoroughlyconvinced that Don Quixote was not quite right in his head as he had committedsuch a vagary as to set them free), finding himself abused in this fashion, gave thewink to his companions, and falling back they began to shower stones on DonQuixote at such a rate that he was quite unable to protect himself with hisbuckler, and poor Rocinante no more heeded the spur than if he had been made ofbrass. Sancho planted himself behind his ass, and with him sheltered himself fromthe hailstorm that poured on both of them. Don Quixote was unable to shieldhimself so well but that more pebbles than I could count struck him full on thebody with such force that they brought him to the ground; and the instant he fellthe student pounced upon him, snatched the basin from his head, and with itstruck three or four blows on his shoulders, and as many more on the ground, knocking it almost to pieces. They then stripped him of a jacket that he wore overhis armour, and they would have stripped off his stockings if his greaves had notprevented them. From Sancho they took his coat, leaving him in his shirt-sleeves;and dividing among themselves the remaining spoils of the battle, they went eachone his own way, more solicitous about keeping clear of the Holy Brotherhoodthey dreaded, than about burdening themselves with the chain, or going topresent themselves before the lady Dulcinea del Toboso. The ass and Rocinante, Sancho and Don Quixote, were all that were left upon the spot; the ass withdrooping head, serious, shaking his ears from time to time as if he thought thestorm of stones that assailed them was not yet over; Rocinante stretched besidehis master, for he too had been brought to the ground by a stone; Sanchostripped, and trembling with fear of the Holy Brotherhood; and Don Quixotefuming to find himself so served by the very persons for whom he had done somuch. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 8. Chapter 23EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXIII. OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE IN THE SIERRA MORENA, WHICH WAS ONE OF THE RAREST ADVENTURES RELATED INTHIS VERACIOUS HISTORYSeeing himself served in this way, Don Quixote said to his squire, "I havealways heard it said, Sancho, that to do good to boors is to throw water into thesea. If I had believed thy words, I should have avoided this trouble; but it is donenow, it is only to have patience and take warning for the future. ""Your worship will take warning as much as I am a Turk, " returned Sancho;"but, as you say this mischief might have been avoided if you had believed me, believe me now, and a still greater one will be avoided; for I tell you chivalry is ofno account with the Holy Brotherhood, and they don't care two maravedis for allthe knights-errant in the world; and I can tell you I fancy I hear their arrowswhistling past my ears this minute. ""Thou art a coward by nature, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "but lest thoushouldst say I am obstinate, and that I never do as thou dost advise, this once Iwill take thy advice, and withdraw out of reach of that fury thou so dreadest; butit must be on one condition, that never, in life or in death, thou art to say toanyone that I retired or withdrew from this danger out of fear, but only incompliance with thy entreaties; for if thou sayest otherwise thou wilt lie therein, and from this time to that, and from that to this, I give thee lie, and say thou liestand wilt lie every time thou thinkest or sayest it; and answer me not again; for atthe mere thought that I am withdrawing or retiring from any danger, above allfrom this, which does seem to carry some little shadow of fear with it, I am readyto take my stand here and await alone, not only that Holy Brotherhood you talk ofand dread, but the brothers of the twelve tribes of Israel, and the SevenMaccabees, and Castor and Pollux, and all the brothers and brotherhoods in theworld. ""Senor, " replied Sancho, "to retire is not to flee, and there is no wisdom inwaiting when danger outweighs hope, and it is the part of wise men to preservethemselves to-day for to-morrow, and not risk all in one day; and let me tell you, though I am a clown and a boor, I have got some notion of what they call safeconduct; so repent not of having taken my advice, but mount Rocinante if youcan, and if not I will help you; and follow me, for my mother-wit tells me we havemore need of legs than hands just now. "Don Quixote mounted without replying, and, Sancho leading the way on hisass, they entered the side of the Sierra Morena, which was close by, as it wasSancho's design to cross it entirely and come out again at El Viso or Almodovardel Campo, and hide for some days among its crags so as to escape the search ofthe Brotherhood should they come to look for them. He was encouraged in this byperceiving that the stock of provisions carried by the ass had come safe out of thefray with the galley slaves, a circumstance that he regarded as a miracle, seeinghow they pillaged and ransacked. That night they reached the very heart of the Sierra Morena, where it seemedprudent to Sancho to pass the night and even some days, at least as many as thestores he carried might last, and so they encamped between two rocks and amongsome cork trees; but fatal destiny, which, according to the opinion of those whohave not the light of the true faith, directs, arranges, and settles everything in itsown way, so ordered it that Gines de Pasamonte, the famous knave and thief whoby the virtue and madness of Don Quixote had been released from the chain, driven by fear of the Holy Brotherhood, which he had good reason to dread, resolved to take hiding in the mountains; and his fate and fear led him to thesame spot to which Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had been led by theirs, just intime to recognise them and leave them to fall asleep: and as the wicked are alwaysungrateful, and necessity leads to evildoing, and immediate advantage overcomesall considerations of the future, Gines, who was neither grateful nor well-principled, made up his mind to steal Sancho Panza's ass, not troubling himselfabout Rocinante, as being a prize that was no good either to pledge or sell. WhileSancho slept he stole his ass, and before day dawned he was far out of reach. Aurora made her appearance bringing gladness to the earth but sadness toSancho Panza, for he found that his Dapple was missing, and seeing himself bereftof him he began the saddest and most doleful lament in the world, so loud thatDon Quixote awoke at his exclamations and heard him saying, "O son of mybowels, born in my very house, my children's plaything, my wife's joy, the envy ofmy neighbours, relief of my burdens, and lastly, half supporter of myself, for withthe six-and-twenty maravedis thou didst earn me daily I met half my charges. "Don Quixote, when he heard the lament and learned the cause, consoled Sanchowith the best arguments he could, entreating him to be patient, and promising togive him a letter of exchange ordering three out of five ass-colts that he had athome to be given to him. Sancho took comfort at this, dried his tears, suppressedhis sobs, and returned thanks for the kindness shown him by Don Quixote. He onhis part was rejoiced to the heart on entering the mountains, as they seemed tohim to be just the place for the adventures he was in quest of. They brought backto his memory the marvellous adventures that had befallen knights-errant in likesolitudes and wilds, and he went along reflecting on these things, so absorbed andcarried away by them that he had no thought for anything else. Nor had Sancho any other care (now that he fancied he was travelling in a safequarter) than to satisfy his appetite with such remains as were left of the clericalspoils, and so he marched behind his master laden with what Dapple used tocarry, emptying the sack and packing his paunch, and so long as he could go thatway, he would not have given a farthing to meet with another adventure. While so engaged he raised his eyes and saw that his master had halted, andwas trying with the point of his pike to lift some bulky object that lay upon theground, on which he hastened to join him and help him if it were needful, andreached him just as with the point of the pike he was raising a saddle-pad with avalise attached to it, half or rather wholly rotten and torn; but so heavy were theythat Sancho had to help to take them up, and his master directed him to see whatthe valise contained. Sancho did so with great alacrity, and though the valise wassecured by a chain and padlock, from its torn and rotten condition he was able tosee its contents, which were four shirts of fine holland, and other articles of linenno less curious than clean; and in a handkerchief he found a good lot of goldcrowns, and as soon as he saw them he exclaimed:"Blessed be all Heaven for sending us an adventure that is good for something!"Searching further he found a little memorandum book richly bound; this DonQuixote asked of him, telling him to take the money and keep it for himself. Sancho kissed his hands for the favour, and cleared the valise of its linen, whichhe stowed away in the provision sack. Considering the whole matter, Don Quixoteobserved:"It seems to me, Sancho--and it is impossible it can be otherwise--that somestrayed traveller must have crossed this sierra and been attacked and slain byfootpads, who brought him to this remote spot to bury him. ""That cannot be, " answered Sancho, "because if they had been robbers theywould not have left this money. ""Thou art right, " said Don Quixote, "and I cannot guess or explain what thismay mean; but stay; let us see if in this memorandum book there is anythingwritten by which we may be able to trace out or discover what we want to know. "He opened it, and the first thing he found in it, written roughly but in a verygood hand, was a sonnet, and reading it aloud that Sancho might hear it, he foundthat it ran as follows:SONNETOr Love is lacking in intelligence, Or to the height of cruelty attains, Or else it is my doom to suffer painsBeyond the measure due to my offence. But if Love be a God, it follows thenceThat he knows all, and certain it remainsNo God loves cruelty; then who ordainsThis penance that enthrals while ittorments?It were a falsehood, Chloe, thee to name;Such evil with such goodness cannot live;And against Heaven I dare not charge theblame, I only know it is my fate to die. To him who knows not whence his maladyA miracle alone a cure can give. "There is nothing to be learned from that rhyme, " said Sancho, "unless by thatclue there's in it, one may draw out the ball of the whole matter. ""What clue is there?" said Don Quixote. "I thought your worship spoke of a clue in it, " said Sancho. "I only said Chloe, " replied Don Quixote; "and that no doubt, is the name of thelady of whom the author of the sonnet complains; and, faith, he must be atolerable poet, or I know little of the craft. ""Then your worship understands rhyming too?""And better than thou thinkest, " replied Don Quixote, "as thou shalt see whenthou carriest a letter written in verse from beginning to end to my lady Dulcineadel Toboso, for I would have thee know, Sancho, that all or most of the knights-errant in days of yore were great troubadours and great musicians, for both ofthese accomplishments, or more properly speaking gifts, are the peculiar propertyof lovers-errant: true it is that the verses of the knights of old have more spiritthan neatness in them. ""Read more, your worship, " said Sancho, "and you will find something that willenlighten us. "Don Quixote turned the page and said, "This is prose and seems to be a letter. ""A correspondence letter, senor?""From the beginning it seems to be a love letter, " replied Don Quixote. "Then let your worship read it aloud, " said Sancho, "for I am very fond of lovematters. ""With all my heart, " said Don Quixote, and reading it aloud as Sancho hadrequested him, he found it ran thus:Thy false promise and my sure misfortune carry me to a place whence the newsof my death will reach thy ears before the words of my complaint. Ungrateful one, thou hast rejected me for one more wealthy, but not more worthy; but if virtuewere esteemed wealth I should neither envy the fortunes of others nor weep formisfortunes of my own. What thy beauty raised up thy deeds have laid low; by it Ibelieved thee to be an angel, by them I know thou art a woman. Peace be withthee who hast sent war to me, and Heaven grant that the deceit of thy husband beever hidden from thee, so that thou repent not of what thou hast done, and I reapnot a revenge I would not have. When he had finished the letter, Don Quixote said, "There is less to be gatheredfrom this than from the verses, except that he who wrote it is some rejectedlover;" and turning over nearly all the pages of the book he found more verses andletters, some of which he could read, while others he could not; but they were allmade up of complaints, laments, misgivings, desires and aversions, favours andrejections, some rapturous, some doleful. While Don Quixote examined the book, Sancho examined the valise, not leaving a corner in the whole of it or in the padthat he did not search, peer into, and explore, or seam that he did not rip, or tuftof wool that he did not pick to pieces, lest anything should escape for want ofcare and pains; so keen was the covetousness excited in him by the discovery ofthe crowns, which amounted to near a hundred; and though he found no morebooty, he held the blanket flights, balsam vomits, stake benedictions, carriers'fisticuffs, missing alforjas, stolen coat, and all the hunger, thirst, and wearinesshe had endured in the service of his good master, cheap at the price; as heconsidered himself more than fully indemnified for all by the payment he receivedin the gift of the treasure-trove. The Knight of the Rueful Countenance was still very anxious to find out who theowner of the valise could be, conjecturing from the sonnet and letter, from themoney in gold, and from the fineness of the shirts, that he must be some lover ofdistinction whom the scorn and cruelty of his lady had driven to some desperatecourse; but as in that uninhabited and rugged spot there was no one to be seen ofwhom he could inquire, he saw nothing else for it but to push on, taking whateverroad Rocinante chose--which was where he could make his way--firmlypersuaded that among these wilds he could not fail to meet some rare adventure. As he went along, then, occupied with these thoughts, he perceived on the summitof a height that rose before their eyes a man who went springing from rock to rockand from tussock to tussock with marvellous agility. As well as he could make outhe was unclad, with a thick black beard, long tangled hair, and bare legs and feet, his thighs were covered by breeches apparently of tawny velvet but so ragged thatthey showed his skin in several places. He was bareheaded, and notwithstanding the swiftness with which he passed ashas been described, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance observed and noted allthese trifles, and though he made the attempt, he was unable to follow him, for itwas not granted to the feebleness of Rocinante to make way over such roughground, he being, moreover, slow-paced and sluggish by nature. Don Quixote atonce came to the conclusion that this was the owner of the saddle-pad and of thevalise, and made up his mind to go in search of him, even though he should haveto wander a year in those mountains before he found him, and so he directedSancho to take a short cut over one side of the mountain, while he himself wentby the other, and perhaps by this means they might light upon this man who hadpassed so quickly out of their sight. "I could not do that, " said Sancho, "for when I separate from your worship fearat once lays hold of me, and assails me with all sorts of panics and fancies; andlet what I now say be a notice that from this time forth I am not going to stir afinger's width from your presence. ""It shall be so, " said he of the Rueful Countenance, "and I am very glad thatthou art willing to rely on my courage, which will never fail thee, even though thesoul in thy body fail thee; so come on now behind me slowly as well as thoucanst, and make lanterns of thine eyes; let us make the circuit of this ridge;perhaps we shall light upon this man that we saw, who no doubt is no other thanthe owner of what we found. "To which Sancho made answer, "Far better would it be not to look for him, for, if we find him, and he happens to be the owner of the money, it is plain I mustrestore it; it would be better, therefore, that without taking this needless trouble, Ishould keep possession of it until in some other less meddlesome and officiousway the real owner may be discovered; and perhaps that will be when I shall havespent it, and then the king will hold me harmless. ""Thou art wrong there, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for now that we have asuspicion who the owner is, and have him almost before us, we are bound to seekhim and make restitution; and if we do not see him, the strong suspicion we haveas to his being the owner makes us as guilty as if he were so; and so, friendSancho, let not our search for him give thee any uneasiness, for if we find him itwill relieve mine. "And so saying he gave Rocinante the spur, and Sancho followed him on foot andloaded, and after having partly made the circuit of the mountain they found lyingin a ravine, dead and half devoured by dogs and pecked by jackdaws, a mulesaddled and bridled, all which still further strengthened their suspicion that hewho had fled was the owner of the mule and the saddle-pad. As they stood looking at it they heard a whistle like that of a shepherd watchinghis flock, and suddenly on their left there appeared a great number of goats andbehind them on the summit of the mountain the goatherd in charge of them, aman advanced in years. Don Quixote called aloud to him and begged him to comedown to where they stood. He shouted in return, asking what had brought themto that spot, seldom or never trodden except by the feet of goats, or of the wolvesand other wild beasts that roamed around. Sancho in return bade him comedown, and they would explain all to him. The goatherd descended, and reaching the place where Don Quixote stood, hesaid, "I will wager you are looking at that hack mule that lies dead in the hollowthere, and, faith, it has been lying there now these six months; tell me, have youcome upon its master about here?""We have come upon nobody, " answered Don Quixote, "nor on

anything excepta saddle-pad and a little valise that we found not far from this. ""I found it too, " said the goatherd, "but I would not lift it nor go near it for fearof some ill-luck or being charged with theft, for the devil is crafty, and things riseup under one's feet to make one fall without knowing why or wherefore. ""That's exactly what I say, " said Sancho; "I found it too, and I would not gowithin a stone's throw of it; there I left it, and there it lies just as it was, for Idon't want a dog with a bell. ""Tell me, good man, " said Don Quixote, "do you know who is the owner of thisproperty?""All I can tell you, " said the goatherd, "is that about six months ago, more orless, there arrived at a shepherd's hut three leagues, perhaps, away from this, ayouth of well-bred appearance and manners, mounted on that same mule whichlies dead here, and with the same saddle-pad and valise which you say you foundand did not touch. He asked us what part of this sierra was the most rugged andretired; we told him that it was where we now are; and so in truth it is, for if youpush on half a league farther, perhaps you will not be able to find your way out;and I am wondering how you have managed to come here, for there is no road orpath that leads to this spot. I say, then, that on hearing our answer the youthturned about and made for the place we pointed out to him, leaving us allcharmed with his good looks, and wondering at his question and the haste withwhich we saw him depart in the direction of the sierra; and after that we saw himno more, until some days afterwards he crossed the path of one of our shepherds, and without saying a word to him, came up to him and gave him several cuffs andkicks, and then turned to the ass with our provisions and took all the bread andcheese it carried, and having done this made off back again into the sierra withextraordinary swiftness. When some of us goatherds learned this we went insearch of him for about two days through the most remote portion of this sierra, at the end of which we found him lodged in the hollow of a large thick cork tree. He came out to meet us with great gentleness, with his dress now torn and hisface so disfigured and burned by the sun, that we hardly recognised him but thathis clothes, though torn, convinced us, from the recollection we had of them, thathe was the person we were looking for. He saluted us courteously, and in a fewwell-spoken words he told us not to wonder at seeing him going about in thisguise, as it was binding upon him in order that he might work out a penancewhich for his many sins had been imposed upon him. We asked him to tell us whohe was, but we were never able to find out from him: we begged of him too, whenhe was in want of food, which he could not do without, to tell us where weshould find him, as we would bring it to him with all good-will and readiness; orif this were not to his taste, at least to come and ask it of us and not take it byforce from the shepherds. He thanked us for the offer, begged pardon for the lateassault, and promised for the future to ask it in God's name without offeringviolence to anybody. As for fixed abode, he said he had no other than that whichchance offered wherever night might overtake him; and his words ended in anoutburst of weeping so bitter that we who listened to him must have been verystones had we not joined him in it, comparing what we saw of him the first timewith what we saw now; for, as I said, he was a graceful and gracious youth, andin his courteous and polished language showed himself to be of good birth andcourtly breeding, and rustics as we were that listened to him, even to our rusticityhis gentle bearing sufficed to make it plain. "But in the midst of his conversation he stopped and became silent, keeping hiseyes fixed upon the ground for some time, during which we stood still waitinganxiously to see what would come of this abstraction; and with no little pity, forfrom his behaviour, now staring at the ground with fixed gaze and eyes wide openwithout moving an eyelid, again closing them, compressing his lips and raising hiseyebrows, we could perceive plainly that a fit of madness of some kind had comeupon him; and before long he showed that what we imagined was the truth, for hearose in a fury from the ground where he had thrown himself, and attacked thefirst he found near him with such rage and fierceness that if we had not draggedhim off him, he would have beaten or bitten him to death, all the whileexclaiming, 'Oh faithless Fernando, here, here shalt thou pay the penalty of thewrong thou hast done me; these hands shall tear out that heart of thine, abodeand dwelling of all iniquity, but of deceit and fraud above all; and to these headded other words all in effect upbraiding this Fernando and charging him withtreachery and faithlessness. "We forced him to release his hold with no little difficulty, and without anotherword he left us, and rushing off plunged in among these brakes and brambles, soas to make it impossible for us to follow him; from this we suppose that madnesscomes upon him from time to time, and that some one called Fernando must havedone him a wrong of a grievous nature such as the condition to which it hadbrought him seemed to show. All this has been since then confirmed on thoseoccasions, and they have been many, on which he has crossed our path, at onetime to beg the shepherds to give him some of the food they carry, at another totake it from them by force; for when there is a fit of madness upon him, eventhough the shepherds offer it freely, he will not accept it but snatches it fromthem by dint of blows; but when he is in his senses he begs it for the love of God, courteously and civilly, and receives it with many thanks and not a few tears. Andto tell you the truth, sirs, " continued the goatherd, "it was yesterday that weresolved, I and four of the lads, two of them our servants, and the other twofriends of mine, to go in search of him until we find him, and when we do to takehim, whether by force or of his own consent, to the town of Almodovar, which iseight leagues from this, and there strive to cure him (if indeed his malady admitsof a cure), or learn when he is in his senses who he is, and if he has relatives towhom we may give notice of his misfortune. This, sirs, is all I can say in answerto what you have asked me; and be sure that the owner of the articles you foundis he whom you saw pass by with such nimbleness and so naked. "For Don Quixote had already described how he had seen the man go boundingalong the mountain side, and he was now filled with amazement at what he heardfrom the goatherd, and more eager than ever to discover who the unhappymadman was; and in his heart he resolved, as he had done before, to search forhim all over the mountain, not leaving a corner or cave unexamined until he hadfound him. But chance arranged matters better than he expected or hoped, for atthat very moment, in a gorge on the mountain that opened where they stood, theyouth he wished to find made his appearance, coming along talking to himself in away that would have been unintelligible near at hand, much more at a distance. His garb was what has been described, save that as he drew near, Don Quixoteperceived that a tattered doublet which he wore was amber-tanned, from whichhe concluded that one who wore such garments could not be of very low rank. Approaching them, the youth greeted them in a harsh and hoarse voice but withgreat courtesy. Don Quixote returned his salutation with equal politeness, anddismounting from Rocinante advanced with well-bred bearing and grace toembrace him, and held him for some time close in his arms as if he had knownhim for a long time. The other, whom we may call the Ragged One of the SorryCountenance, as Don Quixote was of the Rueful, after submitting to the embracepushed him back a little and, placing his hands on Don Quixote's shoulders, stoodgazing at him as if seeking to see whether he knew him, not less amazed, perhaps, at the sight of the face, figure, and armour of Don Quixote than Don Quixote wasat the sight of him. To be brief, the first to speak after embracing was the RaggedOne, and he said what will be told farther on. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 9. Chapters 24-27EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXIV. IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE ADVENTURE OF THE SIERRAMORENAThe history relates that it was with the greatest attention Don Quixote listenedto the ragged knight of the Sierra, who began by saying:"Of a surety, senor, whoever you are, for I know you not, I thank you for theproofs of kindness and courtesy you have shown me, and would I were in acondition to requite with something more than good-will that which you havedisplayed towards me in the cordial reception you have given me; but my fatedoes not afford me any other means of returning kindnesses done me save thehearty desire to repay them. ""Mine, " replied Don Quixote, "is to be of service to you, so much so that I hadresolved not to quit these mountains until I had found you, and learned of youwhether there is any kind of relief to be found for that sorrow under which fromthe strangeness of your life you seem to labour; and to search for you with allpossible diligence, if search had been necessary. And if your misfortune shouldprove to be one of those that refuse admission to any sort of consolation, it wasmy purpose to join you in lamenting and mourning over it, so far as I could; for itis still some comfort in misfortune to find one who can feel for it. And if my goodintentions deserve to be acknowledged with any kind of courtesy, I entreat you, senor, by that which I perceive you possess in so high a degree, and likewiseconjure you by whatever you love or have loved best in life, to tell me who youare and the cause that has brought you to live or die in these solitudes like a brutebeast, dwelling among them in a manner so foreign to your condition as your garband appearance show. And I swear, " added Don Quixote, "by the order ofknighthood which I have received, and by my vocation of knight-errant, if yougratify me in this, to serve you with all the zeal my calling demands of me, eitherin relieving your misfortune if it admits of relief, or in joining you in lamenting itas I promised to do. "The Knight of the Thicket, hearing him of the Rueful Countenance talk in thisstrain, did nothing but stare at him, and stare at him again, and again survey himfrom head to foot; and when he had thoroughly examined him, he said to him:"If you have anything to give me to eat, for God's sake give it me, and after Ihave eaten I will do all you ask in acknowledgment of the goodwill you havedisplayed towards me. "Sancho from his sack, and the goatherd from his pouch, furnished the RaggedOne with the means of appeasing his hunger, and what they gave him he ate likea half-witted being, so hastily that he took no time between mouthfuls, gorgingrather than swallowing; and while he ate neither he nor they who observed himuttered a word. As soon as he had done he made signs to them to follow him, which they did, and he led them to a green plot which lay a little farther off roundthe corner of a rock. On reaching it he stretched himself upon the grass, and theothers did the same, all keeping silence, until the Ragged One, settling himself inhis place, said:"If it is your wish, sirs, that I should disclose in a few words the surpassingextent of my misfortunes, you must promise not to break the thread of my sadstory with any question or other interruption, for the instant you do so the tale Itell will come to an end. "These words of the Ragged One reminded Don Quixote of the tale his squirehad told him, when he failed to keep count of the goats that had crossed the riverand the story remained unfinished; but to return to the Ragged One, he went onto say:"I give you this warning because I wish to pass briefly over the story of mymisfortunes, for recalling them to memory only serves to add fresh ones, and theless you question me the sooner shall I make an end of the recital, though I shallnot omit to relate anything of importance in order fully to satisfy your curiosity. "Don Quixote gave the promise for himself and the others, and with thisassurance he began as follows:"My name is Cardenio, my birthplace one of the best cities of this Andalusia, my family noble, my parents rich, my misfortune so great that my parents musthave wept and my family grieved over it without being able by their wealth tolighten it; for the gifts of fortune can do little to relieve reverses sent by Heaven. In that same country there was a heaven in which love had placed all the glory Icould desire; such was the beauty of Luscinda, a damsel as noble and as rich as I, but of happier fortunes, and of less firmness than was due to so worthy a passionas mine. This Luscinda I loved, worshipped, and adored from my earliest andtenderest years, and she loved me in all the innocence and sincerity of childhood. Our parents were aware of our feelings, and were not sorry to perceive them, forthey saw clearly that as they ripened they must lead at last to a marriage betweenus, a thing that seemed almost prearranged by the equality of our families andwealth. We grew up, and with our growth grew the love between us, so that thefather of Luscinda felt bound for propriety's sake to refuse me admission to hishouse, in this perhaps imitating the parents of that Thisbe so celebrated by thepoets, and this refusal but added love to love and flame to flame; for though theyenforced silence upon our tongues they could not impose it upon our pens, whichcan make known the heart's secrets to a loved one more freely than tongues; formany a time the presence of the object of love shakes the firmest will and strikesdumb the boldest tongue. Ah heavens! how many letters did I write her, and howmany dainty modest replies did I receive! how many ditties and love-songs did Icompose in which my heart declared and made known its feelings, described itsardent longings, revelled in its recollections and dallied with its desires! At lengthgrowing impatient and feeling my heart languishing with longing to see her, Iresolved to put into execution and carry out what seemed to me the best mode ofwinning my desired and merited reward, to ask her of her father for my lawfulwife, which I did. To this his answer was that he thanked me for the disposition Ishowed to do honour to him and to regard myself as honoured by the bestowal ofhis treasure; but that as my father was alive it was his by right to make thisdemand, for if it were not in accordance with his full will and pleasure, Luscindawas not to be taken or given by stealth. I thanked him for his kindness, reflectingthat there was reason in what he said, and that my father would assent to it assoon as I should tell him, and with that view I went the very same instant to lethim know what my desires were. When I entered the room where he was I foundhim with an open letter in his hand, which, before I could utter a word, he gaveme, saying, 'By this letter thou wilt see, Cardenio, the disposition the DukeRicardo has to serve thee. ' This Duke Ricardo, as you, sirs, probably knowalready, is a grandee of Spain who has his seat in the best part of this Andalusia. Itook and read the letter, which was couched in terms so flattering that even Imyself felt it would be wrong in my father not to comply with the request theduke made in it, which was that he would send me immediately to him, as hewished me to become the companion, not servant, of his eldest son, and wouldtake upon himself the charge of placing me in a position corresponding to theesteem in which he held me. On reading the letter my voice failed me, and stillmore when I heard my father say, 'Two days hence thou wilt depart, Cardenio, inaccordance with the duke's wish, and give thanks to God who is opening a road tothee by which thou mayest attain what I know thou dost deserve; and to thesewords he added others of fatherly counsel. The time for my departure arrived; Ispoke one night to Luscinda, I told her all that had occurred, as I did also to herfather, entreating him to allow some delay, and to defer the disposal of her handuntil I should see what the Duke Ricardo sought of me: he gave me the promise, and she confirmed it with vows and swoonings unnumbered. Finally, I presentedmyself to the duke, and was received and treated by him so kindly that very soonenvy began to do its work, the old servants growing envious of me, and regardingthe duke's inclination to show me favour as an injury to themselves. But the oneto whom my arrival gave the greatest pleasure was the duke's second son, Fernando by name, a gallant youth, of noble, generous, and amorous disposition, who very soon made so intimate a friend of me that it was remarked byeverybody; for though the elder was attached to me, and showed me kindness, hedid not carry his affectionate treatment to the same length as Don Fernando. It sohappened, then, that as between friends no secret remains unshared, and as thefavour I enjoyed with Don Fernando had grown into friendship, he made all histhoughts known to me, and in particular a love affair which troubled his mind alittle. He was deeply in love with a peasant girl, a vassal of his father's, thedaughter of wealthy parents, and herself so beautiful, modest, discreet, andvirtuous, that no one who knew her was able to decide in which of these respectsshe was most highly gifted or most excelled. The attractions of the fair peasantraised the passion of Don Fernando to such a point that, in order to gain hisobject and overcome her virtuous resolutions, he determined to pledge his word toher to become her husband, for to attempt it in any other way was to attempt animpossibility. Bound to him as I was by friendship, I strove by the best argumentsand the most forcible examples I could think of to restrain and dissuade him fromsuch a course; but perceiving I produced no effect I resolved to make the DukeRicardo, his father, acquainted with the matter; but Don Fernando, being sharp-witted and shrewd, foresaw and apprehended this, perceiving that by my duty asa good servant I was bound not to keep concealed a thing so much opposed to thehonour of my lord the duke; and so, to mislead and deceive me, he told me hecould find no better way of effacing from his mind the beauty that so enslavedhim than by absenting himself for some months, and that he wished the absenceto be effected by our going, both of us, to my father's house under the pretence, which he would make to the duke, of going to see and buy some fine horses thatthere were in my city, which produces the best in the world. When I heard himsay so, even if his resolution had not been so good a one I should have hailed it asone of the happiest that could be imagined, prompted by my affection, seeingwhat a favourable chance and opportunity it offered me of returning to see myLuscinda. With this thought and wish I commended his idea and encouraged hisdesign, advising him to put it into execution as quickly as possible, as, in truth, absence produced its effect in spite of the most deeply rooted feelings. But, asafterwards appeared, when he said this to me he had already enjoyed the peasantgirl under the title of husband, and was waiting for an opportunity of making itknown with safety to himself, being in dread of what his father the duke would dowhen he came to know of his folly. It happened, then, that as with young menlove is for the most part nothing more than appetite, which, as its final object isenjoyment, comes to an end on obtaining it, and that which seemed to be lovetakes to flight, as it cannot pass the limit fixed by nature, which fixes no limit totrue love--what I mean is that after Don Fernando had enjoyed this peasant girlhis passion subsided and his eagerness cooled, and if at first he feigned a wish toabsent himself in order to cure his love, he was now in reality anxious to go toavoid keeping his promise. "The duke gave him permission, and ordered me to accompany him; we arrivedat my city, and my father gave him the reception due to his rank; I saw Luscindawithout delay, and, though it had not been dead or deadened, my love gatheredfresh life. To my sorrow I told the story of it to Don Fernando, for I thought thatin virtue of the great friendship he bore me I was bound to conceal nothing fromhim. I extolled her beauty, her gaiety, her wit, so warmly, that my praises excitedin him a desire to see a damsel adorned by such attractions. To my misfortune Iyielded to it, showing her to him one night by the light of a taper at a windowwhere we used to talk to one another. As she appeared to him in her dressing-gown, she drove all the beauties he had seen until then out of his recollection;speech failed him, his head turned, he was spell-bound, and in the end love-smitten, as you will see in the course of the story of my misfortune; and toinflame still further his passion, which he hid from me and revealed to Heavenalone, it so happened that one day he found a note of hers entreating me todemand her of her father in marriage, so delicate, so modest, and so tender, thaton reading it he told me that in Luscinda alone were combined all the charms ofbeauty and understanding that were distributed among all the other women in theworld. It is true, and I own it now, that though I knew what good cause DonFernando had to praise Luscinda, it gave me uneasiness to hear these praises fromhis mouth, and I began to fear, and with reason to feel distrust of him, for therewas no moment when he was not ready to talk of Luscinda, and he would startthe subject himself even though he dragged it in unseasonably, a circumstancethat aroused in me a certain amount of jealousy; not that I feared any change inthe constancy or faith of Luscinda; but still my fate led me to forebode what sheassured me against. Don Fernando contrived always to read the letters I sent toLuscinda and her answers to me, under the pretence that he enjoyed the wit andsense of both. It so happened, then, that Luscinda having begged of me a book ofchivalry to read, one that she was very fond of, Amadis of Gaul-"Don Quixote no sooner heard a book of chivalry mentioned, than he said:"Had your worship told me at the beginning of your story that the LadyLuscinda was fond of books of chivalry, no other laudation would have beenrequisite to impress upon me the superiority of her understanding, for it could nothave been of the excellence you describe had a taste for such delightful readingbeen wanting; so, as far as I am concerned, you need waste no more words indescribing her beauty, worth, and intelligence; for, on merely hearing what hertaste was, I declare her to be the most beautiful and the most intelligent womanin the world; and I wish your worship had, along with Amadis of Gaul, sent herthe worthy Don Rugel of Greece, for I know the Lady Luscinda would greatlyrelish Daraida and Garaya, and the shrewd sayings of the shepherd Darinel, andthe admirable verses of his bucolics, sung and delivered by him with suchsprightliness, wit, and ease; but a time may come when this omission can beremedied, and to rectify it nothing more is needed than for your worship to be sogood as to come with me to my village, for there I can give you more than threehundred books which are the delight of my soul and the entertainment of mylife;--though it occurs to me that I have not got one of them now, thanks to thespite of wicked and envious enchanters;--but pardon me for having broken thepromise we made not to interrupt your discourse; for when I hear chivalry orknights-errant mentioned, I can no more help talking about them than the rays ofthe sun can help giving heat, or those of the moon moisture; pardon me, therefore, and proceed, for that is more to the purpose now. "While Don Quixote was saying this, Cardenio allowed his head to fall upon hisbreast, and seemed plunged in deep thought; and though twice Don Quixote badehim go on with his story, he neither looked up nor uttered a word in reply; butafter some time he raised his head and said, "I cannot get rid of the idea, nor willanyone in the world remove it, or make me think otherwise--and he would be ablockhead who would hold or believe anything else than that that arrant knaveMaster Elisabad made free with Queen Madasima. ""That is not true, by all that's good, " said Don Quixote in high wrath, turningupon him angrily, as his way was; "and it is a very great slander, or rathervillainy. Queen Madasima was a very illustrious lady, and it is not to be supposedthat so exalted a princess would have made free with a quack; and whoevermaintains the contrary lies like a great scoundrel, and I will give him to know it, on foot or on horseback, armed or unarmed, by night or by day, or as he likesbest. "Cardenio was looking at him steadily, and his mad fit having now come uponhim, he had no disposition to go on with his story, nor would Don Quixote havelistened to it, so much had what he had heard about Madasima disgusted him. Strange to say, he stood up for her as if she were in earnest his veritable bornlady; to such a pass had his unholy books brought him. Cardenio, then, being, as Isaid, now mad, when he heard himself given the lie, and called a scoundrel andother insulting names, not relishing the jest, snatched up a stone that he foundnear him, and with it delivered such a blow on Don Quixote's breast that he laidhim on his back. Sancho Panza, seeing his master treated in this fashion, attackedthe madman with his closed fist; but the Ragged One received him in such a waythat with a blow of his fist he stretched him at his feet, and then mounting uponhim crushed his ribs to his own satisfaction; the goatherd, who came to therescue, shared the same fate; and having beaten and pummelled them all he leftthem and quietly withdrew to his hiding-place on the mountain. Sancho rose, andwith the rage he felt at finding himself so belaboured without deserving it, ran totake vengeance on the goatherd, accusing him of not giving them warning thatthis man was at times taken with a mad fit, for if they had known it they wouldhave been on their guard to protect themselves. The goatherd replied that he hadsaid so, and that if he had not heard him, that was no fault of his. Sanchoretorted, and the goatherd rejoined, and the altercation ended in their seizing eachother by the beard, and exchanging such fisticuffs that if Don Quixote had notmade peace between them, they would have knocked one another to pieces. "Leave me alone, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, " said Sancho, grapplingwith the goatherd, "for of this fellow, who is a clown like myself, and no dubbedknight, I can safely take satisfaction for the affront he has offered me, fightingwith him hand to hand like an honest man. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote, "but I know that he is not to blame for whathas happened. "With this he pacified them, and again asked the goatherd if it would be possibleto find Cardenio, as he felt the greatest anxiety to know the end of his story. Thegoatherd told him, as he had told him before, that there was no knowing of acertainty where his lair was; but that if he wandered about much in thatneighbourhood he could not fail to fall in with him either in or out of his senses. CHAPTER XXV. WHICH TREATS OF THE STRANGE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TOTHE STOUT KNIGHT OF LA MANCHA IN THE SIERRA MORENA, AND OF HIS IMITATION OF THE PENANCE OF BELTENEBROSDon Quixote took leave of the goatherd, and once more mounting Rocinantebade Sancho follow him, which he having no ass, did very discontentedly. Theyproceeded slowly, making their way into the most rugged part of the mountain, Sancho all the while dying to have a talk with his master, and longing for him tobegin, so that there should be no breach of the injunction laid upon him; butunable to keep silence so long he said to him:"Senor Don Quixote, give me your worship's blessing and dismissal, for I'd liketo go home at once to my wife and children with whom I can at any rate talk andconverse as much as I like; for to want me to go through these solitudes day andnight and not speak to you when I have a mind is burying me alive. If luck wouldhave it that animals spoke as they did in the days of Guisopete, it would not be sobad, because I could talk to Rocinante about whatever came into my head, and soput up with my ill-fortune; but it is a hard case, and not to be borne withpatience, to go seeking adventures all one's life and get nothing but kicks andblanketings, brickbats and punches, and with all this to have to sew up one'smouth without daring to say what is in one's heart, just as if one were dumb. ""I understand thee, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote; "thou art dying to have theinterdict I placed upon thy tongue removed; consider it removed, and say whatthou wilt while we are wandering in these mountains. ""So be it, " said Sancho; "let me speak now, for God knows what will happen by-and-by; and to take advantage of the permit at once, I ask, what made yourworship stand up so for that Queen Majimasa, or whatever her name is, or whatdid it matter whether that abbot was a friend of hers or not? for if your worshiphad let that pass--and you were not a judge in the matter--it is my belief themadman would have gone on with his story, and the blow of the stone, and thekicks, and more than half a dozen cuffs would have been escaped. ""In faith, Sancho, " answered Don Quixote, "if thou knewest as I do what anhonourable and illustrious lady Queen Madasima was, I know thou wouldst say Ihad great patience that I did not break in pieces the mouth that uttered suchblasphemies, for a very great blasphemy it is to say or imagine that a queen hasmade free with a surgeon. The truth of the story is that that Master Elisabadwhom the madman mentioned was a man of great prudence and sound judgment, and served as governor and physician to the queen, but to suppose that she washis mistress is nonsense deserving very severe punishment; and as a proof thatCardenio did not know what he was saying, remember when he said it he was outof his wits. ""That is what I say, " said Sancho; "there was no occasion for minding the wordsof a madman; for if good luck had not helped your worship, and he had sent thatstone at your head instead of at your breast, a fine way we should have been infor standing up for my lady yonder, God confound her! And then, would notCardenio have gone free as a madman?""Against men in their senses or against madmen, " said Don Quixote, "everyknight-errant is bound to stand up for the honour of women, whoever they maybe, much more for queens of such high degree and dignity as Queen Madasima, for whom I have a particular regard on account of her amiable qualities; for, besides being extremely beautiful, she was very wise, and very patient under hermisfortunes, of which she had many; and the counsel and society of the MasterElisabad were a great help and support to her in enduring her afflictions withwisdom and resignation; hence the ignorant and ill-disposed vulgar took occasionto say and think that she was his mistress; and they lie, I say it once more, andwill lie two hundred times more, all who think and say so. ""I neither say nor think so, " said Sancho; "let them look to it; with their breadlet them eat it; they have rendered account to God whether they misbehaved ornot; I come from my vineyard, I know nothing; I am not fond of prying into othermen's lives; he who buys and lies feels it in his purse; moreover, naked was Iborn, naked I find myself, I neither lose nor gain; but if they did, what is that tome? many think there are flitches where there are no hooks; but who can putgates to the open plain? moreover they said of God-""God bless me, " said Don Quixote, "what a set of absurdities thou art stringingtogether! What has what we are talking about got to do with the proverbs thou artthreading one after the other? for God's sake hold thy tongue, Sancho, andhenceforward keep to prodding thy ass and don't meddle in what does notconcern thee; and understand with all thy five senses that everything I have done, am doing, or shall do, is well founded on reason and in conformity with the rulesof chivalry, for I understand them better than all the world that profess them. ""Senor, " replied Sancho, "is it a good rule of chivalry that we should go astraythrough these mountains without path or road, looking for a madman who whenhe is found will perhaps take a fancy to finish what he began, not his story, butyour worship's head and my ribs, and end by breaking them altogether for us?""Peace, I say again, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for let me tell thee it is not somuch the desire of finding that madman that leads me into these regions as thatwhich I have of performing among them an achievement wherewith I shall wineternal name and fame throughout the known world; and it shall be such that Ishall thereby set the seal on all that can make a knight-errant perfect and famous. ""And is it very perilous, this achievement?""No, " replied he of the Rueful Countenance; "though it may be in the dice thatwe may throw deuce-ace instead of sixes; but all will depend on thy diligence. ""On my diligence!" said Sancho. "Yes, " said Don Quixote, "for if thou dost return soon from the place where Imean to send thee, my penance will be soon over, and my glory will soon begin. But as it is not right to keep thee any longer in suspense, waiting to see whatcomes of my words, I would have thee know, Sancho, that the famous Amadis ofGaul was one of the most perfect knights-errant--I am wrong to say he was one;he stood alone, the first, the only one, the lord of all that were in the world in histime. A fig for Don Belianis, and for all who say he equalled him in any respect, for, my oath upon it, they are deceiving themselves! I say, too, that when apainter desires to become famous in his art he endeavours to copy the originals ofthe rarest painters that he knows; and the same rule holds good for all the mostimportant crafts and callings that serve to adorn a state; thus must he who wouldbe esteemed prudent and patient imitate Ulysses, in whose person and laboursHomer presents to us a lively picture of prudence and patience; as Virgil, too, shows us in the person of AEneas the virtue of a pious son and the sagacity of abrave and skilful captain; not representing or describing them as they were, but asthey ought to be, so as to leave the example of their virtues to posterity. In thesame way Amadis was the polestar, day-star, sun of valiant and devoted knights, whom all we who fight under the banner of love and chivalry are bound toimitate. This, then, being so, I consider, friend Sancho, that the knight-errant who shallimitate him most closely will come nearest to reaching the perfection of chivalry. Now one of the instances in which this knight most conspicuously showed hisprudence, worth, valour, endurance, fortitude, and love, was when he withdrew, rejected by the Lady Oriana, to do penance upon the Pena Pobre, changing hisname into that of Beltenebros, a name assuredly significant and appropriate to thelife which he had voluntarily adopted. So, as it is easier for me to imitate him inthis than in cleaving giants asunder, cutting off serpents' heads, slaying dragons, routing armies, destroying fleets, and breaking enchantments, and as this place isso well suited for a similar purpose, I must not allow the opportunity to escapewhich now so conveniently offers me its forelock. ""What is it in reality, " said Sancho, "that your worship means to do in such anout-of-the-way place as this?""Have I not told thee, " answered Don Quixote, "that I mean to imitate Amadishere, playing the victim of despair, the madman, the maniac, so as at the sametime to imitate the valiant Don Roland, when at the fountain he had evidence ofthe fair Angelica having disgraced herself with Medoro and through grief thereatwent mad, and plucked up trees, troubled the waters of the clear springs, slewdestroyed flocks, burned down huts, levelled houses, dragged mares after him, and perpetrated a hundred thousand other outrages worthy of everlasting renownand record? And though I have no intention of imitating Roland, or Orlando, orRotolando (for he went by all these names), step by step in all the mad things hedid, said, and thought, I will make a rough copy to the best of my power of allthat seems to me most essential; but perhaps I shall content myself with thesimple imitation of Amadis, who without giving way to any mischievous madnessbut merely to tears and sorrow, gained as much fame as the most famous. ""It seems to me, " said Sancho, "that the knights who behaved in this way hadprovocation and cause for those follies and penances; but what cause has yourworship for going mad? What lady has rejected you, or what evidence have youfound to prove that the lady Dulcinea del Toboso has been trifling with Moor orChristian?""There is the point, " replied Don Quixote, "and that is the beauty of thisbusiness of mine; no thanks to a knight-errant for going mad when he has cause;the thing is to turn crazy without any provocation, and let my lady know, if I dothis in the dry, what I would do in the moist; moreover I have abundant cause inthe long separation I have endured from my lady till death, Dulcinea del Toboso;for as thou didst hear that shepherd Ambrosio say the other day, in absence allills are felt and feared; and so, friend Sancho, waste no time in advising meagainst so rare, so happy, and so unheard-of an imitation; mad I am, and mad Imust be until thou returnest with the answer to a letter that I mean to send bythee to my lady Dulcinea; and if it be such as my constancy deserves, my insanityand penance will come to an end; and if it be to the opposite effect, I shallbecome mad in earnest, and, being so, I shall suffer no more; thus in whateverway she may answer I shall escape from the struggle and affliction in which thouwilt leave me, enjoying in my senses the boon thou bearest me, or as a madmannot feeling the evil thou bringest me. But tell me, Sancho, hast thou gotMambrino's helmet safe? for I saw thee take it up from the ground when thatungrateful wretch tried to break it in pieces but could not, by which the finenessof its temper may be seen. "To which Sancho made answer, "By the living God, Sir Knight of the RuefulCountenance, I cannot endure or bear with patience some of the things that yourworship says; and from them I begin to suspect that all you tell me about chivalry, and winning kingdoms and empires, and giving islands, and bestowing otherrewards and dignities after the custom of knights-errant, must be all made up ofwind and lies, and all pigments or figments, or whatever we may call them; forwhat would anyone think that heard your worship calling a barber's basinMambrino's helmet without ever seeing the mistake all this time, but that one whosays and maintains such things must have his brains addled? I have the basin inmy sack all dinted, and I am taking it home to have it mended, to trim my beardin it, if, by God's grace, I am allowed to see my wife and children some day orother. ""Look here, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "by him thou didst swear by just now Iswear thou hast the most limited understanding that any squire in the world hasor ever had. Is it possible that all this time thou hast been going about with methou hast never found out that all things belonging to knights-errant seem to beillusions and nonsense and ravings, and to go always by contraries? And notbecause it really is so, but because there is always a swarm of enchanters inattendance upon us that change and alter everything with us, and turn things asthey please, and according as they are disposed to aid or destroy us; thus whatseems to thee a barber's basin seems to me Mambrino's helmet, and to another itwill seem something else; and rare foresight it was in the sage who is on my sideto make what is really and truly Mambrine's helmet seem a basin to everybody, for, being held in such estimation as it is, all the world would pursue me to robme of it; but when they see it is only a barber's basin they do not take the troubleto obtain it; as was plainly shown by him who tried to break it, and left it on theground without taking it, for, by my faith, had he known it he would never haveleft it behind. Keep it safe, my friend, for just now I have no need of it; indeed, Ishall have to take off all this armour and remain as naked as I was born, if I havea mind to follow Roland rather than Amadis in my penance. "Thus talking they reached the foot of a high mountain which stood like anisolated peak among the others that surrounded it. Past its base there flowed agentle brook, all around it spread a meadow so green and luxuriant that it was adelight to the eyes to look upon it, and forest trees in abundance,

and shrubs andflowers, added to the charms of the spot. Upon this place the Knight of the RuefulCountenance fixed his choice for the performance of his penance, and as hebeheld it exclaimed in a loud voice as though he were out of his senses:"This is the place, oh, ye heavens, that I select and choose for bewailing themisfortune in which ye yourselves have plunged me: this is the spot where theoverflowings of mine eyes shall swell the waters of yon little brook, and my deepand endless sighs shall stir unceasingly the leaves of these mountain trees, intestimony and token of the pain my persecuted heart is suffering. Oh, ye ruraldeities, whoever ye be that haunt this lone spot, give ear to the complaint of awretched lover whom long absence and brooding jealousy have driven to bewailhis fate among these wilds and complain of the hard heart of that fair andungrateful one, the end and limit of all human beauty! Oh, ye wood nymphs anddryads, that dwell in the thickets of the forest, so may the nimble wanton satyrsby whom ye are vainly wooed never disturb your sweet repose, help me to lamentmy hard fate or at least weary not at listening to it! Oh, Dulcinea del Toboso, dayof my night, glory of my pain, guide of my path, star of my fortune, so mayHeaven grant thee in full all thou seekest of it, bethink thee of the place andcondition to which absence from thee has brought me, and make that return inkindness that is due to my fidelity! Oh, lonely trees, that from this day forwardshall bear me company in my solitude, give me some sign by the gentle movementof your boughs that my presence is not distasteful to you! Oh, thou, my squire, pleasant companion in my prosperous and adverse fortunes, fix well in thymemory what thou shalt see me do here, so that thou mayest relate and report itto the sole cause of all, " and so saying he dismounted from Rocinante, and in aninstant relieved him of saddle and bridle, and giving him a slap on the croup, said, "He gives thee freedom who is bereft of it himself, oh steed as excellent indeed as thou art unfortunate in thy lot; begone where thou wilt, for thou bearestwritten on thy forehead that neither Astolfo's hippogriff, nor the famed Frontinothat cost Bradamante so dear, could equal thee in speed. "Seeing this Sancho said, "Good luck to him who has saved us the trouble ofstripping the pack-saddle off Dapple! By my faith he would not have gone withouta slap on the croup and something said in his praise; though if he were here Iwould not let anyone strip him, for there would be no occasion, as he had nothingof the lover or victim of despair about him, inasmuch as his master, which I waswhile it was God's pleasure, was nothing of the sort; and indeed, Sir Knight of theRueful Countenance, if my departure and your worship's madness are to come offin earnest, it will be as well to saddle Rocinante again in order that he may supplythe want of Dapple, because it will save me time in going and returning: for if I goon foot I don't know when I shall get there or when I shall get back, as I am, intruth, a bad walker. ""I declare, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote, "it shall be as thou wilt, for thy plandoes not seem to me a bad one, and three days hence thou wilt depart, for I wishthee to observe in the meantime what I do and say for her sake, that thou mayestbe able to tell it. ""But what more have I to see besides what I have seen?" said Sancho. "Much thou knowest about it!" said Don Quixote. "I have now got to tear up mygarments, to scatter about my armour, knock my head against these rocks, andmore of the same sort of thing, which thou must witness. ""For the love of God, " said Sancho, "be careful, your worship, how you giveyourself those knocks on the head, for you may come across such a rock, and insuch a way, that the very first may put an end to the whole contrivance of thispenance; and I should think, if indeed knocks on the head seem necessary to you, and this business cannot be done without them, you might be content--as thewhole thing is feigned, and counterfeit, and in joke--you might be content, I say, with giving them to yourself in the water, or against something soft, like cotton;and leave it all to me; for I'll tell my lady that your worship knocked your headagainst a point of rock harder than a diamond. ""I thank thee for thy good intentions, friend Sancho, " answered Don Quixote, "but I would have thee know that all these things I am doing are not in joke, butvery much in earnest, for anything else would be a transgression of the ordinancesof chivalry, which forbid us to tell any lie whatever under the penalties due toapostasy; and to do one thing instead of another is just the same as lying; so myknocks on the head must be real, solid, and valid, without anything sophisticatedor fanciful about them, and it will be needful to leave me some lint to dress mywounds, since fortune has compelled us to do without the balsam we lost. ""It was worse losing the ass, " replied Sancho, "for with him lint and all werelost; but I beg of your worship not to remind me again of that accursed liquor, formy soul, not to say my stomach, turns at hearing the very name of it; and I beg ofyou, too, to reckon as past the three days you allowed me for seeing the madthings you do, for I take them as seen already and pronounced upon, and I willtell wonderful stories to my lady; so write the letter and send me off at once, for Ilong to return and take your worship out of this purgatory where I am leavingyou. ""Purgatory dost thou call it, Sancho?" said Don Quixote, "rather call it hell, oreven worse if there be anything worse. ""For one who is in hell, " said Sancho, "nulla est retentio, as I have heard say. ""I do not understand what retentio means, " said Don Quixote. "Retentio, " answered Sancho, "means that whoever is in hell never comes norcan come out of it, which will be the opposite case with your worship or my legswill be idle, that is if I have spurs to enliven Rocinante: let me once get to ElToboso and into the presence of my lady Dulcinea, and I will tell her such thingsof the follies and madnesses (for it is all one) that your worship has done and isstill doing, that I will manage to make her softer than a glove though I find herharder than a cork tree; and with her sweet and honeyed answer I will come backthrough the air like a witch, and take your worship out of this purgatory thatseems to be hell but is not, as there is hope of getting out of it; which, as I havesaid, those in hell have not, and I believe your worship will not say anything tothe contrary. ""That is true, " said he of the Rueful Countenance, "but how shall we manage towrite the letter?""And the ass-colt order too, " added Sancho. "All shall be included, " said Don Quixote; "and as there is no paper, it would bewell done to write it on the leaves of trees, as the ancients did, or on tablets ofwax; though that would be as hard to find just now as paper. But it has justoccurred to me how it may be conveniently and even more than convenientlywritten, and that is in the note-book that belonged to Cardenio, and thou wilttake care to have it copied on paper, in a good hand, at the first village thoucomest to where there is a schoolmaster, or if not, any sacristan will copy it; butsee thou give it not to any notary to copy, for they write a law hand that Satancould not make out. ""But what is to be done about the signature?" said Sancho. "The letters of Amadis were never signed, " said Don Quixote. "That is all very well, " said Sancho, "but the order must needs be signed, and ifit is copied they will say the signature is false, and I shall be left without ass-colts. ""The order shall go signed in the same book, " said Don Quixote, "and on seeingit my niece will make no difficulty about obeying it; as to the loveletter thou canstput by way of signature, 'Yours till death, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. 'And it will be no great matter if it is in some other person's hand, for as well as Irecollect Dulcinea can neither read nor write, nor in the whole course of her lifehas she seen handwriting or letter of mine, for my love and hers have been alwaysplatonic, not going beyond a modest look, and even that so seldom that I cansafely swear I have not seen her four times in all these twelve years I have beenloving her more than the light of these eyes that the earth will one day devour;and perhaps even of those four times she has not once perceived that I waslooking at her: such is the retirement and seclusion in which her father LorenzoCorchuelo and her mother Aldonza Nogales have brought her up. ""So, so!" said Sancho; "Lorenzo Corchuelo's daughter is the lady Dulcinea delToboso, otherwise called Aldonza Lorenzo?""She it is, " said Don Quixote, "and she it is that is worthy to be lady of thewhole universe. ""I know her well, " said Sancho, "and let me tell you she can fling a crowbar aswell as the lustiest lad in all the town. Giver of all good! but she is a brave lass, and a right and stout one, and fit to be helpmate to any knight-errant that is or isto be, who may make her his lady: the whoreson wench, what sting she has andwhat a voice! I can tell you one day she posted herself on the top of the belfry ofthe village to call some labourers of theirs that were in a ploughed field of herfather's, and though they were better than half a league off they heard her as wellas if they were at the foot of the tower; and the best of her is that she is not a bitprudish, for she has plenty of affability, and jokes with everybody, and has a grinand a jest for everything. So, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, I say you notonly may and ought to do mad freaks for her sake, but you have a good right togive way to despair and hang yourself; and no one who knows of it but will sayyou did well, though the devil should take you; and I wish I were on my roadalready, simply to see her, for it is many a day since I saw her, and she must bealtered by this time, for going about the fields always, and the sun and the airspoil women's looks greatly. But I must own the truth to your worship, Senor DonQuixote; until now I have been under a great mistake, for I believed truly andhonestly that the lady Dulcinea must be some princess your worship was in lovewith, or some person great enough to deserve the rich presents you have sent her, such as the Biscayan and the galley slaves, and many more no doubt, for yourworship must have won many victories in the time when I was not yet yoursquire. But all things considered, what good can it do the lady Aldonza Lorenzo, Imean the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, to have the vanquished your worship sends orwill send coming to her and going down on their knees before her? Because maybe when they came she'd be hackling flax or threshing on the threshing floor, andthey'd be ashamed to see her, and she'd laugh, or resent the present. ""I have before now told thee many times, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that thouart a mighty great chatterer, and that with a blunt wit thou art always striving atsharpness; but to show thee what a fool thou art and how rational I am, I wouldhave thee listen to a short story. Thou must know that a certain widow, fair, young, independent, and rich, and above all free and easy, fell in love with asturdy strapping young lay-brother; his superior came to know of it, and one daysaid to the worthy widow by way of brotherly remonstrance, 'I am surprised, senora, and not without good reason, that a woman of such high standing, so fair, and so rich as you are, should have fallen in love with such a mean, low, stupidfellow as So-and-so, when in this house there are so many masters, graduates, anddivinity students from among whom you might choose as if they were a lot ofpears, saying this one I'll take, that I won't take;' but she replied to him with greatsprightliness and candour, 'My dear sir, you are very much mistaken, and yourideas are very old-fashioned, if you think that I have made a bad choice in So-and-so, fool as he seems; because for all I want with him he knows as much and morephilosophy than Aristotle. ' In the same way, Sancho, for all I want with Dulcineadel Toboso she is just as good as the most exalted princess on earth. It is not to besupposed that all those poets who sang the praises of ladies under the fancynames they give them, had any such mistresses. Thinkest thou that theAmarillises, the Phillises, the Sylvias, the Dianas, the Galateas, the Filidas, and allthe rest of them, that the books, the ballads, the barber's shops, the theatres arefull of, were really and truly ladies of flesh and blood, and mistresses of those thatglorify and have glorified them? Nothing of the kind; they only invent them forthe most part to furnish a subject for their verses, and that they may pass forlovers, or for men valiant enough to be so; and so it suffices me to think andbelieve that the good Aldonza Lorenzo is fair and virtuous; and as to her pedigreeit is very little matter, for no one will examine into it for the purpose of conferringany order upon her, and I, for my part, reckon her the most exalted princess inthe world. For thou shouldst know, Sancho, if thou dost not know, that twothings alone beyond all others are incentives to love, and these are great beautyand a good name, and these two things are to be found in Dulcinea in the highestdegree, for in beauty no one equals her and in good name few approach her; andto put the whole thing in a nutshell, I persuade myself that all I say is as I say, neither more nor less, and I picture her in my imagination as I would have her tobe, as well in beauty as in condition; Helen approaches her not nor does Lucretiacome up to her, nor any other of the famous women of times past, Greek, Barbarian, or Latin; and let each say what he will, for if in this I am taken to taskby the ignorant, I shall not be censured by the critical. ""I say that your worship is entirely right, " said Sancho, "and that I am an ass. But I know not how the name of ass came into my mouth, for a rope is not to bementioned in the house of him who has been hanged; but now for the letter, andthen, God be with you, I am off. "Don Quixote took out the note-book, and, retiring to one side, very deliberatelybegan to write the letter, and when he had finished it he called to Sancho, sayinghe wished to read it to him, so that he might commit it to memory, in case oflosing it on the road; for with evil fortune like his anything might be apprehended. To which Sancho replied, "Write it two or three times there in the book and give itto me, and I will carry it very carefully, because to expect me to keep it in mymemory is all nonsense, for I have such a bad one that I often forget my ownname; but for all that repeat it to me, as I shall like to hear it, for surely it willrun as if it was in print. ""Listen, " said Don Quixote, "this is what it says:"DON QUIXOTE'S LETTER TO DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO"Sovereign and exalted Lady, --The pierced by the point of absence, the wounded to the heart's core, sends thee, sweetest Dulcinea delToboso, the health that he himself enjoys not. If thy beautydespises me, if thy worth is not for me, if thy scorn is myaffliction, though I be sufficiently long-suffering, hardly shall Iendure this anxiety, which, besides being oppressive, is protracted. My good squire Sancho will relate to thee in full, fair ingrate, dear enemy, the condition to which I am reduced on thy account: ifit be thy pleasure to give me relief, I am thine; if not, do as may bepleasing to thee; for by ending my life I shall satisfy thy crueltyand my desire. "Thine till death, "The Knight of the Rueful Countenance. ""By the life of my father, " said Sancho, when he heard the letter, "it is theloftiest thing I ever heard. Body of me! how your worship says everything as youlike in it! And how well you fit in 'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance' into thesignature. I declare your worship is indeed the very devil, and there is nothingyou don't know. ""Everything is needed for the calling I follow, " said Don Quixote. "Now then, " said Sancho, "let your worship put the order for the three ass-coltson the other side, and sign it very plainly, that they may recognise it at firstsight. ""With all my heart, " said Don Quixote, and as he had written it he read it to thiseffect:"Mistress Niece, --By this first of ass-colts please pay to Sancho Panza, mysquire, three of the five I left at home in your charge: said three ass-colts to bepaid and delivered for the same number received here in hand, which upon thisand upon his receipt shall be duly paid. Done in the heart of the Sierra Morena, the twenty-seventh of August of this present year. ""That will do, " said Sancho; "now let your worship sign it. ""There is no need to sign it, " said Don Quixote, "but merely to put my flourish, which is the same as a signature, and enough for three asses, or even threehundred. ""I can trust your worship, " returned Sancho; "let me go and saddle Rocinante, and be ready to give me your blessing, for I mean to go at once without seeing thefooleries your worship is going to do; I'll say I saw you do so many that she willnot want any more. ""At any rate, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "I should like--and there is reason forit--I should like thee, I say, to see me stripped to the skin and performing a dozenor two of insanities, which I can get done in less than half an hour; for havingseen them with thine own eyes, thou canst then safely swear to the rest that thouwouldst add; and I promise thee thou wilt not tell of as many as I mean toperform. ""For the love of God, master mine, " said Sancho, "let me not see your worshipstripped, for it will sorely grieve me, and I shall not be able to keep from tears, and my head aches so with all I shed last night for Dapple, that I am not fit tobegin any fresh weeping; but if it is your worship's pleasure that I should seesome insanities, do them in your clothes, short ones, and such as come readiest tohand; for I myself want nothing of the sort, and, as I have said, it will be a savingof time for my return, which will be with the news your worship desires anddeserves. If not, let the lady Dulcinea look to it; if she does not answerreasonably, I swear as solemnly as I can that I will fetch a fair answer out of herstomach with kicks and cuffs; for why should it be borne that a knight-errant asfamous as your worship should go mad without rhyme or reason for a--? Herladyship had best not drive me to say it, for by God I will speak out and let offeverything cheap, even if it doesn't sell: I am pretty good at that! she little knowsme; faith, if she knew me she'd be in awe of me. ""In faith, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "to all appearance thou art no sounder inthy wits than I. ""I am not so mad, " answered Sancho, "but I am more peppery; but apart fromall this, what has your worship to eat until I come back? Will you sally out on theroad like Cardenio to force it from the shepherds?""Let not that anxiety trouble thee, " replied Don Quixote, "for even if I had it Ishould not eat anything but the herbs and the fruits which this meadow and thesetrees may yield me; the beauty of this business of mine lies in not eating, and inperforming other mortifications. ""Do you know what I am afraid of?" said Sancho upon this; "that I shall not beable to find my way back to this spot where I am leaving you, it is such an out-of-the-way place. ""Observe the landmarks well, " said Don Quixote, "for I will try not to go farfrom this neighbourhood, and I will even take care to mount the highest of theserocks to see if I can discover thee returning; however, not to miss me and losethyself, the best plan will be to cut some branches of the broom that is soabundant about here, and as thou goest to lay them at intervals until thou hastcome out upon the plain; these will serve thee, after the fashion of the clue in thelabyrinth of Theseus, as marks and signs for finding me on thy return. ""So I will, " said Sancho Panza, and having cut some, he asked his master'sblessing, and not without many tears on both sides, took his leave of him, andmounting Rocinante, of whom Don Quixote charged him earnestly to have asmuch care as of his own person, he set out for the plain, strewing at intervals thebranches of broom as his master had recommended him; and so he went his way, though Don Quixote still entreated him to see him do were it only a couple of madacts. He had not gone a hundred paces, however, when he returned and said:"I must say, senor, your worship said quite right, that in order to be able toswear without a weight on my conscience that I had seen you do mad things, itwould be well for me to see if it were only one; though in your worship'sremaining here I have seen a very great one. ""Did I not tell thee so?" said Don Quixote. "Wait, Sancho, and I will do them inthe saying of a credo, " and pulling off his breeches in all haste he stripped himselfto his skin and his shirt, and then, without more ado, he cut a couple ofgambados in the air, and a couple of somersaults, heels over head, making such adisplay that, not to see it a second time, Sancho wheeled Rocinante round, andfelt easy, and satisfied in his mind that he could swear he had left his mastermad; and so we will leave him to follow his road until his return, which was aquick one. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXVI. IN WHICH ARE CONTINUED THE REFINEMENTS WHEREWITHDON QUIXOTE PLAYED THE PART OF A LOVER IN THE SIERRAMORENAReturning to the proceedings of him of the Rueful Countenance when he foundhimself alone, the history says that when Don Quixote had completed theperformance of the somersaults or capers, naked from the waist down and clothedfrom the waist up, and saw that Sancho had gone off without waiting to see anymore crazy feats, he climbed up to the top of a high rock, and there set himself toconsider what he had several times before considered without ever coming to anyconclusion on the point, namely whether it would be better and more to hispurpose to imitate the outrageous madness of Roland, or the melancholy madnessof Amadis; and communing with himself he said:"What wonder is it if Roland was so good a knight and so valiant as everyonesays he was, when, after all, he was enchanted, and nobody could kill him save bythrusting a corking pin into the sole of his foot, and he always wore shoes withseven iron soles? Though cunning devices did not avail him against Bernardo delCarpio, who knew all about them, and strangled him in his arms at Roncesvalles. But putting the question of his valour aside, let us come to his losing his wits, forcertain it is that he did lose them in consequence of the proofs he discovered atthe fountain, and the intelligence the shepherd gave him of Angelica having sleptmore than two siestas with Medoro, a little curly-headed Moor, and page toAgramante. If he was persuaded that this was true, and that his lady had wrongedhim, it is no wonder that he should have gone mad; but I, how am I to imitatehim in his madness, unless I can imitate him in the cause of it? For my Dulcinea, I will venture to swear, never saw a Moor in her life, as he is, in his propercostume, and she is this day as the mother that bore her, and I should plainly bedoing her a wrong if, fancying anything else, I were to go mad with the same kindof madness as Roland the Furious. On the other hand, I see that Amadis of Gaul, without losing his senses and without doing anything mad, acquired as a lover asmuch fame as the most famous; for, according to his history, on finding himselfrejected by his lady Oriana, who had ordered him not to appear in her presenceuntil it should be her pleasure, all he did was to retire to the Pena Pobre incompany with a hermit, and there he took his fill of weeping until Heaven senthim relief in the midst of his great grief and need. And if this be true, as it is, whyshould I now take the trouble to strip stark naked, or do mischief to these treeswhich have done me no harm, or why am I to disturb the clear waters of thesebrooks which will give me to drink whenever I have a mind? Long live thememory of Amadis and let him be imitated so far as is possible by Don Quixote ofLa Mancha, of whom it will be said, as was said of the other, that if he did notachieve great things, he died in attempting them; and if I am not repulsed orrejected by my Dulcinea, it is enough for me, as I have said, to be absent fromher. And so, now to business; come to my memory ye deeds of Amadis, and showme how I am to begin to imitate you. I know already that what he chiefly did wasto pray and commend himself to God; but what am I to do for a rosary, for I havenot got one?"And then it occurred to him how he might make one, and that was by tearing agreat strip off the tail of his shirt which hung down, and making eleven knots onit, one bigger than the rest, and this served him for a rosary all the time he wasthere, during which he repeated countless ave-marias. But what distressed himgreatly was not having another hermit there to confess him and receiveconsolation from; and so he solaced himself with pacing up and down the littlemeadow, and writing and carving on the bark of the trees and on the fine sand amultitude of verses all in harmony with his sadness, and some in praise ofDulcinea; but, when he was found there afterwards, the only ones completelylegible that could be discovered were those that follow here:Ye on the mountain side that grow, Ye green things all, trees, shrubs, andbushes, Are ye aweary of the woeThat this poor aching bosom crushes?If it disturb you, and I oweSome reparation, it may be aDefence for me to let you knowDon Quixote's tears are on the flow, And all for distant DulcineaDel Toboso. The lealest lover time can show, Doomed for a lady-love to languish, Among these solitudes doth go, A prey to every kind of anguish. Why Love should like a spiteful foeThus use him, he hath no idea, But hogsheads full--this doth he know--Don Quixote's tears are on the flow, And all for distant DulcineaDel Toboso. Adventure-seeking doth he goUp rugged heights, down rocky valleys, But hill or dale, or high or low, Mishap attendeth all his sallies:Love still pursues him to and fro, And plies his cruel scourge--ah me! aRelentless fate, an endless woe;Don Quixote's tears are on the flow, And all for distant DulcineaDel Toboso. The addition of "Del Toboso" to Dulcinea's name gave rise to no little laughteramong those who found the above lines, for they suspected Don Quixote musthave fancied that unless he added "del Toboso" when he introduced the name ofDulcinea the verse would be unintelligible; which was indeed the fact, as hehimself afterwards admitted. He wrote many more, but, as has been said, thesethree verses were all that could be plainly and perfectly deciphered. In this way, and in sighing and calling on the fauns and satyrs of the woods and the nymphsof the streams, and Echo, moist and mournful, to answer, console, and hear him, as well as in looking for herbs to sustain him, he passed his time until Sancho'sreturn; and had that been delayed three weeks, as it was three days, the Knight ofthe Rueful Countenance would have worn such an altered countenance that themother that bore him would not have known him: and here it will be well to leavehim, wrapped up in sighs and verses, to relate how Sancho Panza fared on hismission. As for him, coming out upon the high road, he made for El Toboso, and the nextday reached the inn where the mishap of the blanket had befallen him. As soon ashe recognised it he felt as if he were once more living through the air, and hecould not bring himself to enter it though it was an hour when he might well havedone so, for it was dinner-time, and he longed to taste something hot as it hadbeen all cold fare with him for many days past. This craving drove him to drawnear to the inn, still undecided whether to go in or not, and as he was hesitatingthere came out two persons who at once recognised him, and said one to theother:"Senor licentiate, is not he on the horse there Sancho Panza who, ouradventurer's housekeeper told us, went off with her master as esquire?""So it is, " said the licentiate, "and that is our friend Don Quixote's horse;" and ifthey knew him so well it was because they were the curate and the barber of hisown village, the same who had carried out the scrutiny and sentence upon thebooks; and as soon as they recognised Sancho Panza and Rocinante, being anxiousto hear of Don Quixote, they approached, and calling him by his name the curatesaid, "Friend Sancho Panza, where is your master?"Sancho recognised them at once, and determined to keep secret the place andcircumstances where and under which he had left his master, so he replied thathis master was engaged in a certain quarter on a certain matter of greatimportance to him which he could not disclose for the eyes in his head. "Nay, nay, " said the barber, "if you don't tell us where he is, Sancho Panza, wewill suspect as we suspect already, that you have murdered and robbed him, forhere you are mounted on his horse; in fact, you must produce the master of thehack, or else take the consequences. ""There is no need of threats with me, " said Sancho, "for I am not a man to robor murder anybody; let his own fate, or God who made him, kill each one; mymaster is engaged very much to his taste doing penance in the midst of thesemountains;" and then, offhand and without stopping, he told them how he hadleft him, what adventures had befallen him, and how he was carrying a letter tothe lady Dulcinea del Toboso, the daughter of Lorenzo Corchuelo, with whom hewas over head and ears in love. They were both amazed at what Sancho Panzatold them; for though they were aware of Don Quixote's madness and the natureof it, each time they heard of it they were filled with fresh wonder. They thenasked Sancho Panza to show them the letter he was carrying to the lady Dulcineadel Toboso. He said it was written in a note-book, and that his master's directionswere that he should have it copied on paper at the first village he came to. On thisthe curate said if he showed it to him, he himself would make a fair copy of it. Sancho put his hand into his bosom in search of the note-book but could not findit, nor, if he had been searching until now, could he have found it, for DonQuixote had kept it, and had never given it to him, nor had he himself thought ofasking for it. When Sancho discovered he could not find the book his face grewdeadly pale, and in great haste he again felt his body all over, and seeing plainly itwas not to be found, without more ado he seized his beard with both hands andplucked away half of it, and then, as quick as he could and without stopping, gavehimself half a dozen cuffs on the face and nose till they were bathed in blood. Seeing this, the curate and the barber asked him what had happened him thathe gave himself such rough treatment. "What should happen me?" replied Sancho, "but to have lost from one hand tothe other, in a moment, three ass-colts, each of them like a castle?""How is that?" said the barber. "I have lost the note-book, " said Sancho, "that contained the letter to Dulcinea, and an order signed by my master in which he directed his niece to give me threeass-colts out of four or five he had at home;" and he then told them about the lossof Dapple. The curate consoled him, telling him that when his master was found he wouldget him to renew the order, and make a fresh draft on paper, as was usual andcustomary; for those made in notebooks were never accepted or honoured. Sancho comforted himself with this, and said if that were so the loss ofDulcinea's letter did not trouble him much, for he had it almost by heart, and itcould be taken down from him wherever and whenever they liked. "Repeat it then, Sancho, " said the barber, "and we will write it downafterwards. "Sancho Panza stopped to scratch his head to bring back the letter to hismemory, and balanced himself now on one foot, now the other, one momentstaring at the ground, the next at the sky, and after having half gnawed off theend of a finger and kept them in suspense waiting for him to begin, he said, aftera long pause, "By God, senor licentiate, devil a thing can I recollect of the letter;but it said at the beginning, 'Exalted and scrubbing Lady. '""It cannot have said 'scrubbing, '" said the barber, "but 'superhuman' or'sovereign. '""That is it, " said Sancho; "then, as well as I remember, it went on, 'Thewounded, and wanting of sleep, and the pierced, kisses your worship's hands, ungrateful and very unrecognised fair one; and it said something or other abouthealth and sickness that he was sending her; and from that it went tailing off untilit ended with 'Yours till death, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. "It gave them no little amusement, both of them, to see what a good memorySancho had, and they complimented him greatly upon it, and begged him torepeat the letter a couple of times more, so that they too might get it by heart towrite it out by-and-by. Sancho repeated it three times, and as he did, utteredthree thousand more absurdities; then he told them more about his master but henever said a word about the blanketing that had befallen himself in that inn, intowhich he refused to enter. He told them, moreover, how his lord, if he broughthim a favourable answer from the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, was to put himself inthe way of endeavouring to become an emperor, or at least a monarch; for it hadbeen so settled between them, and with his personal worth and the might of hisarm it was an easy matter to come to be one: and how on becoming one his lordwas to make a marriage for him (for he would be a widower by that time, as amatter of course) and was to give him as a wife one of the damsels of theempress, the heiress of some rich and grand state on the mainland, havingnothing to do with islands of any sort, for he did not care for them now. All thisSancho delivered with so much composure--wiping his nose from time to time--and with so little common-sense that his two hearers were again filled withwonder at the force of Don Quixote's madness that could run away with this poorman's reason. They did not care to take the trouble of disabusing him of his error, as they considered that since it did not in any way hurt his conscience it would bebetter to leave him in it, and they would have all the more amusement in listeningto his simplicities; and so they bade him pray to God for his lord's health, as itwas a very likely and a very feasible thing for him in course of time to come to bean emperor, as he said, or at least an archbishop or some other dignitary of equalrank. To which Sancho made answer, "If fortune, sirs, should bring things about insuch a way that my master should have a mind, instead of being an emperor, tobe an archbishop, I should like to know what archbishops-errant commonly givetheir squires?""They commonly give them, " said the curate, some simple benefice or cure, orsome place as sacristan which brings them a good fixed income, not counting thealtar fees, which may be reckoned at as much more. ""But for that, " said Sancho, "the squire must be unmarried, and must know, atany rate, how to help at mass, and if that be so, woe is me, for I am marriedalready and I don't know the first letter of the A B C. What will become of me ifmy master takes a fancy to be an archbishop and not an emperor, as is usual andcustomary with knights-errant?""Be not uneasy, friend Sancho, " said the barber, "for we will entreat yourmaster, and advise him, even urging it upon him as a case of conscience, tobecome an emperor and not an archbishop, because it will be easier for him as heis more valiant than lettered. ""So I have thought, " said Sancho; "though I can tell you he is fit for anything:what I mean to do for my part is to pray to our Lord to place him where it may bebest for him, and where he may be able to bestow most favours upon me. ""You speak like a man of sense, " said the curate, "and you will be acting like agood Christian; but what must now be done is to take steps to coax your masterout of that useless penance you say he is performing; and we had best turn intothis inn to consider what plan to adopt, and also to dine, for it is now time. "Sancho said they might go in, but that he would wait there outside, and that hewould tell them afterwards the reason why he was unwilling, and why it did notsuit him to enter it; but he begged them to bring him out something to eat, and tolet it be hot, and also to bring barley for Rocinante. They left him and went in, and presently the barber brought him out something to eat. By-and-by, after theyhad between them carefully thought over what they should do to carry out theirobject, the curate hit upon an idea very well adapted to humour Don Quixote, andeffect their purpose; and his notion, which he explained to the barber, was that hehimself should assume the disguise of a wandering damsel, while the other shouldtry as best he could to pass for a squire, and that they should thus proceed towhere Don Quixote was, and he, pretending to be an aggrieved and distresseddamsel, should ask a favour of him, which as a valiant knight-errant he could notrefuse to grant; and the favour he meant to ask him was that he shouldaccompany her whither she would conduct him, in order to redress a wrong whicha wicked knight had done her, while at the same time she should entreat him notto require her to remove her mask, nor ask her any question touching hercircumstances until he had righted her with the wicked knight. And he had nodoubt that Don Quixote would comply with any request made in these terms, andthat in this way they might remove him and take him to his own village, wherethey would endeavour to find out if his extraordinary madness admitted of anykind of remedy. CHAPTER XXVII. OF HOW THE CURATE AND THE BARBER PROCEEDED WITHTHEIR SCHEME; TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERS WORTHY OFRECORD IN THIS GREAT HISTORYThe curate's plan did not seem a bad one to the barber, but on the contrary sogood that they immediately set about putting it in execution. They begged apetticoat and hood of the landlady, leaving her in pledge a new cassock of thecurate's; and the barber made a beard out of a grey-brown or red ox-tail in whichthe landlord used to stick his comb. The landlady asked them what they wantedthese things for, and the curate told her in a few words about the madness of DonQuixote, and how this disguise was intended to get him away from the mountainwhere he then was. The landlord and landlady immediately came to theconclusion that the madman was their guest, the balsam man and master of theblanketed squire, and they told the curate all that had passed between him andthem, not omitting what Sancho had been so silent about. Finally the landladydressed up the curate in a style that left nothing to be desired; she put on him acloth petticoat with black velvet stripes a palm broad, all slashed, and a bodice ofgreen velvet set off by a binding of white satin, which as well as the petticoatmust have been made in the time of king Wamba. The curate would not let themhood him, but put on his head a little quilted linen cap which he used for a night-cap, and bound his forehead with a strip of black silk, while with another hemade a mask with which he concealed his beard and face very well. He then puton his hat, which was broad enough to serve him for an umbrella, and envelopinghimself in his cloak seated himself woman-fashion on his mule, while the barbermounted his with a beard down to the waist of mingled red and white, for it was, as has been said, the tail of a clay-red ox. They took leave of all, and of the good Maritornes, who, sinner as she was, promised to pray a rosary of prayers that God might grant them success in suchan arduous and Christian undertaking as that they had in hand. But hardly had hesallied forth from the inn when it struck the curate that he was doing wrong inrigging himself out in that fashion, as it was an indecorous thing for a priest todress himself that way even though much might depend upon it; and saying so tothe barber he begged him to change dresses, as it was fitter he should be thedistressed damsel, while he himself would play the squire's part, which would beless derogatory to his dignity; otherwise he was resolved to have


nothing more todo with the matter, and let the devil take Don Quixote. Just at this momentSancho came up, and on seeing the pair in such a costume he was unable torestrain his laughter; the barber, however, agreed to do as the curate wished, and, altering their plan, the curate went on to instruct him how to play his part andwhat to say to Don Quixote to induce and compel him to come with them andgive up his fancy for the place he had chosen for his idle penance. The barber toldhim he could manage it properly without any instruction, and as he did not careto dress himself up until they were near where Don Quixote was, he folded up thegarments, and the curate adjusted his beard, and they set out under the guidanceof Sancho Panza, who went along telling them of the encounter with the madmanthey met in the Sierra, saying nothing, however, about the finding of the valiseand its contents; for with all his simplicity the lad was a trifle covetous. The next day they reached the place where Sancho had laid the broom-branchesas marks to direct him to where he had left his master, and recognising it he toldthem that here was the entrance, and that they would do well to dressthemselves, if that was required to deliver his master; for they had already toldhim that going in this guise and dressing in this way were of the highestimportance in order to rescue his master from the pernicious life he had adopted;and they charged him strictly not to tell his master who they were, or that heknew them, and should he ask, as ask he would, if he had given the letter toDulcinea, to say that he had, and that, as she did not know how to read, she hadgiven an answer by word of mouth, saying that she commanded him, on pain ofher displeasure, to come and see her at once; and it was a very important matterfor himself, because in this way and with what they meant to say to him they feltsure of bringing him back to a better mode of life and inducing him to takeimmediate steps to become an emperor or monarch, for there was no fear of hisbecoming an archbishop. All this Sancho listened to and fixed it well in hismemory, and thanked them heartily for intending to recommend his master to bean emperor instead of an archbishop, for he felt sure that in the way of bestowingrewards on their squires emperors could do more than archbishops-errant. Hesaid, too, that it would be as well for him to go on before them to find him, andgive him his lady's answer; for that perhaps might be enough to bring him awayfrom the place without putting them to all this trouble. They approved of whatSancho proposed, and resolved to wait for him until he brought back word ofhaving found his master. Sancho pushed on into the glens of the Sierra, leaving them in one throughwhich there flowed a little gentle rivulet, and where the rocks and trees afforded acool and grateful shade. It was an August day with all the heat of one, and theheat in those parts is intense, and the hour was three in the afternoon, all whichmade the spot the more inviting and tempted them to wait there for Sancho'sreturn, which they did. They were reposing, then, in the shade, when a voiceunaccompanied by the notes of any instrument, but sweet and pleasing in itstone, reached their ears, at which they were not a little astonished, as the placedid not seem to them likely quarters for one who sang so well; for though it isoften said that shepherds of rare voice are to be found in the woods and fields, this is rather a flight of the poet's fancy than the truth. And still more surprisedwere they when they perceived that what they heard sung were the verses not ofrustic shepherds, but of the polished wits of the city; and so it proved, for theverses they heard were these:What makes my quest of happiness seemvain?Disdain. What bids me to abandon hope of ease?Jealousies. What holds my heart in anguish ofsuspense?Absence. If that be so, then for my griefWhere shall I turn to seek relief, When hope on every side lies slainBy Absence, Jealousies, Disdain?What the prime cause of all my woe dothprove?Love. What at my glory ever looks askance?Chance. Whence is permission to afflict me given?Heaven. If that be so, I but awaitThe stroke of a resistless fate, Since, working for my woe, these three, Love, Chance and Heaven, in league I see. What must I do to find a remedy?Die. What is the lure for love when coy andstrange?Change. What, if all fail, will cure the heart ofsadness?Madness. If that be so, it is but follyTo seek a cure for melancholy:Ask where it lies; the answer saithIn Change, in Madness, or in Death. The hour, the summer season, the solitary place, the voice and skill of thesinger, all contributed to the wonder and delight of the two listeners, whoremained still waiting to hear something more; finding, however, that the silencecontinued some little time, they resolved to go in search of the musician who sangwith so fine a voice; but just as they were about to do so they were checked bythe same voice, which once more fell upon their ears, singing thisSONNETWhen heavenward, holy Friendship, thoudidst goSoaring to seek thy home beyond the sky, And take thy seat among the saints onhigh, It was thy will to leave on earth belowThy semblance, and upon it to bestowThy veil, wherewith at times hypocrisy, Parading in thy shape, deceives the eye, And makes its vileness bright as virtueshow. Friendship, return to us, or force the cheatThat wears it now, thy livery to restore, By aid whereof sincerity is slain. If thou wilt not unmask thy counterfeit, This earth will be the prey of strife oncemore, As when primaeval discord held its reign. The song ended with a deep sigh, and again the listeners remained waitingattentively for the singer to resume; but perceiving that the music had now turnedto sobs and heart-rending moans they determined to find out who the unhappybeing could be whose voice was as rare as his sighs were piteous, and they hadnot proceeded far when on turning the corner of a rock they discovered a man ofthe same aspect and appearance as Sancho had described to them when he toldthem the story of Cardenio. He, showing no astonishment when he saw them, stood still with his head bent down upon his breast like one in deep thought, without raising his eyes to look at them after the first glance when they suddenlycame upon him. The curate, who was aware of his misfortune and recognised himby the description, being a man of good address, approached him and in a fewsensible words entreated and urged him to quit a life of such misery, lest heshould end it there, which would be the greatest of all misfortunes. Cardenio wasthen in his right mind, free from any attack of that madness which so frequentlycarried him away, and seeing them dressed in a fashion so unusual among thefrequenters of those wilds, could not help showing some surprise, especially whenhe heard them speak of his case as if it were a well-known matter (for the curate'swords gave him to understand as much) so he replied to them thus:"I see plainly, sirs, whoever you may be, that Heaven, whose care it is tosuccour the good, and even the wicked very often, here, in this remote spot, cutoff from human intercourse, sends me, though I deserve it not, those who seek todraw me away from this to some better retreat, showing me by many and forciblearguments how unreasonably I act in leading the life I do; but as they know, thatif I escape from this evil I shall fall into another still greater, perhaps they will setme down as a weak-minded man, or, what is worse, one devoid of reason; norwould it be any wonder, for I myself can perceive that the effect of therecollection of my misfortunes is so great and works so powerfully to my ruin, that in spite of myself I become at times like a stone, without feeling orconsciousness; and I come to feel the truth of it when they tell me and show meproofs of the things I have done when the terrible fit overmasters me; and all Ican do is bewail my lot in vain, and idly curse my destiny, and plead for mymadness by telling how it was caused, to any that care to hear it; for noreasonable beings on learning the cause will wonder at the effects; and if theycannot help me at least they will not blame me, and the repugnance they feel atmy wild ways will turn into pity for my woes. If it be, sirs, that you are here withthe same design as others have come wah, before you proceed with your wisearguments, I entreat you to hear the story of my countless misfortunes, forperhaps when you have heard it you will spare yourselves the trouble you wouldtake in offering consolation to grief that is beyond the reach of it. "As they, both of them, desired nothing more than to hear from his own lips thecause of his suffering, they entreated him to tell it, promising not to do anythingfor his relief or comfort that he did not wish; and thereupon the unhappygentleman began his sad story in nearly the same words and manner in which hehad related it to Don Quixote and the goatherd a few days before, when, throughMaster Elisabad, and Don Quixote's scrupulous observance of what was due tochivalry, the tale was left unfinished, as this history has already recorded; butnow fortunately the mad fit kept off, allowed him to tell it to the end; and so, coming to the incident of the note which Don Fernando had found in the volumeof "Amadis of Gaul, " Cardenio said that he remembered it perfectly and that itwas in these words:"Luscinda to Cardenio. "Every day I discover merits in you that oblige and compelme to hold you in higher estimation; so if you desire torelieve me of this obligation without cost to my honour, youmay easily do so. I have a father who knows you and lovesme dearly, who without putting any constraint on myinclination will grant what will be reasonable for you tohave, if it be that you value me as you say and as I believeyou do. ""By this letter I was induced, as I told you, to demand Luscinda for my wife, and it was through it that Luscinda came to be regarded by Don Fernando as oneof the most discreet and prudent women of the day, and this letter it was thatsuggested his design of ruining me before mine could be carried into effect. I toldDon Fernando that all Luscinda's father was waiting for was that mine should askher of him, which I did not dare to suggest to him, fearing that he would notconsent to do so; not because he did not know perfectly well the rank, goodness, virtue, and beauty of Luscinda, and that she had qualities that would do honourto any family in Spain, but because I was aware that he did not wish me to marryso soon, before seeing what the Duke Ricardo would do for me. In short, I toldhim I did not venture to mention it to my father, as well on account of thatdifficulty, as of many others that discouraged me though I knew not well whatthey were, only that it seemed to me that what I desired was never to come topass. To all this Don Fernando answered that he would take it upon himself tospeak to my father, and persuade him to speak to Luscinda's father. O, ambitiousMarius! O, cruel Catiline! O, wicked Sylla! O, perfidious Ganelon! O, treacherousVellido! O, vindictive Julian! O, covetous Judas! Traitor, cruel, vindictive, andperfidious, wherein had this poor wretch failed in his fidelity, who with suchfrankness showed thee the secrets and the joys of his heart? What offence did Icommit? What words did I utter, or what counsels did I give that had not thefurtherance of thy honour and welfare for their aim? But, woe is me, wherefore doI complain? for sure it is that when misfortunes spring from the stars, descendingfrom on high they fall upon us with such fury and violence that no power on earthcan check their course nor human device stay their coming. Who could havethought that Don Fernando, a highborn gentleman, intelligent, bound to me bygratitude for my services, one that could win the object of his love wherever hemight set his affections, could have become so obdurate, as they say, as to rob meof my one ewe lamb that was not even yet in my possession? But laying asidethese useless and unavailing reflections, let us take up the broken thread of myunhappy story. "To proceed, then: Don Fernando finding my presence an obstacle to theexecution of his treacherous and wicked design, resolved to send me to his elderbrother under the pretext of asking money from him to pay for six horses which, purposely, and with the sole object of sending me away that he might the bettercarry out his infernal scheme, he had purchased the very day he offered to speakto my father, and the price of which he now desired me to fetch. Could I haveanticipated this treachery? Could I by any chance have suspected it? Nay; so farfrom that, I offered with the greatest pleasure to go at once, in my satisfaction atthe good bargain that had been made. That night I spoke with Luscinda, and toldher what had been agreed upon with Don Fernando, and how I had strong hopesof our fair and reasonable wishes being realised. She, as unsuspicious as I was ofthe treachery of Don Fernando, bade me try to return speedily, as she believed thefulfilment of our desires would be delayed only so long as my father put offspeaking to hers. I know not why it was that on saying this to me her eyes filledwith tears, and there came a lump in her throat that prevented her from uttering aword of many more that it seemed to me she was striving to say to me. I wasastonished at this unusual turn, which I never before observed in her. For wealways conversed, whenever good fortune and my ingenuity gave us the chance, with the greatest gaiety and cheerfulness, mingling tears, sighs, jealousies, doubts, or fears with our words; it was all on my part a eulogy of my good fortune thatHeaven should have given her to me for my mistress; I glorified her beauty, Iextolled her worth and her understanding; and she paid me back by praising inme what in her love for me she thought worthy of praise; and besides we had ahundred thousand trifles and doings of our neighbours and acquaintances to talkabout, and the utmost extent of my boldness was to take, almost by force, one ofher fair white hands and carry it to my lips, as well as the closeness of the lowgrating that separated us allowed me. But the night before the unhappy day of mydeparture she wept, she moaned, she sighed, and she withdrew leaving me filledwith perplexity and amazement, overwhelmed at the sight of such strange andaffecting signs of grief and sorrow in Luscinda; but not to dash my hopes Iascribed it all to the depth of her love for me and the pain that separation givesthose who love tenderly. At last I took my departure, sad and dejected, my heartfilled with fancies and suspicions, but not knowing well what it was I suspectedor fancied; plain omens pointing to the sad event and misfortune that wasawaiting me. "I reached the place whither I had been sent, gave the letter to Don Fernando'sbrother, and was kindly received but not promptly dismissed, for he desired me towait, very much against my will, eight days in some place where the duke hisfather was not likely to see me, as his brother wrote that the money was to besent without his knowledge; all of which was a scheme of the treacherous DonFernando, for his brother had no want of money to enable him to despatch me atonce. "The command was one that exposed me to the temptation of disobeying it, as itseemed to me impossible to endure life for so many days separated fromLuscinda, especially after leaving her in the sorrowful mood I have described toyou; nevertheless as a dutiful servant I obeyed, though I felt it would be at thecost of my well-being. But four days later there came a man in quest of me with aletter which he gave me, and which by the address I perceived to be fromLuscinda, as the writing was hers. I opened it with fear and trepidation, persuaded that it must be something serious that had impelled her to write to mewhen at a distance, as she seldom did so when I was near. Before reading it Iasked the man who it was that had given it to him, and how long he had beenupon the road; he told me that as he happened to be passing through one of thestreets of the city at the hour of noon, a very beautiful lady called to him from awindow, and with tears in her eyes said to him hurriedly, 'Brother, if you are, asyou seem to be, a Christian, for the love of God I entreat you to have this letterdespatched without a moment's delay to the place and person named in theaddress, all which is well known, and by this you will render a great service toour Lord; and that you may be at no inconvenience in doing so take what is inthis handkerchief;' and said he, 'with this she threw me a handkerchief out of thewindow in which were tied up a hundred reals and this gold ring which I bringhere together with the letter I have given you. And then without waiting for anyanswer she left the window, though not before she saw me take the letter and thehandkerchief, and I had by signs let her know that I would do as she bade me;and so, seeing myself so well paid for the trouble I would have in bringing it toyou, and knowing by the address that it was to you it was sent (for, senor, I knowyou very well), and also unable to resist that beautiful lady's tears, I resolved totrust no one else, but to come myself and give it to you, and in sixteen hours fromthe time when it was given me I have made the journey, which, as you know, iseighteen leagues. '"All the while the good-natured improvised courier was telling me this, I hungupon his words, my legs trembling under me so that I could scarcely stand. However, I opened the letter and read these words:"'The promise Don Fernando gave you to urge your father to speak to mine, hehas fulfilled much more to his own satisfaction than to your advantage. I have totell you, senor, that he has demanded me for a wife, and my father, led away bywhat he considers Don Fernando's superiority over you, has favoured his suit socordially, that in two days hence the betrothal is to take place with such secrecyand so privately that the only witnesses are to be the Heavens above and a few ofthe household. Picture to yourself the state I am in; judge if it be urgent for you tocome; the issue of the affair will show you whether I love you or not. God grantthis may come to your hand before mine shall be forced to link itself with his whokeeps so ill the faith that he has pledged. '"Such, in brief, were the words of the letter, words that made me set out atonce without waiting any longer for reply or money; for I now saw clearly that itwas not the purchase of horses but of his own pleasure that had made DonFernando send me to his brother. The exasperation I felt against Don Fernando, joined with the fear of losing the prize I had won by so many years of love anddevotion, lent me wings; so that almost flying I reached home the same day, bythe hour which served for speaking with Luscinda. I arrived unobserved, and leftthe mule on which I had come at the house of the worthy man who had broughtme the letter, and fortune was pleased to be for once so kind that I foundLuscinda at the grating that was the witness of our loves. She recognised me atonce, and I her, but not as she ought to have recognised me, or I her. But who isthere in the world that can boast of having fathomed or understood the waveringmind and unstable nature of a woman? Of a truth no one. To proceed: as soon asLuscinda saw me she said, 'Cardenio, I am in my bridal dress, and the treacherousDon Fernando and my covetous father are waiting for me in the hall with theother witnesses, who shall be the witnesses of my death before they witness mybetrothal. Be not distressed, my friend, but contrive to be present at this sacrifice, and if that cannot be prevented by my words, I have a dagger concealed whichwill prevent more deliberate violence, putting an end to my life and giving thee afirst proof of the love I have borne and bear thee. ' I replied to her distractedly andhastily, in fear lest I should not have time to reply, 'May thy words be verified bythy deeds, lady; and if thou hast a dagger to save thy honour, I have a sword todefend thee or kill myself if fortune be against us. '"I think she could not have heard all these words, for I perceived that theycalled her away in haste, as the bridegroom was waiting. Now the night of mysorrow set in, the sun of my happiness went down, I felt my eyes bereft of sight, my mind of reason. I could not enter the house, nor was I capable of anymovement; but reflecting how important it was that I should be present at whatmight take place on the occasion, I nerved myself as best I could and went in, forI well knew all the entrances and outlets; and besides, with the confusion that insecret pervaded the house no one took notice of me, so, without being seen, Ifound an opportunity of placing myself in the recess formed by a window of thehall itself, and concealed by the ends and borders of two tapestries, from betweenwhich I could, without being seen, see all that took place in the room. Who coulddescribe the agitation of heart I suffered as I stood there--the thoughts that cameto me--the reflections that passed through my mind? They were such as cannotbe, nor were it well they should be, told. Suffice it to say that the bridegroomentered the hall in his usual dress, without ornament of any kind; as groomsmanhe had with him a cousin of Luscinda's and except the servants of the house therewas no one else in the chamber. Soon afterwards Luscinda came out from anantechamber, attended by her mother and two of her damsels, arrayed andadorned as became her rank and beauty, and in full festival and ceremonial attire. My anxiety and distraction did not allow me to observe or notice particularly whatshe wore; I could only perceive the colours, which were crimson and white, andthe glitter of the gems and jewels on her head dress and apparel, surpassed by therare beauty of her lovely auburn hair that vying with the precious stones and thelight of the four torches that stood in the hall shone with a brighter gleam thanall. Oh memory, mortal foe of my peace! why bring before me now theincomparable beauty of that adored enemy of mine? Were it not better, cruelmemory, to remind me and recall what she then did, that stirred by a wrong soglaring I may seek, if not vengeance now, at least to rid myself of life? Be notweary, sirs, of listening to these digressions; my sorrow is not one of those thatcan or should be told tersely and briefly, for to me each incident seems to call formany words. "To this the curate replied that not only were they not weary of listening to him, but that the details he mentioned interested them greatly, being of a kind by nomeans to be omitted and deserving of the same attention as the main story. "To proceed, then, " continued Cardenio: "all being assembled in the hall, thepriest of the parish came in and as he took the pair by the hand to perform therequisite ceremony, at the words, 'Will you, Senora Luscinda, take Senor DonFernando, here present, for your lawful husband, as the holy Mother Churchordains?' I thrust my head and neck out from between the tapestries, and witheager ears and throbbing heart set myself to listen to Luscinda's answer, awaitingin her reply the sentence of death or the grant of life. Oh, that I had but dared atthat moment to rush forward crying aloud, 'Luscinda, Luscinda! have a care whatthou dost; remember what thou owest me; bethink thee thou art mine and canstnot be another's; reflect that thy utterance of "Yes" and the end of my life willcome at the same instant. O, treacherous Don Fernando! robber of my glory, death of my life! What seekest thou? Remember that thou canst not as a Christianattain the object of thy wishes, for Luscinda is my bride, and I am her husband!'Fool that I am! now that I am far away, and out of danger, I say I should havedone what I did not do: now that I have allowed my precious treasure to berobbed from me, I curse the robber, on whom I might have taken vengeance had Ias much heart for it as I have for bewailing my fate; in short, as I was then acoward and a fool, little wonder is it if I am now dying shame-stricken, remorseful, and mad. "The priest stood waiting for the answer of Luscinda, who for a long timewithheld it; and just as I thought she was taking out the dagger to save herhonour, or struggling for words to make some declaration of the truth on mybehalf, I heard her say in a faint and feeble voice, 'I will:' Don Fernando said thesame, and giving her the ring they stood linked by a knot that could never beloosed. The bridegroom then approached to embrace his bride; and she, pressingher hand upon her heart, fell fainting in her mother's arms. It only remains nowfor me to tell you the state I was in when in that consent that I heard I saw all myhopes mocked, the words and promises of Luscinda proved falsehoods, and therecovery of the prize I had that instant lost rendered impossible for ever. I stoodstupefied, wholly abandoned, it seemed, by Heaven, declared the enemy of theearth that bore me, the air refusing me breath for my sighs, the water moisture formy tears; it was only the fire that gathered strength so that my whole frameglowed with rage and jealousy. They were all thrown into confusion by Luscinda'sfainting, and as her mother was unlacing her to give her air a sealed paper wasdiscovered in her bosom which Don Fernando seized at once and began to read bythe light of one of the torches. As soon as he had read it he seated himself in achair, leaning his cheek on his hand in the attitude of one deep in thought, without taking any part in the efforts that were being made to recover his bridefrom her fainting fit. "Seeing all the household in confusion, I ventured to come out regardlesswhether I were seen or not, and determined, if I were, to do some frenzied deedthat would prove to all the world the righteous indignation of my breast in thepunishment of the treacherous Don Fernando, and even in that of the ficklefainting traitress. But my fate, doubtless reserving me for greater sorrows, if suchthere be, so ordered it that just then I had enough and to spare of that reasonwhich has since been wanting to me; and so, without seeking to take vengeanceon my greatest enemies (which might have been easily taken, as all thought of mewas so far from their minds), I resolved to take it upon myself, and on myself toinflict the pain they deserved, perhaps with even greater severity than I shouldhave dealt out to them had I then slain them; for sudden pain is soon over, butthat which is protracted by tortures is ever slaying without ending life. In a word, I quitted the house and reached that of the man with whom I had left my mule; Imade him saddle it for me, mounted without bidding him farewell, and rode outof the city, like another Lot, not daring to turn my head to look back upon it; andwhen I found myself alone in the open country, screened by the darkness of thenight, and tempted by the stillness to give vent to my grief without apprehensionor fear of being heard or seen, then I broke silence and lifted up my voice inmaledictions upon Luscinda and Don Fernando, as if I could thus avenge thewrong they had done me. I called her cruel, ungrateful, false, thankless, but aboveall covetous, since the wealth of my enemy had blinded the eyes of her affection, and turned it from me to transfer it to one to whom fortune had been moregenerous and liberal. And yet, in the midst of this outburst of execration andupbraiding, I found excuses for her, saying it was no wonder that a young girl inthe seclusion of her parents' house, trained and schooled to obey them always, should have been ready to yield to their wishes when they offered her for ahusband a gentleman of such distinction, wealth, and noble birth, that if she hadrefused to accept him she would have been thought out of her senses, or to haveset her affection elsewhere, a suspicion injurious to her fair name and fame. Butthen again, I said, had she declared I was her husband, they would have seen thatin choosing me she had not chosen so ill but that they might excuse her, forbefore Don Fernando had made his offer, they themselves could not have desired, if their desires had been ruled by reason, a more eligible husband for theirdaughter than I was; and she, before taking the last fatal step of giving her hand, might easily have said that I had already given her mine, for I should have comeforward to support any assertion of hers to that effect. In short, I came to theconclusion that feeble love, little reflection, great ambition, and a craving forrank, had made her forget the words with which she had deceived me, encouragedand supported by my firm hopes and honourable passion. "Thus soliloquising and agitated, I journeyed onward for the remainder of thenight, and by daybreak I reached one of the passes of these mountains, amongwhich I wandered for three days more without taking any path or road, until Icame to some meadows lying on I know not which side of the mountains, andthere I inquired of some herdsmen in what direction the most rugged part of therange lay. They told me that it was in this quarter, and I at once directed mycourse hither, intending to end my life here; but as I was making my way amongthese crags, my mule dropped dead through fatigue and hunger, or, as I thinkmore likely, in order to have done with such a worthless burden as it bore in me. Iwas left on foot, worn out, famishing, without anyone to help me or any thoughtof seeking help: and so thus I lay stretched on the ground, how long I know not, after which I rose up free from hunger, and found beside me some goatherds, whono doubt were the persons who had relieved me in my need, for they told me howthey had found me, and how I had been uttering ravings that showed plainly Ihad lost my reason; and since then I am conscious that I am not always in fullpossession of it, but at times so deranged and crazed that I do a thousand madthings, tearing my clothes, crying aloud in these solitudes, cursing my fate, andidly calling on the dear name of her who is my enemy, and only seeking to end mylife in lamentation; and when I recover my senses I find myself so exhausted andweary that I can scarcely move. Most commonly my dwelling is the hollow of acork tree large enough to shelter this miserable body; the herdsmen and goatherdswho frequent these mountains, moved by compassion, furnish me with food, leaving it by the wayside or on the rocks, where they think I may perhaps passand find it; and so, even though I may be then out of my senses, the wants ofnature teach me what is required to sustain me, and make me crave it and eagerto take it. At other times, so they tell me when they find me in a rational mood, Isally out upon the road, and though they would gladly give it me, I snatch food byforce from the shepherds bringing it from the village to their huts. Thus do passthe wretched life that remains to me, until it be Heaven's will to bring it to aclose, or so to order my memory that I no longer recollect the beauty andtreachery of Luscinda, or the wrong done me by Don Fernando; for if it will dothis without depriving me of life, I will turn my thoughts into some betterchannel; if not, I can only implore it to have full mercy on my soul, for in myself Ifeel no power or strength to release my body from this strait in which I have ofmy own accord chosen to place it. "Such, sirs, is the dismal story of my misfortune: say if it be one that can betold with less emotion than you have seen in me; and do not trouble yourselveswith urging or pressing upon me what reason suggests as likely to serve for myrelief, for it will avail me as much as the medicine prescribed by a wise physicianavails the sick man who will not take it. I have no wish for health withoutLuscinda; and since it is her pleasure to be another's, when she is or should bemine, let it be mine to be a prey to misery when I might have enjoyed happiness. She by her fickleness strove to make my ruin irretrievable; I will strive to gratifyher wishes by seeking destruction; and it will show generations to come that Ialone was deprived of that of which all others in misfortune have asuperabundance, for to them the impossibility of being consoled is itself aconsolation, while to me it is the cause of greater sorrows and sufferings, for Ithink that even in death there will not be an end of them. "Here Cardenio brought to a close his long discourse and story, as full ofmisfortune as it was of love; but just as the curate was going to address somewords of comfort to him, he was stopped by a voice that reached his ear, sayingin melancholy tones what will be told in the Fourth Part of this narrative; for atthis point the sage and sagacious historian, Cide Hamete Benengeli, brought theThird to a conclusion. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 10. Chapter 28EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXVIII. WHICH TREATS OF THE STRANGE AND DELIGHTFULADVENTURE THAT BEFELL THE CURATE AND THE BARBER INTHE SAME SIERRAHappy and fortunate were the times when that most daring knight Don Quixoteof La Mancha was sent into the world; for by reason of his having formed aresolution so honourable as that of seeking to revive and restore to the world thelong-lost and almost defunct order of knight-errantry, we now enjoy in this age ofours, so poor in light entertainment, not only the charm of his veracious history, but also of the tales and episodes contained in it which are, in a measure, no lesspleasing, ingenious, and truthful, than the history itself; which, resuming itsthread, carded, spun, and wound, relates that just as the curate was going to offerconsolation to Cardenio, he was interrupted by a voice that fell upon his earsaying in plaintive tones:"O God! is it possible I have found a place that may serve as a secret grave forthe weary load of this body that I support so unwillingly? If the solitude thesemountains promise deceives me not, it is so; ah! woe is me! how much moregrateful to my mind will be the society of these rocks and brakes that permit meto complain of my misfortune to Heaven, than that of any human being, for thereis none on earth to look to for counsel in doubt, comfort in sorrow, or relief indistress!"All this was heard distinctly by the curate and those with him, and as it seemedto them to be uttered close by, as indeed it was, they got up to look for thespeaker, and before they had gone twenty paces they discovered behind a rock, seated at the foot of an ash tree, a youth in the dress of a peasant, whose facethey were unable at the moment to see as he was leaning forward, bathing his feetin the brook that flowed past. They approached so silently that he did notperceive them, being fully occupied in bathing his feet, which were so fair thatthey looked like two pieces of shining crystal brought forth among the otherstones of the brook. The whiteness and beauty of these feet struck them withsurprise, for they did not seem to have been made to crush clods or to follow theplough and the oxen as their owner's dress suggested; and so, finding they had notbeen noticed, the curate, who was in front, made a sign to the other two toconceal themselves behind some fragments of rock that lay there; which they did, observing closely what the youth was about. He had on a loose double-skirteddark brown jacket bound tight to his body with a white cloth; he wore besidesbreeches and gaiters of brown cloth, and on his head a brown montera; and hehad the gaiters turned up as far as the middle of the leg, which verily seemed tobe of pure alabaster. As soon as he had done bathing his beautiful feet, he wiped them with a towelhe took from under the montera, on taking off which he raised his face, and thosewho were watching him had an opportunity of seeing a beauty so exquisite thatCardenio said to the curate in a whisper:"As this is not Luscinda, it is no human creature but a divine being. "The youth then took off the montera, and shaking his head from side to sidethere broke loose and spread out a mass of hair that the beams of the sun mighthave envied; by this they knew that what had seemed a peasant was a lovelywoman, nay the most beautiful the eyes of two of them had ever beheld, or evenCardenio's if they had not seen and known Luscinda, for he afterwards declaredthat only the beauty of Luscinda could compare with this. The long auburn tressesnot only covered her shoulders, but such was their length and abundance, concealed her all round beneath their masses, so that except the feet nothing ofher form was visible. She now used her hands as a comb, and if her feet hadseemed like bits of crystal in the water, her hands looked like pieces of drivensnow among her locks; all which increased not only the admiration of the threebeholders, but their anxiety to learn who she was. With this object they resolvedto show themselves, and at the stir they made in getting upon their feet the fairdamsel raised her head, and parting her hair from before her eyes with bothhands, she looked to see who had made the noise, and the instant she perceivedthem she started to her feet, and without waiting to put on her shoes or gather upher hair, hastily snatched up a bundle as though of clothes that she had besideher, and, scared and alarmed, endeavoured to take flight; but before she had gonesix paces she fell to the ground, her delicate feet being unable to bear theroughness of the stones; seeing which, the three hastened towards her, and thecurate addressing her first said:"Stay, senora, whoever you may be, for those whom you see here only desire tobe of service to you; you have no need to attempt a flight so heedless, for neithercan your feet bear it, nor we allow it. "Taken by surprise and bewildered, she made no reply to these words. They, however, came towards her, and the curate taking her hand went on to say:"What your dress would hide, senora, is made known to us by your hair; a clearproof that it can be no trifling cause that has disguised your beauty in a garb sounworthy of it, and sent it into solitudes like these where we have had the goodfortune to find you, if not to relieve your distress, at least to offer you comfort;for no distress, so long as life lasts, can be so oppressive or reach such a height asto make the sufferer refuse to listen to comfort offered with good intention. Andso, senora, or senor, or whatever you prefer to be, dismiss the fears that ourappearance has caused you and make us acquainted with your good or evilfortunes, for from all of us together, or from each one of us, you will receivesympathy in your trouble. "While the curate was speaking, the disguised damsel stood as if spell-bound, looking at them without opening her lips or uttering a word, just like a villagerustic to whom something strange that he has never seen before has beensuddenly shown; but on the curate addressing some further words to the sameeffect to her, sighing deeply she broke silence and said:"Since the solitude of these mountains has been unable to conceal me, and theescape of my dishevelled tresses will not allow my tongue to deal in falsehoods, itwould be idle for me now to make any further pretence of what, if you were tobelieve me, you would believe more out of courtesy than for any other reason. This being so, I say I thank you, sirs, for the offer you have made me, whichplaces me under the obligation of complying with the request you have made ofme; though I fear the account I shall give you of my misfortunes will excite in youas much concern as compassion, for you will be unable to suggest anything toremedy them or any consolation to alleviate them. However, that my honour maynot be left a matter of doubt in your minds, now that you have discovered me tobe a woman, and see that I am young, alone, and in this dress, things that takentogether or separately would be enough to destroy any good name, I feel bound totell what I would willingly keep secret if I could. "All this she who was now seen to be a lovely woman delivered without anyhesitation, with so much ease and in so sweet a voice that they were not lesscharmed by her intelligence than by her beauty, and as they again repeated theiroffers and entreaties to her to fulfil her promise, she without further pressing, first modestly covering her feet and gathering up her hair, seated herself on astone with the three placed around her, and, after an effort to restrain some tearsthat came to her eyes, in a clear and steady voice began her story thus:"In this Andalusia there is a town from which a duke takes a title which makeshim one of those that are called Grandees of Spain. This nobleman has two sons, the elder heir to his dignity and apparently to his good qualities; the younger heirto I know not what, unless it be the treachery of Vellido and the falsehood ofGanelon. My parents are this lord's vassals, lowly in origin, but so wealthy that ifbirth had conferred as much on them as fortune, they would have had nothing leftto desire, nor should I have had reason to fear trouble like that in which I findmyself now; for it may be that my ill fortune came of theirs in not having beennobly born. It is true they are not so low that they have any reason to be ashamedof their condition, but neither are they so high as to remove from my mind theimpression that my mishap comes of their


humble birth. They are, in short, peasants, plain homely people, without any taint of disreputable blood, and, asthe saying is, old rusty Christians, but so rich that by their wealth and free-handed way of life they are coming by degrees to be considered gentlefolk bybirth, and even by position; though the wealth and nobility they thought most ofwas having me for their daughter; and as they have no other child to make theirheir, and are affectionate parents, I was one of the most indulged daughters thatever parents indulged. "I was the mirror in which they beheld themselves, the staff of their old age, and the object in which, with submission to Heaven, all their wishes centred, andmine were in accordance with theirs, for I knew their worth; and as I was mistressof their hearts, so was I also of their possessions. Through me they engaged ordismissed their servants; through my hands passed the accounts and returns ofwhat was sown and reaped; the oil-mills, the wine-presses, the count of the flocksand herds, the beehives, all in short that a rich farmer like my father has or canhave, I had under my care, and I acted as steward and mistress with an assiduityon my part and satisfaction on theirs that I cannot well describe to you. Theleisure hours left to me after I had given the requisite orders to the head-shepherds, overseers, and other labourers, I passed in such employments as arenot only allowable but necessary for young girls, those that the needle, embroidery cushion, and spinning wheel usually afford, and if to refresh my mindI quitted them for a while, I found recreation in reading some devotional book orplaying the harp, for experience taught me that music soothes the troubled mindand relieves weariness of spirit. Such was the life I led in my parents' house and ifI have depicted it thus minutely, it is not out of ostentation, or to let you knowthat I am rich, but that you may see how, without any fault of mine, I have fallenfrom the happy condition I have described, to the misery I am in at present. Thetruth is, that while I was leading this busy life, in a retirement that might comparewith that of a monastery, and unseen as I thought by any except the servants ofthe house (for when I went to Mass it was so early in the morning, and I was soclosely attended by my mother and the women of the household, and so thicklyveiled and so shy, that my eyes scarcely saw more ground than I trod on), in spiteof all this, the eyes of love, or idleness, more properly speaking, that the lynx'scannot rival, discovered me, with the help of the assiduity of Don Fernando; forthat is the name of the younger son of the duke I told of. "The moment the speaker mentioned the name of Don Fernando, Cardeniochanged colour and broke into a sweat, with such signs of emotion that the curateand the barber, who observed it, feared that one of the mad fits which they heardattacked him sometimes was coming upon him; but Cardenio showed no furtheragitation and remained quiet, regarding the peasant girl with fixed attention, forhe began to suspect who she was. She, however, without noticing the excitementof Cardenio, continuing her story, went on to say:"And they had hardly discovered me, when, as he owned afterwards, he wassmitten with a violent love for me, as the manner in which it displayed itselfplainly showed. But to shorten the long recital of my woes, I will pass over insilence all the artifices employed by Don Fernando for declaring his passion forme. He bribed all the household, he gave and offered gifts and presents to myparents; every day was like a holiday or a merry-making in our street; by night noone could sleep for the music; the love letters that used to come to my hand, noone knew how, were innumerable, full of tender pleadings and pledges, containingmore promises and oaths than there were letters in them; all which not only didnot soften me, but hardened my heart against him, as if he had been my mortalenemy, and as if everything he did to make me yield were done with the oppositeintention. Not that the high-bred bearing of Don Fernando was disagreeable tome, or that I found his importunities wearisome; for it gave me a certain sort ofsatisfaction to find myself so sought and prized by a gentleman of suchdistinction, and I was not displeased at seeing my praises in his letters (forhowever ugly we women may be, it seems to me it always pleases us to hearourselves called beautiful) but that my own sense of right was opposed to all this, as well as the repeated advice of my parents, who now very plainly perceived DonFernando's purpose, for he cared very little if all the world knew it. They told methey trusted and confided their honour and good name to my virtue and rectitudealone, and bade me consider the disparity between Don Fernando and myself, from which I might conclude that his intentions, whatever he might say to thecontrary, had for their aim his own pleasure rather than my advantage; and if Iwere at all desirous of opposing an obstacle to his unreasonable suit, they wereready, they said, to marry me at once to anyone I preferred, either among theleading people of our own town, or of any of those in the neighbourhood; for withtheir wealth and my good name, a match might be looked for in any quarter. Thisoffer, and their sound advice strengthened my resolution, and I never gave DonFernando a word in reply that could hold out to him any hope of success, howeverremote. "All this caution of mine, which he must have taken for coyness, had apparentlythe effect of increasing his wanton appetite--for that is the name I give to hispassion for me; had it been what he declared it to be, you would not know of itnow, because there would have been no occasion to tell you of it. At length helearned that my parents were contemplating marriage for me in order to put anend to his hopes of obtaining possession of me, or at least to secure additionalprotectors to watch over me, and this intelligence or suspicion made him act asyou shall hear. One night, as I was in my chamber with no other companion thana damsel who waited on me, with the doors carefully locked lest my honourshould be imperilled through any carelessness, I know not nor can conceive how ithappened, but, with all this seclusion and these precautions, and in the solitudeand silence of my retirement, I found him standing before me, a vision that soastounded me that it deprived my eyes of sight, and my tongue of speech. I hadno power to utter a cry, nor, I think, did he give me time to utter one, as heimmediately approached me, and taking me in his arms (for, overwhelmed as Iwas, I was powerless, I say, to help myself), he began to make such professions tome that I know not how falsehood could have had the power of dressing them upto seem so like truth; and the traitor contrived that his tears should vouch for hiswords, and his sighs for his sincerity. "I, a poor young creature alone, ill versed among my people in cases such asthis, began, I know not how, to think all these lying protestations true, thoughwithout being moved by his sighs and tears to anything more than purecompassion; and so, as the first feeling of bewilderment passed away, and I beganin some degree to recover myself, I said to him with more courage than I thought Icould have possessed, 'If, as I am now in your arms, senor, I were in the claws ofa fierce lion, and my deliverance could be procured by doing or saying anything tothe prejudice of my honour, it would no more be in my power to do it or say it, than it would be possible that what was should not have been; so then, if youhold my body clasped in your arms, I hold my soul secured by virtuous intentions, very different from yours, as you will see if you attempt to carry them into effectby force. I am your vassal, but I am not your slave; your nobility neither has norshould have any right to dishonour or degrade my humble birth; and low-bornpeasant as I am, I have my self-respect as much as you, a lord and gentleman:with me your violence will be to no purpose, your wealth will have no weight, your words will have no power to deceive me, nor your sighs or tears to softenme: were I to see any of the things I speak of in him whom my parents gave me asa husband, his will should be mine, and mine should be bounded by his; and myhonour being preserved even though my inclinations were not would willinglyyield him what you, senor, would now obtain by force; and this I say lest youshould suppose that any but my lawful husband shall ever win anything of me. ' 'Ifthat, ' said this disloyal gentleman, 'be the only scruple you feel, fairest Dorothea'(for that is the name of this unhappy being), 'see here I give you my hand to beyours, and let Heaven, from which nothing is hid, and this image of Our Lady youhave here, be witnesses of this pledge. '"When Cardenio heard her say she was called Dorothea, he showed freshagitation and felt convinced of the truth of his former suspicion, but he wasunwilling to interrupt the story, and wished to hear the end of what he already allbut knew, so he merely said:"What! is Dorothea your name, senora? I have heard of another of the samename who can perhaps match your misfortunes. But proceed; by-and-by I may tellyou something that will astonish you as much as it will excite your compassion. "Dorothea was struck by Cardenio's words as well as by his strange andmiserable attire, and begged him if he knew anything concerning her to tell it toher at once, for if fortune had left her any blessing it was courage to bearwhatever calamity might fall upon her, as she felt sure that none could reach hercapable of increasing in any degree what she endured already. "I would not let the occasion pass, senora, " replied Cardenio, "of telling youwhat I think, if what I suspect were the truth, but so far there has been noopportunity, nor is it of any importance to you to know it. ""Be it as it may, " replied Dorothea, "what happened in my story was that DonFernando, taking an image that stood in the chamber, placed it as a witness of ourbetrothal, and with the most binding words and extravagant oaths gave me hispromise to become my husband; though before he had made an end of pledginghimself I bade him consider well what he was doing, and think of the anger hisfather would feel at seeing him married to a peasant girl and one of his vassals; Itold him not to let my beauty, such as it was, blind him, for that was not enoughto furnish an excuse for his transgression; and if in the love he bore me he wishedto do me any kindness, it would be to leave my lot to follow its course at the levelmy condition required; for marriages so unequal never brought happiness, nor didthey continue long to afford the enjoyment they began with. "All this that I have now repeated I said to him, and much more which I cannotrecollect; but it had no effect in inducing him to forego his purpose; he who hasno intention of paying does not trouble himself about difficulties when he isstriking the bargain. At the same time I argued the matter briefly in my ownmind, saying to myself, 'I shall not be the first who has risen through marriagefrom a lowly to a lofty station, nor will Don Fernando be the first whom beautyor, as is more likely, a blind attachment, has led to mate himself below his rank. Then, since I am introducing no new usage or practice, I may as well avail myselfof the honour that chance offers me, for even though his inclination for me shouldnot outlast the attainment of his wishes, I shall be, after all, his wife before God. And if I strive to repel him by scorn, I can see that, fair means failing, he is in amood to use force, and I shall be left dishonoured and without any means ofproving my innocence to those who cannot know how innocently I have come tobe in this position; for what arguments would persuade my parents that thisgentleman entered my chamber without my consent?'"All these questions and answers passed through my mind in a moment; but theoaths of Don Fernando, the witnesses he appealed to, the tears he shed, and lastlythe charms of his person and his high-bred grace, which, accompanied by suchsigns of genuine love, might well have conquered a heart even more free and coythan mine--these were the things that more than all began to influence me andlead me unawares to my ruin. I called my waiting-maid to me, that there might bea witness on earth besides those in Heaven, and again Don Fernando renewed andrepeated his oaths, invoked as witnesses fresh saints in addition to the formerones, called down upon himself a thousand curses hereafter should he fail to keephis promise, shed more tears, redoubled his sighs and pressed me closer in hisarms, from which he had never allowed me to escape; and so I was left by mymaid, and ceased to be one, and he became a traitor and a perjured man. "The day which followed the night of my misfortune did not come so quickly, Iimagine, as Don Fernando wished, for when desire has attained its object, thegreatest pleasure is to fly from the scene of pleasure. I say so because DonFernando made all haste to leave me, and by the adroitness of my maid, who wasindeed the one who had admitted him, gained the street before daybreak; but ontaking leave of me he told me, though not with as much earnestness and fervouras when he came, that I might rest assured of his faith and of the sanctity andsincerity of his oaths; and to confirm his words he drew a rich ring off his fingerand placed it upon mine. He then took his departure and I was left, I know notwhether sorrowful or happy; all I can say is, I was left agitated and troubled inmind and almost bewildered by what had taken place, and I had not the spirit, orelse it did not occur to me, to chide my maid for the treachery she had been guiltyof in concealing Don Fernando in my chamber; for as yet I was unable to make upmy mind whether what had befallen me was for good or evil. I told Don Fernandoat parting, that as I was now his, he might see me on other nights in the sameway, until it should be his pleasure to let the matter become known; but, exceptthe following night, he came no more, nor for more than a month could I catch aglimpse of him in the street or in church, while I wearied myself with watching forone; although I knew he was in the town, and almost every day went out hunting, a pastime he was very fond of. I remember well how sad and dreary those daysand hours were to me; I remember well how I began to doubt as they went by, and even to lose confidence in the faith of Don Fernando; and I remember, too, how my maid heard those words in reproof of her audacity that she had not heardbefore, and how I was forced to put a constraint on my tears and on theexpression of my countenance, not to give my parents cause to ask me why I wasso melancholy, and drive me to invent falsehoods in reply. But all this wassuddenly brought to an end, for the time came when all such considerations weredisregarded, and there was no further question of honour, when my patience gaveway and the secret of my heart became known abroad. The reason was, that a fewdays later it was reported in the town that Don Fernando had been married in aneighbouring city to a maiden of rare beauty, the daughter of parents ofdistinguished position, though not so rich that her portion would entitle her tolook for so brilliant a match; it was said, too, that her name was Luscinda, andthat at the betrothal some strange things had happened. "Cardenio heard the name of Luscinda, but he only shrugged his shoulders, bithis lips, bent his brows, and before long two streams of tears escaped from hiseyes. Dorothea, however, did not interrupt her story, but went on in these words:"This sad intelligence reached my ears, and, instead of being struck with a chill, with such wrath and fury did my heart burn that I scarcely restrained myself fromrushing out into the streets, crying aloud and proclaiming openly the perfidy andtreachery of which I was the victim; but this transport of rage was for the timechecked by a resolution I formed, to be carried out the same night, and that wasto assume this dress, which I got from a servant of my father's, one of the zagals, as they are called in farmhouses, to whom I confided the whole of my misfortune, and whom I entreated to accompany me to the city where I heard my enemy was. He, though he remonstrated with me for my boldness, and condemned myresolution, when he saw me bent upon my purpose, offered to bear me company, as he said, to the end of the world. I at once packed up in a linen pillow-case awoman's dress, and some jewels and money to provide for emergencies, and in thesilence of the night, without letting my treacherous maid know, I sallied forthfrom the house, accompanied by my servant and abundant anxieties, and on footset out for the city, but borne as it were on wings by my eagerness to reach it, ifnot to prevent what I presumed to be already done, at least to call upon DonFernando to tell me with what conscience he had done it. I reached mydestination in two days and a half, and on entering the city inquired for the houseof Luscinda's parents. The first person I asked gave me more in reply than Isought to know; he showed me the house, and told me all that had occurred at thebetrothal of the daughter of the family, an affair of such notoriety in the city thatit was the talk of every knot of idlers in the street. He said that on the night ofDon Fernando's betrothal with Luscinda, as soon as she had consented to be hisbride by saying 'Yes, ' she was taken with a sudden fainting fit, and that on thebridegroom approaching to unlace the bosom of her dress to give her air, he founda paper in her own handwriting, in which she said and declared that she couldnot be Don Fernando's bride, because she was already Cardenio's, who, accordingto the man's account, was a gentleman of distinction of the same city; and that ifshe had accepted Don Fernando, it was only in obedience to her parents. In short, he said, the words of the paper made it clear she meant to kill herself on thecompletion of the betrothal, and gave her reasons for putting an end to herself allwhich was confirmed, it was said, by a dagger they found somewhere in herclothes. On seeing this, Don Fernando, persuaded that Luscinda had befooled, slighted, and trifled with him, assailed her before she had recovered from herswoon, and tried to stab her with the dagger that had been found, and wouldhave succeeded had not her parents and those who were present prevented him. Itwas said, moreover, that Don Fernando went away at once, and that Luscinda didnot recover from her prostration until the next day, when she told her parentshow she was really the bride of that Cardenio I have mentioned. I learned besidesthat Cardenio, according to report, had been present at the betrothal; and thatupon seeing her betrothed contrary to his expectation, he had quitted the city indespair, leaving behind him a letter declaring the wrong Luscinda had done him, and his intention of going where no one should ever see him again. All this was amatter of notoriety in the city, and everyone spoke of it; especially when itbecame known that Luscinda was missing from her father's house and from thecity, for she was not to be found anywhere, to the distraction of her parents, whoknew not what steps to take to recover her. What I learned revived my hopes, andI was better pleased not to have found Don Fernando than to find him married, for it seemed to me that the door was not yet entirely shut upon relief in my case, and I thought that perhaps Heaven had put this impediment in the way of thesecond marriage, to lead him to recognise his obligations under the former one, and reflect that as a Christian he was bound to consider his soul above all humanobjects. All this passed through my mind, and I strove to comfort myself withoutcomfort, indulging in faint and distant hopes of cherishing that life that I nowabhor. "But while I was in the city, uncertain what to do, as I could not find DonFernando, I heard notice given by the public crier offering a great reward toanyone who should find me, and giving the particulars of my age and of the verydress I wore; and I heard it said that the lad who came with me had taken meaway from my father's house; a thing that cut me to the heart, showing how lowmy good name had fallen, since it was not enough that I should lose it by myflight, but they must add with whom I had fled, and that one so much beneath meand so unworthy of my consideration. The instant I heard the notice I quitted thecity with my servant, who now began to show signs of wavering in his fidelity tome, and the same night, for fear of discovery, we entered the most thickly woodedpart of these mountains. But, as is commonly said, one evil calls up another andthe end of one misfortune is apt to be the beginning of one still greater, and so itproved in my case; for my worthy servant, until then so faithful and trusty whenhe found me in this lonely spot, moved more by his own villainy than by mybeauty, sought to take advantage of the opportunity which these solitudes seemedto present him, and with little shame and less fear of God and respect for me, began to make overtures to me; and finding that I replied to the effrontery of hisproposals with justly severe language, he laid aside the entreaties which he hademployed at first, and began to use violence. "But just Heaven, that seldom fails to watch over and aid good intentions, soaided mine that with my slight strength and with little exertion I pushed him overa precipice, where I left him, whether dead or alive I know not; and then, withgreater speed than seemed possible in my terror and fatigue, I made my way intothe mountains, without any other thought or purpose save that of hiding myselfamong them, and escaping my father and those despatched in search of me by hisorders. It is now I know not how many months since with this object I came here, where I met a herdsman who engaged me as his servant at a place in the heart ofthis Sierra, and all this time I have been serving him as herd, striving to keepalways afield to hide these locks which have now unexpectedly betrayed me. Butall my care and pains were unavailing, for my master made the discovery that Iwas not a man, and harboured the same base designs as my servant; and asfortune does not always supply a remedy in cases of difficulty, and I had noprecipice or ravine at hand down which to fling the master and cure his passion, as I had in the servant's case, I thought it a lesser evil to leave him and againconceal myself among these crags, than make trial of my strength and argumentwith him. So, as I say, once more I went into hiding to seek for some place whereI might with sighs and tears implore Heaven to have pity on my misery, and grantme help and strength to escape from it, or let me die among the solitudes, leavingno trace of an unhappy being who, by no fault of hers, has furnished matter fortalk and scandal at home and abroad. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 11. Chapter 29EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXIX. WHICH TREATS OF THE DROLL DEVICE AND METHOD ADOPTEDTO EXTRICATE OUR LOVE-STRICKEN KNIGHT FROM THE SEVEREPENANCE HE HAD IMPOSED UPON HIMSELF"Such, sirs, is the true story of my sad adventures; judge for yourselves nowwhether the sighs and lamentations you heard, and the tears that flowed from myeyes, had not sufficient cause even if I had indulged in them more freely; and ifyou consider the nature of my misfortune you will see that consolation is idle, asthere is no possible remedy for it. All I ask of you is, what you may easily andreasonably do, to show me where I may pass my life unharassed by the fear anddread of discovery by those who are in search of me; for though the great love myparents bear me makes me feel sure of being kindly received by them, so great ismy feeling of shame at the mere thought that I cannot present myself before themas they expect, that I had rather banish myself from their sight for ever than lookthem in the face with the reflection that they beheld mine stripped of that puritythey had a right to expect in me. "With these words she became silent, and the colour that overspread her faceshowed plainly the pain and shame she was suffering at heart. In theirs thelisteners felt as much pity as wonder at her misfortunes; but as the curate wasjust about to offer her some consolation and advice Cardenio forestalled him, saying, "So then, senora, you are the fair Dorothea, the only daughter of the richClenardo?" Dorothea was astonished at hearing her father's name, and at themiserable appearance of him who mentioned it, for it has been already said howwretchedly clad Cardenio was; so she said to him:"And who may you be, brother, who seem to know my father's name so well?For so far, if I remember rightly, I have not mentioned it in the whole story of mymisfortunes. ""I am that unhappy being, senora, " replied Cardenio, "whom, as you have said, Luscinda declared to be her husband; I am the unfortunate Cardenio, whom thewrong-doing of him who has brought you to your present condition has reduced tothe state you see me in, bare, ragged, bereft of all human comfort, and what isworse, of reason, for I only possess it when Heaven is pleased for some shortspace to restore it to me. I, Dorothea, am he who witnessed the wrong done byDon Fernando, and waited to hear the 'Yes' uttered by which Luscinda ownedherself his betrothed: I am he who had not courage enough to see how her faintingfit ended, or what came of the paper that was found in her bosom, because myheart had not the fortitude to endure so many strokes of ill-fortune at once; andso losing patience I quitted the house, and leaving a letter with my host, which Ientreated him to place in Luscinda's hands, I betook myself to these solitudes, resolved to end here the life I hated as if it were my mortal enemy. But fate wouldnot rid me of it, contenting itself with robbing me of my reason, perhaps topreserve me for the good fortune I have had in meeting you; for if that which youhave just told us be true, as I believe it to be, it may be that Heaven has yet instore for both of us a happier termination to our misfortunes than we look for;because seeing that Luscinda cannot marry Don Fernando, being mine, as she hasherself so openly declared, and that Don Fernando cannot marry her as he isyours, we may reasonably hope that Heaven will restore to us what is ours, as it isstill in existence and not yet alienated or destroyed. And as we have thisconsolation springing from no very visionary hope or wild fancy, I entreat you, senora, to form new resolutions in your better mind, as I mean to do in mine, preparing yourself to look forward to happier fortunes; for I swear to you by thefaith of a gentleman and a Christian not to desert you until I see you in possessionof Don Fernando, and if I cannot by words induce him to recognise his obligationto you, in that case to avail myself of the right which my rank as a gentlemangives me, and with just cause challenge him on account of the injury he has doneyou, not regarding my own wrongs, which I shall leave to Heaven to avenge, whileI on earth devote myself to yours. "Cardenio's words completed the astonishment of Dorothea, and not knowinghow to return thanks for such an offer, she attempted to kiss his feet; butCardenio would not permit it, and the licentiate replied for both, commended thesound reasoning of Cardenio, and lastly, begged, advised, and urged them to comewith him to his village, where they might furnish themselves with what theyneeded, and take measures to discover Don Fernando, or restore Dorothea to herparents, or do what seemed to them most advisable. Cardenio and Dorotheathanked him, and accepted the kind offer he made them; and the barber, who hadbeen listening to all attentively and in silence, on his part some kindly words also, and with no less good-will than the curate offered his services in any way thatmight be of use to them. He also explained to them in a few words the object thathad brought them there, and the strange nature of Don Quixote's madness, andhow they were waiting for his squire, who had gone in search of him. Like therecollection of a dream, the quarrel he had had with Don Quixote came back toCardenio's memory, and he described it to the others; but he was unable to saywhat the dispute was about. At this moment they heard a shout, and recognised it as coming from SanchoPanza, who, not finding them where he had left them, was calling aloud to them. They went to meet him, and in answer to their inquiries about Don Quixote, hetold them how he had found him stripped to his shirt, lank, yellow, half deadwith hunger, and sighing for his lady Dulcinea; and although he had told him thatshe commanded him to quit that place and come to El Toboso, where she wasexpecting him, he had answered that he was determined not to appear in thepresence of her beauty until he had done deeds to make him worthy of her favour;and if this went on, Sancho said, he ran the risk of not becoming an emperor as induty bound, or even an archbishop, which was the least he could be; for whichreason they ought to consider what was to be done to get him away from there. The licentiate in reply told him not to be uneasy, for they would fetch him awayin spite of himself. He then told Cardenio and Dorothea what they had proposedto do to cure Don Quixote, or at any rate take him home; upon which Dorotheasaid that she could play the distressed damsel better than the barber; especially asshe had there the dress in which to do it to the life, and that they might trust toher acting the part in every particular requisite for carrying out their scheme, forshe had read a great many books of chivalry, and knew exactly the style in whichafflicted damsels begged boons of knights-errant. "In that case, " said the curate, "there is nothing more required than to set aboutit at once, for beyond a doubt fortune is declaring itself in our favour, since it hasso unexpectedly begun to open a door for your relief, and smoothed the way forus to our object. "Dorothea then took out of her pillow-case a complete petticoat of some richstuff, and a green mantle of some other fine material, and a necklace and otherornaments out of a little box, and with these in an instant she so arrayed herselfthat she looked like a great and rich lady. All this, and more, she said, she hadtaken from home in case of need, but that until then she had had no occasion tomake use of it. They were all highly delighted with her grace, air, and beauty, anddeclared Don Fernando to be a man of very little taste when he rejected suchcharms. But the one who admired her most was Sancho Panza, for it seemed tohim (what indeed was true) that in all the days of his life he had never seen sucha lovely creature; and he asked the curate with great eagerness who this beautifullady was, and what she wanted in these out-of-the-way quarters. "This fair lady, brother Sancho, " replied the curate, "is no less a personage thanthe heiress in the direct male line of the great kingdom of Micomicon, who hascome in search of your master to beg a boon of him, which is that he redress awrong or injury that a wicked giant has done her; and from the fame as a goodknight which your master has acquired far and wide, this princess has come fromGuinea to seek him. ""A lucky seeking and a lucky finding!" said Sancho Panza at this; "especially ifmy master has the good fortune to redress that injury, and right that wrong, andkill that son of a bitch of a giant your worship speaks of; as kill him he will if hemeets him, unless, indeed, he happens to be a phantom; for my master has nopower at all against phantoms. But one thing among others I would beg of you, senor licentiate, which is, that, to prevent my master taking a fancy to be anarchbishop, for that is what I'm afraid of, your worship would recommend him tomarry this princess at once; for in this way he will be disabled from takingarchbishop's orders, and will easily come into his empire, and I to the end of mydesires; I have been thinking over the matter carefully, and by what I can makeout I find it will not do for me that my master should become an archbishop, because I am no good for the Church, as I am married; and for me now, having asI have a wife and children, to set about obtaining dispensations to enable me tohold a place of profit under the Church, would be endless work; so that, senor, itall turns on my master marrying this lady at once--for as yet I do not know hergrace, and so I cannot call her by her name. ""She is called the Princess Micomicona, " said the curate; "for as her kingdom isMicomicon, it is clear that must be her name. ""There's no doubt of that, " replied Sancho, "for I have known many to take theirname and title from the place where they were born and call themselves Pedro ofAlcala, Juan of Ubeda, and Diego of Valladolid; and it may be that over there inGuinea queens have the same way of taking the names of their kingdoms. ""So it may, " said the curate; "and as for your master's marrying, I will do all inmy power towards it:" with which Sancho was as much pleased as the curate wasamazed at his simplicity and at seeing what a hold the absurdities of his masterhad taken of his fancy, for he had evidently persuaded himself that he was goingto be an emperor. By this time Dorothea had seated herself upon the curate's mule, and the barberhad fitted the ox-tail beard to his face, and they now told Sancho to conduct themto where Don Quixote was, warning him not to say that he knew either thelicentiate or the barber, as his master's becoming an emperor entirely depended onhis not recognising them; neither the curate nor Cardenio, however, thought fit togo with them; Cardenio lest he should remind Don Quixote of the quarrel he hadwith him, and the curate as there was no necessity for his presence just yet, sothey allowed the others to go on before them, while they themselves followedslowly on foot. The curate did not forget to instruct Dorothea how to act, but shesaid they might make their minds easy, as everything would be done exactly asthe books of chivalry required and described. They had gone about three-quarters of a league when they discovered DonQuixote in a wilderness of rocks, by this time clothed, but without his armour;and as soon as Dorothea saw him and was told by Sancho that that was DonQuixote, she whipped her palfrey, the well-bearded barber following her, and oncoming up to him her squire sprang from his mule and came forward to receiveher in his arms, and she dismounting with great ease of manner advanced to kneelbefore the feet of Don Quixote; and though he strove to raise her up, she withoutrising addressed him in this fashion:"From this spot I will not rise, valiant and doughty knight, until your goodnessand courtesy grant me a boon, which will redound to the honour and renown ofyour person and render a service to the most disconsolate and afflicted damsel thesun has seen; and if the might of your strong arm corresponds to the repute ofyour immortal fame, you are bound to aid the helpless being who, led by thesavour of your renowned name, hath come from far distant lands to seek your aidin her misfortunes. ""I will not answer a word, beauteous lady, " replied Don Quixote, "nor will Ilisten to anything further concerning you, until you rise from the earth. ""I will not rise, senor, " answered the afflicted damsel, "unless of your courtesythe boon I ask is first granted me. ""I grant and accord it, " said Don Quixote, "provided without detriment orprejudice to my king, my country, or her who holds the key of my heart andfreedom, it may be complied with. ""It will not be to the detriment or prejudice of any of them, my worthy lord, "said the afflicted damsel; and here Sancho Panza drew close to his master's earand said to him very softly, "Your worship may very safely grant the boon sheasks; it's nothing at all; only to kill a big giant; and she who asks it is the exaltedPrincess Micomicona, queen of the great kingdom of Micomicon of Ethiopia. ""Let her be who she may, " replied Don Quixote, "I will do what is my boundenduty, and what my conscience bids me, in conformity with what I haveprofessed;" and turning to the damsel he said, "Let your great beauty rise, for Igrant the boon which you would ask of me. ""Then what I ask, " said the damsel, "is that your magnanimous personaccompany me at once whither I will conduct you, and that you promise not toengage in any other adventure or quest until you have avenged me of a traitorwho against all human and divine law, has usurped my kingdom. ""I repeat that I grant it, " replied Don Quixote; "and so, lady, you may from thisday forth lay aside the melancholy that distresses you, and let your failing hopesgather new life and strength, for with the help of God and of my arm you willsoon see yourself restored to your kingdom, and seated upon the throne of yourancient and mighty realm, notwithstanding and despite of the felons who wouldgainsay it; and now hands to the work, for in delay there is apt to be danger. "The distressed damsel strove with much pertinacity to kiss his hands; but DonQuixote, who was in all things a polished and courteous knight, would by nomeans allow it, but made her rise and embraced her with great courtesy andpoliteness, and ordered Sancho to look to Rocinante's girths, and to arm himwithout a moment's delay. Sancho took down the armour, which was hung up ona tree like a trophy, and having seen to the girths armed his master in a trice, whoas soon as he found himself in his armour exclaimed:"Let us be gone in the name of God to bring aid to this great lady. "The barber was all this time on his knees at great pains to hide his laughter andnot let his beard fall, for had it fallen maybe their fine scheme would have cometo nothing; but now seeing the boon granted, and the promptitude with whichDon Quixote prepared to set out in compliance with it, he rose and took his lady'shand, and between them they placed her upon the mule. Don Quixote thenmounted Rocinante, and the barber settled himself on his beast, Sancho being leftto go on foot, which made him feel anew the loss of his Dapple, finding the wantof him now. But he bore all with cheerfulness, being persuaded that his masterhad now fairly started and was just on the point of becoming an emperor; for hefelt no doubt at all that he would marry this princess, and be king of Micomiconat least. The only thing that troubled him was the reflection that this kingdomwas in the land of the blacks, and that the people they would give him for vassalswould be all black; but for this he soon found a remedy in his fancy, and said heto himself, "What is it to me if my vassals are blacks? What more have I to dothan make a cargo of them and carry them to Spain, where I can sell them and getready money for them, and with it buy some title or some office in which to liveat ease all the days of my life? Not unless you go to sleep and haven't the wit orskill to turn things to account and sell three, six, or ten thousand vassals whileyou would be talking about it! By God I will stir them up, big and little, or as bestI can, and let them be ever so black I'll turn them into white or yellow. Come, come, what a fool I am!" And so he jogged on, so occupied with his thoughts andeasy in his mind that he forgot all about the hardship of travelling on foot. Cardenio and the curate were watching all this from among some bushes, notknowing how to join company with the others; but the curate, who was veryfertile in devices, soon hit upon a way of effecting their purpose, and with a pairof scissors he had in a case he quickly cut off Cardenio's beard, and putting onhim a grey jerkin of his own he gave him a black cloak, leaving himself in hisbreeches and doublet, while Cardenio's appearance was so different from what ithad been that he would not have known himself had he seen himself in a mirror. Having effected this, although the others had gone on ahead while they weredisguising themselves, they easily came out on the high road before them, for thebrambles and awkward places they encountered did not allow those on horsebackto go as fast as those on foot. They then posted themselves on the level ground atthe outlet of the Sierra, and as soon as Don Quixote and his companions emergedfrom it the curate began to examine him very deliberately, as though he werestriving to recognise him, and after having stared at him for some time hehastened towards him with open arms exclaiming, "A happy meeting with themirror of chivalry, my worthy compatriot Don Quixote of La Mancha, the flowerand cream of high breeding, the protection and relief of the distressed, thequintessence of knights-errant!" And so saying he clasped in his arms the knee ofDon Quixote's left leg. He, astonished at the stranger's words and behaviour, looked at him attentively, and at

length recognised him, very much surprised tosee him there, and made great efforts to dismount. This, however, the curatewould not allow, on which Don Quixote said, "Permit me, senor licentiate, for it isnot fitting that I should be on horseback and so reverend a person as yourworship on foot. ""On no account will I allow it, " said the curate; "your mightiness must remainon horseback, for it is on horseback you achieve the greatest deeds andadventures that have been beheld in our age; as for me, an unworthy priest, it willserve me well enough to mount on the haunches of one of the mules of thesegentlefolk who accompany your worship, if they have no objection, and I willfancy I am mounted on the steed Pegasus, or on the zebra or charger that bore thefamous Moor, Muzaraque, who to this day lies enchanted in the great hill ofZulema, a little distance from the great Complutum. ""Nor even that will I consent to, senor licentiate, " answered Don Quixote, "and Iknow it will be the good pleasure of my lady the princess, out of love for me, toorder her squire to give up the saddle of his mule to your worship, and he can sitbehind if the beast will bear it. ""It will, I am sure, " said the princess, "and I am sure, too, that I need not ordermy squire, for he is too courteous and considerate to allow a Churchman to go onfoot when he might be mounted. ""That he is, " said the barber, and at once alighting, he offered his saddle to thecurate, who accepted it without much entreaty; but unfortunately as the barberwas mounting behind, the mule, being as it happened a hired one, which is thesame thing as saying ill-conditioned, lifted its hind hoofs and let fly a couple ofkicks in the air, which would have made Master Nicholas wish his expedition inquest of Don Quixote at the devil had they caught him on the breast or head. As itwas, they so took him by surprise that he came to the ground, giving so little heedto his beard that it fell off, and all he could do when he found himself without itwas to cover his face hastily with both his hands and moan that his teeth wereknocked out. Don Quixote when he saw all that bundle of beard detached, without jaws or blood, from the face of the fallen squire, exclaimed:"By the living God, but this is a great miracle! it has knocked off and pluckedaway the beard from his face as if it had been shaved off designedly. "The curate, seeing the danger of discovery that threatened his scheme, at oncepounced upon the beard and hastened with it to where Master Nicholas lay, stilluttering moans, and drawing his head to his breast had it on in an instant, muttering over him some words which he said were a certain special charm forsticking on beards, as they would see; and as soon as he had it fixed he left him, and the squire appeared well bearded and whole as before, whereat Don Quixotewas beyond measure astonished, and begged the curate to teach him that charmwhen he had an opportunity, as he was persuaded its virtue must extend beyondthe sticking on of beards, for it was clear that where the beard had been strippedoff the flesh must have remained torn and lacerated, and when it could heal allthat it must be good for more than beards. "And so it is, " said the curate, and he promised to teach it to him on the firstopportunity. They then agreed that for the present the curate should mount, andthat the three should ride by turns until they reached the inn, which might beabout six leagues from where they were. Three then being mounted, that is to say, Don Quixote, the princess, and thecurate, and three on foot, Cardenio, the barber, and Sancho Panza, Don Quixotesaid to the damsel:"Let your highness, lady, lead on whithersoever is most pleasing to you;" butbefore she could answer the licentiate said:"Towards what kingdom would your ladyship direct our course? Is it perchancetowards that of Micomicon? It must be, or else I know little about kingdoms. "She, being ready on all points, understood that she was to answer "Yes, " so shesaid "Yes, senor, my way lies towards that kingdom. ""In that case, " said the curate, "we must pass right through my village, and thereyour worship will take the road to Cartagena, where you will be able to embark, fortune favouring; and if the wind be fair and the sea smooth and tranquil, insomewhat less than nine years you may come in sight of the great lake Meona, Imean Meotides, which is little more than a hundred days' journey this side of yourhighness's kingdom. ""Your worship is mistaken, senor, " said she; "for it is not two years since I setout from it, and though I never had good weather, nevertheless I am here tobehold what I so longed for, and that is my lord Don Quixote of La Mancha, whose fame came to my ears as soon as I set foot in Spain and impelled me to goin search of him, to commend myself to his courtesy, and entrust the justice of mycause to the might of his invincible arm. ""Enough; no more praise, " said Don Quixote at this, "for I hate all flattery; andthough this may not be so, still language of the kind is offensive to my chasteears. I will only say, senora, that whether it has might or not, that which it mayor may not have shall be devoted to your service even to death; and now, leavingthis to its proper season, I would ask the senor licentiate to tell me what it is thathas brought him into these parts, alone, unattended, and so lightly clad that I amfilled with amazement. ""I will answer that briefly, " replied the curate; "you must know then, Senor DonQuixote, that Master Nicholas, our friend and barber, and I were going to Sevilleto receive some money that a relative of mine who went to the Indies many yearsago had sent me, and not such a small sum but that it was over sixty thousandpieces of eight, full weight, which is something; and passing by this placeyesterday we were attacked by four footpads, who stripped us even to our beards, and them they stripped off so that the barber found it necessary to put on a falseone, and even this young man here"--pointing to Cardenio--"they completelytransformed. But the best of it is, the story goes in the neighbourhood that thosewho attacked us belong to a number of galley slaves who, they say, were set freealmost on the very same spot by a man of such valour that, in spite of thecommissary and of the guards, he released the whole of them; and beyond alldoubt he must have been out of his senses, or he must be as great a scoundrel asthey, or some man without heart or conscience to let the wolf loose among thesheep, the fox among the hens, the fly among the honey. He has defraudedjustice, and opposed his king and lawful master, for he opposed his justcommands; he has, I say, robbed the galleys of their feet, stirred up the HolyBrotherhood which for many years past has been quiet, and, lastly, has done adeed by which his soul may be lost without any gain to his body. " Sancho had toldthe curate and the barber of the adventure of the galley slaves, which, so much tohis glory, his master had achieved, and hence the curate in alluding to it made themost of it to see what would be said or done by Don Quixote; who changed colourat every word, not daring to say that it was he who had been the liberator ofthose worthy people. "These, then, " said the curate, "were they who robbed us;and God in his mercy pardon him who would not let them go to the punishmentthey deserved. "DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 12. Chapters 30-32EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXX. WHICH TREATS OF ADDRESS DISPLAYED BY THE FAIRDOROTHEA, WITH OTHER MATTERS PLEASANT AND AMUSINGThe curate had hardly ceased speaking, when Sancho said, "In faith, then, senorlicentiate, he who did that deed was my master; and it was not for want of mytelling him beforehand and warning him to mind what he was about, and that itwas a sin to set them at liberty, as they were all on the march there because theywere special scoundrels. ""Blockhead!" said Don Quixote at this, "it is no business or concern of knights-errant to inquire whether any persons in affliction, in chains, or oppressed thatthey may meet on the high roads go that way and suffer as they do because oftheir faults or because of their misfortunes. It only concerns them to aid them aspersons in need of help, having regard to their sufferings and not to theirrascalities. I encountered a chaplet or string of miserable and unfortunate people, and did for them what my sense of duty demands of me, and as for the rest bethat as it may; and whoever takes objection to it, saving the sacred dignity of thesenor licentiate and his honoured person, I say he knows little about chivalry andlies like a whoreson villain, and this I will give him to know to the fullest extentwith my sword;" and so saying he settled himself in his stirrups and pressed downhis morion; for the barber's basin, which according to him was Mambrino'shelmet, he carried hanging at the saddle-bow until he could repair the damagedone to it by the galley slaves. Dorothea, who was shrewd and sprightly, and by this time thoroughlyunderstood Don Quixote's crazy turn, and that all except Sancho Panza weremaking game of him, not to be behind the rest said to him, on observing hisirritation, "Sir Knight, remember the boon you have promised me, and that inaccordance with it you must not engage in any other adventure, be it ever sopressing; calm yourself, for if the licentiate had known that the galley slaves hadbeen set free by that unconquered arm he would have stopped his mouth thriceover, or even bitten his tongue three times before he would have said a word thattended towards disrespect of your worship. ""That I swear heartily, " said the curate, "and I would have even plucked off amoustache. ""I will hold my peace, senora, " said Don Quixote, "and I will curb the naturalanger that had arisen in my breast, and will proceed in peace and quietness until Ihave fulfilled my promise; but in return for this consideration I entreat you to tellme, if you have no objection to do so, what is the nature of your trouble, and howmany, who, and what are the persons of whom I am to require due satisfaction, and on whom I am to take vengeance on your behalf?""That I will do with all my heart, " replied Dorothea, "if it will not be wearisometo you to hear of miseries and misfortunes. ""It will not be wearisome, senora, " said Don Quixote; to which Dorotheareplied, "Well, if that be so, give me your attention. " As soon as she said this, Cardenio and the barber drew close to her side, eager to hear what sort of storythe quick-witted Dorothea would invent for herself; and Sancho did the same, forhe was as much taken in by her as his master; and she having settled herselfcomfortably in the saddle, and with the help of coughing and other preliminariestaken time to think, began with great sprightliness of manner in this fashion. "First of all, I would have you know, sirs, that my name is-" and here shestopped for a moment, for she forgot the name the curate had given her; but hecame to her relief, seeing what her difficulty was, and said, "It is no wonder, senora, that your highness should be confused and embarrassed in telling the taleof your misfortunes; for such afflictions often have the effect of depriving thesufferers of memory, so that they do not even remember their own names, as isthe case now with your ladyship, who has forgotten that she is called the PrincessMicomicona, lawful heiress of the great kingdom of Micomicon; and with this cueyour highness may now recall to your sorrowful recollection all you may wish totell us. ""That is the truth, " said the damsel; "but I think from this on I shall have noneed of any prompting, and I shall bring my true story safe into port, and here itis. The king my father, who was called Tinacrio the Sapient, was very learned inwhat they call magic arts, and became aware by his craft that my mother, whowas called Queen Jaramilla, was to die before he did, and that soon after he toowas to depart this life, and I was to be left an orphan without father or mother. But all this, he declared, did not so much grieve or distress him as his certainknowledge that a prodigious giant, the lord of a great island close to our kingdom, Pandafilando of the Scowl by name--for it is averred that, though his eyes areproperly placed and straight, he always looks askew as if he squinted, and this hedoes out of malignity, to strike fear and terror into those he looks at--that heknew, I say, that this giant on becoming aware of my orphan condition wouldoverrun my kingdom with a mighty force and strip me of all, not leaving me evena small village to shelter me; but that I could avoid all this ruin and misfortune ifI were willing to marry him; however, as far as he could see, he never expectedthat I would consent to a marriage so unequal; and he said no more than the truthin this, for it has never entered my mind to marry that giant, or any other, let himbe ever so great or enormous. My father said, too, that when he was dead, and Isaw Pandafilando about to invade my kingdom, I was not to wait and attempt todefend myself, for that would be destructive to me, but that I should leave thekingdom entirely open to him if I wished to avoid the death and total destructionof my good and loyal vassals, for there would be no possibility of defendingmyself against the giant's devilish power; and that I should at once with some ofmy followers set out for Spain, where I should obtain relief in my distress onfinding a certain knight-errant whose fame by that time would extend over thewhole kingdom, and who would be called, if I remember rightly, Don Azote orDon Gigote. ""'Don Quixote, ' he must have said, senora, " observed Sancho at this, "otherwisecalled the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. ""That is it, " said Dorothea; "he said, moreover, that he would be tall of statureand lank featured; and that on his right side under the left shoulder, orthereabouts, he would have a grey mole with hairs like bristles. "On hearing this, Don Quixote said to his squire, "Here, Sancho my son, bear ahand and help me to strip, for I want to see if I am the knight that sage kingforetold. ""What does your worship want to strip for?" said Dorothea. "To see if I have that mole your father spoke of, " answered Don Quixote. "There is no occasion to strip, " said Sancho; "for I know your worship has justsuch a mole on the middle of your backbone, which is the mark of a strong man. ""That is enough, " said Dorothea, "for with friends we must not look too closelyinto trifles; and whether it be on the shoulder or on the backbone matters little; itis enough if there is a mole, be it where it may, for it is all the same flesh; nodoubt my good father hit the truth in every particular, and I have made a luckyhit in commending myself to Don Quixote; for he is the one my father spoke of, asthe features of his countenance correspond with those assigned to this knight bythat wide fame he has acquired not only in Spain but in all La Mancha; for I hadscarcely landed at Osuna when I heard such accounts of his achievements, that atonce my heart told me he was the very one I had come in search of. ""But how did you land at Osuna, senora, " asked Don Quixote, "when it is not aseaport?"But before Dorothea could reply the curate anticipated her, saying, "Theprincess meant to say that after she had landed at Malaga the first place whereshe heard of your worship was Osuna. ""That is what I meant to say, " said Dorothea. "And that would be only natural, " said the curate. "Will your majesty pleaseproceed?""There is no more to add, " said Dorothea, "save that in finding Don Quixote Ihave had such good fortune, that I already reckon and regard myself queen andmistress of my entire dominions, since of his courtesy and magnanimity he hasgranted me the boon of accompanying me whithersoever I may conduct him, which will be only to bring him face to face with Pandafilando of the Scowl, thathe may slay him and restore to me what has been unjustly usurped by him: for allthis must come to pass satisfactorily since my good father Tinacrio the Sapientforetold it, who likewise left it declared in writing in Chaldee or Greek characters(for I cannot read them), that if this predicted knight, after having cut the giant'sthroat, should be disposed to marry me I was to offer myself at once withoutdemur as his lawful wife, and yield him possession of my kingdom together withmy person. ""What thinkest thou now, friend Sancho?" said Don Quixote at this. "Hearestthou that? Did I not tell thee so? See how we have already got a kingdom togovern and a queen to marry!""On my oath it is so, " said Sancho; "and foul fortune to him who won't marryafter slitting Senor Pandahilado's windpipe! And then, how illfavoured the queenis! I wish the fleas in my bed were that sort!"And so saying he cut a couple of capers in the air with every sign of extremesatisfaction, and then ran to seize the bridle of Dorothea's mule, and checking itfell on his knees before her, begging her to give him her hand to kiss in token ofhis acknowledgment of her as his queen and mistress. Which of the bystanderscould have helped laughing to see the madness of the master and the simplicity ofthe servant? Dorothea therefore gave her hand, and promised to make him a greatlord in her kingdom, when Heaven should be so good as to permit her to recoverand enjoy it, for which Sancho returned thanks in words that set them alllaughing again. "This, sirs, " continued Dorothea, "is my story; it only remains to tell you that ofall the attendants I took with me from my kingdom I have none left except thiswell-bearded squire, for all were drowned in a great tempest we encounteredwhen in sight of port; and he and I came to land on a couple of planks as if by amiracle; and indeed the whole course of my life is a miracle and a mystery as youmay have observed; and if I have been over minute in any respect or not asprecise as I ought, let it be accounted for by what the licentiate said at thebeginning of my tale, that constant and excessive troubles deprive the sufferers oftheir memory. ""They shall not deprive me of mine, exalted and worthy princess, " said DonQuixote, "however great and unexampled those which I shall endure in yourservice may be; and here I confirm anew the boon I have promised you, and Iswear to go with you to the end of the world until I find myself in the presence ofyour fierce enemy, whose haughty head I trust by the aid of my arm to cut offwith the edge of this--I will not say good sword, thanks to Gines de Pasamontewho carried away mine"--(this he said between his teeth, and then continued), "and when it has been cut off and you have been put in peaceful possession ofyour realm it shall be left to your own decision to dispose of your person as maybe most pleasing to you; for so long as my memory is occupied, my will enslaved, and my understanding enthralled by her--I say no more--it is impossible for me fora moment to contemplate marriage, even with a Phoenix. "The last words of his master about not wanting to marry were so disagreeable toSancho that raising his voice he exclaimed with great irritation:"By my oath, Senor Don Quixote, you are not in your right senses; for how canyour worship possibly object to marrying such an exalted princess as this? Do youthink Fortune will offer you behind every stone such a piece of luck as is offeredyou now? Is my lady Dulcinea fairer, perchance? Not she; nor half as fair; and Iwill even go so far as to say she does not come up to the shoe of this one here. Apoor chance I have of getting that county I am waiting for if your worship goeslooking for dainties in the bottom of the sea. In the devil's name, marry, marry, and take this kingdom that comes to hand without any trouble, and when you areking make me a marquis or governor of a province, and for the rest let the deviltake it all. "Don Quixote, when he heard such blasphemies uttered against his ladyDulcinea, could not endure it, and lifting his pike, without saying anything toSancho or uttering a word, he gave him two such thwacks that he brought him tothe ground; and had it not been that Dorothea cried out to him to spare him hewould have no doubt taken his life on the spot. "Do you think, " he said to him after a pause, "you scurvy clown, that you are tobe always interfering with me, and that you are to be always offending and Ialways pardoning? Don't fancy it, impious scoundrel, for that beyond a doubtthou art, since thou hast set thy tongue going against the peerless Dulcinea. Knowyou not, lout, vagabond, beggar, that were it not for the might that she infusesinto my arm I should not have strength enough to kill a flea? Say, scoffer with aviper's tongue, what think you has won this kingdom and cut off this giant's headand made you a marquis (for all this I count as already accomplished anddecided), but the might of Dulcinea, employing my arm as the instrument of herachievements? She fights in me and conquers in me, and I live and breathe in her, and owe my life and being to her. O whoreson scoundrel, how ungrateful you are, you see yourself raised from the dust of the earth to be a titled lord, and thereturn you make for so great a benefit is to speak evil of her who has conferred itupon you!"Sancho was not so stunned but that he heard all his master said, and risingwith some degree of nimbleness he ran to place himself behind Dorothea's palfrey, and from that position he said to his master:"Tell me, senor; if your worship is resolved not to marry this great princess, it isplain the kingdom will not be yours; and not being so, how can you bestowfavours upon me? That is what I complain of. Let your worship at any rate marrythis queen, now that we have got her here as if showered down from heaven, andafterwards you may go back to my lady Dulcinea; for there must have been kingsin the world who kept mistresses. As to beauty, I have nothing to do with it; andif the truth is to be told, I like them both; though I have never seen the ladyDulcinea. ""How! never seen her, blasphemous traitor!" exclaimed Don Quixote; "hast thounot just now brought me a message from her?""I mean, " said Sancho, "that I did not see her so much at my leisure that I couldtake particular notice of her beauty, or of her charms piecemeal; but taken in thelump I like her. ""Now I forgive thee, " said Don Quixote; "and do thou forgive me the injury Ihave done thee; for our first impulses are not in our control. ""That I see, " replied Sancho, "and with me the wish to speak is always the firstimpulse, and I cannot help saying, once at any rate, what I have on the tip of mytongue. ""For all that, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "take heed of what thou sayest, for thepitcher goes so often to the well--I need say no more to thee. ""Well, well, " said Sancho, "God is in heaven, and sees all tricks, and will judgewho does most harm, I in not speaking right, or your worship in not doing it. ""That is enough, " said Dorothea; "run, Sancho, and kiss your lord's hand andbeg his pardon, and henceforward be more circumspect with your praise andabuse; and say nothing in disparagement of that lady Toboso, of whom I knownothing save that I am her servant; and put your trust in God, for you will not failto obtain some dignity so as to live like a prince. "Sancho advanced hanging his head and begged his master's hand, which DonQuixote with dignity presented to him, giving him his blessing as soon as he hadkissed it; he then bade him go on ahead a little, as he had questions to ask himand matters of great importance to discuss with him. Sancho obeyed, and whenthe two had gone some distance in advance Don Quixote said to him, "Since thyreturn I have had no opportunity or time to ask thee many particulars touchingthy mission and the answer thou hast brought back, and now that chance hasgranted us the time and opportunity, deny me not the happiness thou canst giveme by such good news. ""Let your worship ask what you will, " answered Sancho, "for I shall find a wayout of all as as I found a way in; but I implore you, senor, not not to be sorevengeful in future. ""Why dost thou say that, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "I say it, " he returned, "because those blows just now were more because of thequarrel the devil stirred up between us both the other night, than for what I saidagainst my lady Dulcinea, whom I love and reverence as I would a relic--thoughthere is nothing of that about her--merely as something belonging to yourworship. ""Say no more on that subject for thy life, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for it isdispleasing to me; I have already pardoned thee for that, and thou knowest thecommon saying, 'for a fresh sin a fresh penance. '"While this was going on they saw coming along the road they were following aman mounted on an ass, who when he came close seemed to be a gipsy; butSancho Panza, whose eyes and heart were there wherever he saw asses, no soonerbeheld the man than he knew him to be Gines de Pasamonte; and by the thread ofthe gipsy he got at the ball, his ass, for it was, in fact, Dapple that carriedPasamonte, who to escape recognition and to sell the ass had disguised himself asa gipsy, being able to speak the gipsy language, and many more, as well as if theywere his own. Sancho saw him and recognised him, and the instant he did so heshouted to him, "Ginesillo, you thief, give up my treasure, release my life, embarrass thyself not with my repose, quit my ass, leave my delight, be off, rip, get thee gone, thief, and give up what is not thine. "There was no necessity for so many words or objurgations, for at the first oneGines jumped down, and at a like racing speed made off and got clear of them all. Sancho hastened to his Dapple, and embracing him he said, "How hast thou fared, my blessing, Dapple of my eyes, my comrade?" all the while kissing him andcaressing him as if he were a human being. The ass held his peace, and let himselfbe kissed and caressed by Sancho without answering a single word. They all cameup and congratulated him on having found Dapple, Don Quixote especially, whotold him that notwithstanding this he would not cancel the order for the three ass-colts, for which Sancho thanked him. While the two had been going along conversing in this fashion, the curateobserved to Dorothea that she had shown great cleverness, as well in the storyitself as in its conciseness, and the resemblance it bore to those of the books ofchivalry. She said that she had many times amused herself reading them; but thatshe did not know the situation of the provinces or seaports, and so she had saidat haphazard that she had landed at Osuna. "So I saw, " said the curate, "and for that reason I made haste to say what I did, by which it was all set right. But is it not a strange thing to see how readily thisunhappy gentleman believes all these figments and lies, simply because they are inthe style and manner of the absurdities of his books?""So it is, " said Cardenio; "and so uncommon and unexampled, that were one toattempt to invent and concoct it in fiction, I doubt if there be any wit keenenough to imagine it. ""But another strange thing about it, " said the curate, "is that, apart from thesilly things which this worthy gentleman says in connection with his craze, whenother subjects are dealt with, he can discuss them in a perfectly rational manner, showing that his mind is quite clear and composed; so that, provided his chivalryis not touched upon, no one would take him to be anything but a man ofthoroughly sound understanding. "While they were holding this conversation Don Quixote continued his withSancho, saying:"Friend Panza, let us forgive and forget as to our quarrels, and tell me now, dismissing anger and irritation, where, how, and when didst thou find Dulcinea?What was she doing? What didst thou say to her? What did she answer? How didshe look when she was reading my letter? Who copied it out for thee? andeverything in the matter that seems to thee worth knowing, asking, and learning;neither adding nor falsifying to give me pleasure, nor yet curtailing lest youshould deprive me of it. ""Senor, " replied Sancho, "if the truth is to be told, nobody copied out the letterfor me, for I carried no letter at all. ""It is as thou sayest, " said Don Quixote, "for the note-book in which I wrote it Ifound in my own possession two days after thy departure, which gave me verygreat vexation, as I knew not what thou wouldst do on finding thyself without anyletter; and I made sure thou wouldst return from the place where thou didst firstmiss it. ""So I should have done, " said Sancho, "if I had not got it by heart when yourworship read it to me, so that I repeated it to a sacristan, who copied it out forme from hearing it, so exactly that he said in all the days of his life, though hehad read many a letter of excommunication, he had never seen or read so pretty aletter as that. ""And hast thou got it still in thy memory, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "No, senor, " replied Sancho, "for as soon as I had repeated it, seeing there wasno further use for it, I set about forgetting it; and if I recollect any of it, it is thatabout 'Scrubbing, 'I mean to say 'Sovereign Lady, ' and the end 'Yours till death, theKnight of the Rueful Countenance;' and between these two I put into it more thanthree hundred 'my souls' and 'my life's' and 'my eyes. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXI. OF THE DELECTABLE DISCUSSION BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE ANDSANCHO PANZA, HIS SQUIRE, TOGETHER WITH OTHERINCIDENTS"All that is not unsatisfactory to me, " said Don Quixote. "Go on; thou didstreach her; and what was that queen of beauty doing? Surely thou didst find herstringing pearls, or embroidering some device in gold thread for this her enslavedknight. ""I did not, " said Sancho, "but I found her winnowing two bushels of wheat inthe yard of her house. ""Then depend upon it, " said Don Quixote, "the grains of that wheat were pearlswhen touched by her hands; and didst thou look, friend? was it white wheat orbrown?""It was neither, but red, " said Sancho. "Then I promise thee, " said Don Quixote, "that, winnowed by her hands, beyonda doubt the bread it made was of the whitest; but go on; when thou gavest her myletter, did she kiss it? Did she place it on her head? Did she perform anyceremony befitting it, or what did she do?""When I went to give it to her, " replied Sancho, "she was hard at it swaying fromside to side with a lot of wheat she had in the sieve, and she said to me, 'Lay theletter, friend, on the top of that sack, for I cannot read it until I have done siftingall this. ""Discreet lady!" said Don Quixote; "that was in order to read it at her leisureand enjoy it; proceed, Sancho; while she was engaged in her occupation whatconverse did she hold with thee? What did she ask about me, and what answerdidst thou give? Make haste; tell me all, and let not an atom be left behind in theink-bottle. ""She asked me nothing, " said Sancho; "but I told her how your worship was leftdoing penance in her service, naked from the waist up, in among these mountainslike a savage, sleeping on the ground, not eating bread off a tablecloth norcombing your beard, weeping and cursing your fortune. ""In saying I cursed my fortune thou saidst wrong, " said Don Quixote; "for ratherdo I bless it and shall bless it all the days of my life for having made me worthy ofaspiring to love so lofty a lady as Dulcinea del Toboso. ""And so lofty she is, " said Sancho, "that she overtops me by more than a hand's-breadth. ""What! Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "didst thou measure with her?""I measured in this way, " said Sancho; "going to help her to put a sack of wheaton the back of an ass, we came so close together that I could see she stood morethan a good palm over me. ""Well!" said Don Quixote, "and doth she not of a truth accompany and adornthis greatness with a thousand million charms of mind! But one thing thou wiltnot deny, Sancho; when thou camest close to her didst thou not perceive aSabaean odour, an aromatic fragrance, a, I know not what, delicious, that Icannot find a name for; I mean a redolence, an exhalation, as if thou wert in theshop of some dainty glover?""All I can say is, " said Sancho, "that I did perceive a little odour, somethinggoaty; it must have been that she was all in a sweat with hard work. ""It could not be that, " said Don Quixote, "but thou must have been sufferingfrom cold in the head, or must have smelt thyself; for I know well what would bethe scent of that rose among thorns, that lily of the field, that dissolved amber. ""Maybe so, " replied Sancho; "there often comes from myself that same odourwhich then seemed to me to come from her grace the lady Dulcinea; but that's nowonder, for one devil is like another. ""Well then, " continued Don Quixote, "now she has done sifting the corn andsent it to the mill; what did she do when she read the letter?""As for the letter, " said Sancho, "she did not read it, for she said she couldneither read nor write; instead of that she tore it up into small pieces, saying thatshe did not want to let anyone read it lest her secrets should become known inthe village, and that what I had told her by word of mouth about the love yourworship bore her, and the extraordinary penance you were doing for her sake, wasenough; and, to make an end of it, she told me to tell your worship that shekissed your hands, and that she had a greater desire to see you than to write toyou; and that therefore she entreated and commanded you, on sight of thispresent, to come out of these thickets, and to have done with carrying onabsurdities, and to set out at once for El Toboso, unless something else of greaterimportance should happen, for she had a great desire to see your worship. Shelaughed greatly when I told her how your worship was called The Knight of theRueful Countenance; I asked her if that Biscayan the other day had been there;and she told me he had, and that he was an honest fellow; I asked her too aboutthe galley slaves, but she said she had not seen any as yet. ""So far all goes well, " said Don Quixote; "but tell me what jewel was it that shegave thee on taking thy leave, in return for thy tidings of me? For it is a usual andancient custom with knights and ladies errant to give the squires, damsels, ordwarfs who bring tidings of their ladies to the knights, or of their knights to theladies, some rich jewel as a guerdon for good news, ' and acknowledgment of themessage. ""That is very likely, " said Sancho, "and a good custom it was, to my mind; butthat must have been in days gone by, for now it would seem to be the customonly to give a piece of bread and cheese; because that was what my lady Dulcineagave me over the top of the yard-wall when I took leave of her; and more by tokenit was sheep's-milk cheese. ""She is generous in the extreme, " said Don Quixote, "and if she did not give theea jewel of gold, no doubt it must have been because she had not one to hand thereto give thee; but sleeves are good after Easter; I shall see her and all shall be maderight. But knowest thou what amazes me, Sancho? It seems to me thou must havegone and come through the air, for thou hast taken but little more than three daysto go to El Toboso and return, though it is more than thirty leagues from here tothere. From which I am inclined to think that the sage magician who is my friend, and watches over my interests (for of necessity there is and must be one, or else Ishould not be a right knight-errant), that this same, I say, must have helped theeto travel without thy knowledge; for some of these sages will catch up a knight-errant sleeping in his bed, and without his knowing how or in what way ithappened, he wakes up the next day more than a thousand leagues away from theplace where he went to sleep. And if it were not for this, knights-errant would notbe able to give aid to one another in peril, as they do at every turn. For a knight, maybe, is fighting in the mountains of Armenia with some dragon, or fierceserpent, or another knight, and gets the worst of the battle, and is at the point ofdeath; but when he least looks for it, there appears over against him on a cloud, or chariot of fire, another knight, a friend of his, who just before had been inEngland, and who takes his part, and delivers him from death; and at night hefinds himself in his own quarters supping very much to his satisfaction; and yetfrom one place to the other will have been two or three thousand leagues. And allthis is done by the craft and skill of the sage enchanters who take care of thosevaliant knights; so that, friend Sancho, I find no difficulty in believing that thoumayest have gone from this place to El Toboso and returned in such a short time, since, as I have said, some friendly sage must have carried thee through the airwithout thee perceiving it. ""That must have been it, " said Sancho, "for indeed Rocinante went like a gipsy'sass with quicksilver in his ears. ""Quicksilver!" said Don Quixote, "aye and what is more, a legion of devils, folkthat can travel and make others travel without being weary, exactly as the whimseizes them. But putting this aside, what thinkest thou I ought to do about mylady's command to go and see her? For though I feel that I am bound to obey hermandate, I feel too that I am debarred by the boon I have accorded to the princessthat accompanies us, and the law of chivalry compels me to have regard for myword in preference to my inclination; on the one hand the desire to see my ladypursues and harasses me, on the other my solemn promise and the glory I shallwin in this enterprise urge and call me; but what I think I shall do is to travelwith all speed and reach quickly the place where this giant is, and on my arrival Ishall cut off his head, and establish the princess peacefully in her realm, andforthwith I shall return to behold the light that lightens my senses, to whom Ishall make such excuses that she will be led to approve of my delay, for she willsee that it entirely tends to increase her glory and fame; for all that I have won, am winning, or shall win by arms in this life, comes to me of the favour sheextends to me, and because I am hers. ""Ah! what a sad state your worship's brains are in!" said Sancho. "Tell me, senor, do you mean to travel all that way for nothing, and to let slip and lose sorich and great a match as this where they give as a portion a kingdom that insober truth I have heard say is more than twenty thousand leagues round about, and abounds with all things necessary to support human life, and is bigger thanPortugal and Castile put together? Peace, for the love of God! Blush for what youhave said, and take my advice, and forgive me, and marry at once in the firstvillage where there is a curate; if not, here is our licentiate who will do thebusiness beautifully; remember, I am old enough to give advice, and this I amgiving comes pat to the purpose; for a sparrow in the hand is better than a vultureon the wing, and he who has the good to his hand and chooses the bad, that thegood he complains of may not come to him. ""Look here, Sancho, " said Don Quixote. "If thou art advising me to marry, inorder that immediately on slaying the giant I may become king, and be able toconfer favours on thee, and give thee what I have promised, let me tell thee I shallbe able very easily to satisfy thy desires without marrying; for before going intobattle I will make it a stipulation that, if I come out of it victorious, even I do notmarry, they shall give me a portion portion of the kingdom, that I may bestow itupon whomsoever I choose, and when they give it to me upon whom wouldst thouhave me bestow it but upon thee?""That is plain speaking, " said Sancho; "but let your worship take care to chooseit on the seacoast, so that if I don't like the life, I may be able to ship off my blackvassals and deal with them as I have said; don't mind going to see my ladyDulcinea

now, but go and kill this giant and let us finish off this business; for byGod it strikes me it will be one of great honour and great profit. ""I hold thou art in the right of it, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and I will takethy advice as to accompanying the princess before going to see Dulcinea; but Icounsel thee not to say anything to any one, or to those who are with us, aboutwhat we have considered and discussed, for as Dulcinea is so decorous that shedoes not wish her thoughts to be known it is not right that I or anyone for meshould disclose them. ""Well then, if that be so, " said Sancho, "how is it that your worship makes allthose you overcome by your arm go to present themselves before my ladyDulcinea, this being the same thing as signing your name to it that you love herand are her lover? And as those who go must perforce kneel before her and saythey come from your worship to submit themselves to her, how can the thoughtsof both of you be hid?""O, how silly and simple thou art!" said Don Quixote; "seest thou not, Sancho, that this tends to her greater exaltation? For thou must know that according toour way of thinking in chivalry, it is a high honour to a lady to have manyknights-errant in her service, whose thoughts never go beyond serving her for herown sake, and who look for no other reward for their great and true devotion thanthat she should be willing to accept them as her knights. ""It is with that kind of love, " said Sancho, "I have heard preachers say we oughtto love our Lord, for himself alone, without being moved by the hope of glory orthe fear of punishment; though for my part, I would rather love and serve him forwhat he could do. ""The devil take thee for a clown!" said Don Quixote, "and what shrewd thingsthou sayest at times! One would think thou hadst studied. ""In faith, then, I cannot even read. "Master Nicholas here called out to them to wait a while, as they wanted to haltand drink at a little spring there was there. Don Quixote drew up, not a little tothe satisfaction of Sancho, for he was by this time weary of telling so many lies, and in dread of his master catching him tripping, for though he knew thatDulcinea was a peasant girl of El Toboso, he had never seen her in all his life. Cardenio had now put on the clothes which Dorothea was wearing when theyfound her, and though they were not very good, they were far better than those heput off. They dismounted together by the side of the spring, and with what thecurate had provided himself with at the inn they appeased, though not very well, the keen appetite they all of them brought with them. While they were so employed there happened to come by a youth passing on hisway, who stopping to examine the party at the spring, the next moment ran toDon Quixote and clasping him round the legs, began to weep freely, saying, "O, senor, do you not know me? Look at me well; I am that lad Andres that yourworship released from the oak-tree where I was tied. "Don Quixote recognised him, and taking his hand he turned to those presentand said: "That your worships may see how important it is to have knights-errantto redress the wrongs and injuries done by tyrannical and wicked men in thisworld, I may tell you that some days ago passing through a wood, I heard criesand piteous complaints as of a person in pain and distress; I immediatelyhastened, impelled by my bounden duty, to the quarter whence the plaintiveaccents seemed to me to proceed, and I found tied to an oak this lad who nowstands before you, which in my heart I rejoice at, for his testimony will not permitme to depart from the truth in any particular. He was, I say, tied to an oak, nakedfrom the waist up, and a clown, whom I afterwards found to be his master, wasscarifying him by lashes with the reins of his mare. As soon as I saw him I askedthe reason of so cruel a flagellation. The boor replied that he was flogging himbecause he was his servant and because of carelessness that proceeded ratherfrom dishonesty than stupidity; on which this boy said, 'Senor, he flogs me onlybecause I ask for my wages. ' The master made I know not what speeches andexplanations, which, though I listened to them, I did not accept. In short, Icompelled the clown to unbind him, and to swear he would take him with him, and pay him real by real, and perfumed into the bargain. Is not all this true, Andres my son? Didst thou not mark with what authority I commanded him, andwith what humility he promised to do all I enjoined, specified, and required ofhim? Answer without hesitation; tell these gentlemen what took place, that theymay see that it is as great an advantage as I say to have knights-errant abroad. ""All that your worship has said is quite true, " answered the lad; "but the end ofthe business turned out just the opposite of what your worship supposes. ""How! the opposite?" said Don Quixote; "did not the clown pay thee then?""Not only did he not pay me, " replied the lad, "but as soon as your worship hadpassed out of the wood and we were alone, he tied me up again to the same oakand gave me a fresh flogging, that left me like a flayed Saint Bartholomew; andevery stroke he gave me he followed up with some jest or gibe about having madea fool of your worship, and but for the pain I was suffering I should have laughedat the things he said. In short he left me in such a condition that I have been untilnow in a hospital getting cured of the injuries which that rascally clown inflictedon me then; for all which your worship is to blame; for if you had gone your ownway and not come where there was no call for you, nor meddled in other people'saffairs, my master would have been content with giving me one or two dozenlashes, and would have then loosed me and paid me what he owed me; but whenyour worship abused him so out of measure, and gave him so many hard words, his anger was kindled; and as he could not revenge himself on you, as soon as hesaw you had left him the storm burst upon me in such a way, that I feel as if Ishould never be a man again. ""The mischief, " said Don Quixote, "lay in my going away; for I should not havegone until I had seen thee paid; because I ought to have known well by longexperience that there is no clown who will keep his word if he finds it will not suithim to keep it; but thou rememberest, Andres, that I swore if he did not pay theeI would go and seek him, and find him though he were to hide himself in thewhale's belly. ""That is true, " said Andres; "but it was of no use. ""Thou shalt see now whether it is of use or not, " said Don Quixote; and sosaying, he got up hastily and bade Sancho bridle Rocinante, who was browsingwhile they were eating. Dorothea asked him what he meant to do. He replied thathe meant to go in search of this clown and chastise him for such iniquitousconduct, and see Andres paid to the last maravedi, despite and in the teeth of allthe clowns in the world. To which she replied that he must remember that inaccordance with his promise he could not engage in any enterprise until he hadconcluded hers; and that as he knew this better than anyone, he should restrainhis ardour until his return from her kingdom. "That is true, " said Don Quixote, "and Andres must have patience until myreturn as you say, senora; but I once more swear and promise not to stop until Ihave seen him avenged and paid. ""I have no faith in those oaths, " said Andres; "I would rather have nowsomething to help me to get to Seville than all the revenges in the world; if youhave here anything to eat that I can take with me, give it me, and God be withyour worship and all knights-errant; and may their errands turn out as well forthemselves as they have for me. "Sancho took out from his store a piece of bread and another of cheese, andgiving them to the lad he said, "Here, take this, brother Andres, for we have all ofus a share in your misfortune. ""Why, what share have you got?""This share of bread and cheese I am giving you, " answered Sancho; "and Godknows whether I shall feel the want of it myself or not; for I would have youknow, friend, that we squires to knights-errant have to bear a great deal of hungerand hard fortune, and even other things more easily felt than told. "Andres seized his bread and cheese, and seeing that nobody gave him anythingmore, bent his head, and took hold of the road, as the saying is. However, beforeleaving he said, "For the love of God, sir knight-errant, if you ever meet me again, though you may see them cutting me to pieces, give me no aid or succour, butleave me to my misfortune, which will not be so great but that a greater will cometo me by being helped by your worship, on whom and all the knights-errant thathave ever been born God send his curse. "Don Quixote was getting up to chastise him, but he took to his heels at such apace that no one attempted to follow him; and mightily chapfallen was DonQuixote at Andres' story, and the others had to take great care to restrain theirlaughter so as not to put him entirely out of countenance. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXII. WHICH TREATS OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE'S PARTY AT THEINNTheir dainty repast being finished, they saddled at once, and without anyadventure worth mentioning they reached next day the inn, the object of SanchoPanza's fear and dread; but though he would have rather not entered it, there wasno help for it. The landlady, the landlord, their daughter, and Maritornes, whenthey saw Don Quixote and Sancho coming, went out to welcome them with signsof hearty satisfaction, which Don Quixote received with dignity and gravity, andbade them make up a better bed for him than the last time: to which the landladyreplied that if he paid better than he did the last time she would give him one fitfor a prince. Don Quixote said he would, so they made up a tolerable one for himin the same garret as before; and he lay down at once, being sorely shaken and inwant of sleep. No sooner was the door shut upon him than the landlady made at the barber, and seizing him by the beard, said:"By my faith you are not going to make a beard of my tail any longer; you mustgive me back tail, for it is a shame the way that thing of my husband's goestossing about on the floor; I mean the comb that I used to stick in my good tail. "But for all she tugged at it the barber would not give it up until the licentiatetold him to let her have it, as there was now no further occasion for thatstratagem, because he might declare himself and appear in his own character, andtell Don Quixote that he had fled to this inn when those thieves the galley slavesrobbed him; and should he ask for the princess's squire, they could tell him thatshe had sent him on before her to give notice to the people of her kingdom thatshe was coming, and bringing with her the deliverer of them all. On this thebarber cheerfully restored the tail to the landlady, and at the same time theyreturned all the accessories they had borrowed to effect Don Quixote'sdeliverance. All the people of the inn were struck with astonishment at the beautyof Dorothea, and even at the comely figure of the shepherd Cardenio. The curatemade them get ready such fare as there was in the inn, and the landlord, in hopeof better payment, served them up a tolerably good dinner. All this time DonQuixote was asleep, and they thought it best not to waken him, as sleeping wouldnow do him more good than eating. While at dinner, the company consisting of the landlord, his wife, theirdaughter, Maritornes, and all the travellers, they discussed the strange craze ofDon Quixote and the manner in which he had been found; and the landlady toldthem what had taken place between him and the carrier; and then, looking roundto see if Sancho was there, when she saw he was not, she gave them the wholestory of his blanketing, which they received with no little amusement. But on thecurate observing that it was the books of chivalry which Don Quixote had readthat had turned his brain, the landlord said:"I cannot understand how that can be, for in truth to my mind there is no betterreading in the world, and I have here two or three of them, with other writingsthat are the very life, not only of myself but of plenty more; for when it is harvest-time, the reapers flock here on holidays, and there is always one among them whocan read and who takes up one of these books, and we gather round him, thirty ormore of us, and stay listening to him with a delight that makes our grey hairsgrow young again. At least I can say for myself that when I hear of what furiousand terrible blows the knights deliver, I am seized with the longing to do thesame, and I would like to be hearing about them night and day. ""And I just as much, " said the landlady, "because I never have a quiet momentin my house except when you are listening to some one reading; for then you areso taken up that for the time being you forget to scold. ""That is true, " said Maritornes; "and, faith, I relish hearing these things greatlytoo, for they are very pretty; especially when they describe some lady or anotherin the arms of her knight under the orange trees, and the duenna who is keepingwatch for them half dead with envy and fright; all this I say is as good as honey. ""And you, what do you think, young lady?" said the curate turning to thelandlord's daughter. "I don't know indeed, senor, " said she; "I listen too, and to tell the truth, thoughI do not understand it, I like hearing it; but it is not the blows that my father likesthat I like, but the laments the knights utter when they are separated from theirladies; and indeed they sometimes make me weep with the pity I feel for them. ""Then you would console them if it was for you they wept, young lady?" saidDorothea. "I don't know what I should do, " said the girl; "I only know that there are someof those ladies so cruel that they call their knights tigers and lions and a thousandother foul names: and Jesus! I don't know what sort of folk they can be, sounfeeling and heartless, that rather than bestow a glance upon a worthy man theyleave him to die or go mad. I don't know what is the good of such prudery; if it isfor honour's sake, why not marry them? That's all they want. ""Hush, child, " said the landlady; "it seems to me thou knowest a great dealabout these things, and it is not fit for girls to know or talk so much. ""As the gentleman asked me, I could not help answering him, " said the girl. "Well then, " said the curate, "bring me these books, senor landlord, for I shouldlike to see them. ""With all my heart, " said he, and going into his own room he brought out an oldvalise secured with a little chain, on opening which the curate found in it threelarge books and some manuscripts written in a very good hand. The first that heopened he found to be "Don Cirongilio of Thrace, " and the second "Don Felixmarteof Hircania, " and the other the "History of the Great Captain Gonzalo Hernandezde Cordova, with the Life of Diego Garcia de Paredes. "When the curate read the two first titles he looked over at the barber and said, "We want my friend's housekeeper and niece here now. ""Nay, " said the barber, "I can do just as well to carry them to the yard or to thehearth, and there is a very good fire there. ""What! your worship would burn my books!" said the landlord. "Only these two, " said the curate, "Don Cirongilio, and Felixmarte. ""Are my books, then, heretics or phlegmaties that you want to burn them?" saidthe landlord. "Schismatics you mean, friend, " said the barber, "not phlegmatics. ""That's it, " said the landlord; "but if you want to burn any, let it be that aboutthe Great Captain and that Diego Garcia; for I would rather have a child of mineburnt than either of the others. ""Brother, " said the curate, "those two books are made up of lies, and are full offolly and nonsense; but this of the Great Captain is a true history, and containsthe deeds of Gonzalo Hernandez of Cordova, who by his many and greatachievements earned the title all over the world of the Great Captain, a famousand illustrious name, and deserved by him alone; and this Diego Garcia deParedes was a distinguished knight of the city of Trujillo in Estremadura, a mostgallant soldier, and of such bodily strength that with one finger he stopped a mill-wheel in full motion; and posted with a two-handed sword at the foot of a bridgehe kept the whole of an immense army from passing over it, and achieved suchother exploits that if, instead of his relating them himself with the modesty of aknight and of one writing his own history, some free and unbiassed writer hadrecorded them, they would have thrown into the shade all the deeds of theHectors, Achilleses, and Rolands. ""Tell that to my father, " said the landlord. "There's a thing to be astonished at!Stopping a mill-wheel! By God your worship should read what I have read ofFelixmarte of Hircania, how with one single backstroke he cleft five giants asunderthrough the middle as if they had been made of bean-pods like the little friars thechildren make; and another time he attacked a very great and powerful army, inwhich there were more than a million six hundred thousand soldiers, all armedfrom head to foot, and he routed them all as if they had been flocks of sheep. ""And then, what do you say to the good Cirongilio of Thrace, that was so stoutand bold; as may be seen in the book, where it is related that as he was sailingalong a river there came up out of the midst of the water against him a fieryserpent, and he, as soon as he saw it, flung himself upon it and got astride of itsscaly shoulders, and squeezed its throat with both hands with such force that theserpent, finding he was throttling it, had nothing for it but to let itself sink to thebottom of the river, carrying with it the knight who would not let go his hold; andwhen they got down there he found himself among palaces and gardens so prettythat it was a wonder to see; and then the serpent changed itself into an oldancient man, who told him such things as were never heard. Hold your peace, senor; for if you were to hear this you would go mad with delight. A couple of figsfor your Great Captain and your Diego Garcia!"Hearing this Dorothea said in a whisper to Cardenio, "Our landlord is almost fitto play a second part to Don Quixote. ""I think so, " said Cardenio, "for, as he shows, he accepts it as a certainty thateverything those books relate took place exactly as it is written down; and thebarefooted friars themselves would not persuade him to the contrary. ""But consider, brother, " said the curate once more, "there never was anyFelixmarte of Hircania in the world, nor any Cirongilio of Thrace, or any of theother knights of the same sort, that the books of chivalry talk of; the whole thingis the fabrication and invention of idle wits, devised by them for the purpose youdescribe of beguiling the time, as your reapers do when they read; for I swear toyou in all seriousness there never were any such knights in the world, and nosuch exploits or nonsense ever happened anywhere. ""Try that bone on another dog, " said the landlord; "as if I did not know howmany make five, and where my shoe pinches me; don't think to feed me with pap, for by God I am no fool. It is a good joke for your worship to try and persuade methat everything these good books say is nonsense and lies, and they printed by thelicense of the Lords of the Royal Council, as if they were people who would allowsuch a lot of lies to be printed all together, and so many battles and enchantmentsthat they take away one's senses. ""I have told you, friend, " said the curate, "that this is done to divert our idlethoughts; and as in well-ordered states games of chess, fives, and billiards areallowed for the diversion of those who do not care, or are not obliged, or areunable to work, so books of this kind are allowed to be printed, on thesupposition that, what indeed is the truth, there can be nobody so ignorant as totake any of them for true stories; and if it were permitted me now, and thepresent company desired it, I could say something about the qualities books ofchivalry should possess to be good ones, that would be to the advantage and evento the taste of some; but I hope the time will come when I can communicate myideas to some one who may be able to mend matters; and in the meantime, senorlandlord, believe what I have said, and take your books, and make up your mindabout their truth or falsehood, and much good may they do you; and God grantyou may not fall lame of the same foot your guest Don Quixote halts on. ""No fear of that, " returned the landlord; "I shall not be so mad as to make aknight-errant of myself; for I see well enough that things are not now as they usedto be in those days, when they say those famous knights roamed about the world. "Sancho had made his appearance in the middle of this conversation, and he wasvery much troubled and cast down by what he heard said about knights-errantbeing now no longer in vogue, and all books of chivalry being folly and lies; andhe resolved in his heart to wait and see what came of this journey of his master's, and if it did not turn out as happily as his master expected, he determined toleave him and go back to his wife and children and his ordinary labour. The landlord was carrying away the valise and the books, but the curate said tohim, "Wait; I want to see what those papers are that are written in such a goodhand. " The landlord taking them out handed them to him to read, and heperceived they were a work of about eight sheets of manuscript, with, in largeletters at the beginning, the title of "Novel of the Ill-advised Curiosity. " The curateread three or four lines to himself, and said, "I must say the title of this noveldoes not seem to me a bad one, and I feel an inclination to read it all. " To whichthe landlord replied, "Then your reverence will do well to read it, for I can tell youthat some guests who have read it here have been much pleased with it, and havebegged it of me very earnestly; but I would not give it, meaning to return it to theperson who forgot the valise, books, and papers here, for maybe he will returnhere some time or other; and though I know I shall miss the books, faith I meanto return them; for though I am an innkeeper, still I am a Christian. ""You are very right, friend, " said the curate; "but for all that, if the novel pleasesme you must let me copy it. ""With all my heart, " replied the host. While they were talking Cardenio had taken up the novel and begun to read it, and forming the same opinion of it as the curate, he begged him to read it so thatthey might all hear it. "I would read it, " said the curate, "if the time would not be better spent insleeping. ""It will be rest enough for me, " said Dorothea, "to while away the time bylistening to some tale, for my spirits are not yet tranquil enough to let me sleepwhen it would be seasonable. ""Well then, in that case, " said the curate, "I will read it, if it were only out ofcuriosity; perhaps it may contain something pleasant. "Master Nicholas added his entreaties to the same effect, and Sancho too; seeingwhich, and considering that he would give pleasure to all, and receive it himself, the curate said, "Well then, attend to me everyone, for the novel begins thus. "DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 13. Chapters 33-40EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXIII. IN WHICH IS RELATED THE NOVEL OF "THE ILL-ADVISEDCURIOSITY"In Florence, a rich and famous city of Italy in the province called Tuscany, therelived two gentlemen of wealth and quality, Anselmo and Lothario, such greatfriends that by way of distinction they were called by all that knew them "TheTwo Friends. " They were unmarried, young, of the same age and of the sametastes, which was enough to account for the reciprocal friendship between them. Anselmo, it is true, was somewhat more inclined to seek pleasure in love thanLothario, for whom the pleasures of the chase had more attraction; but onoccasion Anselmo would forego his own tastes to yield to those of Lothario, andLothario would surrender his to fall in with those of Anselmo, and in this waytheir inclinations kept pace one with the other with a concord so perfect that thebest regulated clock could not surpass it. Anselmo was deep in love with a high-born and beautiful maiden of the samecity, the daughter of parents so estimable, and so estimable herself, that heresolved, with the approval of his friend Lothario, without whom he did nothing, to ask her of them in marriage, and did so, Lothario being the bearer of thedemand, and conducting the negotiation so much to the satisfaction of his friendthat in a short time he was in possession of the object of his desires, and Camillaso happy in having won Anselmo for her husband, that she gave thanksunceasingly to heaven and to Lothario, by whose means such good fortune hadfallen to her. The first few days, those of a wedding being usually days of merry-making, Lothario frequented his friend Anselmo's house as he had been wont, striving to do honour to him and to the occasion, and to gratify him in every wayhe could; but when the wedding days were over and the succession of visits andcongratulations had slackened, he began purposely to leave off going to the houseof Anselmo, for it seemed to him, as it naturally would to all men of sense, thatfriends' houses ought not to be visited after marriage with the same frequency asin their masters' bachelor days: because, though true and genuine friendshipcannot and should not be in any way suspicious, still a married man's honour is athing of such delicacy that it is held liable to injury from brothers, much morefrom friends. Anselmo remarked the cessation of Lothario's visits, and complainedof it to him, saying that if he had known that marriage was to keep him fromenjoying his society as he used, he would have never married; and that, if by thethorough harmony that subsisted between them while he was a bachelor they hadearned such a sweet name as that of "The Two Friends, " he should not allow atitle so rare and so delightful to be lost through a needless anxiety to actcircumspectly; and so he entreated him, if such a phrase was allowable betweenthem, to be once more master of his house and to come in and go out as formerly, assuring him that his wife Camilla had no other desire or inclination than thatwhich he would wish her to have, and that knowing how sincerely they loved oneanother she was grieved to see such coldness in him. To all this and much more that Anselmo said to Lothario to persuade him tocome to his house as he had been in the habit of doing, Lothario replied with somuch prudence, sense, and judgment, that Anselmo was satisfied of his friend'sgood intentions, and it was agreed that on two days in the week, and on holidays, Lothario should come to dine with him; but though this arrangement was madebetween them Lothario resolved to observe it no further than he considered to bein accordance with the honour of his friend, whose good name was more to himthan his own. He said, and justly, that a married man upon whom heaven hadbestowed a beautiful wife should consider as carefully what friends he brought tohis house as what female friends his wife associated with, for what cannot bedone or arranged in the market-place, in church, at public festivals or at stations(opportunities that husbands cannot always deny their wives), may be easilymanaged in the house of the female friend or relative in whom most confidence isreposed. Lothario said, too, that every married man should have some friend whowould point out to him any negligence he might be guilty of in his conduct, for itwill sometimes happen that owing to the deep affection the husband bears hiswife either he does not caution her, or, not to vex her, refrains from telling her todo or not to do certain things, doing or avoiding which may be a matter of honouror reproach to him; and errors of this kind he could easily correct if warned by afriend. But where is such a friend to be found as Lothario would have, sojudicious, so loyal, and so true?Of a truth I know not; Lothario alone was such a one, for with the utmost careand vigilance he watched over the honour of his friend, and strove to diminish, cut down, and reduce the number of days for going to his house according to theiragreement, lest the visits of a young man, wealthy, high-born, and with theattractions he was conscious of possessing, at the house of a woman so beautifulas Camilla, should be regarded with suspicion by the inquisitive and maliciouseyes of the idle public. For though his integrity and reputation might bridleslanderous tongues, still he was unwilling to hazard either his own good name orthat of his friend; and for this reason most of the days agreed upon he devoted tosome other business which he pretended was unavoidable; so that a great portionof the day was taken up with complaints on one side and excuses on the other. Ithappened, however, that on one occasion when the two were strolling togetheroutside the city, Anselmo addressed the following words to Lothario. "Thou mayest suppose, Lothario my friend, that I am unable to give sufficientthanks for the favours God has rendered me in making me the son of such parentsas mine were, and bestowing upon me with no niggard hand what are called thegifts of nature as well as those of fortune, and above all for what he has done ingiving me thee for a friend and Camilla for a wife--two treasures that I value, ifnot as highly as I ought, at least as highly as I am able. And yet, with all thesegood things, which are commonly all that men need to enable them to livehappily, I am the most discontented and dissatisfied man in the whole world; for, I know not how long since, I have been harassed and oppressed by a desire sostrange and so unusual, that I wonder at myself and blame and chide myself whenI am alone, and strive to stifle it and hide it from my own thoughts, and with nobetter success than if I were endeavouring deliberately to publish it to all theworld; and as, in short, it must come out, I would confide it to thy safe keeping, feeling sure that by this means, and by thy readiness as a true friend to afford merelief, I shall soon find myself freed from the distress it causes me, and that thycare will give me happiness in the same degree as my own folly has caused memisery. "The words of Anselmo struck Lothario with astonishment, unable as he was toconjecture the purport of such a lengthy preamble; and though he strove toimagine what desire it could be that so troubled his friend, his conjectures wereall far from the truth, and to relieve the anxiety which this perplexity was causinghim, he told him he was doing a flagrant injustice to their great friendship inseeking circuitous methods of confiding to him his most hidden thoughts, for hewell knew he might reckon upon his counsel in diverting them, or his help incarrying them into effect. "That is the truth, " replied Anselmo, "and relying upon that I will tell thee, friend Lothario, that the desire which harasses me is that of knowing whether mywife Camilla is as good and as perfect as I think her to be; and I cannot satisfymyself of the truth on this point except by testing her in such a way that the trialmay prove the purity of her virtue as the fire proves that of gold; because I ampersuaded, my friend, that a woman is virtuous only in proportion as she is or isnot tempted; and that she alone is strong who does not yield to the promises, gifts, tears, and importunities of earnest lovers; for what thanks does a womandeserve for being good if no one urges her to be bad, and what wonder is it thatshe is reserved and circumspect to whom no opportunity is given of going wrongand who knows she has a husband that will take her life the first time he detectsher in an impropriety? I do not therefore hold her who is virtuous through fear orwant of opportunity in the same estimation as her who comes out of temptationand trial with a crown of victory; and so, for these reasons and many others that Icould give thee to justify and support the opinion I hold, I am desirous that mywife Camilla should pass this crisis, and be refined and tested by the fire offinding herself wooed and by one worthy to set his affections upon her; and if shecomes out, as I know she will, victorious from this struggle, I shall look upon mygood fortune as unequalled, I shall be able to say that the cup of my desire is full, and that the virtuous woman of whom the sage says 'Who shall find her?' hasfallen to my lot. And if the result be the contrary of what I expect, in thesatisfaction of knowing that I have been right in my opinion, I shall bear withoutcomplaint the pain which my so dearly bought experience will naturally cause me. And, as nothing of all thou wilt urge in opposition to my wish will avail to keepme from carrying it into effect, it is my desire, friend Lothario, that thou shouldstconsent to become the instrument for effecting this purpose that I am bent upon, for I will afford thee opportunities to that end, and nothing shall be wanting that Imay think necessary for the pursuit of a virtuous, honourable, modest and high-minded woman. And among other reasons, I am induced to entrust this arduoustask to thee by the consideration that if Camilla be conquered by thee theconquest will not be pushed to extremes, but only far enough to account thataccomplished which from a sense of honour will be left undone; thus I shall notbe wronged in anything more than intention, and my wrong will remain buried inthe integrity of thy silence, which I know well will be as lasting as that of death inwhat concerns me. If, therefore, thou wouldst have me enjoy what can be calledlife, thou wilt at once engage in this love struggle, not lukewarmly nor slothfully, but with the energy and zeal that my desire demands, and with the loyalty ourfriendship assures me of. "Such were the words Anselmo addressed to Lothario, who listened to them withsuch attention that, except to say what has been already mentioned, he did notopen his lips until the other had finished. Then perceiving that he had no more tosay, after regarding him for awhile, as one would regard something never beforeseen that excited wonder and amazement, he said to him, "I cannot persuademyself, Anselmo my friend, that what thou hast said to me is not in jest; if Ithought that thou wert speaking seriously I would not have allowed thee to go sofar; so as to put a stop to thy long harangue by not listening to thee I verilysuspect that either thou dost not know me, or I do not know thee; but no, I knowwell thou art Anselmo, and thou knowest that I am Lothario; the misfortune is, itseems to me, that thou art not the Anselmo thou wert, and must have thoughtthat I am not the Lothario I should be; for the things that thou hast said to me arenot those of that Anselmo who was my friend, nor are those that thou demandestof me what should be asked of the Lothario thou knowest. True friends will provetheir friends and make use of them, as a poet has said, usque ad aras; whereby hemeant that they will not make use of their friendship in things that are contrary toGod's will. If this, then, was a heathen's feeling about friendship, how much moreshould it be a Christian's, who knows that the divine must not be forfeited for thesake of any human friendship? And if a friend should go so far as to put aside hisduty to Heaven to fulfil his duty to his friend, it should not be in matters that aretrifling or of little moment, but in such as affect the friend's life and honour. Nowtell me, Anselmo, in which of these two art thou imperilled, that I should hazardmyself to gratify thee, and do a thing so detestable as that thou seekest of me?Neither forsooth; on the contrary, thou dost ask of me, so far as I understand, tostrive and labour to rob thee of honour and life, and to rob myself of them at thesame time; for if I take away thy honour it is plain I take away thy life, as a manwithout honour is worse than dead; and being the instrument, as thou wilt have itso, of so much wrong to thee, shall not I, too, be left without honour, andconsequently without life? Listen to me, Anselmo my friend, and be not impatientto answer me until I have said what occurs to me touching the object of thydesire, for there will be time enough left for thee to reply and for me to hear. ""Be it so, " said Anselmo, "say what thou wilt. "Lothario then went on to say, "It seems to me, Anselmo, that thine is just nowthe temper of mind which is always that of the Moors, who can never be broughtto see the error of their creed by quotations from the Holy Scriptures, or byreasons which depend upon the examination of the understanding or are foundedupon the articles of faith, but must have examples that are palpable, easy, intelligible, capable of proof, not admitting of doubt, with mathematicaldemonstrations that cannot be denied, like, 'If equals be taken from equals, theremainders are equal:' and if they do not understand this in words, and indeedthey do not, it has to be shown to them with the hands, and put before their eyes, and even with all this no one succeeds in convincing them of the truth of our holyreligion. This same mode of proceeding I shall have to adopt with thee, for thedesire which has sprung up in thee is so absurd and remote from everything thathas a semblance of reason, that I feel it would be a waste of time to employ it inreasoning with thy simplicity, for at present I will call it by no other name; and Iam even tempted to leave thee in thy folly as a punishment for thy perniciousdesire; but the friendship I bear thee, which will not allow me to desert thee insuch manifest danger of destruction, keeps me from dealing so harshly by thee. And that thou mayest clearly see this, say, Anselmo, hast thou not told me that Imust force my suit upon a modest woman, decoy one that is virtuous, makeovertures to one that is pure-minded, pay court to one that is prudent? Yes, thouhast told me so. Then, if thou knowest that thou hast a wife, modest, virtuous, pure-minded and prudent, what is it that thou seekest? And if thou believest thatshe will come forth victorious from all my attacks--as doubtless she would--whathigher titles than those she possesses now dost thou think thou canst upon herthen, or in what will she be better then than she is now? Either thou dost not holdher to be what thou sayest, or thou knowest not what thou dost demand. If thoudost not hold her to be what thou why dost thou seek to prove her instead oftreating her as guilty in the way that may seem best to thee? but if she be asvirtuous as thou believest, it is an uncalled-for proceeding to make trial of truthitself, for, after trial, it will but be in the same estimation as before. Thus, then, itis conclusive that to attempt things from which harm rather than advantage maycome to us is the part of unreasoning and reckless minds, more especially whenthey are things which we are not forced or compelled to attempt, and which showfrom afar that it is plainly madness to attempt them. "Difficulties are attempted either for the sake of God or for the sake of theworld, or for both; those undertaken for God's sake are those which the saintsundertake when they attempt to live the lives of angels in human bodies; thoseundertaken for the sake of the world are those of the men who traverse such avast expanse of water, such a variety of climates, so many strange countries, toacquire what are called the blessings of fortune; and those undertaken for thesake of God and the world together are those of brave soldiers, who no sooner dothey see in the enemy's wall a breach as wide as a cannon ball could make, than, casting aside all fear, without hesitating, or heeding the manifest peril thatthreatens them, borne onward by the desire of defending their faith, their country, and their king, they fling themselves dauntlessly into the midst of the thousandopposing deaths that await them. Such are the things that men are wont toattempt, and there is honour, glory, gain, in attempting them, however full ofdifficulty and peril they may be; but that which thou sayest it is thy wish toattempt and carry out will not win thee the glory of God nor the blessings offortune nor fame among men; for even if the issue he as thou wouldst have it, thou wilt be no happier, richer, or more honoured than thou art this moment; andif it be otherwise thou wilt be reduced to misery greater than can be imagined, forthen it

will avail thee nothing to reflect that no one is aware of the misfortunethat has befallen thee; it will suffice to torture and crush thee that thou knowest itthyself. And in confirmation of the truth of what I say, let me repeat to thee astanza made by the famous poet Luigi Tansillo at the end of the first part of his'Tears of Saint Peter, ' which says thus:The anguish and the shame but greater grew In Peter's heart as morning slowlycame; No eye was there to see him, well he knew, Yet he himself was to himself ashame; Exposed to all men's gaze, or screened from view, A noble heart will feelthe pang the same; A prey to shame the sinning soul will be, Though none butheaven and earth its shame can see. Thus by keeping it secret thou wilt not escape thy sorrow, but rather thou wiltshed tears unceasingly, if not tears of the eyes, tears of blood from the heart, likethose shed by that simple doctor our poet tells us of, that tried the test of the cup, which the wise Rinaldo, better advised, refused to do; for though this may be apoetic fiction it contains a moral lesson worthy of attention and study andimitation. Moreover by what I am about to say to thee thou wilt be led to see thegreat error thou wouldst commit. "Tell me, Anselmo, if Heaven or good fortune had made thee master and lawfulowner of a diamond of the finest quality, with the excellence and purity of whichall the lapidaries that had seen it had been satisfied, saying with one voice andcommon consent that in purity, quality, and fineness, it was all that a stone of thekind could possibly be, thou thyself too being of the same belief, as knowingnothing to the contrary, would it be reasonable in thee to desire to take thatdiamond and place it between an anvil and a hammer, and by mere force of blowsand strength of arm try if it were as hard and as fine as they said? And if thoudidst, and if the stone should resist so silly a test, that would add nothing to itsvalue or reputation; and if it were broken, as it might be, would not all be lost?Undoubtedly it would, leaving its owner to be rated as a fool in the opinion of all. Consider, then, Anselmo my friend, that Camilla is a diamond of the finest qualityas well in thy estimation as in that of others, and that it is contrary to reason toexpose her to the risk of being broken; for if she remains intact she cannot rise toa higher value than she now possesses; and if she give way and be unable toresist, bethink thee now how thou wilt be deprived of her, and with what goodreason thou wilt complain of thyself for having been the cause of her ruin andthine own. Remember there is no jewel in the world so precious as a chaste andvirtuous woman, and that the whole honour of women consists in reputation; andsince thy wife's is of that high excellence that thou knowest, wherefore shouldstthou seek to call that truth in question? Remember, my friend, that woman is animperfect animal, and that impediments are not to be placed in her way to makeher trip and fall, but that they should be removed, and her path left clear of allobstacles, so that without hindrance she may run her course freely to attain thedesired perfection, which consists in being virtuous. Naturalists tell us that theermine is a little animal which has a fur of purest white, and that when thehunters wish to take it, they make use of this artifice. Having ascertained theplaces which it frequents and passes, they stop the way to them with mud, andthen rousing it, drive it towards the spot, and as soon as the ermine comes to themud it halts, and allows itself to be taken captive rather than pass through themire, and spoil and sully its whiteness, which it values more than life and liberty. The virtuous and chaste woman is an ermine, and whiter and purer than snow isthe virtue of modesty; and he who wishes her not to lose it, but to keep andpreserve it, must adopt a course different from that employed with the ermine; hemust not put before her the mire of the gifts and attentions of persevering lovers, because perhaps--and even without a perhaps--she may not have sufficient virtueand natural strength in herself to pass through and tread under foot theseimpediments; they must be removed, and the brightness of virtue and the beautyof a fair fame must be put before her. A virtuous woman, too, is like a mirror, ofclear shining crystal, liable to be tarnished and dimmed by every breath thattouches it. She must be treated as relics are; adored, not touched. She must beprotected and prized as one protects and prizes a fair garden full of roses andflowers, the owner of which allows no one to trespass or pluck a blossom; enoughfor others that from afar and through the iron grating they may enjoy its fragranceand its beauty. Finally let me repeat to thee some verses that come to my mind; Iheard them in a modern comedy, and it seems to me they bear upon the point weare discussing. A prudent old man was giving advice to another, the father of ayoung girl, to lock her up, watch over her and keep her in seclusion, and amongother arguments he used these:Woman is a thing of glass;But her brittleness 'tis bestNot too curiously to test:Who knows what may come to pass?Breaking is an easy matter, And it's folly to exposeWhat you cannot mend to blows;What you can't make whole to shatter. This, then, all may hold as true, And the reason's plain to see;For if Danaes there be, There are golden showers too. ""All that I have said to thee so far, Anselmo, has had reference to what concernsthee; now it is right that I should say something of what regards myself; and if Ibe prolix, pardon me, for the labyrinth into which thou hast entered and fromwhich thou wouldst have me extricate thee makes it necessary. "Thou dost reckon me thy friend, and thou wouldst rob me of honour, a thingwholly inconsistent with friendship; and not only dost thou aim at this, but thouwouldst have me rob thee of it also. That thou wouldst rob me of it is clear, forwhen Camilla sees that I pay court to her as thou requirest, she will certainlyregard me as a man without honour or right feeling, since I attempt and do athing so much opposed to what I owe to my own position and thy friendship. Thatthou wouldst have me rob thee of it is beyond a doubt, for Camilla, seeing that Ipress my suit upon her, will suppose that I have perceived in her something lightthat has encouraged me to make known to her my base desire; and if she holdsherself dishonoured, her dishonour touches thee as belonging to her; and hencearises what so commonly takes place, that the husband of the adulterous woman, though he may not be aware of or have given any cause for his wife's failure in herduty, or (being careless or negligent) have had it in his power to prevent hisdishonour, nevertheless is stigmatised by a vile and reproachful name, and in amanner regarded with eyes of contempt instead of pity by all who know of hiswife's guilt, though they see that he is unfortunate not by his own fault, but bythe lust of a vicious consort. But I will tell thee why with good reason dishonourattaches to the husband of the unchaste wife, though he know not that she is so, nor be to blame, nor have done anything, or given any provocation to make herso; and be not weary with listening to me, for it will be for thy good. "When God created our first parent in the earthly paradise, the Holy Scripturesays that he infused sleep into Adam and while he slept took a rib from his leftside of which he formed our mother Eve, and when Adam awoke and beheld herhe said, 'This is flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone. ' And God said 'For thisshall a man leave his father and his mother, and they shall be two in one flesh;and then was instituted the divine sacrament of marriage, with such ties thatdeath alone can loose them. And such is the force and virtue of this miraculoussacrament that it makes two different persons one and the same flesh; and evenmore than this when the virtuous are married; for though they have two soulsthey have but one will. And hence it follows that as the flesh of the wife is oneand the same with that of her husband the stains that may come upon it, or theinjuries it incurs fall upon the husband's flesh, though he, as has been said, mayhave given no cause for them; for as the pain of the foot or any member of thebody is felt by the whole body, because all is one flesh, as the head feels the hurtto the ankle without having caused it, so the husband, being one with her, sharesthe dishonour of the wife; and as all worldly honour or dishonour comes of fleshand blood, and the erring wife's is of that kind, the husband must needs bear hispart of it and be held dishonoured without knowing it. See, then, Anselmo, theperil thou art encountering in seeking to disturb the peace of thy virtuous consort;see for what an empty and ill-advised curiosity thou wouldst rouse up passionsthat now repose in quiet in the breast of thy chaste wife; reflect that what thouart staking all to win is little, and what thou wilt lose so much that I leave itundescribed, not having the words to express it. But if all I have said be notenough to turn thee from thy vile purpose, thou must seek some other instrumentfor thy dishonour and misfortune; for such I will not consent to be, though I losethy friendship, the greatest loss that I can conceive. "Having said this, the wise and virtuous Lothario was silent, and Anselmo, troubled in mind and deep in thought, was unable for a while to utter a word inreply; but at length he said, "I have listened, Lothario my friend, attentively, asthou hast seen, to what thou hast chosen to say to me, and in thy arguments, examples, and comparisons I have seen that high intelligence thou dost possess, and the perfection of true friendship thou hast reached; and likewise I see andconfess that if I am not guided by thy opinion, but follow my own, I am flyingfrom the good and pursuing the evil. This being so, thou must remember that I amnow labouring under that infirmity which women sometimes suffer from, whenthe craving seizes them to eat clay, plaster, charcoal, and things even worse, disgusting to look at, much more to eat; so that it will be necessary to haverecourse to some artifice to cure me; and this can be easily effected if only thouwilt make a beginning, even though it be in a lukewarm and make-believe fashion, to pay court to Camilla, who will not be so yielding that her virtue will give wayat the first attack: with this mere attempt I shall rest satisfied, and thou wilt havedone what our friendship binds thee to do, not only in giving me life, but inpersuading me not to discard my honour. And this thou art bound to do for onereason alone, that, being, as I am, resolved to apply this test, it is not for thee topermit me to reveal my weakness to another, and so imperil that honour thou artstriving to keep me from losing; and if thine may not stand as high as it ought inthe estimation of Camilla while thou art paying court to her, that is of little or noimportance, because ere long, on finding in her that constancy which we expect, thou canst tell her the plain truth as regards our stratagem, and so regain thyplace in her esteem; and as thou art venturing so little, and by the venture canstafford me so much satisfaction, refuse not to undertake it, even if furtherdifficulties present themselves to thee; for, as I have said, if thou wilt only make abeginning I will acknowledge the issue decided. "Lothario seeing the fixed determination of Anselmo, and not knowing whatfurther examples to offer or arguments to urge in order to dissuade him from it, and perceiving that he threatened to confide his pernicious scheme to some oneelse, to avoid a greater evil resolved to gratify him and do what he asked, intending to manage the business so as to satisfy Anselmo without corrupting themind of Camilla; so in reply he told him not to communicate his purpose to anyother, for he would undertake the task himself, and would begin it as soon as hepleased. Anselmo embraced him warmly and affectionately, and thanked him forhis offer as if he had bestowed some great favour upon him; and it was agreedbetween them to set about it the next day, Anselmo affording opportunity andtime to Lothario to converse alone with Camilla, and furnishing him with moneyand jewels to offer and present to her. He suggested, too, that he should treat herto music, and write verses in her praise, and if he was unwilling to take thetrouble of composing them, he offered to do it himself. Lothario agreed to all withan intention very different from what Anselmo supposed, and with thisunderstanding they returned to Anselmo's house, where they found Camillaawaiting her husband anxiously and uneasily, for he was later than usual inreturning that day. Lothario repaired to his own house, and Anselmo remained inhis, as well satisfied as Lothario was troubled in mind; for he could see nosatisfactory way out of this ill-advised business. That night, however, he thoughtof a plan by which he might deceive Anselmo without any injury to Camilla. Thenext day he went to dine with his friend, and was welcomed by Camilla, whoreceived and treated him with great cordiality, knowing the affection her husbandfelt for him. When dinner was over and the cloth removed, Anselmo told Lotharioto stay there with Camilla while he attended to some pressing business, as hewould return in an hour and a half. Camilla begged him not to go, and Lothariooffered to accompany him, but nothing could persuade Anselmo, who on thecontrary pressed Lothario to remain waiting for him as he had a matter of greatimportance to discuss with him. At the same time he bade Camilla not to leaveLothario alone until he came back. In short he contrived to put so good a face onthe reason, or the folly, of his absence that no one could have suspected it was apretence. Anselmo took his departure, and Camilla and Lothario were left alone at thetable, for the rest of the household had gone to dinner. Lothario saw himself inthe lists according to his friend's wish, and facing an enemy that could by herbeauty alone vanquish a squadron of armed knights; judge whether he had goodreason to fear; but what he did was to lean his elbow on the arm of the chair, andhis cheek upon his hand, and, asking Camilla's pardon for his ill manners, he saidhe wished to take a little sleep until Anselmo returned. Camilla in reply said hecould repose more at his ease in the reception-room than in his chair, and beggedof him to go in and sleep there; but Lothario declined, and there he remainedasleep until the return of Anselmo, who finding Camilla in her own room, andLothario asleep, imagined that he had stayed away so long as to have affordedthem time enough for conversation and even for sleep, and was all impatienceuntil Lothario should wake up, that he might go out with him and question him asto his success. Everything fell out as he wished; Lothario awoke, and the two atonce left the house, and Anselmo asked what he was anxious to know, andLothario in answer told him that he had not thought it advisable to declarehimself entirely the first time, and therefore had only extolled the charms ofCamilla, telling her that all the city spoke of nothing else but her beauty and wit, for this seemed to him an excellent way of beginning to gain her good-will andrender her disposed to listen to him with pleasure the next time, thus availinghimself of the device the devil has recourse to when he would deceive one who ison the watch; for he being the angel of darkness transforms himself into an angelof light, and, under cover of a fair seeming, discloses himself at length, and effectshis purpose if at the beginning his wiles are not discovered. All this gave greatsatisfaction to Anselmo, and he said he would afford the same opportunity everyday, but without leaving the house, for he would find things to do at home so thatCamilla should not detect the plot. Thus, then, several days went by, and Lothario, without uttering a word toCamilla, reported to Anselmo that he had talked with her and that he had neverbeen able to draw from her the slightest indication of consent to anythingdishonourable, nor even a sign or shadow of hope; on the contrary, he said shewould inform her husband of it. "So far well, " said Anselmo; "Camilla has thus far resisted words; we must nowsee how she will resist deeds. I will give you to-morrow two thousand crowns ingold for you to offer or even present, and as many more to buy jewels to lure her, for women are fond of being becomingly attired and going gaily dressed, and allthe more so if they are beautiful, however chaste they may be; and if she resiststhis temptation, I will rest satisfied and will give you no more trouble. "Lothario replied that now he had begun he would carry on the undertaking tothe end, though he perceived he was to come out of it wearied and vanquished. The next day he received the four thousand crowns, and with them four thousandperplexities, for he knew not what to say by way of a new falsehood; but in theend he made up his mind to tell him that Camilla stood as firm against gifts andpromises as against words, and that there was no use in taking any furthertrouble, for the time was all spent to no purpose. But chance, directing things in a different manner, so ordered it that Anselmo, having left Lothario and Camilla alone as on other occasions, shut himself into achamber and posted himself to watch and listen through the keyhole to whatpassed between them, and perceived that for more than half an hour Lothario didnot utter a word to Camilla, nor would utter a word though he were to be therefor an age; and he came to the conclusion that what his friend had told him aboutthe replies of Camilla was all invention and falsehood, and to ascertain if it wereso, he came out, and calling Lothario aside asked him what news he had and inwhat humour Camilla was. Lothario replied that he was not disposed to go onwith the business, for she had answered him so angrily and harshly that he hadno heart to say anything more to her. "Ah, Lothario, Lothario, " said Anselmo, "how ill dost thou meet thy obligationsto me, and the great confidence I repose in thee! I have been just now watchingthrough this keyhole, and I have seen that thou has not said a word to Camilla, whence I conclude that on the former occasions thou hast not spoken to hereither, and if this be so, as no doubt it is, why dost thou deceive me, or whereforeseekest thou by craft to deprive me of the means I might find of attaining mydesire?"Anselmo said no more, but he had said enough to cover Lothario with shameand confusion, and he, feeling as it were his honour touched by having beendetected in a lie, swore to Anselmo that he would from that moment devotehimself to satisfying him without any deception, as he would see if he had thecuriosity to watch; though he need not take the trouble, for the pains he wouldtake to satisfy him would remove all suspicions from his mind. Anselmo believedhim, and to afford him an opportunity more free and less liable to surprise, heresolved to absent himself from his house for eight days, betaking himself to thatof a friend of his who lived in a village not far from the city; and, the better toaccount for his departure to Camilla, he so arranged it that the friend should sendhim a very pressing invitation. Unhappy, shortsighted Anselmo, what art thou doing, what art thou plotting, what art thou devising? Bethink thee thou art working against thyself, plottingthine own dishonour, devising thine own ruin. Thy wife Camilla is virtuous, thoudost possess her in peace and quietness, no one assails thy happiness, herthoughts wander not beyond the walls of thy house, thou art her heaven on earth, the object of her wishes, the fulfilment of her desires, the measure wherewith shemeasures her will, making it conform in all things to thine and Heaven's. If, then, the mine of her honour, beauty, virtue, and modesty yields thee without labour allthe wealth it contains and thou canst wish for, why wilt thou dig the earth insearch of fresh veins, of new unknown treasure, risking the collapse of all, since itbut rests on the feeble props of her weak nature? Bethink thee that from him whoseeks impossibilities that which is possible may with justice be withheld, as wasbetter expressed by a poet who said:'Tis mine to seek for life in death, Health in disease seek I, I seek in prison freedom's breath, In traitors loyalty. So Fate that ever scorns to grantOr grace or boon to me, Since what can never be I want, Denies me what might be. The next day Anselmo took his departure for the village, leaving instructionswith Camilla that during his absence Lothario would come to look after his houseand to dine with her, and that she was to treat him as she would himself. Camillawas distressed, as a discreet and right-minded woman would be, at the orders herhusband left her, and bade him remember that it was not becoming that anyoneshould occupy his seat at the table during his absence, and if he acted thus fromnot feeling confidence that she would be able to manage his house, let him try herthis time, and he would find by experience that she was equal to greaterresponsibilities. Anselmo replied that it was his pleasure to have it so, and thatshe had only to submit and obey. Camilla said she would do so, though againsther will. Anselmo went, and the next day Lothario came to his house, where he wasreceived by Camilla with a friendly and modest welcome; but she never sufferedLothario to see her alone, for she was always attended by her men and womenservants, especially by a handmaid of hers, Leonela by name, to whom she wasmuch attached (for they had been brought up together from childhood in herfather's house), and whom she had kept with her after her marriage with Anselmo. The first three days Lothario did not speak to her, though he might have done sowhen they removed the cloth and the servants retired to dine hastily; for suchwere Camilla's orders; nay more, Leonela had directions to dine earlier thanCamilla and never to leave her side. She, however, having her thoughts fixed uponother things more to her taste, and wanting that time and opportunity for her ownpleasures, did not always obey her mistress's commands, but on the contrary leftthem alone, as if they had ordered her to do so; but the modest bearing ofCamilla, the calmness of her countenance, the composure of her aspect wereenough to bridle the tongue of Lothario. But the influence which the many virtuesof Camilla exerted in imposing silence on Lothario's tongue proved mischievousfor both of them, for if his tongue was silent his thoughts were busy, and coulddwell at leisure upon the perfections of Camilla's goodness and beauty one by one, charms enough to warm with love a marble statue, not to say a heart of flesh. Lothario gazed upon her when he might have been speaking to her, and thoughthow worthy of being loved she was; and thus reflection began little by little toassail his allegiance to Anselmo, and a thousand times he thought of withdrawingfrom the city and going where Anselmo should never see him nor he see Camilla. But already the delight he found in gazing on her interposed and held him fast. Heput a constraint upon himself, and struggled to repel and repress the pleasure hefound in contemplating Camilla; when alone he blamed himself for his weakness, called himself a bad friend, nay a bad Christian; then he argued the matter andcompared himself with Anselmo; always coming to the conclusion that the follyand rashness of Anselmo had been worse than his faithlessness, and that if hecould excuse his intentions as easily before God as with man, he had no reason tofear any punishment for his offence. In short the beauty and goodness of Camilla, joined with the opportunity whichthe blind husband had placed in his hands, overthrew the loyalty of Lothario; andgiving heed to nothing save the object towards which his inclinations led him, after Anselmo had been three days absent, during which he had been carrying ona continual struggle with his passion, he began to make love to Camilla with somuch vehemence and warmth of language that she was overwhelmed withamazement, and could only rise from her place and retire to her room withoutanswering him a word. But the hope which always springs up with love was notweakened in Lothario by this repelling demeanour; on the contrary his passion forCamilla increased, and she discovering in him what she had never expected, knewnot what to do; and considering it neither safe nor right to give him the chance oropportunity of speaking to her again, she resolved to send, as she did that verynight, one of her servants with a letter to Anselmo, in which she addressed thefollowing words to him. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXIV. IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE NOVEL OF "THE ILL-ADVISEDCURIOSITY""It is commonly said that an army looks ill without its general and a castlewithout its castellan, and I say that a young married woman looks still worsewithout her husband unless there are very good reasons for it. I find myself so illat ease without you, and so incapable of enduring this separation, that unless youreturn quickly I shall have to go for relief to my parents' house, even if I leaveyours without a protector; for the one you left me, if indeed he deserved that title, has, I think, more regard to his own pleasure than to what concerns you: as youare possessed of discernment I need say no more to you, nor indeed is it fitting Ishould say more. "Anselmo received this letter, and from it he gathered that Lothario had alreadybegun his task and that Camilla must have replied to him as he would havewished; and delighted beyond measure at such intelligence he sent word to hernot to leave his house on any account, as he would very shortly return. Camillawas astonished at Anselmo's reply, which placed her in greater perplexity thanbefore, for she neither dared to remain in her own house, nor yet to go to herparents'; for in remaining her virtue was imperilled, and in going she wasopposing her husband's commands. Finally she decided upon what was the worsecourse for her, to remain, resolving not to fly from the presence of Lothario, thatshe might not give food for gossip to her servants; and she now began to regrethaving written as she had to her husband, fearing he might imagine that Lothariohad perceived in her some lightness which had impelled him to lay aside therespect he owed her; but confident of her rectitude she put her trust in God andin her own virtuous intentions, with which she hoped to resist in silence all thesolicitations of Lothario, without saying anything to her husband so as not toinvolve him in any quarrel or trouble; and she even began to consider how toexcuse Lothario to Anselmo when he should ask her what it was that induced herto write that letter. With these resolutions, more honourable than judicious oreffectual, she remained the next day listening to Lothario, who pressed his suit sostrenuously that Camilla's firmness began to waver, and her virtue had enough todo to come to the rescue of her eyes and keep them from showing signs of acertain tender compassion which the tears and appeals of Lothario had awakenedin her bosom. Lothario observed all this, and it inflamed him all the more. Inshort he felt that while Anselmo's absence afforded time and opportunity he mustpress the siege of the fortress, and so he assailed her self-esteem with praises ofher beauty, for there is nothing that more quickly reduces and levels the castletowers of fair women's vanity than vanity itself upon the tongue of flattery. In factwith the utmost assiduity he undermined the rock of her purity with such enginesthat had Camilla been of brass she must have fallen. He wept, he entreated, hepromised, he flattered, he importuned, he pretended with so much feeling andapparent sincerity, that he overthrew the virtuous resolves of Camilla and won thetriumph he least expected and most longed for. Camilla yielded, Camilla fell; butwhat wonder if the friendship of Lothario could not stand firm? A clear proof tous that the passion of love is to be conquered only by flying from it, and that noone should engage in a struggle with an enemy so mighty; for divine strength isneeded to overcome his human power. Leonela alone knew of her mistress'sweakness, for the two false friends and new lovers were unable to conceal it. Lothario did not care to tell Camilla the object Anselmo had in view, nor that hehad afforded him the opportunity of attaining such a result, lest she shouldundervalue his love and think that it was by chance and without intending it andnot of his own accord that he had made love to her. A few days later Anselmo returned to his house and did not perceive what ithad lost, that which he so lightly treated and so highly prized. He went at once tosee Lothario, and found him at home; they embraced each other, and Anselmoasked for the tidings of his life or his death. "The tidings I have to give thee, Anselmo my friend, " said Lothario, "are thatthou dost possess a wife that is worthy to be the pattern and crown of all goodwives. The words that I have addressed to her were borne away on the wind, mypromises have been despised, my presents have been refused, such feigned tearsas I shed have been turned into open ridicule. In short, as Camilla is the essenceof all beauty, so is she the treasure-house where purity dwells, and gentleness andmodesty abide with all the virtues that can confer praise, honour, and happinessupon a woman. Take back thy money, my friend; here it is, and I have had noneed to touch it, for the chastity of Camilla yields not to things so base as gifts orpromises. Be content, Anselmo, and refrain from making further proof; and asthou hast passed dryshod through the sea of those doubts and suspicions that areand may be entertained of women, seek not to plunge again into the deep ocean ofnew embarrassments, or with another pilot make trial of the goodness andstrength of the bark that Heaven has granted thee for thy passage across the seaof this world; but reckon thyself now safe in port, moor thyself with the anchor ofsound reflection, and rest in peace until thou art called upon to pay that debtwhich no nobility on earth can escape paying. "Anselmo was completely satisfied by the words of Lothario, and believed themas fully as if they had been spoken by an oracle; nevertheless he begged of himnot to relinquish the undertaking, were it but for the sake of curiosity andamusement; though thenceforward he need not make use of the same earnestendeavours as before; all he wished him to do was to write some verses to her, praising her under the name of Chloris, for he himself would give her tounderstand that he was in love with a lady to whom he had given that name toenable him to sing her praises with the decorum due to her modesty; and ifLothario were unwilling to take the trouble of writing the verses he wouldcompose them himself. "That will not be necessary, " said Lothario, "for the muses are not such enemiesof mine but that they visit me now and then in the course of the year. Do thou tellCamilla what thou hast proposed about a pretended amour of mine; as for theverses will make them, and if not as good as the subject deserves, they shall be atleast the best I can produce. " An agreement to this effect was made between thefriends, the ill-advised one and the treacherous, and Anselmo returning to hishouse asked Camilla the question she already wondered he had not askedbefore--what it was that had caused her to write the letter she had sent him. Camilla replied that it had seemed to her that Lothario looked at her somewhatmore freely than when he had been at home; but that now she was undeceivedand believed it to have been only her own imagination, for Lothario now avoidedseeing her, or being alone with her. Anselmo told her she might be quite easy onthe score of that suspicion, for he knew that Lothario was in love with a damsel ofrank in the city whom he celebrated under the name of Chloris, and that even ifhe were not, his fidelity and their great friendship left no room for fear. Had notCamilla, however, been informed beforehand by Lothario that this love for Chloriswas a pretence, and that he himself had told Anselmo of it in order to be ablesometimes to give utterance to the praises of Camilla herself, no doubt she wouldhave fallen into the despairing toils of jealousy; but being forewarned she receivedthe startling news without uneasiness. The next day as the three were at table Anselmo asked Lothario to recitesomething of what he had composed for his mistress Chloris; for as Camilla didnot know her, he might safely say what he liked. "Even did she know her, " returned Lothario, "I would hide nothing, for when alover praises his lady's beauty, and charges her with cruelty, he casts noimputation upon her fair name; at any rate, all I can say is that yesterday I madea sonnet on the ingratitude of this Chloris, which goes thus:SONNETAt midnight, in the silence, when the eyesOf happier mortals balmy slumbers close, The weary tale of my unnumbered woesTo Chloris and to Heaven is wont to rise. And when the light of day returning dyesThe portals of the east with tints of rose, With undiminished force my sorrow flowsIn broken accents and in burning sighs. And when the sun ascends his star-girt throne, And on the earth pours down his midday beams, Noon but renews my wailing and my tears;And with the night again goes up my moan. Yet ever in my agony it seemsTo me that neither Heaven nor Chloris hears. "The sonnet pleased Camilla, and still more Anselmo, for he praised it and saidthe lady was excessively cruel who made no return for sincerity so manifest. Onwhich Camilla said, "Then all that love-smitten poets say is true?""As poets they do not tell the truth, " replied Lothario; "but as lovers they are notmore defective in expression than they are truthful. ""There is no doubt of that, " observed Anselmo, anxious to support and upholdLothario's ideas with Camilla, who was as regardless of his design as she was deepin love with Lothario; and so taking delight in anything that was his, and knowingthat his thoughts and writings had her for their object, and that she herself wasthe real Chloris, she asked him to repeat some other sonnet or verses if herecollected any. "I do, " replied Lothario, "but I do not think it as good as the first one, or, morecorrectly speaking, less bad; but you can easily judge, for it is this. SONNETI know that I am doomed; death is to meAs certain as that thou, ungrateful fair, Dead at thy feet shouldst see me lying, ereMy heart repented of its love for thee. If buried in oblivion I should be, Bereft of life, fame, favour, even thereIt would be found that I thy image bearDeep graven in my breast for all to see. This like some holy relic do I prizeTo save me from the fate my truth entails, Truth that to thy hard heart its vigour owes. Alas for him that under lowering skies, In peril o'er a trackless ocean sails, Where neither friendly port nor pole-star shows. "Anselmo praised this second sonnet too, as he had praised the first; and so hewent on adding link after link to the chain with which he was binding himself andmaking his dishonour secure; for when Lothario was doing most to dishonour himhe told him he was most honoured; and thus each step that Camilla descendedtowards the depths of her abasement, she mounted, in his opinion, towards thesummit of virtue and fair fame. It so happened that finding herself on one occasion alone with her maid, Camilla said to her, "I am ashamed to think, my dear Leonela, how lightly I havevalued myself that I did not compel Lothario to purchase by at least someexpenditure of time that full possession of me that I so quickly yielded him of myown free will. I fear that he will think ill of my pliancy or lightness, notconsidering the irresistible influence he brought to bear upon me. ""Let not that trouble you, my lady, " said Leonela, "for it does not take away thevalue of the thing given or make it the less precious to give it quickly if it be reallyvaluable and worthy of being prized; nay, they are wont to say that he who givesquickly gives twice. ""They say also, " said Camilla, "that what costs little is valued less. ""That saying does not hold good in your case, " replied Leonela, "for love, as Ihave heard say, sometimes flies and sometimes walks; with this one it runs, withthat it moves slowly; some it cools, others it burns; some it wounds, others itslays; it begins the course of its desires, and at the same moment completes andends it; in the morning it will lay siege to a fortress and by night will have takenit, for there is no power that can resist it; so what are you in dread of, what doyou fear, when the same must have befallen Lothario, love having chosen theabsence of my lord as the instrument for subduing you? and it was absolutelynecessary to complete then what love had resolved upon, without affording thetime to let Anselmo return and by his presence compel the work to be leftunfinished; for love has no better agent for carrying out his designs thanopportunity; and of opportunity he avails himself in all his feats, especially at theoutset. All this I know well myself, more by experience than by hearsay, and someday, senora, I will enlighten you on the subject, for I am of your flesh and bloodtoo. Moreover, lady Camilla, you did not surrender yourself or yield so quicklybut that first you saw Lothario's whole soul in his eyes, in his sighs, in his words, his promises and his gifts, and by it and his good qualities perceived how worthyhe was of your love. This, then, being the case, let not these scrupulous andprudish ideas trouble your imagination, but be assured that Lothario prizes you asyou do him, and rest content and satisfied that as you are caught in the noose oflove it is one of worth and merit that has taken you, and one that has not only thefour S's that they say true lovers ought to have, but a complete alphabet; onlylisten to me and you will see how I can repeat it by rote. He is to my eyes andthinking, Amiable, Brave, Courteous, Distinguished, Elegant, Fond, Gay, Honourable, Illustrious, Loyal, Manly, Noble, Open, Polite, Quickwitted, Rich, and the S's according to the saying, and then Tender, Veracious: X does not suithim, for it is a rough letter; Y has been given already; and Z Zealous for yourhonour. "Camilla laughed at her maid's alphabet, and perceived her to be moreexperienced in love affairs than she said, which she admitted, confessing toCamilla that she had love passages with a young man of good birth of the samecity. Camilla was uneasy at this, dreading lest it might prove the means ofendangering her honour, and asked whether her intrigue had gone beyond words, and she with little shame and much effrontery said it had; for certain it is thatladies' imprudences make servants shameless, who, when they see their mistressesmake a false step, think nothing of going astray themselves, or of its being known. All that Camilla could do was to entreat Leonela to say nothing about her doingsto him whom she called her lover, and to conduct her own affairs secretly lestthey should come to the knowledge of Anselmo or of Lothario. Leonela said shewould, but kept her word in such a way that she confirmed Camilla'sapprehension of losing her reputation through her means; for this abandoned andbold Leonela, as soon as she perceived that her mistress's demeanour was notwhat it was wont to be, had the audacity to introduce her lover into the house, confident that even if her mistress saw him she would not dare to expose him; forthe sins of mistresses entail this mischief among others; they make themselves theslaves of their own servants, and are obliged to hide their laxities and depravities;as was the case with Camilla, who though she perceived, not once but manytimes, that Leonela was with her lover in some room of the house, not only didnot dare to chide her, but afforded her opportunities for concealing him andremoved all difficulties, lest he should be seen by her husband. She was unable, however, to prevent him from being seen on one occasion, as he sallied forth atdaybreak, by Lothario, who, not knowing who he was, at first took him for aspectre; but, as soon as he saw him hasten away, muffling his face with his cloakand concealing himself carefully and cautiously, he rejected this foolish idea, andadopted another, which would have been the ruin of all had not Camilla found aremedy. It did not occur to Lothario that this man he had seen issuing at such anuntimely hour from Anselmo's house could have entered it on Leonela's account, nor did he even remember there was such a person as Leonela; all he thought wasthat as Camilla had been light and yielding with him, so she had been withanother; for this further penalty the erring woman's sin brings with it, that herhonour is distrusted even by him to whose overtures and persuasions she hasyielded; and he believes her to have surrendered more easily to others, and givesimplicit credence to every suspicion that comes into his mind. All Lothario's goodsense seems to have failed him at this juncture; all

his prudent maxims escapedhis memory; for without once reflecting rationally, and without more ado, in hisimpatience and in the blindness of the jealous rage that gnawed his heart, anddying to revenge himself upon Camilla, who had done him no wrong, beforeAnselmo had risen he hastened to him and said to him, "Know, Anselmo, that forseveral days past I have been struggling with myself, striving to withhold fromthee what it is no longer possible or right that I should conceal from thee. Knowthat Camilla's fortress has surrendered and is ready to submit to my will; and if Ihave been slow to reveal this fact to thee, it was in order to see if it were somelight caprice of hers, or if she sought to try me and ascertain if the love I began tomake to her with thy permission was made with a serious intention. I thought, too, that she, if she were what she ought to be, and what we both believed her, would have ere this given thee information of my addresses; but seeing that shedelays, I believe the truth of the promise she has given me that the next time thouart absent from the house she will grant me an interview in the closet where thyjewels are kept (and it was true that Camilla used to meet him there); but I do notwish thee to rush precipitately to take vengeance, for the sin is as yet onlycommitted in intention, and Camilla's may change perhaps between this and theappointed time, and repentance spring up in its place. As hitherto thou hastalways followed my advice wholly or in part, follow and observe this that I willgive thee now, so that, without mistake, and with mature deliberation, thoumayest satisfy thyself as to what may seem the best course; pretend to absentthyself for two or three days as thou hast been wont to do on other occasions, andcontrive to hide thyself in the closet; for the tapestries and other things thereafford great facilities for thy concealment, and then thou wilt see with thine owneyes and I with mine what Camilla's purpose may be. And if it be a guilty one, which may be feared rather than expected, with silence, prudence, and discretionthou canst thyself become the instrument of punishment for the wrong done thee. "Anselmo was amazed, overwhelmed, and astounded at the words of Lothario, which came upon him at a time when he least expected to hear them, for he nowlooked upon Camilla as having triumphed over the pretended attacks of Lothario, and was beginning to enjoy the glory of her victory. He remained silent for aconsiderable time, looking on the ground with fixed gaze, and at length said, "Thou hast behaved, Lothario, as I expected of thy friendship: I will follow thyadvice in everything; do as thou wilt, and keep this secret as thou seest it shouldbe kept in circumstances so unlooked for. "Lothario gave him his word, but after leaving him he repented altogether ofwhat he had said to him, perceiving how foolishly he had acted, as he might haverevenged himself upon Camilla in some less cruel and degrading way. He cursedhis want of sense, condemned his hasty resolution, and knew not what course totake to undo the mischief or find some ready escape from it. At last he decidedupon revealing all to Camilla, and, as there was no want of opportunity for doingso, he found her alone the same day; but she, as soon as she had the chance ofspeaking to him, said, "Lothario my friend, I must tell thee I have a sorrow in myheart which fills it so that it seems ready to burst; and it will be a wonder if itdoes not; for the audacity of Leonela has now reached such a pitch that everynight she conceals a gallant of hers in this house and remains with him tillmorning, at the expense of my reputation; inasmuch as it is open to anyone toquestion it who may see him quitting my house at such unseasonable hours; butwhat distresses me is that I cannot punish or chide her, for her privity to ourintrigue bridles my mouth and keeps me silent about hers, while I am dreadingthat some catastrophe will come of it. "As Camilla said this Lothario at first imagined it was some device to delude himinto the idea that the man he had seen going out was Leonela's lover and not hers;but when he saw how she wept and suffered, and begged him to help her, hebecame convinced of the truth, and the conviction completed his confusion andremorse; however, he told Camilla not to distress herself, as he would takemeasures to put a stop to the insolence of Leonela. At the same time he told herwhat, driven by the fierce rage of jealousy, he had said to Anselmo, and how hehad arranged to hide himself in the closet that he might there see plainly howlittle she preserved her fidelity to him; and he entreated her pardon for thismadness, and her advice as to how to repair it, and escape safely from theintricate labyrinth in which his imprudence had involved him. Camilla was struckwith alarm at hearing what Lothario said, and with much anger, and great goodsense, she reproved him and rebuked his base design and the foolish andmischievous resolution he had made; but as woman has by nature a nimbler witthan man for good and for evil, though it is apt to fail when she sets herselfdeliberately to reason, Camilla on the spur of the moment thought of a way toremedy what was to all appearance irremediable, and told Lothario to contrivethat the next day Anselmo should conceal himself in the place he mentioned, forshe hoped from his concealment to obtain the means of their enjoying themselvesfor the future without any apprehension; and without revealing her purpose tohim entirely she charged him to be careful, as soon as Anselmo was concealed, tocome to her when Leonela should call him, and to all she said to him to answer ashe would have answered had he not known that Anselmo was listening. Lothariopressed her to explain her intention fully, so that he might with more certaintyand precaution take care to do what he saw to be needful. "I tell you, " said Camilla, "there is nothing to take care of except to answer mewhat I shall ask you;" for she did not wish to explain to him beforehand what shemeant to do, fearing lest he should be unwilling to follow out an idea whichseemed to her such a good one, and should try or devise some other lesspracticable plan. Lothario then retired, and the next day Anselmo, under pretence of going to hisfriend's country house, took his departure, and then returned to conceal himself, which he was able to do easily, as Camilla and Leonela took care to give him theopportunity; and so he placed himself in hiding in the state of agitation that itmay be imagined he would feel who expected to see the vitals of his honour laidbare before his eyes, and found himself on the point of losing the supremeblessing he thought he possessed in his beloved Camilla. Having made sure ofAnselmo's being in his hiding-place, Camilla and Leonela entered the closet, andthe instant she set foot within it Camilla said, with a deep sigh, "Ah! dear Leonela, would it not be better, before I do what I am unwilling you should know lest youshould seek to prevent it, that you should take Anselmo's dagger that I have askedof you and with it pierce this vile heart of mine? But no; there is no reason why Ishould suffer the punishment of another's fault. I will first know what it is thatthe bold licentious eyes of Lothario have seen in me that could have encouragedhim to reveal to me a design so base as that which he has disclosed regardless ofhis friend and of my honour. Go to the window, Leonela, and call him, for nodoubt he is in the street waiting to carry out his vile project; but mine, cruel itmay be, but honourable, shall be carried out first. ""Ah, senora, " said the crafty Leonela, who knew her part, "what is it you wantto do with this dagger? Can it be that you mean to take your own life, orLothario's? for whichever you mean to do, it will lead to the loss of yourreputation and good name. It is better to dissemble your wrong and not give thiswicked man the chance of entering the house now and finding us alone; consider, senora, we are weak women and he is a man, and determined, and as he comeswith such a base purpose, blind and urged by passion, perhaps before you can putyours into execution he may do what will be worse for you than taking your life. Ill betide my master, Anselmo, for giving such authority in his house to thisshameless fellow! And supposing you kill him, senora, as I suspect you mean todo, what shall we do with him when he is dead?""What, my friend?" replied Camilla, "we shall leave him for Anselmo to buryhim; for in reason it will be to him a light labour to hide his own infamy underground. Summon him, make haste, for all the time I delay in taking vengeance formy wrong seems to me an offence against the loyalty I owe my husband. "Anselmo was listening to all this, and every word that Camilla uttered madehim change his mind; but when he heard that it was resolved to kill Lothario hisfirst impulse was to come out and show himself to avert such a disaster; but in hisanxiety to see the issue of a resolution so bold and virtuous he restrained himself, intending to come forth in time to prevent the deed. At this moment Camilla, throwing herself upon a bed that was close by, swooned away, and Leonela beganto weep bitterly, exclaiming, "Woe is me! that I should be fated to have dying herein my arms the flower of virtue upon earth, the crown of true wives, the patternof chastity!" with more to the same effect, so that anyone who heard her wouldhave taken her for the most tender-hearted and faithful handmaid in the world, and her mistress for another persecuted Penelope. Camilla was not long in recovering from her fainting fit and on coming toherself she said, "Why do you not go, Leonela, to call hither that friend, the falsestto his friend the sun ever shone upon or night concealed? Away, run, haste, speed! lest the fire of my wrath burn itself out with delay, and the righteousvengeance that I hope for melt away in menaces and maledictions. ""I am just going to call him, senora, " said Leonela; "but you must first give methat dagger, lest while I am gone you should by means of it give cause to all wholove you to weep all their lives. ""Go in peace, dear Leonela, I will not do so, " said Camilla, "for rash and foolishas I may be, to your mind, in defending my honour, I am not going to be so muchso as that Lucretia who they say killed herself without having done anythingwrong, and without having first killed him on whom the guilt of her misfortunelay. I shall die, if I am to die; but it must be after full vengeance upon him whohas brought me here to weep over audacity that no fault of mine gave birth to. "Leonela required much pressing before she would go to summon Lothario, butat last she went, and while awaiting her return Camilla continued, as if speakingto herself, "Good God! would it not have been more prudent to have repulsedLothario, as I have done many a time before, than to allow him, as I am nowdoing, to think me unchaste and vile, even for the short time I must wait until Iundeceive him? No doubt it would have been better; but I should not be avenged, nor the honour of my husband vindicated, should he find so clear and easy anescape from the strait into which his depravity has led him. Let the traitor paywith his life for the temerity of his wanton wishes, and let the world know (ifhaply it shall ever come to know) that Camilla not only preserved her allegiance toher husband, but avenged him of the man who dared to wrong him. Still, I thinkit might be better to disclose this to Anselmo. But then I have called his attentionto it in the letter I wrote to him in the country, and, if he did nothing to preventthe mischief I there pointed out to him, I suppose it was that from pure goodnessof heart and trustfulness he would not and could not believe that any thoughtagainst his honour could harbour in the breast of so stanch a friend; nor indeeddid I myself believe it for many days, nor should I have ever believed it if hisinsolence had not gone so far as to make it manifest by open presents, lavishpromises, and ceaseless tears. But why do I argue thus? Does a bolddetermination stand in need of arguments? Surely not. Then traitors avaunt!Vengeance to my aid! Let the false one come, approach, advance, die, yield up hislife, and then befall what may. Pure I came to him whom Heaven bestowed uponme, pure I shall leave him; and at the worst bathed in my own chaste blood andin the foul blood of the falsest friend that friendship ever saw in the world;" andas she uttered these words she paced the room holding the unsheathed dagger, with such irregular and disordered steps, and such gestures that one would havesupposed her to have lost her senses, and taken her for some violent desperadoinstead of a delicate woman. Anselmo, hidden behind some tapestries where he had concealed himself, beheld and was amazed at all, and already felt that what he had seen and heardwas a sufficient answer to even greater suspicions; and he would have been nowwell pleased if the proof afforded by Lothario's coming were dispensed with, as hefeared some sudden mishap; but as he was on the point of showing himself andcoming forth to embrace and undeceive his wife he paused as he saw Leonelareturning, leading Lothario. Camilla when she saw him, drawing a long line infront of her on the floor with the dagger, said to him, "Lothario, pay attention towhat I say to thee: if by any chance thou darest to cross this line thou seest, oreven approach it, the instant I see thee attempt it that same instant will I piercemy bosom with this dagger that I hold in my hand; and before thou answerest mea word desire thee to listen to a few from me, and afterwards thou shalt reply asmay please thee. First, I desire thee to tell me, Lothario, if thou knowest myhusband Anselmo, and in what light thou regardest him; and secondly I desire toknow if thou knowest me too. Answer me this, without embarrassment orreflecting deeply what thou wilt answer, for they are no riddles I put to thee. "Lothario was not so dull but that from the first moment when Camilla directedhim to make Anselmo hide himself he understood what she intended to do, andtherefore he fell in with her idea so readily and promptly that between them theymade the imposture look more true than truth; so he answered her thus: "I did notthink, fair Camilla, that thou wert calling me to ask questions so remote from theobject with which I come; but if it is to defer the promised reward thou art doingso, thou mightst have put it off still longer, for the longing for happiness gives themore distress the nearer comes the hope of gaining it; but lest thou shouldst saythat I do not answer thy questions, I say that I know thy husband Anselmo, andthat we have known each other from our earliest years; I will not speak of whatthou too knowest, of our friendship, that I may not compel myself to testifyagainst the wrong that love, the mighty excuse for greater errors, makes me inflictupon him. Thee I know and hold in the same estimation as he does, for were itnot so I had not for a lesser prize acted in opposition to what I owe to my stationand the holy laws of true friendship, now broken and violated by me through thatpowerful enemy, love. ""If thou dost confess that, " returned Camilla, "mortal enemy of all that rightlydeserves to be loved, with what face dost thou dare to come before one whomthou knowest to be the mirror wherein he is reflected on whom thou shouldst lookto see how unworthily thou him? But, woe is me, I now comprehend what hasmade thee give so little heed to what thou owest to thyself; it must have beensome freedom of mine, for I will not call it immodesty, as it did not proceed fromany deliberate intention, but from some heedlessness such as women are guilty ofthrough inadvertence when they think they have no occasion for reserve. But tellme, traitor, when did I by word or sign give a reply to thy prayers that couldawaken in thee a shadow of hope of attaining thy base wishes? When were notthy professions of love sternly and scornfully rejected and rebuked? When werethy frequent pledges and still more frequent gifts believed or accepted? But as Iam persuaded that no one can long persevere in the attempt to win loveunsustained by some hope, I am willing to attribute to myself the blame of thyassurance, for no doubt some thoughtlessness of mine has all this time fosteredthy hopes; and therefore will I punish myself and inflict upon myself the penaltythy guilt deserves. And that thou mayest see that being so relentless to myself Icannot possibly be otherwise to thee, I have summoned thee to be a witness of thesacrifice I mean to offer to the injured honour of my honoured husband, wrongedby thee with all the assiduity thou wert capable of, and by me too through wantof caution in avoiding every occasion, if I have given any, of encouraging andsanctioning thy base designs. Once more I say the suspicion in my mind that someimprudence of mine has engendered these lawless thoughts in thee, is what causesme most distress and what I desire most to punish with my own hands, for wereany other instrument of punishment employed my error might become perhapsmore widely known; but before I do so, in my death I mean to inflict death, andtake with me one that will fully satisfy my longing for the revenge I hope for andhave; for I shall see, wheresoever it may be that I go, the penalty awarded byinflexible, unswerving justice on him who has placed me in a position sodesperate. "As she uttered these words, with incredible energy and swiftness she flew uponLothario with the naked dagger, so manifestly bent on burying it in his breast thathe was almost uncertain whether these demonstrations were real or feigned, forhe was obliged to have recourse to all his skill and strength to prevent her fromstriking him; and with such reality did she act this strange farce and mystificationthat, to give it a colour of truth, she determined to stain it with her own blood;for perceiving, or pretending, that she could not wound Lothario, she said, "Fate, it seems, will not grant my just desire complete satisfaction, but it will not be ableto keep me from satisfying it partially at least;" and making an effort to free thehand with the dagger which Lothario held in his grasp, she released it, anddirecting the point to a place where it could not inflict a deep wound, she plungedit into her left side high up close to the shoulder, and then allowed herself to fallto the ground as if in a faint. Leonela and Lothario stood amazed and astounded at the catastrophe, andseeing Camilla stretched on the ground and bathed in her blood they were stilluncertain as to the true nature of the act. Lothario, terrified and breathless, ran inhaste to pluck out the dagger; but when he saw how slight the wound was he wasrelieved of his fears and once more admired the subtlety, coolness, and ready witof the fair Camilla; and the better to support the part he had to play he began toutter profuse and doleful lamentations over her body as if she were dead, invokingmaledictions not only on himself but also on him who had been the means ofplacing him in such a position: and knowing that his friend Anselmo heard him hespoke in such a way as to make a listener feel much more pity for him than forCamilla, even though he supposed her dead. Leonela took her up in her arms andlaid her on the bed, entreating Lothario to go in quest of some one to attend toher wound in secret, and at the same time asking his advice and opinion as towhat they should say to Anselmo about his lady's wound if he should chance toreturn before it was healed. He replied they might say what they liked, for he wasnot in a state to give advice that would be of any use; all he could tell her was totry and stanch the blood, as he was going where he should never more be seen;and with every appearance of deep grief and sorrow he left the house; but whenhe found himself alone, and where there was nobody to see him, he crossedhimself unceasingly, lost in wonder at the adroitness of Camilla and the consistentacting of Leonela. He reflected how convinced Anselmo would be that he had asecond Portia for a wife, and he looked forward anxiously to meeting him in orderto rejoice together over falsehood and truth the most craftily veiled that could beimagined. Leonela, as he told her, stanched her lady's blood, which was no more thansufficed to support her deception; and washing the wound with a little wine shebound it up to the best of her skill, talking all the time she was tending her in astrain that, even if nothing else had been said before, would have been enough toassure Anselmo that he had in Camilla a model of purity. To Leonela's wordsCamilla added her own, calling herself cowardly and wanting in spirit, since shehad not enough at the time she had most need of it to rid herself of the life she somuch loathed. She asked her attendant's advice as to whether or not she ought toinform her beloved husband of all that had happened, but the other bade her saynothing about it, as she would lay upon him the obligation of taking vengeance onLothario, which he could not do but at great risk to himself; and it was the dutyof a true wife not to give her husband provocation to quarrel, but, on thecontrary, to remove it as far as possible from him. Camilla replied that she believed she was right and that she would follow heradvice, but at any rate it would be well to consider how she was to explain thewound to Anselmo, for he could not help seeing it; to which Leonela answeredthat she did not know how to tell a lie even in jest. "How then can I know, my dear?" said Camilla, "for I should not dare to forgeor keep up a falsehood if my life depended on it. If we can think of no escapefrom this difficulty, it will be better to tell him the plain truth than that he shouldfind us out in an untrue story. ""Be not uneasy, senora, " said Leonela; "between this and to-morrow I will thinkof what we must say to him, and perhaps the wound being where it is it can behidden from his sight, and Heaven will be pleased to aid us in a purpose so goodand honourable. Compose yourself, senora, and endeavour to calm yourexcitement lest my lord find you agitated; and leave the rest to my care and God's, who always supports good intentions. "Anselmo had with the deepest attention listened to and seen played out thetragedy of the death of his honour, which the performers acted with suchwonderfully effective truth that it seemed as if they had become the realities ofthe parts they played. He longed for night and an opportunity of escaping fromthe house to go and see his good friend Lothario, and with him give vent to his joyover the precious pearl he had gained in having established his wife's purity. Bothmistress and maid took care to give him time and opportunity to get away, andtaking advantage of it he made his escape, and at once went in quest of Lothario, and it would be impossible to describe how he embraced him when he found him, and the things he said to him in the joy of his heart, and the praises he bestowedupon Camilla; all which Lothario listened to without being able to show anypleasure, for he could not forget how deceived his friend was, and howdishonourably he had wronged him; and though Anselmo could see that Lothariowas not glad, still he imagined it was only because he had left Camilla woundedand had been himself the cause of it; and so among other things he told him notto be distressed about Camilla's accident, for, as they had agreed to hide it fromhim, the wound was evidently trifling; and that being so, he had no cause for fear, but should henceforward be of good cheer and rejoice with him, seeing that by hismeans and adroitness he found himself raised to the greatest height of happinessthat he could have ventured to hope for, and desired no better pastime thanmaking verses in praise of Camilla that would preserve her name for all time tocome. Lothario commended his purpose, and promised on his own part to aid himin raising a monument so glorious. And so Anselmo was left the most charmingly hoodwinked man there could bein the world. He himself, persuaded he was conducting the instrument of hisglory, led home by the hand him who had been the utter destruction of his goodname; whom Camilla received with averted countenance, though with smiles inher heart. The deception was carried on for some time, until at the end of a fewmonths Fortune turned her wheel and the guilt which had been until then soskilfully concealed was published abroad, and Anselmo paid with his life thepenalty of his ill-advised curiosity. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXV. WHICH TREATS OF THE HEROIC AND PRODIGIOUS BATTLE DONQUIXOTE HAD WITH CERTAIN SKINS OF RED WINE, AND BRINGSTHE NOVEL OF "THE ILL-ADVISED CURIOSITY" TO A CLOSEThere remained but little more of the novel to be read, when Sancho Panzaburst forth in wild excitement from the garret where Don Quixote was lying, shouting, "Run, sirs! quick; and help my master, who is in the thick of thetoughest and stiffest battle I ever laid eyes on. By the living God he has given thegiant, the enemy of my lady the Princess Micomicona, such a slash that he hassliced his head clean off as if it were a turnip. ""What are you talking about, brother?" said the curate, pausing as he was aboutto read the remainder of the novel. "Are you in your senses, Sancho? How thedevil can it be as you say, when the giant is two thousand leagues away?"Here they heard a loud noise in the chamber, and Don Quixote shouting out, "Stand, thief, brigand, villain; now I have got thee, and thy scimitar shall not availthee!" And then it seemed as though he were slashing vigorously at the wall. "Don't stop to listen, " said Sancho, "but go in and part them or help my master:though there is no need of that now, for no doubt the giant is dead by this timeand giving account to God of his past wicked life; for I saw the blood flowing onthe ground, and the head cut off and fallen on one side, and it is as big as a largewine-skin. ""May I die, " said the landlord at this, "if Don Quixote or Don Devil has not beenslashing some of the skins of red wine that stand full at his bed's head, and thespilt wine must be what this good fellow takes for blood;" and so saying he wentinto the room and the rest after him, and there they found Don Quixote in thestrangest costume in the world. He was in his shirt, which was not long enough infront to cover his thighs completely and was six fingers shorter behind; his legswere very long and lean, covered with hair, and anything but clean; on his headhe had a little greasy red cap that belonged to the host, round his left arm he hadrolled the blanket of the bed, to which Sancho, for reasons best known to himself, owed a grudge, and in his right hand he held his unsheathed sword, with whichhe was slashing about on all sides, uttering exclamations as if he were actuallyfighting some giant: and the best of it was his eyes were not open, for he was fastasleep, and dreaming that he was doing battle with the giant. For his imaginationwas so wrought upon by the adventure he was going to accomplish, that it madehim dream he had already reached the kingdom of Micomicon, and was engagedin combat with his enemy; and believing he was laying on the giant, he had givenso many sword cuts to the skins that the whole room was full of wine. On seeingthis the landlord was so enraged that he fell on Don Quixote, and with hisclenched fist began to pummel him in such a way, that if Cardenio and the curatehad not dragged him off, he would have brought the war of the giant to an end. But in spite of all the poor gentleman never woke until the barber brought a greatpot of cold water from the well and flung it with one dash all over his body, onwhich Don Quixote woke up, but not so completely as to understand what wasthe matter. Dorothea, seeing how short and slight his attire was, would not go into witness the battle between her champion and her opponent. As for Sancho, hewent searching all over the floor for the head of the giant, and not finding it hesaid, "I see now that it's all enchantment in this house; for the last time, on thisvery spot where I am now, I got ever so many thumps without knowing who gavethem to me, or being able to see anybody; and now this head is not to be seenanywhere about, though I saw it cut off with my own eyes and the blood runningfrom the body as if from a fountain. ""What blood and fountains are you talking about, enemy of God and his saints?"said the landlord. "Don't you see, you thief, that the blood and the fountain areonly these skins here that have been stabbed and the red wine swimming all overthe room?--and I wish I saw the soul of him that stabbed them swimming in hell. ""I know nothing about that, " said Sancho; "all I know is it will be my bad luckthat through not finding this head my county will melt away like salt in water;"--for Sancho awake was worse than his master asleep, so much had his master'spromises addled his wits. The landlord was beside himself at the coolness of the squire and themischievous doings of the master, and swore it should not be like the last timewhen they went without paying; and that their privileges of chivalry should nothold good this time to let one or other of them off without paying, even to thecost of the plugs that would have to be put to the damaged wine-skins. The curatewas holding Don Quixote's hands, who, fancying he had now ended the adventureand was in the presence of the Princess Micomicona, knelt before the curate andsaid, "Exalted and beauteous lady, your highness may live from this day forthfearless of any harm this base being could do you; and I too from this day fortham released from the promise I gave you, since by the help of God on high and bythe favour of her by whom I live and breathe, I have fulfilled it so successfully. ""Did not I say so?" said Sancho on hearing this. "You see I wasn't drunk; thereyou see my master has already salted the giant; there's no doubt about the bulls;my county is all right!"Who could have helped laughing at the absurdities of the pair, master and man?And laugh they did, all except the landlord, who cursed himself; but at length thebarber, Cardenio, and the curate contrived with no small trouble to get DonQuixote on the bed, and he fell asleep with every appearance of excessiveweariness. They left him to sleep, and came out to the gate of the inn to consoleSancho Panza on not having found the head of the giant; but much more work hadthey to appease the landlord, who was furious at the sudden death of his wine-skins; and said the landlady half scolding, half crying, "At an evil moment and inan unlucky hour he came into my house, this knight-errant--would that I hadnever set eyes on him, for dear he has cost me; the last time he went off with theovernight score against him for supper, bed, straw, and barley, for himself and hissquire and a hack and an ass, saying he was a knight adventurer--God sendunlucky adventures to him and all the adventurers in the world--and thereforenot bound to pay anything, for it was so settled by the knight-errantry tariff: andthen, all because of him, came the other gentleman and carried off my tail, andgives it back more than two cuartillos the worse, all stripped of its hair, so that itis no use for my husband's purpose; and then, for a finishing touch to all, to burstmy wine-skins and spill my wine! I wish I saw his own blood spilt! But let him notdeceive himself, for, by the bones of my father and the shade of my mother, theyshall pay me down every quarts; or my name is not what it is, and I am not myfather's daughter. " All this and more to the same effect the landlady delivered withgreat irritation, and her good maid Maritornes backed her up, while the daughterheld her peace and smiled from time to time. The curate smoothed matters bypromising to make good all losses to the best of his power, not only as regardedthe wine-skins but also the wine, and above all the depreciation of the tail whichthey set such store by. Dorothea comforted Sancho, telling him that she pledgedherself, as soon as it should appear certain that his master had decapitated thegiant, and she found herself peacefully established in her kingdom, to bestowupon him the best county there was in it. With this Sancho consoled himself, andassured the princess she might rely upon it that he had seen the head of the giant, and more by token it had a beard that reached to the girdle, and that if it was notto be seen now it was because everything that happened in that house went byenchantment, as he himself had proved the last time he had lodged there. Dorothea said she fully believed it, and that he need not be uneasy, for all wouldgo well and turn out as he wished. All therefore being appeased, the curate wasanxious to go on with the novel, as he saw there was but little more left to read. Dorothea and the others begged him to finish it, and he, as he was willing toplease them, and enjoyed reading it himself, continued the tale in these words:The result was, that from the confidence Anselmo felt in Camilla's virtue, helived happy and free from anxiety, and Camilla purposely looked coldly onLothario, that Anselmo might suppose her feelings towards him to be the oppositeof what they were; and the better to support the position, Lothario begged to beexcused from coming to the house, as the displeasure with which Camilla regardedhis presence was plain to be seen. But the befooled Anselmo said he would on noaccount allow such a thing, and so in a thousand ways he became the author ofhis own dishonour, while he believed he was insuring his happiness. Meanwhilethe satisfaction with which Leonela saw herself empowered to carry on her amourreached such a height that, regardless of everything else, she followed herinclinations unrestrainedly, feeling confident that her mistress would screen her, and even show her how to manage it safely. At last one night Anselmo heardfootsteps in Leonela's room, and on trying to enter to see who it was, he foundthat the door was held against him, which made him all the more determined toopen it; and exerting his strength he forced it open, and entered the room in timeto see a man leaping through the window into the street. He ran quickly to seizehim or discover who he was, but he was unable to effect either purpose, forLeonela flung her arms round him crying, "Be calm, senor; do not give way topassion or follow him who has escaped from this; he belongs to me, and in fact heis my husband. "Anselmo would not believe it, but blind with rage drew a dagger and threatenedto stab Leonela, bidding her tell the truth or he would kill her. She, in her fear, not knowing what she was saying, exclaimed, "Do not kill me, senor, for I can tellyou things more important than any you can imagine. ""Tell me then at once or thou diest, " said Anselmo. "It would be impossible for me now, " said Leonela, "I am so agitated: leave metill to-morrow, and then you shall hear from me what will fill you withastonishment; but rest assured that he who leaped through the window is a youngman of this city, who has given me his promise to become my husband. "Anselmo was appeased with this, and was content to wait the time she asked ofhim, for he never expected to hear anything against Camilla, so satisfied and sureof her virtue was he; and so he quitted the room, and left Leonela locked in, telling her she should not come out until she had told him all she had to makeknown to him. He went at once to see Camilla, and tell her, as he did, all that hadpassed between him and her handmaid, and the promise she had given him toinform him matters of serious importance. There is no need of saying whether Camilla was agitated or not, for so great washer fear and dismay, that, making sure, as she had good reason to do, thatLeonela would tell Anselmo all she knew of her faithlessness, she had not thecourage to wait and see if her suspicions were confirmed; and that same night, assoon as she thought that Anselmo was asleep, she packed up the most valuablejewels she had and some money, and without being observed by anybody escapedfrom the house and betook herself to Lothario's, to whom she related what hadoccurred, imploring him to convey her to some place of safety or fly with herwhere they might be safe from Anselmo. The state of perplexity to which Camillareduced Lothario was such that he was unable to utter a word in reply, still less todecide upon what he should do. At length he resolved to conduct her to a conventof which a sister of his was prioress; Camilla agreed to this, and with the speedwhich the circumstances demanded, Lothario took her to the convent and left herthere, and then himself quitted the city without letting anyone know of hisdeparture. As soon as daylight came Anselmo, without missing Camilla from his side, rosecager to learn what Leonela had to tell him, and hastened to the room where hehad locked her in. He opened the door, entered, but found no Leonela; all hefound was some sheets knotted to the window, a plain proof that she had letherself down from it and escaped. He returned, uneasy, to tell Camilla, but notfinding her in bed or anywhere in the house he was lost in amazement. He askedthe servants of the house about her, but none of them could give him anyexplanation. As he was going in search of Camilla it happened by chance that heobserved her boxes were lying open, and that the greater part of her jewels weregone; and now he became fully aware of his disgrace, and that Leonela was notthe cause of his misfortune; and, just as he was, without delaying to dress himselfcompletely, he repaired, sad at heart and dejected, to his friend Lothario to makeknown his sorrow to him; but when he failed to find him and the servantsreported that he had been absent from his house all night and had taken with himall the money he had, he felt as though he were losing his senses; and to make allcomplete on returning to his own house he found it deserted and empty, not oneof all his servants, male or female, remaining in it. He knew not what to think, orsay, or do, and his reason seemed to be deserting him little by little. He reviewedhis position, and saw himself in a moment left without wife, friend, or servants, abandoned, he felt, by the heaven above him, and more than all robbed of hishonour, for in Camilla's disappearance he saw his own ruin. After long reflectionhe resolved at last to go to his friend's village, where he had been staying when heafforded opportunities for the contrivance of this complication of misfortune. Helocked the doors of his house, mounted his horse, and with a broken spirit set outon his journey; but he had hardly gone half-way when, harassed by his reflections, he had to dismount and tie his horse to a tree, at the foot of which he threwhimself, giving vent to piteous heartrending sighs; and there he remained tillnearly nightfall, when he observed a man approaching on horseback from the city, of whom, after saluting him, he asked what was the news in Florence. The citizen replied, "The strangest that have been heard for many a day; for it isreported abroad that Lothario, the great friend of the wealthy Anselmo, who livedat San Giovanni, carried off last night Camilla, the wife of Anselmo, who also hasdisappeared. All this has been told by a maid-servant of Camilla's, whom thegovernor found last night lowering herself by a sheet from the windows ofAnselmo's house. I know not indeed, precisely, how the affair came to pass; all Iknow is that the whole city is wondering at the occurrence, for no one could haveexpected a thing of the kind, seeing the great and intimate friendship that existedbetween them, so great, they say, that they were called 'The Two Friends. '""Is it known at all, " said Anselmo, "what road Lothario and Camilla took?""Not in the least, " said the citizen, "though the governor has been very active insearching for them. ""God speed you, senor, " said Anselmo. "God be with you, " said the citizen and went his way. This disastrous intelligence almost robbed Anselmo not only of his senses but ofhis life. He got up as well as he was able and reached the house of his friend, whoas yet knew nothing of his misfortune, but seeing him come pale, worn, andhaggard, perceived that he was suffering some heavy affliction. Anselmo at oncebegged to be allowed to retire to rest, and to be given writing materials. His wishwas complied with and he was left lying down and alone, for he desired this, andeven that the door should be locked. Finding himself alone he so took to heart thethought of his misfortune that by the signs of death he felt within him he knewwell his life was drawing to a close, and therefore he resolved to leave behind hima declaration of the cause of his strange end. He began to write, but before he hadput down all he meant to say, his breath failed him and he yielded up his life, avictim to the suffering which his ill-advised curiosity had entailed upon

him. Themaster of the house observing that it was now late and that Anselmo did not call, determined to go in and ascertain if his indisposition was increasing, and foundhim lying on his face, his body partly in the bed, partly on the writing-table, onwhich he lay with the written paper open and the pen still in his hand. Havingfirst called to him without receiving any answer, his host approached him, andtaking him by the hand, found that it was cold, and saw that he was dead. Greatly surprised and distressed he summoned the household to witness the sadfate which had befallen Anselmo; and then he read the paper, the handwriting ofwhich he recognised as his, and which contained these words:"A foolish and ill-advised desire has robbed me of life. If the news of my deathshould reach the ears of Camilla, let her know that I forgive her, for she was notbound to perform miracles, nor ought I to have required her to perform them; andsince I have been the author of my own dishonour, there is no reason why-"So far Anselmo had written, and thus it was plain that at this point, before hecould finish what he had to say, his life came to an end. The next day his friendsent intelligence of his death to his relatives, who had already ascertained hismisfortune, as well as the convent where Camilla lay almost on the point ofaccompanying her husband on that inevitable journey, not on account of thetidings of his death, but because of those she received of her lover's departure. Although she saw herself a widow, it is said she refused either to quit the conventor take the veil, until, not long afterwards, intelligence reached her that Lothariohad been killed in a battle in which M. De Lautrec had been recently engaged withthe Great Captain Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordova in the kingdom of Naples, whither her too late repentant lover had repaired. On learning this Camilla tookthe veil, and shortly afterwards died, worn out by grief and melancholy. This wasthe end of all three, an end that came of a thoughtless beginning. "I like this novel, " said the curate; "but I cannot persuade myself of its truth;and if it has been invented, the author's invention is faulty, for it is impossible toimagine any husband so foolish as to try such a costly experiment as Anselmo's. Ifit had been represented as occurring between a gallant and his mistress it mightpass; but between husband and wife there is something of an impossibility aboutit. As to the way in which the story is told, however, I have no fault to find. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXVI. WHICH TREATS OF MORE CURIOUS INCIDENTS THATOCCURRED AT THE INNJust at that instant the landlord, who was standing at the gate of the inn, exclaimed, "Here comes a fine troop of guests; if they stop here we may saygaudeamus. ""What are they?" said Cardenio. "Four men, " said the landlord, "riding a la jineta, with lances and bucklers, andall with black veils, and with them there is a woman in white on a side-saddle, whose face is also veiled, and two attendants on foot. ""Are they very near?" said the curate. "So near, " answered the landlord, "that here they come. "Hearing this Dorothea covered her face, and Cardenio retreated into DonQuixote's room, and they hardly had time to do so before the whole party the hosthad described entered the inn, and the four that were on horseback, who were ofhighbred appearance and bearing, dismounted, and came forward to take downthe woman who rode on the side-saddle, and one of them taking her in his armsplaced her in a chair that stood at the entrance of the room where Cardenio hadhidden himself. All this time neither she nor they had removed their veils orspoken a word, only on sitting down on the chair the woman gave a deep sigh andlet her arms fall like one that was ill and weak. The attendants on foot then ledthe horses away to the stable. Observing this the curate, curious to know whothese people in such a dress and preserving such silence were, went to where theservants were standing and put the question to one of them, who answered him. "Faith, sir, I cannot tell you who they are, I only know they seem to be peopleof distinction, particularly he who advanced to take the lady you saw in his arms;and I say so because all the rest show him respect, and nothing is done exceptwhat he directs and orders. ""And the lady, who is she?" asked the curate. "That I cannot tell you either, " said the servant, "for I have not seen her face allthe way: I have indeed heard her sigh many times and utter such groans that sheseems to be giving up the ghost every time; but it is no wonder if we do not knowmore than we have told you, as my comrade and I have only been in theircompany two days, for having met us on the road they begged and persuaded usto accompany them to Andalusia, promising to pay us well. ""And have you heard any of them called by his name?" asked the curate. "No, indeed, " replied the servant; "they all preserve a marvellous silence on theroad, for not a sound is to be heard among them except the poor lady's sighs andsobs, which make us pity her; and we feel sure that wherever it is she is going, itis against her will, and as far as one can judge from her dress she is a nun or, what is more likely, about to become one; and perhaps it is because taking thevows is not of her own free will, that she is so unhappy as she seems to be. ""That may well be, " said the curate, and leaving them he returned to whereDorothea was, who, hearing the veiled lady sigh, moved by natural compassiondrew near to her and said, "What are you suffering from, senora? If it be anythingthat women are accustomed and know how to relieve, I offer you my services withall my heart. "To this the unhappy lady made no reply; and though Dorothea repeated heroffers more earnestly she still kept silence, until the gentleman with the veil, who, the servant said, was obeyed by the rest, approached and said to Dorothea, "Donot give yourself the trouble, senora, of making any offers to that woman, for it isher way to give no thanks for anything that is done for her; and do not try tomake her answer unless you want to hear some lie from her lips. ""I have never told a lie, " was the immediate reply of her who had been silentuntil now; "on the contrary, it is because I am so truthful and so ignorant of lyingdevices that I am now in this miserable condition; and this I call you yourself towitness, for it is my unstained truth that has made you false and a liar. "Cardenio heard these words clearly and distinctly, being quite close to thespeaker, for there was only the door of Don Quixote's room between them, andthe instant he did so, uttering a loud exclamation he cried, "Good God! what isthis I hear? What voice is this that has reached my ears?" Startled at the voice thelady turned her head; and not seeing the speaker she stood up and attempted toenter the room; observing which the gentleman held her back, preventing her frommoving a step. In her agitation and sudden movement the silk with which she hadcovered her face fell off and disclosed a countenance of incomparable andmarvellous beauty, but pale and terrified; for she kept turning her eyes, everywhere she could direct her gaze, with an eagerness that made her look as ifshe had lost her senses, and so marked that it excited the pity of Dorothea and allwho beheld her, though they knew not what caused it. The gentleman grasped herfirmly by the shoulders, and being so fully occupied with holding her back, he wasunable to put a hand to his veil which was falling off, as it did at length entirely, and Dorothea, who was holding the lady in her arms, raising her eyes saw that hewho likewise held her was her husband, Don Fernando. The instant sherecognised him, with a prolonged plaintive cry drawn from the depths of herheart, she fell backwards fainting, and but for the barber being close by to catchher in his arms, she would have fallen completely to the ground. The curate atonce hastened to uncover her face and throw water on it, and as he did so DonFernando, for he it was who held the other in his arms, recognised her and stoodas if death-stricken by the sight; not, however, relaxing his grasp of Luscinda, forit was she that was struggling to release herself from his hold, having recognisedCardenio by his voice, as he had recognised her. Cardenio also heard Dorothea'scry as she fell fainting, and imagining that it came from his Luscinda burst forthin terror from the room, and the first thing he saw was Don Fernando withLuscinda in his arms. Don Fernando, too, knew Cardenio at once; and all three, Luscinda, Cardenio, and Dorothea, stood in silent amazement scarcely knowingwhat had happened to them. They gazed at one another without speaking, Dorothea at Don Fernando, DonFernando at Cardenio, Cardenio at Luscinda, and Luscinda at Cardenio. The firstto break silence was Luscinda, who thus addressed Don Fernando: "Leave me, Senor Don Fernando, for the sake of what you owe to yourself; if no other reasonwill induce you, leave me to cling to the wall of which I am the ivy, to the supportfrom which neither your importunities, nor your threats, nor your promises, noryour gifts have been able to detach me. See how Heaven, by ways strange andhidden from our sight, has brought me face to face with my true husband; andwell you know by dear-bought experience that death alone will be able to effacehim from my memory. May this plain declaration, then, lead you, as you can donothing else, to turn your love into rage, your affection into resentment, and so totake my life; for if I yield it up in the presence of my beloved husband I count itwell bestowed; it may be by my death he will be convinced that I kept my faith tohim to the last moment of life. "Meanwhile Dorothea had come to herself, and had heard Luscinda's words, bymeans of which she divined who she was; but seeing that Don Fernando did notyet release her or reply to her, summoning up her resolution as well as she couldshe rose and knelt at his feet, and with a flood of bright and touching tearsaddressed him thus:"If, my lord, the beams of that sun that thou holdest eclipsed in thine arms didnot dazzle and rob thine eyes of sight thou wouldst have seen by this time thatshe who kneels at thy feet is, so long as thou wilt have it so, the unhappy andunfortunate Dorothea. I am that lowly peasant girl whom thou in thy goodness orfor thy pleasure wouldst raise high enough to call herself thine; I am she who inthe seclusion of innocence led a contented life until at the voice of thyimportunity, and thy true and tender passion, as it seemed, she opened the gatesof her modesty and surrendered to thee the keys of her liberty; a gift received bythee but thanklessly, as is clearly shown by my forced retreat to the place wherethou dost find me, and by thy appearance under the circumstances in which I seethee. Nevertheless, I would not have thee suppose that I have come here drivenby my shame; it is only grief and sorrow at seeing myself forgotten by thee thathave led me. It was thy will to make me thine, and thou didst so follow thy will, that now, even though thou repentest, thou canst not help being mine. Bethinkthee, my lord, the unsurpassable affection I bear thee may compensate for thebeauty and noble birth for which thou wouldst desert me. Thou canst not be thefair Luscinda's because thou art mine, nor can she be thine because she isCardenio's; and it will be easier, remember, to bend thy will to love one whoadores thee, than to lead one to love thee who abhors thee now. Thou didstaddress thyself to my simplicity, thou didst lay siege to my virtue, thou wert notignorant of my station, well dost thou know how I yielded wholly to thy will;there is no ground or reason for thee to plead deception, and if it be so, as it is, and if thou art a Christian as thou art a gentleman, why dost thou by suchsubterfuges put off making me as happy at last as thou didst at first? And if thouwilt not have me for what I am, thy true and lawful wife, at least take and acceptme as thy slave, for so long as I am thine I will count myself happy and fortunate. Do not by deserting me let my shame become the talk of the gossips in the streets;make not the old age of my parents miserable; for the loyal services they asfaithful vassals have ever rendered thine are not deserving of such a return; and ifthou thinkest it will debase thy blood to mingle it with mine, reflect that there islittle or no nobility in the world that has not travelled the same road, and that inillustrious lineages it is not the woman's blood that is of account; and, moreover, that true nobility consists in virtue, and if thou art wanting in that, refusing mewhat in justice thou owest me, then even I have higher claims to nobility thanthine. To make an end, senor, these are my last words to thee: whether thou wilt, or wilt not, I am thy wife; witness thy words, which must not and ought not to befalse, if thou dost pride thyself on that for want of which thou scornest me;witness the pledge which thou didst give me, and witness Heaven, which thouthyself didst call to witness the promise thou hadst made me; and if all this fail, thy own conscience will not fail to lift up its silent voice in the midst of all thygaiety, and vindicate the truth of what I say and mar thy highest pleasure andenjoyment. "All this and more the injured Dorothea delivered with such earnest feeling andsuch tears that all present, even those who came with Don Fernando, wereconstrained to join her in them. Don Fernando listened to her without replying, until, ceasing to speak, she gave way to such sobs and sighs that it must havebeen a heart of brass that was not softened by the sight of so great sorrow. Luscinda stood regarding her with no less compassion for her sufferings thanadmiration for her intelligence and beauty, and would have gone to her to saysome words of comfort to her, but was prevented by Don Fernando's grasp whichheld her fast. He, overwhelmed with confusion and astonishment, after regardingDorothea for some moments with a fixed gaze, opened his arms, and, releasingLuscinda, exclaimed:"Thou hast conquered, fair Dorothea, thou hast conquered, for it is impossibleto have the heart to deny the united force of so many truths. "Luscinda in her feebleness was on the point of falling to the ground when DonFernando released her, but Cardenio, who stood near, having retreated behindDon Fernando to escape recognition, casting fear aside and regardless of whatmight happen, ran forward to support her, and said as he clasped her in his arms, "If Heaven in its compassion is willing to let thee rest at last, mistress of myheart, true, constant, and fair, nowhere canst thou rest more safely than in thesearms that now receive thee, and received thee before when fortune permitted meto call thee mine. "At these words Luscinda looked up at Cardenio, at first beginning to recognisehim by his voice and then satisfying herself by her eyes that it was he, and hardlyknowing what she did, and heedless of all considerations of decorum, she flungher arms around his neck and pressing her face close to his, said, "Yes, my dearlord, you are the true master of this your slave, even though adverse fateinterpose again, and fresh dangers threaten this life that hangs on yours. "A strange sight was this for Don Fernando and those that stood around, filledwith surprise at an incident so unlooked for. Dorothea fancied that Don Fernandochanged colour and looked as though he meant to take vengeance on Cardenio, forshe observed him put his hand to his sword; and the instant the idea struck her, with wonderful quickness she clasped him round the knees, and kissing them andholding him so as to prevent his moving, she said, while her tears continued toflow, "What is it thou wouldst do, my only refuge, in this unforeseen event? Thouhast thy wife at thy feet, and she whom thou wouldst have for thy wife is in thearms of her husband: reflect whether it will be right for thee, whether it will bepossible for thee to undo what Heaven has done, or whether it will be becomingin thee to seek to raise her to be thy mate who in spite of every obstacle, andstrong in her truth and constancy, is before thine eyes, bathing with the tears oflove the face and bosom of her lawful husband. For God's sake I entreat of thee, for thine own I implore thee, let not this open manifestation rouse thy anger; butrather so calm it as to allow these two lovers to live in peace and quiet withoutany interference from thee so long as Heaven permits them; and in so doing thouwilt prove the generosity of thy lofty noble spirit, and the world shall see thatwith thee reason has more influence than passion. "All the time Dorothea was speaking, Cardenio, though he held Luscinda in hisarms, never took his eyes off Don Fernando, determined, if he saw him make anyhostile movement, to try and defend himself and resist as best he could all whomight assail him, though it should cost him his life. But now Don Fernando'sfriends, as well as the curate and the barber, who had been present all the while, not forgetting the worthy Sancho Panza, ran forward and gathered round DonFernando, entreating him to have regard for the tears of Dorothea, and not sufferher reasonable hopes to be disappointed, since, as they firmly believed, what shesaid was but the truth; and bidding him observe that it was not, as it might seem, by accident, but by a special disposition of Providence that they had all met in aplace where no one could have expected a meeting. And the curate bade himremember that only death could part Luscinda from Cardenio; that even if somesword were to separate them they would think their death most happy; and thatin a case that admitted of no remedy his wisest course was, by conquering andputting a constraint upon himself, to show a generous mind, and of his ownaccord suffer these two to enjoy the happiness Heaven had granted them. He badehim, too, turn his eyes upon the beauty of Dorothea and he would see that few ifany could equal much less excel her; while to that beauty should be added hermodesty and the surpassing love she bore him. But besides all this, he remindedhim that if he prided himself on being a gentleman and a Christian, he could notdo otherwise than keep his plighted word; and that in doing so he would obeyGod and meet the approval of all sensible people, who know and recognised it tobe the privilege of beauty, even in one of humble birth, provided virtueaccompany it, to be able to raise itself to the level of any rank, without any slurupon him who places it upon an equality with himself; and furthermore that whenthe potent sway of passion asserts itself, so long as there be no mixture of sin init, he is not to be blamed who gives way to it. To be brief, they added to these such other forcible arguments that DonFernando's manly heart, being after all nourished by noble blood, was touched, and yielded to the truth which, even had he wished it, he could not gainsay; andhe showed his submission, and acceptance of the good advice that had beenoffered to him, by stooping down and embracing Dorothea, saying to her, "Rise, dear lady, it is not right that what I hold in my heart should be kneeling at myfeet; and if until now I have shown no sign of what I own, it may have been byHeaven's decree in order that, seeing the constancy with which you love me, Imay learn to value you as you deserve. What I entreat of you is that you reproachme not with my transgression and grievous wrong-doing; for the same cause andforce that drove me to make you mine impelled me to struggle against beingyours; and to prove this, turn and look at the eyes of the now happy Luscinda, and you will see in them an excuse for all my errors: and as she has found andgained the object of her desires, and I have found in you what satisfies all mywishes, may she live in peace and contentment as many happy years with herCardenio, as on my knees I pray Heaven to allow me to live with my Dorothea;"and with these words he once more embraced her and pressed his face to herswith so much tenderness that he had to take great heed to keep his tears fromcompleting the proof of his love and repentance in the sight of all. Not soLuscinda, and Cardenio, and almost all the others, for they shed so many tears, some in their own happiness, some at that of the others, that one would havesupposed a heavy calamity had fallen upon them all. Even Sancho Panza wasweeping; though afterwards he said he only wept because he saw that Dorotheawas not as he fancied the queen Micomicona, of whom he expected such greatfavours. Their wonder as well as their weeping lasted some time, and thenCardenio and Luscinda went and fell on their knees before Don Fernando, returning him thanks for the favour he had rendered them in language so gratefulthat he knew not how to answer them, and raising them up embraced them withevery mark of affection and courtesy. He then asked Dorothea how she had managed to reach a place so far removedfrom her own home, and she in a few fitting words told all that she hadpreviously related to Cardenio, with which Don Fernando and his companionswere so delighted that they wished the story had been longer; so charmingly didDorothea describe her misadventures. When she had finished Don Fernandorecounted what had befallen him in the city after he had found in Luscinda'sbosom the paper in which she declared that she was Cardenio's wife, and nevercould be his. He said he meant to kill her, and would have done so had he notbeen prevented by her parents, and that he quitted the house full of rage andshame, and resolved to avenge himself when a more convenient opportunityshould offer. The next day he learned that Luscinda had disappeared from herfather's house, and that no one could tell whither she had gone. Finally, at the endof some months he ascertained that she was in a convent and meant to remainthere all the rest of her life, if she were not to share it with Cardenio; and as soonas he had learned this, taking these three gentlemen as his companions, he arrivedat the place where she was, but avoided speaking to her, fearing that if it wereknown he was there stricter precautions would be taken in the convent; andwatching a time when the porter's lodge was open he left two to guard the gate, and he and the other entered the convent in quest of Luscinda, whom they foundin the cloisters in conversation with one of the nuns, and carrying her off withoutgiving her time to resist, they reached a place with her where they providedthemselves with what they required for taking her away; all which they were ableto do in complete safety, as the convent was in the country at a considerabledistance from the city. He added that when Luscinda found herself in his powershe lost all consciousness, and after returning to herself did nothing but weep andsigh without speaking a word; and thus in silence and tears they reached that inn, which for him was reaching heaven where all the mischances of earth are over andat an end. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXVII. IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE STORY OF THE FAMOUSPRINCESS MICOMICONA, WITH OTHER DROLL ADVENTURESTo all this Sancho listened with no little sorrow at heart to see how his hopes ofdignity were fading away and vanishing in smoke, and how the fair PrincessMicomicona had turned into Dorothea, and the giant into Don Fernando, whilehis master was sleeping tranquilly, totally unconscious of all that had come topass. Dorothea was unable to persuade herself that her present happiness was notall a dream; Cardenio was in a similar state of mind, and Luscinda's thoughts ranin the same direction. Don Fernando gave thanks to Heaven for the favour shownto him and for having been rescued from the intricate labyrinth in which he hadbeen brought so near the destruction of his good name and of his soul; and inshort everybody in the inn was full of contentment and satisfaction at the happyissue of such a complicated and hopeless business. The curate as a sensible manmade sound reflections upon the whole affair, and congratulated each upon hisgood fortune; but the one that was in the highest spirits and good humour was thelandlady, because of the promise Cardenio and the curate had given her to pay forall the losses and damage she had sustained through Don Quixote's means. Sancho, as has been already said, was the only one who was distressed, unhappy, and dejected; and so with a long face he went in to his master, who had justawoke, and said to him:"Sir Rueful Countenance, your worship may as well sleep on as much as youlike, without troubling yourself about killing any giant or restoring her kingdom tothe princess; for that is all over and settled now. ""I should think it was, " replied Don Quixote, "for I have had the mostprodigious and stupendous battle with the giant that I ever remember having hadall the days of my life; and with one back-stroke--swish!--I brought his headtumbling to the ground, and so much blood gushed forth from him that it ran inrivulets over the earth like water. ""Like red wine, your worship had better say, " replied Sancho; "for I would haveyou know, if you don't know it, that the dead giant is a hacked wine-skin, and theblood four-and-twenty gallons of red wine that it had in its belly, and the cut-offhead is the bitch that bore me; and the devil take it all. ""What art thou talking about, fool?" said Don Quixote; "art thou in thy senses?""Let your worship get up, " said Sancho, "and you will see the nice business youhave made of it, and what we have to pay; and you will see the queen turned intoa private lady called Dorothea, and other things that will astonish you, if youunderstand them. ""I shall not be surprised at anything of the kind, " returned Don Quixote; "for ifthou dost remember the last time we were here I told thee that everything thathappened here was a matter of enchantment, and it would be no wonder if it werethe same now. ""I could believe all that, " replied Sancho, "if my blanketing was the same sort ofthing also; only it wasn't, but real and genuine; for I saw the landlord, Who ishere to-day, holding one end of the blanket and jerking me up to the skies veryneatly and smartly, and with as much laughter as strength; and when it comes tobe a case of knowing people, I hold for my part, simple and sinner as I am, thatthere is no enchantment about it at all, but a great deal of bruising and bad luck. ""Well, well, God will give a remedy, " said Don Quixote; "hand me my clothesand let me go out, for I want to see these transformations and things thouspeakest of. "Sancho fetched him his clothes; and while he was dressing, the curate gave DonFernando and the others present an account of Don Quixote's madness and of thestratagem they had made use of to withdraw him from that Pena Pobre where hefancied himself stationed because of his lady's scorn. He described to them alsonearly all the adventures that Sancho had mentioned, at which they marvelled andlaughed not a little, thinking it, as all did, the strangest form of madness a crazyintellect could be capable of. But now, the curate said, that the lady Dorothea'sgood fortune prevented her from proceeding with their purpose, it would benecessary to devise or discover some other way of getting him home. Cardenio proposed to carry out the scheme they had begun, and suggested thatLuscinda would act and support Dorothea's part sufficiently well. "No, " said Don Fernando, "that must not be, for I want Dorothea to follow outthis idea of hers; and if the worthy gentleman's village is not very far off, I shallbe happy if I can do anything for his relief. ""It is not more than two days' journey from this, " said the curate. "Even if it were more, " said Don Fernando, "I would gladly travel so far for thesake of doing so good a work. "At this moment Don Quixote came out in full panoply, with Mambrino'shelmet, all dinted as it was, on his head, his buckler on his arm, and leaning onhis staff or pike. The strange figure he presented filled Don Fernando and the restwith amazement as they contemplated his lean yellow face half a league long, hisarmour of all sorts, and the solemnity of his deportment. They stood silentwaiting to see what he would say, and he, fixing his eyes on the air Dorothea, addressed her with great gravity and composure:"I am informed, fair lady, by my squire here that your greatness has beenannihilated and your being abolished, since, from a queen and lady of high degreeas you used to be, you have been turned into a private maiden. If this has beendone by the command of the magician king your father, through fear that I shouldnot afford you the aid you need and are entitled to, I may tell you he did notknow and does not know half the mass, and was little versed in the annals ofchivalry; for, if he had read and gone through them as attentively and deliberatelyas I have, he would have found at every turn that knights of less renown thanmine have accomplished things more difficult: it is no great matter to kill a whelpof a giant, however arrogant he may be; for it is not many hours since I myselfwas engaged with one, and--I will not speak of it, that they may not say I amlying; time, however, that reveals all, will tell the tale when we least expect it. ""You were engaged with a couple of wine-skins, and not a giant, " said thelandlord at this; but Don Fernando told him to hold his tongue and on no accountinterrupt Don Quixote, who continued, "I say in conclusion, high and disinheritedlady, that if your father has brought about this metamorphosis in your person forthe reason I have mentioned, you ought not to attach any importance to it; forthere is no peril on earth through which my sword will not force a way, and withit, before many days are over, I will bring your enemy's head to the ground andplace on yours the crown of your kingdom. "Don Quixote said no more, and waited for the reply of the princess, who awareof Don Fernando's determination to carry on the deception until Don Quixote hadbeen conveyed to his home, with great ease of manner and gravity made answer, "Whoever told you, valiant Knight of the Rueful Countenance, that I hadundergone any change or transformation did not tell you the truth, for I am thesame as I was yesterday. It is true that certain strokes of good fortune, that havegiven me more than I could have hoped for, have made some alteration in me; butI have not therefore ceased to be what I was before, or to entertain the samedesire I have had all through of availing myself of the might of your valiant andinvincible arm. And so, senor, let your goodness reinstate the father that begot mein your good opinion, and be assured that he was a wise and prudent man, sinceby his craft he found out such a sure and easy way of remedying my misfortune;for I believe, senor, that had it not been for you I should never have lit upon thegood fortune I now possess; and in this I am saying what is perfectly true; as mostof these gentlemen who are present can fully testify. All that remains is to set outon our journey to-morrow, for to-day we could not make much way; and for therest of the happy result I am looking forward to, I trust to God and the valour ofyour heart. "So said the sprightly Dorothea, and on hearing her Don Quixote turned toSancho, and said to him, with an angry air, "I declare now, little Sancho, thou artthe greatest little villain in Spain. Say, thief and vagabond, hast thou not just nowtold me that this princess had been turned into a maiden called Dorothea, andthat the head which I am persuaded I cut off from a giant was the bitch that borethee, and other nonsense that put me in the greatest perplexity I have ever been inall my life? I vow" (and here he looked to heaven and ground his teeth) "I have amind to play the mischief with thee, in a way that will teach sense for the futureto all lying squires of knights-errant in the world. ""Let your worship be calm, senor, " returned Sancho, "for it may well be that Ihave been mistaken as to the change of the lady princess Micomicona; but as tothe giant's head, or at least as to the piercing of the wine-skins, and the bloodbeing red wine, I make no mistake, as sure as there is a God; because thewounded skins are there at the head of your worship's bed, and the wine hasmade a lake of the room; if not you will see when the eggs come to be fried; Imean when his worship the landlord calls for all the damages: for the rest, I amheartily glad that her ladyship the queen is as she was, for it concerns me asmuch as anyone. ""I tell thee again, Sancho, thou art a fool, " said Don Quixote; "forgive me, andthat will do. ""That will do, " said Don Fernando; "let us say no more about it; and as herladyship the princess proposes to set out to-morrow because it is too late to-day, so be it, and we will pass the night in pleasant conversation, and to-morrow wewill all accompany Senor Don Quixote; for we wish to witness the valiant andunparalleled achievements he is about to perform in the course of this mightyenterprise which he has undertaken. ""It is I who shall wait upon and accompany you, " said Don Quixote; "and I ammuch gratified by the favour that is bestowed upon me, and the good opinionentertained of me, which I shall strive to justify or it shall cost me my life, or evenmore, if it can possibly cost me more. "Many were the compliments and expressions of politeness that passed betweenDon Quixote and Don Fernando; but they were brought to an end by a travellerwho at this moment entered the inn, and who seemed from his attire to be aChristian lately come from the country of the Moors, for he was dressed in ashort-skirted coat of blue cloth with half-sleeves and without a collar; his breecheswere also of blue cloth, and his cap of the same colour, and he wore yellowbuskins and had a Moorish cutlass slung from a baldric across his breast. Behindhim, mounted upon an ass, there came a woman dressed in Moorish fashion, withher face veiled and a scarf on her head, and wearing a little brocaded cap, and amantle that covered her from her shoulders to her feet. The man was of a robustand well-proportioned frame, in age a little over forty, rather swarthy incomplexion, with long moustaches and a full beard, and, in short, his appearancewas such that if he had been well dressed he would have been taken for a personof quality and good birth. On entering he asked for a room, and when they toldhim there was none in the inn he seemed distressed, and approaching her who byher dress seemed to be a Moor he her down from saddle in his arms. Luscinda, Dorothea, the landlady, her daughter and Maritornes, attracted by the strange, and to them entirely new costume, gathered round her; and Dorothea, who wasalways kindly, courteous, and quick-witted, perceiving that both she and the manwho had brought her were annoyed at not finding a room, said to her, "Do not beput out, senora, by the discomfort and want of luxuries here, for it is the way ofroad-side inns to be without them; still, if you will be pleased to share our lodgingwith us (pointing to Luscinda) perhaps you will have found worse accommodationin the course of your journey. "To this the veiled lady made no reply; all she did was to rise from her seat, crossing her hands upon her bosom, bowing her head and bending her body as asign that she returned thanks. From her silence they concluded that she must be aMoor and unable to speak a Christian tongue. At this moment the captive came up, having been until now otherwise engaged, and seeing that they all stood round his companion and that she made no reply towhat they addressed to her, he said, "Ladies, this damsel hardly understands mylanguage and can speak none but that of her own country, for which reason shedoes not and cannot answer what has been asked of her. ""Nothing has been asked of her, " returned Luscinda; "she has only been offeredour company for this evening and a share of the quarters we occupy, where sheshall be made as comfortable as the circumstances allow, with the good-will weare bound to show all strangers that stand in need of it, especially if it be awoman to whom the service is rendered. ""On her part and my own, senora, " replied the captive, "I kiss your hands, and Iesteem highly, as I ought, the favour you have offered, which, on such anoccasion and coming from persons of your appearance, is, it is plain to see, a verygreat one. ""Tell me, senor, " said Dorothea, "is this lady a Christian or a Moor? for herdress and her silence lead us to imagine that she is what we could wish she wasnot. ""In dress and outwardly, " said he, "she is a Moor, but at heart she is athoroughly good Christian, for she has the greatest desire to become one. ""Then she has not been baptised?" returned Luscinda. "There has been no opportunity for that, " replied the captive, "since she leftAlgiers, her native country and home; and up to the present she has not foundherself in any such imminent danger of death as to make it necessary to baptiseher before she has been instructed in all the ceremonies our holy mother Churchordains; but, please God, ere long she shall be baptised with the solemnitybefitting her which is higher than her dress or mine indicates. "By these words he excited a desire in all who heard him, to know who theMoorish lady and the captive were, but no one liked to ask just then, seeing thatit was a fitter moment for helping them to rest themselves than for questioningthem about their lives. Dorothea took the Moorish lady by the hand and leadingher to a seat beside herself, requested her to remove her veil. She looked at thecaptive as if to ask him what they meant and what she was to do. He said to herin Arabic that they asked her to take off her veil, and thereupon she removed itand disclosed a countenance so lovely, that to Dorothea she seemed morebeautiful than Luscinda, and to Luscinda more beautiful than Dorothea, and allthe bystanders felt that if any beauty could compare with theirs it was theMoorish lady's, and there were even those who were inclined to give it somewhatthe preference. And as it is the privilege and charm of beauty to win the heart andsecure good-will, all forthwith became eager to show kindness and attention to thelovely Moor. Don Fernando asked the captive what her name was, and he replied that it wasLela Zoraida; but the instant she heard him, she guessed what the Christian hadasked, and said hastily, with some displeasure and energy, "No, not Zoraida;Maria, Maria!" giving them to understand that she was called "Maria" and not"Zoraida. " These words, and the touching earnestness with which she utteredthem, drew more than one tear from some of the listeners, particularly thewomen, who are by nature tender-hearted and compassionate. Luscinda embracedher affectionately, saying, "Yes, yes, Maria, Maria, " to which the Moor replied, "Yes, yes, Maria; Zoraida macange, " which means "not Zoraida. "Night was now approaching, and by the orders of those who accompanied DonFernando the landlord had taken care and pains to prepare for them the bestsupper that was in his power. The hour therefore having arrived they all tooktheir seats at a long table like a refectory one, for round or square table there wasnone in the inn, and the seat of honour at the head of it, though he was forrefusing it, they assigned to Don Quixote, who desired the lady Micomicona toplace herself by his side, as he was her protector. Luscinda and Zoraida took theirplaces next her, opposite to them were Don Fernando and Cardenio, and next thecaptive and the other gentlemen, and by the side of the ladies, the curate and thebarber. And so they supped in high enjoyment, which was increased when theyobserved Don Quixote leave off eating, and, moved by an impulse like that whichmade him deliver himself at such length when he supped with the goatherds, begin to address them:"Verily, gentlemen, if we reflect upon it, great and marvellous are the thingsthey see, who make profession of the order of knight-errantry. Say, what being isthere in this world, who entering the gate of this castle at this moment, and seeingus as we are here, would suppose or imagine us to be what we are? Who wouldsay that this lady who is beside me was the great queen that we all know her tobe, or that I am that Knight of the Rueful Countenance, trumpeted far and wideby the mouth of Fame? Now, there can be no doubt that this art and callingsurpasses all those that mankind has invented, and is the more deserving of beingheld in honour in proportion as it is the more exposed to peril. Away with thosewho assert that letters have the preeminence over arms; I will tell them, whosoever they may be, that they know not what they say. For the reason whichsuch persons

commonly assign, and upon which they chiefly rest, is, that thelabours of the mind are greater than those of the body, and that arms giveemployment to the body alone; as if the calling were a porter's trade, for whichnothing more is required than sturdy strength; or as if, in what we who professthem call arms, there were not included acts of vigour for the execution of whichhigh intelligence is requisite; or as if the soul of the warrior, when he has anarmy, or the defence of a city under his care, did not exert itself as much by mindas by body. Nay; see whether by bodily strength it be possible to learn or divinethe intentions of the enemy, his plans, stratagems, or obstacles, or to ward offimpending mischief; for all these are the work of the mind, and in them the bodyhas no share whatever. Since, therefore, arms have need of the mind, as much asletters, let us see now which of the two minds, that of the man of letters or that ofthe warrior, has most to do; and this will be seen by the end and goal that eachseeks to attain; for that purpose is the more estimable which has for its aim thenobler object. The end and goal of letters--I am not speaking now of divineletters, the aim of which is to raise and direct the soul to Heaven; for with an endso infinite no other can be compared--I speak of human letters, the end of whichis to establish distributive justice, give to every man that which is his, and see andtake care that good laws are observed: an end undoubtedly noble, lofty, anddeserving of high praise, but not such as should be given to that sought by arms, which have for their end and object peace, the greatest boon that men can desirein this life. The first good news the world and mankind received was that whichthe angels announced on the night that was our day, when they sang in the air, 'Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men of good-will;' and thesalutation which the great Master of heaven and earth taught his disciples andchosen followers when they entered any house, was to say, 'Peace be on thishouse;' and many other times he said to them, 'My peace I give unto you, mypeace I leave you, peace be with you;' a jewel and a precious gift given and left bysuch a hand: a jewel without which there can be no happiness either on earth orin heaven. This peace is the true end of war; and war is only another name forarms. This, then, being admitted, that the end of war is peace, and that so far ithas the advantage of the end of letters, let us turn to the bodily labours of theman of letters, and those of him who follows the profession of arms, and seewhich are the greater. "Don Quixote delivered his discourse in such a manner and in such correctlanguage, that for the time being he made it impossible for any of his hearers toconsider him a madman; on the contrary, as they were mostly gentlemen, towhom arms are an appurtenance by birth, they listened to him with great pleasureas he continued: "Here, then, I say is what the student has to undergo; first of allpoverty: not that all are poor, but to put the case as strongly as possible: andwhen I have said that he endures poverty, I think nothing more need be saidabout his hard fortune, for he who is poor has no share of the good things of life. This poverty he suffers from in various ways, hunger, or cold, or nakedness, or alltogether; but for all that it is not so extreme but that he gets something to eat, though it may be at somewhat unseasonable hours and from the leavings of therich; for the greatest misery of the student is what they themselves call 'going outfor soup, ' and there is always some neighbour's brazier or hearth for them, which, if it does not warm, at least tempers the cold to them, and lastly, they sleepcomfortably at night under a roof. I will not go into other particulars, as forexample want of shirts, and no superabundance of shoes, thin and threadbaregarments, and gorging themselves to surfeit in their voracity when good luck hastreated them to a banquet of some sort. By this road that I have described, roughand hard, stumbling here, falling there, getting up again to fall again, they reachthe rank they desire, and that once attained, we have seen many who have passedthese Syrtes and Scyllas and Charybdises, as if borne flying on the wings offavouring fortune; we have seen them, I say, ruling and governing the world froma chair, their hunger turned into satiety, their cold into comfort, their nakednessinto fine raiment, their sleep on a mat into repose in holland and damask, thejustly earned reward of their virtue; but, contrasted and compared with what thewarrior undergoes, all they have undergone falls far short of it, as I am now aboutto show. "CHAPTER XXXVIII. WHICH TREATS OF THE CURIOUS DISCOURSE DON QUIXOTEDELIVERED ON ARMS AND LETTERSContinuing his discourse Don Quixote said: "As we began in the student's casewith poverty and its accompaniments, let us see now if the soldier is richer, andwe shall find that in poverty itself there is no one poorer; for he is dependent onhis miserable pay, which comes late or never, or else on what he can plunder, seriously imperilling his life and conscience; and sometimes his nakedness will beso great that a slashed doublet serves him for uniform and shirt, and in the depthof winter he has to defend himself against the inclemency of the weather in theopen field with nothing better than the breath of his mouth, which I need not say, coming from an empty place, must come out cold, contrary to the laws of nature. To be sure he looks forward to the approach of night to make up for all thesediscomforts on the bed that awaits him, which, unless by some fault of his, neversins by being over narrow, for he can easily measure out on the ground as helikes, and roll himself about in it to his heart's content without any fear of thesheets slipping away from him. Then, after all this, suppose the day and hour fortaking his degree in his calling to have come; suppose the day of battle to havearrived, when they invest him with the doctor's cap made of lint, to mend somebullet-hole, perhaps, that has gone through his temples, or left him with acrippled arm or leg. Or if this does not happen, and merciful Heaven watches overhim and keeps him safe and sound, it may be he will be in the same poverty hewas in before, and he must go through more engagements and more battles, andcome victorious out of all before he betters himself; but miracles of that sort areseldom seen. For tell me, sirs, if you have ever reflected upon it, by how much dothose who have gained by war fall short of the number of those who haveperished in it? No doubt you will reply that there can be no comparison, that thedead cannot be numbered, while the living who have been rewarded may besummed up with three figures. All which is the reverse in the case of men ofletters; for by skirts, to say nothing of sleeves, they all find means of support; sothat though the soldier has more to endure, his reward is much less. But againstall this it may be urged that it is easier to reward two thousand soldiers, for theformer may be remunerated by giving them places, which must perforce beconferred upon men of their calling, while the latter can only be recompensed outof the very property of the master they serve; but this impossibility onlystrengthens my argument. "Putting this, however, aside, for it is a puzzling question for which it is difficultto find a solution, let us return to the superiority of arms over letters, a matterstill undecided, so many are the arguments put forward on each side; for besidesthose I have mentioned, letters say that without them arms cannot maintainthemselves, for war, too, has its laws and is governed by them, and laws belong tothe domain of letters and men of letters. To this arms make answer that withoutthem laws cannot be maintained, for by arms states are defended, kingdomspreserved, cities protected, roads made safe, seas cleared of pirates; and, in short, if it were not for them, states, kingdoms, monarchies, cities, ways by sea and landwould be exposed to the violence and confusion which war brings with it, so longas it lasts and is free to make use of its privileges and powers. And then it is plainthat whatever costs most is valued and deserves to be valued most. To attain toeminence in letters costs a man time, watching, hunger, nakedness, headaches, indigestions, and other things of the sort, some of which I have already referredto. But for a man to come in the ordinary course of things to be a good soldiercosts him all the student suffers, and in an incomparably higher degree, for atevery step he runs the risk of losing his life. For what dread of want or povertythat can reach or harass the student can compare with what the soldier feels, whofinds himself beleaguered in some stronghold mounting guard in some ravelin orcavalier, knows that the enemy is pushing a mine towards the post where he isstationed, and cannot under any circumstances retire or fly from the imminentdanger that threatens him? All he can do is to inform his captain of what is goingon so that he may try to remedy it by a counter-mine, and then stand his groundin fear and expectation of the moment when he will fly up to the clouds withoutwings and descend into the deep against his will. And if this seems a trifling risk, let us see whether it is equalled or surpassed by the encounter of two galleys stemto stem, in the midst of the open sea, locked and entangled one with the other, when the soldier has no more standing room than two feet of the plank of thespur; and yet, though he sees before him threatening him as many ministers ofdeath as there are cannon of the foe pointed at him, not a lance length from hisbody, and sees too that with the first heedless step he will go down to visit theprofundities of Neptune's bosom, still with dauntless heart, urged on by honourthat nerves him, he makes himself a target for all that musketry, and struggles tocross that narrow path to the enemy's ship. And what is still more marvellous, nosooner has one gone down into the depths he will never rise from till the end ofthe world, than another takes his place; and if he too falls into the sea that waitsfor him like an enemy, another and another will succeed him without a moment'spause between their deaths: courage and daring the greatest that all the chancesof war can show. Happy the blest ages that knew not the dread fury of thosedevilish engines of artillery, whose inventor I am persuaded is in hell receiving thereward of his diabolical invention, by which he made it easy for a base andcowardly arm to take the life of a gallant gentleman; and that, when he knows nothow or whence, in the height of the ardour and enthusiasm that fire and animatebrave hearts, there should come some random bullet, discharged perhaps by onewho fled in terror at the flash when he fired off his accursed machine, which in aninstant puts an end to the projects and cuts off the life of one who deserved tolive for ages to come. And thus when I reflect on this, I am almost tempted to saythat in my heart I repent of having adopted this profession of knight-errant in sodetestable an age as we live in now; for though no peril can make me fear, still itgives me some uneasiness to think that powder and lead may rob me of theopportunity of making myself famous and renowned throughout the known earthby the might of my arm and the edge of my sword. But Heaven's will be done; if Isucceed in my attempt I shall be all the more honoured, as I have faced greaterdangers than the knights-errant of yore exposed themselves to. "All this lengthy discourse Don Quixote delivered while the others supped, forgetting to raise a morsel to his lips, though Sancho more than once told him toeat his supper, as he would have time enough afterwards to say all he wanted. Itexcited fresh pity in those who had heard him to see a man of apparently soundsense, and with rational views on every subject he discussed, so hopelesslywanting in all, when his wretched unlucky chivalry was in question. The curatetold him he was quite right in all he had said in favour of arms, and that hehimself, though a man of letters and a graduate, was of the same opinion. They finished their supper, the cloth was removed, and while the hostess, herdaughter, and Maritornes were getting Don Quixote of La Mancha's garret ready, in which it was arranged that the women were to be quartered by themselves forthe night, Don Fernando begged the captive to tell them the story of his life, for itcould not fail to be strange and interesting, to judge by the hints he had let fall onhis arrival in company with Zoraida. To this the captive replied that he wouldvery willingly yield to his request, only he feared his tale would not give them asmuch pleasure as he wished; nevertheless, not to be wanting in compliance, hewould tell it. The curate and the others thanked him and added their entreaties, and he finding himself so pressed said there was no occasion ask, where acommand had such weight, and added, "If your worships will give me yourattention you will hear a true story which, perhaps, fictitious ones constructedwith ingenious and studied art cannot come up to. " These words made them settlethemselves in their places and preserve a deep silence, and he seeing them waitingon his words in mute expectation, began thus in a pleasant quiet voice. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXIX. WHEREIN THE CAPTIVE RELATES HIS LIFE AND ADVENTURESMy family had its origin in a village in the mountains of Leon, and nature hadbeen kinder and more generous to it than fortune; though in the general povertyof those communities my father passed for being even a rich man; and he wouldhave been so in reality had he been as clever in preserving his property as he wasin spending it. This tendency of his to be liberal and profuse he had acquired fromhaving been a soldier in his youth, for the soldier's life is a school in which theniggard becomes free-handed and the free-handed prodigal; and if any soldiers areto be found who are misers, they are monsters of rare occurrence. My father wentbeyond liberality and bordered on prodigality, a disposition by no meansadvantageous to a married man who has children to succeed to his name andposition. My father had three, all sons, and all of sufficient age to make choice ofa profession. Finding, then, that he was unable to resist his propensity, heresolved to divest himself of the instrument and cause of his prodigality andlavishness, to divest himself of wealth, without which Alexander himself wouldhave seemed parsimonious; and so calling us all three aside one day into a room, he addressed us in words somewhat to the following effect:"My sons, to assure you that I love you, no more need be known or said thanthat you are my sons; and to encourage a suspicion that I do not love you, nomore is needed than the knowledge that I have no self-control as far aspreservation of your patrimony is concerned; therefore, that you may for thefuture feel sure that I love you like a father, and have no wish to ruin you like astepfather, I propose to do with you what I have for some time back meditated, and after mature deliberation decided upon. You are now of an age to choose yourline of life or at least make choice of a calling that will bring you honour andprofit when you are older; and what I have resolved to do is to divide my propertyinto four parts; three I will give to you, to each his portion without making anydifference, and the other I will retain to live upon and support myself forwhatever remainder of life Heaven may be pleased to grant me. But I wish each ofyou on taking possession of the share that falls to him to follow one of the paths Ishall indicate. In this Spain of ours there is a proverb, to my mind very true--asthey all are, being short aphorisms drawn from long practical experience--and theone I refer to says, 'The church, or the sea, or the king's house;' as much as to say, in plainer language, whoever wants to flourish and become rich, let him follow thechurch, or go to sea, adopting commerce as his calling, or go into the king'sservice in his household, for they say, 'Better a king's crumb than a lord's favour. 'I say so because it is my will and pleasure that one of you should follow letters, another trade, and the third serve the king in the wars, for it is a difficult matterto gain admission to his service in his household, and if war does not bring muchwealth it confers great distinction and fame. Eight days hence I will give you yourfull shares in money, without defrauding you of a farthing, as you will see in theend. Now tell me if you are willing to follow out my idea and advice as I have laidit before you. "Having called upon me as the eldest to answer, I, after urging him not to striphimself of his property but to spend it all as he pleased, for we were young menable to gain our living, consented to comply with his wishes, and said that minewere to follow the profession of arms and thereby serve God and my king. Mysecond brother having made the same proposal, decided upon going to the Indies, embarking the portion that fell to him in trade. The youngest, and in my opinionthe wisest, said he would rather follow the church, or go to complete his studiesat Salamanca. As soon as we had come to an understanding, and made choice ofour professions, my father embraced us all, and in the short time he mentionedcarried into effect all he had promised; and when he had given to each his share, which as well as I remember was three thousand ducats apiece in cash (for anuncle of ours bought the estate and paid for it down, not to let it go out of thefamily), we all three on the same day took leave of our good father; and at thesame time, as it seemed to me inhuman to leave my father with such scantymeans in his old age, I induced him to take two of my three thousand ducats, asthe remainder would be enough to provide me with all a soldier needed. My twobrothers, moved by my example, gave him each a thousand ducats, so that therewas left for my father four thousand ducats in money, besides three thousand, thevalue of the portion that fell to him which he preferred to retain in land instead ofselling it. Finally, as I said, we took leave of him, and of our uncle whom I havementioned, not without sorrow and tears on both sides, they charging us to letthem know whenever an opportunity offered how we fared, whether well or ill. We promised to do so, and when he had embraced us and given us his blessing, one set out for Salamanca, the other for Seville, and I for Alicante, where I hadheard there was a Genoese vessel taking in a cargo of wool for Genoa. It is now some twenty-two years since I left my father's house, and all that time, though I have written several letters, I have had no news whatever of him or ofmy brothers; my own adventures during that period I will now relate briefly. Iembarked at Alicante, reached Genoa after a prosperous voyage, and proceededthence to Milan, where I provided myself with arms and a few soldier'saccoutrements; thence it was my intention to go and take service in Piedmont, butas I was already on the road to Alessandria della Paglia, I learned that the greatDuke of Alva was on his way to Flanders. I changed my plans, joined him, servedunder him in the campaigns he made, was present at the deaths of the CountsEgmont and Horn, and was promoted to be ensign under a famous captain ofGuadalajara, Diego de Urbina by name. Some time after my arrival in Flandersnews came of the league that his Holiness Pope Pius V of happy memory, hadmade with Venice and Spain against the common enemy, the Turk, who had justthen with his fleet taken the famous island of Cyprus, which belonged to theVenetians, a loss deplorable and disastrous. It was known as a fact that the MostSerene Don John of Austria, natural brother of our good king Don Philip, wascoming as commander-in-chief of the allied forces, and rumours were abroad ofthe vast warlike preparations which were being made, all which stirred my heartand filled me with a longing to take part in the campaign which was expected; andthough I had reason to believe, and almost certain promises, that on the firstopportunity that presented itself I should be promoted to be captain, I preferredto leave all and betake myself, as I did, to Italy; and it was my good fortune thatDon John had just arrived at Genoa, and was going on to Naples to join theVenetian fleet, as he afterwards did at Messina. I may say, in short, that I tookpart in that glorious expedition, promoted by this time to be a captain of infantry, to which honourable charge my good luck rather than my merits raised me; andthat day--so fortunate for Christendom, because then all the nations of the earthwere disabused of the error under which they lay in imagining the Turks to beinvincible on sea-on that day, I say, on which the Ottoman pride and arrogancewere broken, among all that were there made happy (for the Christians who diedthat day were happier than those who remained alive and victorious) I alone wasmiserable; for, instead of some naval crown that I might have expected had itbeen in Roman times, on the night that followed that famous day I found myselfwith fetters on my feet and manacles on my hands. It happened in this way: El Uchali, the king of Algiers, a daring and successfulcorsair, having attacked and taken the leading Maltese galley (only three knightsbeing left alive in it, and they badly wounded), the chief galley of John Andrea, onboard of which I and my company were placed, came to its relief, and doing aswas bound to do in such a case, I leaped on board the enemy's galley, which, sheering off from that which had attacked it, prevented my men from followingme, and so I found myself alone in the midst of my enemies, who were in suchnumbers that I was unable to resist; in short I was taken, covered with wounds;El Uchali, as you know, sirs, made his escape with his entire squadron, and I wasleft a prisoner in his power, the only sad being among so many filled with joy, andthe only captive among so many free; for there were fifteen thousand Christians, all at the oar in the Turkish fleet, that regained their longed-for liberty that day. They carried me to Constantinople, where the Grand Turk, Selim, made mymaster general at sea for having done his duty in the battle and carried off asevidence of his bravery the standard of the Order of Malta. The following year, which was the year seventy-two, I found myself at Navarino rowing in the leadinggalley with the three lanterns. There I saw and observed how the opportunity ofcapturing the whole Turkish fleet in harbour was lost; for all the marines andjanizzaries that belonged to it made sure that they were about to be attackedinside the very harbour, and had their kits and pasamaques, or shoes, ready toflee at once on shore without waiting to be assailed, in so great fear did theystand of our fleet. But Heaven ordered it otherwise, not for any fault or neglect ofthe general who commanded on our side, but for the sins of Christendom, andbecause it was God's will and pleasure that we should always have instruments ofpunishment to chastise us. As it was, El Uchali took refuge at Modon, which is anisland near Navarino, and landing forces fortified the mouth of the harbour andwaited quietly until Don John retired. On this expedition was taken the galleycalled the Prize, whose captain was a son of the famous corsair Barbarossa. It wastaken by the chief Neapolitan galley called the She-wolf, commanded by thatthunderbolt of war, that father of his men, that successful and unconqueredcaptain Don Alvaro de Bazan, Marquis of Santa Cruz; and I cannot help tellingyou what took place at the capture of the Prize. The son of Barbarossa was so cruel, and treated his slaves so badly, that, whenthose who were at the oars saw that the She-wolf galley was bearing down uponthem and gaining upon them, they all at once dropped their oars and seized theircaptain who stood on the stage at the end of the gangway shouting to them to rowlustily; and passing him on from bench to bench, from the poop to the prow, theyso bit him that before he had got much past the mast his soul had already got tohell; so great, as I said, was the cruelty with which he treated them, and thehatred with which they hated him. We returned to Constantinople, and the following year, seventy-three, it becameknown that Don John had seized Tunis and taken the kingdom from the Turks, and placed Muley Hamet in possession, putting an end to the hopes which MuleyHamida, the cruelest and bravest Moor in the world, entertained of returning toreign there. The Grand Turk took the loss greatly to heart, and with the cunningwhich all his race possess, he made peace with the Venetians (who were muchmore eager for it than he was), and the following year, seventy-four, he attackedthe Goletta and the fort which Don John had left half built near Tunis. While allthese events were occurring, I was labouring at the oar without any hope offreedom; at least I had no hope of obtaining it by ransom, for I was firmlyresolved not to write to my father telling him of my misfortunes. At length theGoletta fell, and the fort fell, before which places there were seventy-fivethousand regular Turkish soldiers, and more than four hundred thousand Moorsand Arabs from all parts of Africa, and in the train of all this great host suchmunitions and engines of war, and so many pioneers that with their hands theymight have covered the Goletta and the fort with handfuls of earth. The first tofall was the Goletta, until then reckoned impregnable, and it fell, not by any faultof its defenders, who did all that they could and should have done, but becauseexperiment proved how easily entrenchments could be made in the desert sandthere; for water used to be found at two palms depth, while the Turks found noneat two yards; and so by means of a quantity of sandbags they raised their worksso high that they commanded the walls of the fort, sweeping them as if from acavalier, so that no one was able to make a stand or maintain the defence. It was a common opinion that our men should not have shut themselves up inthe Goletta, but should have waited in the open at the landing-place; but thosewho say so talk at random and with little knowledge of such matters; for if in theGoletta and in the fort there were barely seven thousand soldiers, how could sucha small number, however resolute, sally out and hold their own against numberslike those of the enemy? And how is it possible to help losing a stronghold that isnot relieved, above all when surrounded by a host of determined enemies in theirown country? But many thought, and I thought so too, that it was special favourand mercy which Heaven showed to Spain in permitting the destruction of thatsource and hiding place of mischief, that devourer, sponge, and moth of countlessmoney, fruitlessly wasted there to no other purpose save preserving the memoryof its capture by the invincible Charles V; as if to make that eternal, as it is andwill be, these stones were needed to support it. The fort also fell; but the Turkshad to win it inch by inch, for the soldiers who defended it fought so gallantlyand stoutly that the number of the enemy killed in twenty-two general assaultsexceeded twenty-five thousand. Of three hundred that remained alive not one wastaken unwounded, a clear and manifest proof of their gallantry and resolution, and how sturdily they had defended themselves and held their post. A small fortor tower which was in the middle of the lagoon under the command of Don JuanZanoguera, a Valencian gentleman and a famous soldier, capitulated upon terms. They took prisoner Don Pedro Puertocarrero, commandant of the Goletta, whohad done all in his power to defend his fortress, and took the loss of it so much toheart that he died of grief on the way to Constantinople, where they were carryinghim a prisoner. They also took the commandant of the fort, Gabrio Cerbellon byname, a Milanese gentleman, a great engineer and a very brave soldier. In thesetwo fortresses perished many persons of note, among whom was Pagano Doria, knight of the Order of St. John, a man of generous disposition, as was shown byhis extreme liberality to his brother, the famous John Andrea Doria; and whatmade his death the more sad was that he was slain by some Arabs to whom, seeing that the fort was now lost, he entrusted himself, and who offered toconduct him in the disguise of a Moor to Tabarca, a small fort or station on thecoast held by the Genoese employed in the coral fishery. These Arabs cut off hishead and carried it to the commander of the Turkish fleet, who proved on themthe truth of our Castilian proverb, that "though the treason may please, the traitoris hated;" for they say he ordered those who brought him the present to be hangedfor not having brought him alive. Among the Christians who were taken in the fort was one named Don Pedro deAguilar, a native of some place, I know not what, in Andalusia, who had beenensign in the fort, a soldier of great repute and rare intelligence, who had inparticular a special gift for what they call poetry. I say so because his fate broughthim to my galley and to my bench, and made him a slave to the same master; andbefore we left the port this gentleman composed two sonnets by way of epitaphs, one on the Goletta and the other on the fort; indeed, I may as well repeat them, for I have them by heart, and I think they will be liked rather than disliked. The instant the captive mentioned the name of Don Pedro de Aguilar, DonFernando looked at his companions and they all three smiled; and when he cameto speak of the sonnets one of them said, "Before your worship proceeds anyfurther I entreat you to tell me what became of that Don Pedro de Aguilar youhave spoken of. ""All I know is, " replied the captive, "that after having been in Constantinopletwo years, he escaped in the disguise of an Arnaut, in company with a Greek spy;but whether he regained his liberty or not I cannot tell, though I fancy he did, because a year afterwards I saw the Greek at Constantinople, though I was unableto ask him what the result of the journey was. ""Well then, you are right, " returned the gentleman, "for that Don Pedro is mybrother, and he is now in our village in good health, rich, married, and with threechildren. ""Thanks be to God for all the mercies he has shown him, " said the captive; "forto my mind there is no happiness on earth to compare with recovering lostliberty. ""And what is more, " said the gentleman, "I know the sonnets my brother made. ""Then let your worship repeat them, " said the captive, "for you will recite thembetter than I can. ""With all my heart, " said the gentleman; "that on the Goletta runs thus. "CHAPTER XL. IN WHICH THE STORY OF THE CAPTIVE IS CONTINUED. SONNET"Blest souls, that, from this mortal husk set free, In guerdon of brave deeds beatified, Above this lowly orb of ours abideMade heirs of heaven and immortality, With noble rage and ardour glowing yeYour strength, while strength was yours, in battle plied, And with your own blood and the foeman's dyedThe sandy soil and the encircling sea. It was the ebbing life-blood first that failedThe weary arms; the stout hearts never quailed. Though vanquished, yet ye earned the victor's crown:Though mourned, yet still triumphant was your fallFor there ye won, between the sword and wall, In Heaven glory and on earth renown. ""That is it exactly, according to my recollection, " said the captive. "Well then, that on the fort, " said the gentleman, "if my memory serves me, goesthus:SONNET"Up from this wasted soil, this shattered shell, Whose walls and towers here in ruin lie, Three thousand soldier souls took wing on high, In the bright mansions of the blest to dwell. The onslaught of the foeman to repelBy might of arm all vainly did they try, And when at length 'twas left them but to die, Wearied and few the last defenders fell. And this same arid soil hath ever beenA haunt of countless mournful memories, As well in our day as in days of yore. But never yet to Heaven it sent, I ween, From its hard bosom purer souls than these, Or braver bodies on its surface bore. "The sonnets were not disliked, and the captive was rejoiced at the tidings theygave him of his comrade, and continuing his tale, he went on to say:The Goletta and the fort being thus in their hands, the Turks gave orders todismantle the Goletta--for the fort was reduced to such a state that there wasnothing left to level--and to do the work more quickly and easily they mined it inthree places; but nowhere were they able to blow up the part which seemed to bethe least strong, that is to say, the old walls, while all that remained standing ofthe new fortifications that the Fratin had made came to the ground with thegreatest ease. Finally the fleet returned victorious and triumphant toConstantinople, and a few months later died my master, El Uchali, otherwiseUchali Fartax, which means in Turkish "the scabby renegade;" for that he was; itis the practice with the Turks to name people from some defect or virtue they maypossess; the reason being that there are among them only four surnames belongingto families tracing their descent from the Ottoman house, and the others, as Ihave said, take their names and surnames either from bodily blemishes or moralqualities. This "scabby one" rowed at the oar as a slave of the Grand Signor's forfourteen years, and when over thirty-four years of age, in resentment at havingbeen struck by a Turk while at the oar, turned renegade and renounced his faithin order to be able to revenge himself; and such was his valour that, withoutowing his advancement to the base ways and means by which most favourites ofthe Grand Signor rise to power, he came to be king of Algiers, and afterwardsgeneral-on-sea, which is the third place of trust in the realm. He was a Calabrianby birth, and a worthy man morally, and he treated his slaves with greathumanity. He had three thousand of them, and after his death they were divided, as he directed by his will, between the Grand Signor (who is heir of all who dieand shares with the children of the deceased) and his renegades. I fell to the lot ofa Venetian renegade who, when a cabin boy on board a ship, had been taken byUchali and was so much beloved by him that he became one of his most favouredyouths. He came to be the most cruel renegade I ever saw: his name was HassanAga, and he grew very rich and became king of Algiers. With him I went therefrom Constantinople, rather glad to be so near Spain, not that I intended to writeto anyone about my unhappy lot, but to try if fortune would be kinder to me inAlgiers than in Constantinople, where I had attempted in a thousand ways toescape without ever finding a favourable time or chance; but in Algiers I resolvedto seek for other means of effecting the purpose I cherished so dearly; for thehope of obtaining my liberty never deserted me; and when in my plots andschemes and attempts the result did not answer my expectations, without givingway to despair I immediately began to look out for or conjure up some new hopeto support me, however faint or feeble it might be. In this way I lived on immured in a building or prison called by the Turks abano in which they confine the Christian captives, as well those that are the king'sas those belonging to private individuals, and also what they call those of theAlmacen, which is as much as to say the slaves of the municipality, who serve thecity in the public works and other employments; but captives of this kind recovertheir liberty with great difficulty, for, as they are public property and have noparticular master, there is no one with whom to treat for their ransom, eventhough they may have the means. To these banos, as I have said, some privateindividuals of the town are in the habit of bringing their captives, especially whenthey are to be ransomed; because there they can keep them in safety and comfortuntil their ransom arrives. The king's captives also, that are on ransom, do not goout to work with the rest of the crew, unless when their ransom is delayed; forthen, to make them write for it more pressingly, they compel them to work and gofor wood, which is no light labour. I, however, was one of those on ransom, for when it was discovered that I wasa captain, although I declared my scanty means and want of fortune, nothingcould dissuade them from including me among the gentlemen and those waiting tobe ransomed. They put a chain on me, more as a mark of this than to keep mesafe, and so I passed my life in that bano with several other gentlemen andpersons of quality marked out as held to ransom; but though at times, or ratheralmost always, we suffered from hunger and scanty clothing, nothing distressed usso much as hearing and seeing at every turn the unexampled and unheard-ofcruelties my master inflicted upon the Christians. Every day he hanged a man, impaled one, cut off the ears of another; and all with so little provocation, or soentirely without any, that the Turks acknowledged he did it merely for the sake ofdoing it, and because he was by nature murderously disposed towards the wholehuman race. The only one that fared at all well with him was a Spanish soldier, something de Saavedra by name, to whom he never gave a blow himself, orordered a blow to be given, or addressed a hard word, although he had donethings that will dwell in the memory of the people there for many a year, and allto recover his liberty; and for the least of the many things he did we all dreadedthat he would be impaled, and he himself was in fear of it more than once; andonly that time does not allow, I could tell you now something of what that soldierdid, that would interest and astonish you much more than the narration of myown tale. To go on with my story; the courtyard of our prison was overlooked by thewindows of the house belonging to a wealthy Moor of high position; and these, asis usual in Moorish houses, were rather loopholes than windows, and besideswere covered with thick and close lattice-work. It so happened, then, that as I wasone day on the terrace of our prison with three other comrades, trying, to passaway the time, how far we could leap with our chains, we being alone, for all theother Christians had gone out to work, I chanced to raise my eyes, and from oneof these little closed windows I saw a reed appear with a cloth attached to the endof it, and it kept waving to and fro, and moving as if making signs to us to comeand take it. We watched it, and one of those who were with me went and stoodunder the reed to see whether they would let it drop, or what they would do, butas he did so the reed was raised and moved from side to side, as if they meant tosay "no" by a shake of the head. The Christian came back, and it was againlowered, making the same movements as before. Another of my comrades went, and with him the same happened as with the first, and then the third wentforward, but with the same result as the first and second. Seeing this I did notlike not to try my luck, and as soon as I came under the reed it was dropped andfell inside the bano at my feet. I hastened to untie the cloth, in which I perceiveda knot, and in this were ten cianis, which are coins of base gold, current amongthe Moors, and each worth ten reals of our money. It is needless to say I rejoiced over this godsend, and my joy was not less thanmy wonder as I strove to imagine how this good fortune could have come to us, but to me specially; for the evident unwillingness to drop the reed for any but meshowed that it was for me the favour was intended. I took my welcome money, broke the reed, and returned to the terrace, and looking up at the window, I sawa very white hand put out that opened and shut very quickly. From this wegathered or fancied that it must be some woman living in that house that haddone us this kindness, and to show that we were grateful for it, we made salaamsafter the fashion of the Moors, bowing the head, bending the body, and crossingthe arms on the breast. Shortly afterwards at the same window a small cross madeof reeds was put out and immediately withdrawn. This sign led us to believe thatsome Christian woman was a captive in the house, and that it was she who hadbeen so good to us; but the whiteness of the hand and the bracelets we hadperceived made us dismiss that idea, though we thought it might be one of theChristian renegades whom their masters very often take as lawful wives, andgladly, for they prefer them to the women of their own nation. In all ourconjectures we were wide of the truth; so from that time forward our soleoccupation was watching and gazing at the window where the cross had appearedto us, as if it were our pole-star; but at least fifteen days passed without ourseeing either it or the hand, or any other sign and though meanwhile weendeavoured with the utmost pains to ascertain who it was that lived in thehouse, and whether there were any Christian renegade in it, nobody could evertell us anything more than that he who lived there was a rich Moor of highposition, Hadji Morato by name, formerly alcaide of La Pata, an office of highdignity among them. But when we least thought it was

going to rain any morecianis from that quarter, we saw the reed suddenly appear with another cloth tiedin a larger knot attached to it, and this at a time when, as on the former occasion, the bano was deserted and unoccupied. We made trial as before, each of the same three going forward before I did; butthe reed was delivered to none but me, and on my approach it was let drop. Iuntied the knot and I found forty Spanish gold crowns with a paper written inArabic, and at the end of the writing there was a large cross drawn. I kissed thecross, took the crowns and returned to the terrace, and we all made our salaams;again the hand appeared, I made signs that I would read the paper, and then thewindow was closed. We were all puzzled, though filled with joy at what had takenplace; and as none of us understood Arabic, great was our curiosity to know whatthe paper contained, and still greater the difficulty of finding some one to read it. At last I resolved to confide in a renegade, a native of Murcia, who professed avery great friendship for me, and had given pledges that bound him to keep anysecret I might entrust to him; for it is the custom with some renegades, when theyintend to return to Christian territory, to carry about them certificates fromcaptives of mark testifying, in whatever form they can, that such and such arenegade is a worthy man who has always shown kindness to Christians, and isanxious to escape on the first opportunity that may present itself. Some obtainthese testimonials with good intentions, others put them to a cunning use; forwhen they go to pillage on Christian territory, if they chance to be cast away, ortaken prisoners, they produce their certificates and say that from these papersmay be seen the object they came for, which was to remain on Christian ground, and that it was to this end they joined the Turks in their foray. In this way they escape the consequences of the first outburst and make theirpeace with the Church before it does them any harm, and then when they havethe chance they return to Barbary to become what they were before. Others, however, there are who procure these papers and make use of them honestly, andremain on Christian soil. This friend of mine, then, was one of these renegadesthat I have described; he had certificates from all our comrades, in which wetestified in his favour as strongly as we could; and if the Moors had found thepapers they would have burned him alive. I knew that he understood Arabic very well, and could not only speak but alsowrite it; but before I disclosed the whole matter to him, I asked him to read forme this paper which I had found by accident in a hole in my cell. He opened itand remained some time examining it and muttering to himself as he translated it. I asked him if he understood it, and he told me he did perfectly well, and that if Iwished him to tell me its meaning word for word, I must give him pen and inkthat he might do it more satisfactorily. We at once gave him what he required, and he set about translating it bit by bit, and when he had done he said:"All that is here in Spanish is what the Moorish paper contains, and you mustbear in mind that when it says 'Lela Marien' it means 'Our Lady the Virgin Mary. '"We read the paper and it ran thus:"When I was a child my father had a slave who taught me to pray the Christianprayer in my own language, and told me many things about Lela Marien. TheChristian died, and I know that she did not go to the fire, but to Allah, becausesince then I have seen her twice, and she told me to go to the land of theChristians to see Lela Marien, who had great love for me. I know not how to go. Ihave seen many Christians, but except thyself none has seemed to me to be agentleman. I am young and beautiful, and have plenty of money to take with me. See if thou canst contrive how we may go, and if thou wilt thou shalt be myhusband there, and if thou wilt not it will not distress me, for Lela Marien willfind me some one to marry me. I myself have written this: have a care to whomthou givest it to read: trust no Moor, for they are all perfidious. I am greatlytroubled on this account, for I would not have thee confide in anyone, because ifmy father knew it he would at once fling me down a well and cover me withstones. I will put a thread to the reed; tie the answer to it, and if thou hast no oneto write for thee in Arabic, tell it to me by signs, for Lela Marien will make meunderstand thee. She and Allah and this cross, which I often kiss as the captivebade me, protect thee. "Judge, sirs, whether we had reason for surprise and joy at the words of thispaper; and both one and the other were so great, that the renegade perceived thatthe paper had not been found by chance, but had been in reality addressed tosome one of us, and he begged us, if what he suspected were the truth, to trusthim and tell him all, for he would risk his life for our freedom; and so saying hetook out from his breast a metal crucifix, and with many tears swore by the Godthe image represented, in whom, sinful and wicked as he was, he truly andfaithfully believed, to be loyal to us and keep secret whatever we chose to revealto him; for he thought and almost foresaw that by means of her who had writtenthat paper, he and all of us would obtain our liberty, and he himself obtain theobject he so much desired, his restoration to the bosom of the Holy MotherChurch, from which by his own sin and ignorance he was now severed like acorrupt limb. The renegade said this with so many tears and such signs ofrepentance, that with one consent we all agreed to tell him the whole truth of thematter, and so we gave him a full account of all, without hiding anything fromhim. We pointed out to him the window at which the reed appeared, and he bythat means took note of the house, and resolved to ascertain with particular carewho lived in it. We agreed also that it would be advisable to answer the Moorishlady's letter, and the renegade without a moment's delay took down the words Idictated to him, which were exactly what I shall tell you, for nothing ofimportance that took place in this affair has escaped my memory, or ever willwhile life lasts. This, then, was the answer returned to the Moorish lady:"The true Allah protect thee, Lady, and that blessed Marien who is the truemother of God, and who has put it into thy heart to go to the land of theChristians, because she loves thee. Entreat her that she be pleased to show theehow thou canst execute the command she gives thee, for she will, such is hergoodness. On my own part, and on that of all these Christians who are with me, Ipromise to do all that we can for thee, even to death. Fail not to write to me andinform me what thou dost mean to do, and I will always answer thee; for thegreat Allah has given us a Christian captive who can speak and write thy languagewell, as thou mayest see by this paper; without fear, therefore, thou canst informus of all thou wouldst. As to what thou sayest, that if thou dost reach the land ofthe Christians thou wilt be my wife, I give thee my promise upon it as a goodChristian; and know that the Christians keep their promises better than theMoors. Allah and Marien his mother watch over thee, my Lady. "The paper being written and folded I waited two days until the bano was emptyas before, and immediately repaired to the usual walk on the terrace to see ifthere were any sign of the reed, which was not long in making its appearance. Assoon as I saw it, although I could not distinguish who put it out, I showed thepaper as a sign to attach the thread, but it was already fixed to the reed, and to itI tied the paper; and shortly afterwards our star once more made its appearancewith the white flag of peace, the little bundle. It was dropped, and I picked it up, and found in the cloth, in gold and silver coins of all sorts, more than fiftycrowns, which fifty times more strengthened our joy and doubled our hope ofgaining our liberty. That very night our renegade returned and said he had learnedthat the Moor we had been told of lived in that house, that his name was HadjiMorato, that he was enormously rich, that he had one only daughter the heiress ofall his wealth, and that it was the general opinion throughout the city that shewas the most beautiful woman in Barbary, and that several of the viceroys whocame there had sought her for a wife, but that she had been always unwilling tomarry; and he had learned, moreover, that she had a Christian slave who was nowdead; all which agreed with the contents of the paper. We immediately tookcounsel with the renegade as to what means would have to be adopted in order tocarry off the Moorish lady and bring us all to Christian territory; and in the end itwas agreed that for the present we should wait for a second communication fromZoraida (for that was the name of her who now desires to be called Maria), because we saw clearly that she and no one else could find a way out of all thesedifficulties. When we had decided upon this the renegade told us not to beuneasy, for he would lose his life or restore us to liberty. For four days the banowas filled with people, for which reason the reed delayed its appearance for fourdays, but at the end of that time, when the bano was, as it generally was, empty, it appeared with the cloth so bulky that it promised a happy birth. Reed and clothcame down to me, and I found another paper and a hundred crowns in gold, without any other coin. The renegade was present, and in our cell we gave himthe paper to read, which was to this effect:"I cannot think of a plan, senor, for our going to Spain, nor has Lela Marienshown me one, though I have asked her. All that can be done is for me to give youplenty of money in gold from this window. With it ransom yourself and yourfriends, and let one of you go to the land of the Christians, and there buy a vesseland come back for the others; and he will find me in my father's garden, which isat the Babazon gate near the seashore, where I shall be all this summer with myfather and my servants. You can carry me away from there by night without anydanger, and bring me to the vessel. And remember thou art to be my husband, else I will pray to Marien to punish thee. If thou canst not trust anyone to go forthe vessel, ransom thyself and do thou go, for I know thou wilt return more surelythan any other, as thou art a gentleman and a Christian. Endeavour to makethyself acquainted with the garden; and when I see thee walking yonder I shallknow that the bano is empty and I will give thee abundance of money. Allahprotect thee, senor. "These were the words and contents of the second paper, and on hearing them, each declared himself willing to be the ransomed one, and promised to go andreturn with scrupulous good faith; and I too made the same offer; but to all thisthe renegade objected, saying that he would not on any account consent to onebeing set free before all went together, as experience had taught him how ill thosewho have been set free keep promises which they made in captivity; for captivesof distinction frequently had recourse to this plan, paying the ransom of one whowas to go to Valencia or Majorca with money to enable him to arm a bark andreturn for the others who had ransomed him, but who never came back; forrecovered liberty and the dread of losing it again efface from the memory all theobligations in the world. And to prove the truth of what he said, he told us brieflywhat had happened to a certain Christian gentleman almost at that very time, thestrangest case that had ever occurred even there, where astonishing andmarvellous things are happening every instant. In short, he ended by saying thatwhat could and ought to be done was to give the money intended for the ransomof one of us Christians to him, so that he might with it buy a vessel there inAlgiers under the pretence of becoming a merchant and trader at Tetuan andalong the coast; and when master of the vessel, it would be easy for him to hit onsome way of getting us all out of the bano and putting us on board; especially ifthe Moorish lady gave, as she said, money enough to ransom all, because oncefree it would be the easiest thing in the world for us to embark even in open day;but the greatest difficulty was that the Moors do not allow any renegade to buy orown any craft, unless it be a large vessel for going on roving expeditions, becausethey are afraid that anyone who buys a small vessel, especially if he be aSpaniard, only wants it for the purpose of escaping to Christian territory. Thishowever he could get over by arranging with a Tagarin Moor to go shares withhim in the purchase of the vessel, and in the profit on the cargo; and under coverof this he could become master of the vessel, in which case he looked upon all therest as accomplished. But though to me and my comrades it had seemed a betterplan to send to Majorca for the vessel, as the Moorish lady suggested, we did notdare to oppose him, fearing that if we did not do as he said he would denounceus, and place us in danger of losing all our lives if he were to disclose our dealingswith Zoraida, for whose life we would have all given our own. We thereforeresolved to put ourselves in the hands of God and in the renegade's; and at thesame time an answer was given to Zoraida, telling her that we would do all sherecommended, for she had given as good advice as if Lela Marien had delivered it, and that it depended on her alone whether we were to defer the business or put itin execution at once. I renewed my promise to be her husband; and thus the nextday that the bano chanced to be empty she at different times gave us by means ofthe reed and cloth two thousand gold crowns and a paper in which she said thatthe next Juma, that is to say Friday, she was going to her father's garden, but thatbefore she went she would give us more money; and if it were not enough wewere to let her know, as she would give us as much as we asked, for her fatherhad so much he would not miss it, and besides she kept all the keys. We at once gave the renegade five hundred crowns to buy the vessel, and witheight hundred I ransomed myself, giving the money to a Valencian merchant whohappened to be in Algiers at the time, and who had me released on his word, pledging it that on the arrival of the first ship from Valencia he would pay myransom; for if he had given the money at once it would have made the kingsuspect that my ransom money had been for a long time in Algiers, and that themerchant had for his own advantage kept it secret. In fact my master was sodifficult to deal with that I dared not on any account pay down the money atonce. The Thursday before the Friday on which the fair Zoraida was to go to thegarden she gave us a thousand crowns more, and warned us of her departure, begging me, if I were ransomed, to find out her father's garden at once, and by allmeans to seek an opportunity of going there to see her. I answered in a few wordsthat I would do so, and that she must remember to commend us to Lela Marienwith all the prayers the captive had taught her. This having been done, steps weretaken to ransom our three comrades, so as to enable them to quit the bano, andlest, seeing me ransomed and themselves not, though the money was forthcoming, they should make a disturbance about it and the devil should prompt them to dosomething that might injure Zoraida; for though their position might be sufficientto relieve me from this apprehension, nevertheless I was unwilling to run any riskin the matter; and so I had them ransomed in the same way as I was, handingover all the money to the merchant so that he might with safety and confidencegive security; without, however, confiding our arrangement and secret to him, which might have been dangerous. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 14. Chapters 41EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XLI. IN WHICH THE CAPTIVE STILL CONTINUES HIS ADVENTURESBefore fifteen days were over our renegade had already purchased an excellentvessel with room for more than thirty persons; and to make the transaction safeand lend a colour to it, he thought it well to make, as he did, a voyage to a placecalled Shershel, twenty leagues from Algiers on the Oran side, where there is anextensive trade in dried figs. Two or three times he made this voyage in companywith the Tagarin already mentioned. The Moors of Aragon are called Tagarins inBarbary, and those of Granada Mudejars; but in the Kingdom of Fez they call theMudejars Elches, and they are the people the king chiefly employs in war. Toproceed: every time he passed with his vessel he anchored in a cove that was nottwo crossbow shots from the garden where Zoraida was waiting; and there therenegade, together with the two Moorish lads that rowed, used purposely tostation himself, either going through his prayers, or else practising as a part whathe meant to perform in earnest. And thus he would go to Zoraida's garden and askfor fruit, which her father gave him, not knowing him; but though, as heafterwards told me, he sought to speak to Zoraida, and tell her who he was, andthat by my orders he was to take her to the land of the Christians, so that shemight feel satisfied and easy, he had never been able to do so; for the Moorishwomen do not allow themselves to be seen by any Moor or Turk, unless theirhusband or father bid them: with Christian captives they permit freedom ofintercourse and communication, even more than might be considered proper. Butfor my part I should have been sorry if he had spoken to her, for perhaps it mighthave alarmed her to find her affairs talked of by renegades. But God, who orderedit otherwise, afforded no opportunity for our renegade's well-meant purpose; andhe, seeing how safely he could go to Shershel and return, and anchor when andhow and where he liked, and that the Tagarin his partner had no will but his, andthat, now I was ransomed, all we wanted was to find some Christians to row, toldme to look out for any I should he willing to take with me, over and above thosewho had been ransomed, and to engage them for the next Friday, which he fixedupon for our departure. On this I spoke to twelve Spaniards, all stout rowers, andsuch as could most easily leave the city; but it was no easy matter to find so manyjust then, because there were twenty ships out on a cruise and they had taken allthe rowers with them; and these would not have been found were it not that theirmaster remained at home that summer without going to sea in order to finish agalliot that he had upon the stocks. To these men I said nothing more than thatthe next Friday in the evening they were to come out stealthily one by one andhang about Hadji Morato's garden, waiting for me there until I came. Thesedirections I gave each one separately, with orders that if they saw any otherChristians there they were not to say anything to them except that I had directedthem to wait at that spot. This preliminary having been settled, another still more necessary step had tobe taken, which was to let Zoraida know how matters stood that she might beprepared and forewarned, so as not to be taken by surprise if we were suddenly toseize upon her before she thought the Christians' vessel could have returned. Idetermined, therefore, to go to the garden and try if I could speak to her; and theday before my departure I went there under the pretence of gathering herbs. Thefirst person I met was her father, who addressed me in the language that all overBarbary and even in Constantinople is the medium between captives and Moors, and is neither Morisco nor Castilian, nor of any other nation, but a mixture of alllanguages, by means of which we can all understand one another. In this sort oflanguage, I say, he asked me what I wanted in his garden, and to whom Ibelonged. I replied that I was a slave of the Arnaut Mami (for I knew as acertainty that he was a very great friend of his), and that I wanted some herbs tomake a salad. He asked me then whether I were on ransom or not, and what mymaster demanded for me. While these questions and answers were proceeding, thefair Zoraida, who had already perceived me some time before, came out of thehouse in the garden, and as Moorish women are by no means particular aboutletting themselves be seen by Christians, or, as I have said before, at all coy, shehad no hesitation in coming to where her father stood with me; moreover herfather, seeing her approaching slowly, called to her to come. It would be beyondmy power now to describe to you the great beauty, the high-bred air, the brilliantattire of my beloved Zoraida as she presented herself before my eyes. I willcontent myself with saying that more pearls hung from her fair neck, her ears, andher hair than she had hairs on her head. On her ankles, which as is customarywere bare, she had carcajes (for so bracelets or anklets are called in Morisco) ofthe purest gold, set with so many diamonds that she told me afterwards her fathervalued them at ten thousand doubloons, and those she had on her wrists wereworth as much more. The pearls were in profusion and very fine, for the highestdisplay and adornment of the Moorish women is decking themselves with richpearls and seed-pearls; and of these there are therefore more among the Moorsthan among any other people. Zoraida's father had to the reputation of possessinga great number, and the purest in all Algiers, and of possessing also more thantwo hundred thousand Spanish crowns; and she, who is now mistress of me only, was mistress of all this. Whether thus adorned she would have been beautiful ornot, and what she must have been in her prosperity, may be imagined from thebeauty remaining to her after so many hardships; for, as everyone knows, thebeauty of some women has its times and its seasons, and is increased ordiminished by chance causes; and naturally the emotions of the mind willheighten or impair it, though indeed more frequently they totally destroy it. In aword she presented herself before me that day attired with the utmost splendour, and supremely beautiful; at any rate, she seemed to me the most beautiful object Ihad ever seen; and when, besides, I thought of all I owed to her I felt as though Ihad before me some heavenly being come to earth to bring me relief andhappiness. As she approached her father told her in his own language that I was a captivebelonging to his friend the Arnaut Mami, and that I had come for salad. She took up the conversation, and in that mixture of tongues I have spoken ofshe asked me if I was a gentleman, and why I was not ransomed. I answered that I was already ransomed, and that by the price it might be seenwhat value my master set on me, as I had given one thousand five hundredzoltanis for me; to which she replied, "Hadst thou been my father's, I can tell thee, I would not have let him part with thee for twice as much, for you Christiansalways tell lies about yourselves and make yourselves out poor to cheat theMoors. ""That may be, lady, " said I; "but indeed I dealt truthfully with my master, as Ido and mean to do with everybody in the world. ""And when dost thou go?" said Zoraida. "To-morrow, I think, " said I, "for there is a vessel here from France which sailsto-morrow, and I think I shall go in her. ""Would it not be better, " said Zoraida, "to wait for the arrival of ships fromSpain and go with them and not with the French who are not your friends?""No, " said I; "though if there were intelligence that a vessel were now comingfrom Spain it is true I might, perhaps, wait for it; however, it is more likely I shalldepart to-morrow, for the longing I feel to return to my country and to those Ilove is so great that it will not allow me to wait for another opportunity, howevermore convenient, if it be delayed. ""No doubt thou art married in thine own country, " said Zoraida, "and for thatreason thou art anxious to go and see thy wife. ""I am not married, " I replied, "but I have given my promise to marry on myarrival there. ""And is the lady beautiful to whom thou hast given it?" said Zoraida. "So beautiful, " said I, "that, to describe her worthily and tell thee the truth, sheis very like thee. "At this her father laughed very heartily and said, "By Allah, Christian, she mustbe very beautiful if she is like my daughter, who is the most beautiful woman inall this kingdom: only look at her well and thou wilt see I am telling the truth. "Zoraida's father as the better linguist helped to interpret most of these wordsand phrases, for though she spoke the bastard language, that, as I have said, isemployed there, she expressed her meaning more by signs than by words. While we were still engaged in this conversation, a Moor came running up, exclaiming that four Turks had leaped over the fence or wall of the garden, andwere gathering the fruit though it was not yet ripe. The old man was alarmed andZoraida too, for the Moors commonly, and, so to speak, instinctively have a dreadof the Turks, but particularly of the soldiers, who are so insolent and domineeringto the Moors who are under their power that they treat them worse than if theywere their slaves. Her father said to Zoraida, "Daughter, retire into the house andshut thyself in while I go and speak to these dogs; and thou, Christian, pick thyherbs, and go in peace, and Allah bring thee safe to thy own country. "I bowed, and he went away to look for the Turks, leaving me alone withZoraida, who made as if she were about to retire as her father bade her; but themoment he was concealed by the trees of the garden, turning to me with her eyesfull of tears she said, "Tameji, cristiano, tameji?" that is to say, "Art thou going, Christian, art thou going?"I made answer, "Yes, lady, but not without thee, come what may: be on thewatch for me on the next Juma, and be not alarmed when thou seest us; for mostsurely we shall go to the land of the Christians. "This I said in such a way that she understood perfectly all that passed betweenus, and throwing her arm round my neck she began with feeble steps to movetowards the house; but as fate would have it (and it might have been veryunfortunate if Heaven had not otherwise ordered it), just as we were moving on inthe manner and position I have described, with her arm round my neck, herfather, as he returned after having sent away the Turks, saw how we werewalking and we perceived that he saw us; but Zoraida, ready and quickwitted, took care not to remove her arm from my neck, but on the contrary drew closer tome and laid her head on my breast, bending her knees a little and showing all thesigns and tokens of fainting, while I at the same time made it seem as though Iwere supporting her against my will. Her father came running up to where wewere, and seeing his daughter in this state asked what was the matter with her;she, however, giving no answer, he said, "No doubt she has fainted in alarm at theentrance of those dogs, " and taking her from mine he drew her to his own breast, while she sighing, her eyes still wet with tears, said again, "Ameji, cristiano, ameji"--"Go, Christian, go. " To this her father replied, "There is no need, daughter, for the Christian to go, for he has done thee no harm, and the Turkshave now gone; feel no alarm, there is nothing to hurt thee, for as I say, the Turksat my request have gone back the way they came. ""It was they who terrified her, as thou hast said, senor, " said I to her father;"but since she tells me to go, I have no wish to displease her: peace be with thee, and with thy leave I will come back to this garden for herbs if need be, for mymaster says there are nowhere better herbs for salad then here. ""Come back for any thou hast need of, " replied Hadji Morato; "for my daughterdoes not speak thus because she is displeased with thee or any Christian: she onlymeant that the Turks should go, not thou; or that it was time for thee to look forthy herbs. "With this I at once took my leave of both; and she, looking as though her heartwere breaking, retired with her father. While pretending to look for herbs I madethe round of the garden at my ease, and studied carefully all the approaches andoutlets, and the fastenings of the house and everything that could be takenadvantage of to make our task easy. Having done so I went and gave an account of all that had taken place to therenegade and my comrades, and looked forward with impatience to the hourwhen, all fear at an end, I should find myself in possession of the prize whichfortune held out to me in the fair and lovely Zoraida. The time passed at length, and the appointed day we so longed for arrived; and, all following out thearrangement and plan which, after careful consideration and many a longdiscussion, we had decided upon, we succeeded as fully as we could have wished;for on the Friday following the day upon which I spoke to Zoraida in the garden, the renegade anchored his vessel at nightfall almost opposite the spot where shewas. The Christians who were to row were ready and in hiding in different placesround about, all waiting for me, anxious and elated, and eager to attack the vesselthey had before their eyes; for they did not know the renegade's plan, butexpected that they were to gain their liberty by force of arms and by killing theMoors who were on board the vessel. As soon, then, as I and my comrades madeour appearance, all those that were in hiding seeing us came and joined us. It wasnow the time when the city gates are shut, and there was no one to be seen in allthe space outside. When we were collected together we debated whether it would be better first togo for Zoraida, or to make prisoners of the Moorish rowers who rowed in thevessel; but while we were still uncertain our renegade came up asking us whatkept us, as it was now the time, and all the Moors were off their guard and mostof them asleep. We told him why we hesitated, but he said it was of moreimportance first to secure the vessel, which could be done with the greatest easeand without any danger, and then we could go for Zoraida. We all approved ofwhat he said, and so without further delay, guided by him we made for the vessel, and he leaping on board first, drew his cutlass and said in Morisco, "Let no onestir from this if he does not want it to cost him his life. " By this almost all theChristians were on board, and the Moors, who were fainthearted, hearing theircaptain speak in this way, were cowed, and without any one of them taking to hisarms (and indeed they had few or hardly any) they submitted without saying aword to be bound by the Christians, who quickly secured them, threatening themthat if they raised any kind of outcry they would be all put to the sword. Thishaving been accomplished, and half of our party being left to keep guard overthem, the rest of us, again taking the renegade as our guide, hastened towardsHadji Morato's garden, and as good luck would have it, on trying the gate itopened as easily as if it had not been locked; and so, quite quietly and in silence, we reached the house without being perceived by anybody. The lovely Zoraidawas watching for us at a window, and as soon as she perceived that there werepeople there, she asked in a low voice if we were "Nizarani, " as much as to say orask if we were Christians. I answered that we were, and begged her to comedown. As soon as she recognised me she did not delay an instant, but withoutanswering a word came down immediately, opened the door and presented herselfbefore us all, so beautiful and so richly attired that I cannot attempt to describeher. The moment I saw her I took her hand and kissed it, and the renegade andmy two comrades did the same; and the rest, who knew nothing of thecircumstances, did as they saw us do, for it only seemed as if we were returningthanks to her, and recognising her as the giver of our liberty. The renegade askedher in the Morisco language if her father was in the house. She replied that hewas and that he was asleep. "Then it will be necessary to waken him and take him with us, " said therenegade, "and everything of value in this fair mansion. ""Nay, " said she, "my father must not on any account be touched, and there isnothing in the house except what I shall take, and that will be quite enough toenrich and satisfy all of you; wait a little and you shall see, " and so saying shewent in, telling us she would return immediately and bidding us keep quietmaking any noise. I asked the renegade what had passed between them, and when he told me, Ideclared that nothing should be done except in accordance with the wishes ofZoraida, who now came back with a little trunk so full of gold crowns that shecould scarcely carry it. Unfortunately her father awoke while this was going on, and hearing a noise in the garden, came to the window, and at once perceivingthat all those who were there were Christians, raising a prodigiously loud outcry, he began to call out in Arabic, "Christians, Christians! thieves, thieves!" by whichcries we were all thrown into the greatest fear and embarrassment; but therenegade seeing the danger we were in and how important it was for him to effecthis purpose before we were heard, mounted with the utmost quickness to whereHadji Morato was, and with him went some of our party; I, however, did not dareto leave Zoraida, who had fallen almost fainting in my arms. To be brief, thosewho had gone upstairs acted so promptly that in an instant they came down, carrying Hadji Morato with his hands bound and a napkin tied over his mouth, which prevented him from uttering a word, warning him at the same time that toattempt to speak would cost him his life. When his daughter caught sight of himshe covered her eyes so as not to see him, and her father was horror-stricken, notknowing how willingly she had placed herself in our hands. But it was now mostessential for us to be on the move, and carefully and quickly we regained thevessel, where those who had remained on board were waiting for us inapprehension of some mishap having befallen us. It was barely two hours afternight set in when we were all on board the vessel, where the cords were removedfrom the hands of Zoraida's father, and the napkin from his mouth; but therenegade once more told him not to utter a word, or they would take his life. He, when he saw his daughter there, began to sigh piteously, and still more when heperceived that I held her closely embraced and that she lay quiet without resistingor complaining, or showing any reluctance; nevertheless he remained silent lestthey should carry into effect the repeated threats the renegade had addressed tohim. Finding herself now on board, and that we were about to give way with theoars, Zoraida, seeing her father there, and the other Moors bound, bade therenegade ask me to do her the favour of releasing the Moors and setting her fatherat liberty, for she would rather drown herself in the sea than suffer a father thathad loved her so dearly to be carried away captive before her eyes and on heraccount. The renegade repeated this to me, and I replied that I was very willing todo so; but he replied that it was not advisable, because if they were left there theywould at once raise the country and stir up the city, and lead to the despatch ofswift cruisers in pursuit, and our being taken, by sea or land, without anypossibility of escape; and that all that could be done was to set them free on thefirst Christian ground we reached. On this point we all agreed; and Zoraida, towhom it was explained, together with the reasons that prevented us from doing atonce what she desired, was satisfied likewise; and then in glad silence and withcheerful alacrity each of our stout rowers took his oar, and commending ourselvesto God with all our hearts, we began to shape our course for the island ofMajorca, the nearest Christian land. Owing, however, to the Tramontana rising alittle, and the sea growing somewhat rough, it was impossible for us to keep astraight course for Majorca, and we were compelled to coast in the direction ofOran, not without great uneasiness on our part lest we should be observed fromthe town of Shershel, which lies on that coast, not more than sixty miles fromAlgiers. Moreover we were afraid of meeting on that course one of the galliots thatusually come with goods from Tetuan; although each of us for himself and all ofus together felt confident that, if we were to meet a merchant galliot, so that itwere not a cruiser, not only should we not be lost, but that we should take avessel in which we could more safely accomplish our voyage. As we pursued ourcourse Zoraida kept her head between my hands so as not to see her father, and Ifelt that she was praying to Lela Marien to help us. We might have made about thirty miles when daybreak found us some threemusket-shots off the land, which seemed to us deserted, and without anyone tosee us. For all that, however, by hard rowing we put out a little to sea, for it wasnow somewhat calmer, and having gained about two leagues the word was givento row by batches, while we ate something, for the vessel was well provided; butthe rowers said it was not a time to take any rest; let food be served out to thosewho were not rowing, but they would not leave their oars on any account. Thiswas done, but now a stiff breeze began to blow, which obliged us to leave offrowing and make sail at once and steer for Oran, as it was impossible to make anyother course. All this was done very promptly, and under sail we ran more thaneight miles an hour without any fear, except that of coming across some vessel outon a roving expedition. We gave the Moorish rowers some food, and the renegadecomforted them by telling them that they were not held as captives, as we shouldset them free on the first opportunity. The same was said to Zoraida's father, who replied, "Anything else, Christian, Imight hope for or think likely from your generosity and good behaviour, but donot think me so simple as to imagine you will give me my liberty; for you wouldhave never exposed yourselves to the danger of depriving me of it only to restoreit to me so generously, especially as you know who I am and the sum you mayexpect to receive on restoring it; and if you will only name that, I here offer youall you require for myself and for my unhappy daughter there; or else for heralone, for she is the greatest and most precious part of my soul. "As he said this he began to weep so bitterly that he filled us all with compassionand forced Zoraida to look at him, and when she saw him weeping she was somoved that she rose from my feet and ran to throw her arms round him, andpressing her face to his, they both gave way to such an outburst of tears thatseveral of us were constrained to keep them company. But when her father saw her in full dress and with all her jewels about her, hesaid to her in his own language, "What means this, my daughter? Last night, before this terrible misfortune in which we are plunged befell us, I saw thee in thyeveryday and indoor garments; and now, without having had time to attirethyself, and without my bringing thee any joyful tidings to furnish an occasion foradorning and bedecking thyself, I see thee arrayed in the finest attire it would bein my power to give thee when fortune was most kind to us. Answer me this; forit causes me greater anxiety and surprise than even this misfortune itself. "The renegade interpreted to us what the Moor said to his daughter; she, however, returned him no answer. But when he observed in one corner of thevessel the little trunk in which she used to keep her jewels, which he well knewhe had left in Algiers and had not brought to the garden, he was still moreamazed, and asked her how that trunk had come into our hands, and what therewas in it. To which the renegade, without waiting for Zoraida to reply, madeanswer, "Do not trouble thyself by asking thy daughter Zoraida so manyquestions, senor, for the one answer I will give thee will serve for all; I wouldhave thee know that she is a Christian, and that it is she who has been the file forour chains and our deliverer from captivity. She is here of her own free will, asglad, I imagine, to find herself in this position as he who escapes from darknessinto the light, from death to life, and from suffering to glory. ""Daughter, is this true, what he says?" cried the Moor. "It is, " replied Zoraida. "That thou art in truth a Christian, " said the old man, "and that thou hast giventhy father into the power of his enemies?"To which Zoraida made answer, "A Christian I am, but it is not I who haveplaced thee in this position, for it never was my wish to leave thee or do theeharm, but only to do good to myself. ""And what good hast thou done thyself, daughter?" said he. "Ask thou that, " said she, "of Lela Marien, for she can tell thee better than I. "The Moor had hardly heard these words when with marvellous quickness heflung himself headforemost into the sea, where no doubt he would have beendrowned had not the long and full dress he wore held him up for a little on thesurface of the water. Zoraida cried aloud to us to save him, and we all hastened tohelp, and seizing him

by his robe we drew him in half drowned and insensible, atwhich Zoraida was in such distress that she wept over him as piteously andbitterly as though he were already dead. We turned him upon his face and hevoided a great quantity of water, and at the end of two hours came to himself. Meanwhile, the wind having changed we were compelled to head for the land, andply our oars to avoid being driven on shore; but it was our good fortune to reach acreek that lies on one side of a small promontory or cape, called by the Moorsthat of the "Cava rumia, " which in our language means "the wicked Christianwoman;" for it is a tradition among them that La Cava, through whom Spain waslost, lies buried at that spot; "cava" in their language meaning "wicked woman, "and "rumia" "Christian;" moreover, they count it unlucky to anchor there whennecessity compels them, and they never do so otherwise. For us, however, it wasnot the resting-place of the wicked woman but a haven of safety for our relief, somuch had the sea now got up. We posted a look-out on shore, and never let theoars out of our hands, and ate of the stores the renegade had laid in, imploringGod and Our Lady with all our hearts to help and protect us, that we might give ahappy ending to a beginning so prosperous. At the entreaty of Zoraida orders weregiven to set on shore her father and the other Moors who were still bound, for shecould not endure, nor could her tender heart bear to see her father in bonds andher fellow-countrymen prisoners before her eyes. We promised her to do this atthe moment of departure, for as it was uninhabited we ran no risk in releasingthem at that place. Our prayers were not so far in vain as to be unheard by Heaven, for after awhile the wind changed in our favour, and made the sea calm, inviting us oncemore to resume our voyage with a good heart. Seeing this we unbound the Moors, and one by one put them on shore, at which they were filled with amazement; butwhen we came to land Zoraida's father, who had now completely recovered hissenses, he said:"Why is it, think ye, Christians, that this wicked woman is rejoiced at yourgiving me my liberty? Think ye it is because of the affection she bears me? Nayverily, it is only because of the hindrance my presence offers to the execution ofher base designs. And think not that it is her belief that yours is better than oursthat has led her to change her religion; it is only because she knows thatimmodesty is more freely practised in your country than in ours. " Then turning toZoraida, while I and another of the Christians held him fast by both arms, lest heshould do some mad act, he said to her, "Infamous girl, misguided maiden, whither in thy blindness and madness art thou going in the hands of these dogs, our natural enemies? Cursed be the hour when I begot thee! Cursed the luxuryand indulgence in which I reared thee!"But seeing that he was not likely soon to cease I made haste to put him onshore, and thence he continued his maledictions and lamentations aloud; callingon Mohammed to pray to Allah to destroy us, to confound us, to make an end ofus; and when, in consequence of having made sail, we could no longer hear whathe said we could see what he did; how he plucked out his beard and tore his hairand lay writhing on the ground. But once he raised his voice to such a pitch thatwe were able to hear what he said. "Come back, dear daughter, come back toshore; I forgive thee all; let those men have the money, for it is theirs now, andcome back to comfort thy sorrowing father, who will yield up his life on thisbarren strand if thou dost leave him. "All this Zoraida heard, and heard with sorrow and tears, and all she could sayin answer was, "Allah grant that Lela Marien, who has made me become aChristian, give thee comfort in thy sorrow, my father. Allah knows that I couldnot do otherwise than I have done, and that these Christians owe nothing to mywill; for even had I wished not to accompany them, but remain at home, it wouldhave been impossible for me, so eagerly did my soul urge me on to theaccomplishment of this purpose, which I feel to be as righteous as to thee, dearfather, it seems wicked. "But neither could her father hear her nor we see him when she said this; andso, while I consoled Zoraida, we turned our attention to our voyage, in which abreeze from the right point so favoured us that we made sure of finding ourselvesoff the coast of Spain on the morrow by daybreak. But, as good seldom or nevercomes pure and unmixed, without being attended or followed by some disturbingevil that gives a shock to it, our fortune, or perhaps the curses which the Moorhad hurled at his daughter (for whatever kind of father they may come from theseare always to be dreaded), brought it about that when we were now in mid-sea, and the night about three hours spent, as we were running with all sail set andoars lashed, for the favouring breeze saved us the trouble of using them, we sawby the light of the moon, which shone brilliantly, a square-rigged vessel in full sailclose to us, luffing up and standing across our course, and so close that we had tostrike sail to avoid running foul of her, while they too put the helm hard up to letus pass. They came to the side of the ship to ask who we were, whither we werebound, and whence we came, but as they asked this in French our renegade said, "Let no one answer, for no doubt these are French corsairs who plunder allcomers. "Acting on this warning no one answered a word, but after we had gone a littleahead, and the vessel was now lying to leeward, suddenly they fired two guns, and apparently both loaded with chain-shot, for with one they cut our mast inhalf and brought down both it and the sail into the sea, and the other, dischargedat the same moment, sent a ball into our vessel amidships, staving her incompletely, but without doing any further damage. We, however, findingourselves sinking began to shout for help and call upon those in the ship to pickus up as we were beginning to fill. They then lay to, and lowering a skiff or boat, as many as a dozen Frenchmen, well armed with match-locks, and their matchesburning, got into it and came alongside; and seeing how few we were, and thatour vessel was going down, they took us in, telling us that this had come to usthrough our incivility in not giving them an answer. Our renegade took the trunkcontaining Zoraida's wealth and dropped it into the sea without anyone perceivingwhat he did. In short we went on board with the Frenchmen, who, after havingascertained all they wanted to know about us, rifled us of everything we had, as ifthey had been our bitterest enemies, and from Zoraida they took even the ankletsshe wore on her feet; but the distress they caused her did not distress me so muchas the fear I was in that from robbing her of her rich and precious jewels theywould proceed to rob her of the most precious jewel that she valued more thanall. The desires, however, of those people do not go beyond money, but of thattheir covetousness is insatiable, and on this occasion it was carried to such a pitchthat they would have taken even the clothes we wore as captives if they had beenworth anything to them. It was the advice of some of them to throw us all into thesea wrapped up in a sail; for their purpose was to trade at some of the ports ofSpain, giving themselves out as Bretons, and if they brought us alive they wouldbe punished as soon as the robbery was discovered; but the captain (who was theone who had plundered my beloved Zoraida) said he was satisfied with the prizehe had got, and that he would not touch at any Spanish port, but pass the Straitsof Gibraltar by night, or as best he could, and make for La Rochelle, from whichhe had sailed. So they agreed by common consent to give us the skiff belonging totheir ship and all we required for the short voyage that remained to us, and thisthey did the next day on coming in sight of the Spanish coast, with which, and thejoy we felt, all our sufferings and miseries were as completely forgotten as if theyhad never been endured by us, such is the delight of recovering lost liberty. It may have been about mid-day when they placed us in the boat, giving us twokegs of water and some biscuit; and the captain, moved by I know not whatcompassion, as the lovely Zoraida was about to embark, gave her some forty goldcrowns, and would not permit his men to take from her those same garmentswhich she has on now. We got into the boat, returning them thanks for theirkindness to us, and showing ourselves grateful rather than indignant. They stoodout to sea, steering for the straits; we, without looking to any compass save theland we had before us, set ourselves to row with such energy that by sunset wewere so near that we might easily, we thought, land before the night was faradvanced. But as the moon did not show that night, and the sky was clouded, andas we knew not whereabouts we were, it did not seem to us a prudent thing tomake for the shore, as several of us advised, saying we ought to run ourselvesashore even if it were on rocks and far from any habitation, for in this way weshould be relieved from the apprehensions we naturally felt of the prowlingvessels of the Tetuan corsairs, who leave Barbary at nightfall and are on theSpanish coast by daybreak, where they commonly take some prize, and then gohome to sleep in their own houses. But of the conflicting counsels the one whichwas adopted was that we should approach gradually, and land where we could ifthe sea were calm enough to permit us. This was done, and a little beforemidnight we drew near to the foot of a huge and lofty mountain, not so close tothe sea but that it left a narrow space on which to land conveniently. We ran ourboat up on the sand, and all sprang out and kissed the ground, and with tears ofjoyful satisfaction returned thanks to God our Lord for all his incomparablegoodness to us on our voyage. We took out of the boat the provisions it contained, and drew it up on the shore, and then climbed a long way up the mountain, foreven there we could not feel easy in our hearts, or persuade ourselves that it wasChristian soil that was now under our feet. The dawn came, more slowly, I think, than we could have wished; wecompleted the ascent in order to see if from the summit any habitation or anyshepherds' huts could be discovered, but strain our eyes as we might, neitherdwelling, nor human being, nor path nor road could we perceive. However, wedetermined to push on farther, as it could not but be that ere long we must seesome one who could tell us where we were. But what distressed me most was tosee Zoraida going on foot over that rough ground; for though I once carried her onmy shoulders, she was more wearied by my weariness than rested by the rest; andso she would never again allow me to undergo the exertion, and went on verypatiently and cheerfully, while I led her by the hand. We had gone rather less thana quarter of a league when the sound of a little bell fell on our ears, a clear proofthat there were flocks hard by, and looking about carefully to see if any werewithin view, we observed a young shepherd tranquilly and unsuspiciouslytrimming a stick with his knife at the foot of a cork tree. We called to him, andhe, raising his head, sprang nimbly to his feet, for, as we afterwards learned, thefirst who presented themselves to his sight were the renegade and Zoraida, andseeing them in Moorish dress he imagined that all the Moors of Barbary wereupon him; and plunging with marvellous swiftness into the thicket in front of him, he began to raise a prodigious outcry, exclaiming, "The Moors--the Moors havelanded! To arms, to arms!" We were all thrown into perplexity by these cries, notknowing what to do; but reflecting that the shouts of the shepherd would raise thecountry and that the mounted coast-guard would come at once to see what wasthe matter, we agreed that the renegade must strip off his Turkish garments andput on a captive's jacket or coat which one of our party gave him at once, thoughhe himself was reduced to his shirt; and so commending ourselves to God, wefollowed the same road which we saw the shepherd take, expecting every momentthat the coast-guard would be down upon us. Nor did our expectation deceive us, for two hours had not passed when, coming out of the brushwood into the openground, we perceived some fifty mounted men swiftly approaching us at a hand-gallop. As soon as we saw them we stood still, waiting for them; but as they cameclose and, instead of the Moors they were in quest of, saw a set of poorChristians, they were taken aback, and one of them asked if it could be we whowere the cause of the shepherd having raised the call to arms. I said "Yes, " and asI was about to explain to him what had occurred, and whence we came and whowe were, one of the Christians of our party recognised the horseman who had putthe question to us, and before I could say anything more he exclaimed:"Thanks be to God, sirs, for bringing us to such good quarters; for, if I do notdeceive myself, the ground we stand on is that of Velez Malaga unless, indeed, allmy years of captivity have made me unable to recollect that you, senor, who askwho we are, are Pedro de Bustamante, my uncle. "The Christian captive had hardly uttered these words, when the horsemanthrew himself off his horse, and ran to embrace the young man, crying:"Nephew of my soul and life! I recognise thee now; and long have I mournedthee as dead, I, and my sister, thy mother, and all thy kin that are still alive, andwhom God has been pleased to preserve that they may enjoy the happiness ofseeing thee. We knew long since that thou wert in Algiers, and from theappearance of thy garments and those of all this company, I conclude that ye havehad a miraculous restoration to liberty. ""It is true, " replied the young man, "and by-and-by we will tell you all. "As soon as the horsemen understood that we were Christian captives, theydismounted from their horses, and each offered his to carry us to the city of VelezMalaga, which was a league and a half distant. Some of them went to bring theboat to the city, we having told them where we had left it; others took us upbehind them, and Zoraida was placed on the horse of the young man's uncle. Thewhole town came out to meet us, for they had by this time heard of our arrivalfrom one who had gone on in advance. They were not astonished to see liberatedcaptives or captive Moors, for people on that coast are well used to see both oneand the other; but they were astonished at the beauty of Zoraida, which was justthen heightened, as well by the exertion of travelling as by joy at finding herselfon Christian soil, and relieved of all fear of being lost; for this had brought such aglow upon her face, that unless my affection for her were deceiving me, I wouldventure to say that there was not a more beautiful creature in the world--at least, that I had ever seen. We went straight to the church to return thanks to God forthe mercies we had received, and when Zoraida entered it she said there werefaces there like Lela Marien's. We told her they were her images; and as well as hecould the renegade explained to her what they meant, that she might adore themas if each of them were the very same Lela Marien that had spoken to her; andshe, having great intelligence and a quick and clear instinct, understood at onceall he said to her about them. Thence they took us away and distributed us all indifferent houses in the town; but as for the renegade, Zoraida, and myself, theChristian who came with us brought us to the house of his parents, who had a fairshare of the gifts of fortune, and treated us with as much kindness as they didtheir own son. We remained six days in Velez, at the end of which the renegade, havinginformed himself of all that was requisite for him to do, set out for the city ofGranada to restore himself to the sacred bosom of the Church through themedium of the Holy Inquisition. The other released captives took their departures, each the way that seemed best to him, and Zoraida and I were left alone, withnothing more than the crowns which the courtesy of the Frenchman had bestowedupon Zoraida, out of which I bought the beast on which she rides; and, I for thepresent attending her as her father and squire and not as her husband, we arenow going to ascertain if my father is living, or if any of my brothers has hadbetter fortune than mine has been; though, as Heaven has made me thecompanion of Zoraida, I think no other lot could be assigned to me, howeverhappy, that I would rather have. The patience with which she endures thehardships that poverty brings with it, and the eagerness she shows to become aChristian, are such that they fill me with admiration, and bind me to serve her allmy life; though the happiness I feel in seeing myself hers, and her mine, isdisturbed and marred by not knowing whether I shall find any corner to shelterher in my own country, or whether time and death may not have made suchchanges in the fortunes and lives of my father and brothers, that I shall hardlyfind anyone who knows me, if they are not alive. I have no more of my story to tell you, gentlemen; whether it be an interestingor a curious one let your better judgments decide; all I can say is I would gladlyhave told it to you more briefly; although my fear of wearying you has made meleave out more than one circumstance. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 15. Chapters 42-46EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XLII. WHICH TREATS OF WHAT FURTHER TOOK PLACE IN THE INN, AND OF SEVERAL OTHER THINGS WORTH KNOWINGWith these words the captive held his peace, and Don Fernando said to him, "Intruth, captain, the manner in which you have related this remarkable adventurehas been such as befitted the novelty and strangeness of the matter. The wholestory is curious and uncommon, and abounds with incidents that fill the hearerswith wonder and astonishment; and so great is the pleasure we have found inlistening to it that we should be glad if it were to begin again, even though to-morrow were to find us still occupied with the same tale. " And while he said thisCardenio and the rest of them offered to be of service to him in any way that layin their power, and in words and language so kindly and sincere that the captainwas much gratified by their good-will. In particular Don Fernando offered, if hewould go back with him, to get his brother the marquis to become godfather atthe baptism of Zoraida, and on his own part to provide him with the means ofmaking his appearance in his own country with the credit and comfort he wasentitled to. For all this the captive returned thanks very courteously, although hewould not accept any of their generous offers. By this time night closed in, and as it did, there came up to the inn a coachattended by some men on horseback, who demanded accommodation; to whichthe landlady replied that there was not a hand's breadth of the whole innunoccupied. "Still, for all that, " said one of those who had entered on horseback, "room mustbe found for his lordship the Judge here. "At this name the landlady was taken aback, and said, "Senor, the fact is I haveno beds; but if his lordship the Judge carries one with him, as no doubt he does, let him come in and welcome; for my husband and I will give up our room toaccommodate his worship. ""Very good, so be it, " said the squire; but in the meantime a man had got out ofthe coach whose dress indicated at a glance the office and post he held, for thelong robe with ruffled sleeves that he wore showed that he was, as his servantsaid, a Judge of appeal. He led by the hand a young girl in a travelling dress, apparently about sixteen years of age, and of such a high-bred air, so beautifuland so graceful, that all were filled with admiration when she made herappearance, and but for having seen Dorothea, Luscinda, and Zoraida, who werethere in the inn, they would have fancied that a beauty like that of this maiden'swould have been hard to find. Don Quixote was present at the entrance of theJudge with the young lady, and as soon as he saw him he said, "Your worship maywith confidence enter and take your ease in this castle; for though theaccommodation be scanty and poor, there are no quarters so cramped orinconvenient that they cannot make room for arms and letters; above all if armsand letters have beauty for a guide and leader, as letters represented by yourworship have in this fair maiden, to whom not only ought castles to throwthemselves open and yield themselves up, but rocks should rend themselvesasunder and mountains divide and bow themselves down to give her a reception. Enter, your worship, I say, into this paradise, for here you will find stars and sunsto accompany the heaven your worship brings with you, here you will find armsin their supreme excellence, and beauty in its highest perfection. "The Judge was struck with amazement at the language of Don Quixote, whomhe scrutinized very carefully, no less astonished by his figure than by his talk; andbefore he could find words to answer him he had a fresh surprise, when he sawopposite to him Luscinda, Dorothea, and Zoraida, who, having heard of the newguests and of the beauty of the young lady, had come to see her and welcome her;Don Fernando, Cardenio, and the curate, however, greeted him in a moreintelligible and polished style. In short, the Judge made his entrance in a state ofbewilderment, as well with what he saw as what he heard, and the fair ladies ofthe inn gave the fair damsel a cordial welcome. On the whole he could perceivethat all who were there were people of quality; but with the figure, countenance, and bearing of Don Quixote he was at his wits' end; and all civilities having beenexchanged, and the accommodation of the inn inquired into, it was settled, as ithad been before settled, that all the women should retire to the garret that hasbeen already mentioned, and that the men should remain outside as if to guardthem; the Judge, therefore, was very well pleased to allow his daughter, for suchthe damsel was, to go with the ladies, which she did very willingly; and with partof the host's narrow bed and half of what the Judge had brought with him, theymade a more comfortable arrangement for the night than they had expected. The captive, whose heart had leaped within him the instant he saw the Judge, telling him somehow that this was his brother, asked one of the servants whoaccompanied him what his name was, and whether he knew from what part of thecountry he came. The servant replied that he was called the Licentiate Juan Perezde Viedma, and that he had heard it said he came from a village in the mountainsof Leon. From this statement, and what he himself had seen, he felt convincedthat this was his brother who had adopted letters by his father's advice; andexcited and rejoiced, he called Don Fernando and Cardenio and the curate aside, and told them how the matter stood, assuring them that the judge was hisbrother. The servant had further informed him that he was now going to theIndies with the appointment of Judge of the Supreme Court of Mexico; and he hadlearned, likewise, that the young lady was his daughter, whose mother had died ingiving birth to her, and that he was very rich in consequence of the dowry left tohim with the daughter. He asked their advice as to what means he should adoptto make himself known, or to ascertain beforehand whether, when he had madehimself known, his brother, seeing him so poor, would be ashamed of him, orwould receive him with a warm heart. "Leave it to me to find out that, " said the curate; "though there is no reason forsupposing, senor captain, that you will not be kindly received, because the worthand wisdom that your brother's bearing shows him to possess do not make itlikely that he will prove haughty or insensible, or that he will not know how toestimate the accidents of fortune at their proper value. ""Still, " said the captain, "I would not make myself known abruptly, but in someindirect way. ""I have told you already, " said the curate, "that I will manage it in a way tosatisfy us all. "By this time supper was ready, and they all took their seats at the table, exceptthe captive, and the ladies, who supped by themselves in their own room. In themiddle of supper the curate said:"I had a comrade of your worship's name, Senor Judge, in Constantinople, whereI was a captive for several years, and that same comrade was one of the stoutestsoldiers and captains in the whole Spanish infantry; but he had as large a share ofmisfortune as he had of gallantry and courage. ""And how was the captain called, senor?" asked the Judge. "He was called Ruy Perez de Viedma, " replied the curate, "and he was born in avillage in the mountains of Leon; and he mentioned a circumstance connectedwith his father and his brothers which, had it not been told me by so truthful aman as he was, I should have set down as one of those fables the old women tellover the fire in winter; for he said his father had divided his property among histhree sons and had addressed words of advice to them sounder than any of Cato's. But I can say this much, that the choice he made of going to the wars wasattended with such success, that by his gallant conduct and courage, and withoutany help save his own merit, he rose in a few years to be captain of infantry, andto see himself on the high-road and in position to be given the command of acorps before long; but Fortune was against him, for where he might have expectedher favour he lost it, and with it his liberty, on that glorious day when so manyrecovered theirs, at the battle of Lepanto. I lost mine at the Goletta, and after avariety of adventures we found ourselves comrades at Constantinople. Thence hewent to Algiers, where he met with one of the most extraordinary adventures thatever befell anyone in the world. "Here the curate went on to relate briefly his brother's adventure with Zoraida;to all which the Judge gave such an attentive hearing that he never before hadbeen so much of a hearer. The curate, however, only went so far as to describehow the Frenchmen plundered those who were in the boat, and the poverty anddistress in which his comrade and the fair Moor were left, of whom he said hehad not been able to learn what became of them, or whether they had reachedSpain, or been carried to France by the Frenchmen. The captain, standing a little to one side, was listening to all the curate said, and watching every movement of his brother, who, as soon as he perceived thecurate had made an end of his story, gave a deep sigh and said with his eyes fullof tears, "Oh, senor, if you only knew what news you have given me and how itcomes home to me, making me show how I feel it with these tears that springfrom my eyes in spite of all my worldly wisdom and self-restraint! That bravecaptain that you speak of is my eldest brother, who, being of a bolder and loftiermind than my other brother or myself, chose the honourable and worthy calling ofarms, which was one of the three careers our father proposed to us, as yourcomrade mentioned in that fable you thought he was telling you. I followed thatof letters, in which God and my own exertions have raised me to the position inwhich you see me. My second brother is in Peru, so wealthy that with what hehas sent to my father and to me he has fully repaid the portion he took with him, and has even furnished my father's hands with the means of gratifying his naturalgenerosity, while I too have been enabled to pursue my studies in a morebecoming and creditable fashion, and so to attain my present standing. My fatheris still alive, though dying with anxiety to hear of his eldest son, and he prays Godunceasingly that death may not close his eyes until he has looked upon those ofhis son; but with regard to him what surprises me is, that having so muchcommon sense as he had, he should have neglected to give any intelligence abouthimself, either in his troubles and sufferings, or in his prosperity, for if his fatheror any of us had known of his condition he need not have waited for that miracleof the reed to obtain his ransom; but what now disquiets me is the uncertaintywhether those Frenchmen may have restored him to liberty, or murdered him tohide the robbery. All this will make me continue my journey, not with thesatisfaction in which I began it, but in the deepest melancholy and sadness. Ohdear brother! that I only knew where thou art now, and I would hasten to seekthee out and deliver thee from thy sufferings, though it were to cost me sufferingmyself! Oh that I could bring news to our old father that thou art alive, even wertthou the deepest dungeon of Barbary; for his wealth and my brother's and minewould rescue thee thence! Oh beautiful and generous Zoraida, that I could repaythy good goodness to a brother! That I could be present at the new birth of thysoul, and at thy bridal that would give us all such happiness!"All this and more the Judge uttered with such deep emotion at the news he hadreceived of his brother that all who heard him shared in it, showing theirsympathy with his sorrow. The curate, seeing, then, how well he had succeeded incarrying out his purpose and the captain's wishes, had no desire to keep themunhappy any longer, so he rose from the table and going into the room whereZoraida was he took her by the hand, Luscinda, Dorothea, and the Judge'sdaughter following her. The captain was waiting to see what the curate would do, when the latter, taking him with the other hand, advanced with both of them towhere the Judge and the other gentlemen were and said, "Let your tears cease toflow, Senor Judge, and the wish of your heart be gratified as fully as you coulddesire, for you have before you your worthy brother and your good sister-in-law. He whom you see here is the Captain Viedma, and this is the fair Moor who hasbeen so good to him. The Frenchmen I told you of have reduced them to the stateof poverty you see that you may show the generosity of your kind heart. "The captain ran to embrace his brother, who placed both hands on his breast soas to have a good look at him, holding him a little way off but as soon as he hadfully recognised him he clasped him in his arms so closely, shedding such tears ofheartfelt joy, that most of those present could not but join in them. The words thebrothers exchanged, the emotion they showed can scarcely be imagined, I fancy, much less put down in writing. They told each other in a few words the events oftheir lives; they showed the true affection of brothers in all its strength; then thejudge embraced Zoraida, putting all he possessed at her disposal; then he madehis daughter embrace her, and the fair Christian and the lovely Moor drew freshtears from every eye. And there was Don Quixote observing all these strangeproceedings attentively without uttering a word, and attributing the whole tochimeras of knight-errantry. Then they agreed that the captain and Zoraida shouldreturn with his brother to Seville, and send news to his father of his having beendelivered and found, so as to enable him to come and be present at the marriageand baptism of Zoraida, for it was impossible for the Judge to put off his journey, as he was informed that in a month from that time the fleet was to sail fromSeville for New Spain, and to miss the passage would have been a greatinconvenience to him. In short, everybody was well pleased and glad at thecaptive's good fortune; and as now almost two-thirds of the night were past, theyresolved to retire to rest for the remainder of it. Don Quixote offered to mountguard over the castle lest they should be attacked by some giant or othermalevolent scoundrel, covetous of the great treasure of beauty the castlecontained. Those who understood him returned him thanks for this service, andthey gave the Judge an account of his extraordinary humour, with which he wasnot a little amused. Sancho Panza alone was fuming at the lateness of the hour forretiring to rest; and he of all was the one that made himself most comfortable, ashe stretched himself on the trappings of his ass, which, as will be told farther on, cost him so dear. The ladies, then, having retired to their chamber, and the others havingdisposed themselves with as little discomfort as they could, Don Quixote salliedout of the inn to act as sentinel of the castle as he had promised. It happened, however, that a little before the approach of dawn a voice so musical and sweetreached the ears of the ladies that it forced them all to listen attentively, butespecially Dorothea, who had been awake, and by whose side Dona Clara deViedma, for so the Judge's daughter was called, lay sleeping. No one could imaginewho it was that sang so sweetly, and the voice was unaccompanied by anyinstrument. At one moment it seemed to them as if the singer were in thecourtyard, at another in the stable; and as they were all attention, wondering, Cardenio came to the door and said, "Listen, whoever is not asleep, and you willhear a muleteer's voice that enchants as it chants. ""We are listening to it already, senor, " said Dorothea; on which Cardenio wentaway; and Dorothea, giving all her attention to it, made out the words of the songto be these:CHAPTER XLIII. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE PLEASANT STORY OF THE MULETEER, TOGETHER WITH OTHER STRANGE THINGS THAT CAME TO PASSIN THE INNAh me, Love's mariner am IOn Love's deep ocean sailing;I know not where the haven lies, I dare not hope to gain it. One solitary distant starIs all I have to guide me, A brighter orb than those of oldThat Palinurus lighted. And vaguely drifting am I borne, I know not where it leads me;I fix my gaze on it alone, Of all beside it heedless. But over-cautious prudery, And coyness cold and cruel, When most I need it, these, like clouds, Its longed-for light refuse me. Bright star, goal of my yearning eyesAs thou above me beamest, When thou shalt hide thee from my sightI'll know that death is near me. The singer had got so far when it struck Dorothea that it was not fair to letClara miss hearing such a sweet voice, so, shaking her from side to side, she wokeher, saying:"Forgive me, child, for waking thee, but I do so that thou mayest have thepleasure of hearing the best voice thou hast ever heard, perhaps, in all thy life. "Clara awoke quite drowsy, and not understanding at the moment whatDorothea said, asked her what it was; she repeated what she had said, and Clarabecame attentive at once; but she had hardly heard two lines, as the singercontinued, when a strange trembling seized her, as if she were suffering from asevere attack of quartan ague, and throwing her arms round Dorothea she said:"Ah, dear lady of my soul and life! why did you wake me? The greatest kindnessfortune could do me now would be to close my eyes and ears so as neither to seeor hear that unhappy musician. ""What art thou talking about, child?" said Dorothea. "Why, they say this singeris a muleteer!""Nay, he is the lord of many places, " replied Clara, "and that one in my heartwhich he holds so firmly shall never be taken from him, unless he be willing tosurrender it. "Dorothea was amazed at the ardent language of the girl, for it seemed to be farbeyond such experience of life as her tender years gave any promise of, so shesaid to her:"You speak in such a way that I cannot understand you, Senora Clara; explainyourself more clearly, and tell me what is this you are saying about hearts andplaces and this musician whose voice has so moved you? But do not tell meanything now; I do not want to lose the pleasure I get from listening to the singerby giving my attention to your transports, for I perceive he is beginning to sing anew strain and a new air. ""Let him, in Heaven's name, " returned Clara; and not to hear him she stoppedboth ears with her hands, at which Dorothea was again surprised; but turning herattention to the song she found that it ran in this fashion:Sweet Hope, my stay, That onward to the goal of thy intentDost make thy way, Heedless of hindrance or impediment, Have thou no fearIf at each step thou findest death is near. No victory, No joy of triumph doth the faint heart know;Unblest is heThat a bold front to Fortune dares not show, But soul and senseIn bondage yieldeth up to indolence. If Love his waresDo dearly sell, his right must be contest;What gold comparesWith that whereon his stamp he hath imprest?And all men knowWhat costeth little that we rate but low. Love resoluteKnows not the word "impossibility;"And though my suitBeset by endless obstacles I see, Yet no despairShall hold me bound to earth while heaven is there. Here the voice ceased and Clara's sobs began afresh, all which excitedDorothea's curiosity to know what could be the cause of singing so sweet andweeping so bitter, so she again asked her what it was she was going to say before. On this Clara, afraid that Luscinda might overhear her, winding her arms tightlyround Dorothea put her mouth so close to her ear that she could speak withoutfear of being heard by anyone else, and said:"This singer, dear senora, is the son of a gentleman of Aragon, lord of twovillages, who lives opposite my father's house at Madrid; and though my fatherhad curtains to the windows of his house in winter, and lattice-work in summer, in some way--I know not how--this gentleman, who was pursuing his studies, saw me, whether in church or elsewhere, I cannot tell, and, in fact, fell in lovewith me, and gave me to know it from the windows of his house, with so manysigns and tears that I was forced to believe him, and even to love him, withoutknowing what it was he wanted of me. One of the signs he used to make me wasto link one hand in the other, to show me he wished to marry me; and though Ishould have been glad if that could be, being alone and motherless I knew notwhom to open my mind to, and so I left it as it was, showing him no favour, except when my father, and his too, were from home, to raise the curtain or thelattice a little and let him see me plainly, at which he would show such delightthat he seemed as if he were going mad. Meanwhile the time for my father'sdeparture arrived, which he became aware of, but not from me, for I had neverbeen able to tell him of it. He fell sick, of grief I believe, and so the day we weregoing away I could not see him to take farewell of him, were it only with the eyes. But after we had been two days on the road, on entering the posada of a village aday's journey from this, I saw him at the inn door in the dress of a muleteer, andso well disguised, that if I did not carry his image graven on my heart it wouldhave been impossible for me to recognise him. But I knew him, and I wassurprised, and glad; he watched me, unsuspected by my father, from whom healways hides himself when he crosses my path on the road, or in the posadaswhere we halt; and, as I know what he is, and reflect that for love of me he makesthis journey on foot in all this hardship, I am ready to die of sorrow; and wherehe sets foot there I set my eyes. I know not with what object he has come; or howhe could have got away from his father, who loves him beyond measure, havingno other heir, and because he deserves it, as you will perceive when you see him. And moreover, I can tell you, all that he sings is out of his own head; for I haveheard them say he is a great scholar and poet; and what is more, every time I seehim or hear him sing I tremble all over, and am terrified lest my father shouldrecognise him and come to know of our loves. I have never spoken a word to himin my life; and for all that I love him so that I could not live without him. This, dear senora, is all I have to tell you about the musician whose voice has delightedyou so much; and from it alone you might easily perceive he is no muleteer, but alord of hearts and towns, as I told you already. ""Say no more, Dona Clara, " said Dorothea at this, at the same time kissing her athousand times over, "say no more, I tell you, but wait till day comes; when Itrust in God to arrange this affair of yours so that it may have the happy endingsuch an innocent beginning deserves. ""Ah, senora, " said Dona Clara, "what end can be hoped for when his father is ofsuch lofty position, and so wealthy, that he would think I was not fit to be even aservant to his son, much less wife? And as to marrying without the knowledge ofmy father, I would not do it for all the world. I would not ask anything more thanthat this youth should go back and leave me; perhaps with not seeing him, andthe long distance we shall have to travel, the pain I suffer now may becomeeasier; though I daresay the remedy I propose will do me very little good. I don'tknow how the devil this has come about, or how this love I have for him got in; Isuch a young girl, and he such a mere boy; for I verily believe we are both of anage, and I am not sixteen yet; for I will be sixteen Michaelmas Day, next, myfather says. "Dorothea could not help laughing to hear how like a child Dona Clara spoke. "Let us go to sleep now, senora, " said she,

"for the little of the night that I fancy isleft to us: God will soon send us daylight, and we will set all to rights, or it willgo hard with me. "With this they fell asleep, and deep silence reigned all through the inn. The onlypersons not asleep were the landlady's daughter and her servant Maritornes, who, knowing the weak point of Don Quixote's humour, and that he was outside theinn mounting guard in armour and on horseback, resolved, the pair of them, toplay some trick upon him, or at any rate to amuse themselves for a while bylistening to his nonsense. As it so happened there was not a window in the wholeinn that looked outwards except a hole in the wall of a straw-loft through whichthey used to throw out the straw. At this hole the two demi-damsels postedthemselves, and observed Don Quixote on his horse, leaning on his pike and fromtime to time sending forth such deep and doleful sighs, that he seemed to pluckup his soul by the roots with each of them; and they could hear him, too, sayingin a soft, tender, loving tone, "Oh my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, perfection of allbeauty, summit and crown of discretion, treasure house of grace, depositary ofvirtue, and finally, ideal of all that is good, honourable, and delectable in thisworld! What is thy grace doing now? Art thou, perchance, mindful of thy enslavedknight who of his own free will hath exposed himself to so great perils, and all toserve thee? Give me tidings of her, oh luminary of the three faces! Perhaps at thismoment, envious of hers, thou art regarding her, either as she paces to and frosome gallery of her sumptuous palaces, or leans over some balcony, meditatinghow, whilst preserving her purity and greatness, she may mitigate the torturesthis wretched heart of mine endures for her sake, what glory should recompensemy sufferings, what repose my toil, and lastly what death my life, and whatreward my services? And thou, oh sun, that art now doubtless harnessing thysteeds in haste to rise betimes and come forth to see my lady; when thou seest herI entreat of thee to salute her on my behalf: but have a care, when thou shalt seeher and salute her, that thou kiss not her face; for I shall be more jealous of theethan thou wert of that light-footed ingrate that made thee sweat and run so on theplains of Thessaly, or on the banks of the Peneus (for I do not exactly recollectwhere it was thou didst run on that occasion) in thy jealousy and love. "Don Quixote had got so far in his pathetic speech when the landlady's daughterbegan to signal to him, saying, "Senor, come over here, please. "At these signals and voice Don Quixote turned his head and saw by the light ofthe moon, which then was in its full splendour, that some one was calling to himfrom the hole in the wall, which seemed to him to be a window, and what ismore, with a gilt grating, as rich castles, such as he believed the inn to be, oughtto have; and it immediately suggested itself to his imagination that, as on theformer occasion, the fair damsel, the daughter of the lady of the castle, overcomeby love for him, was once more endeavouring to win his affections; and with thisidea, not to show himself discourteous, or ungrateful, he turned Rocinante's headand approached the hole, and as he perceived the two wenches he said:"I pity you, beauteous lady, that you should have directed your thoughts of loveto a quarter from whence it is impossible that such a return can be made to youas is due to your great merit and gentle birth, for which you must not blame thisunhappy knight-errant whom love renders incapable of submission to any otherthan her whom, the first moment his eyes beheld her, he made absolute mistressof his soul. Forgive me, noble lady, and retire to your apartment, and do not, byany further declaration of your passion, compel me to show myself moreungrateful; and if, of the love you bear me, you should find that there is anythingelse in my power wherein I can gratify you, provided it be not love itself, demandit of me; for I swear to you by that sweet absent enemy of mine to grant it thisinstant, though it be that you require of me a lock of Medusa's hair, which was allsnakes, or even the very beams of the sun shut up in a vial. ""My mistress wants nothing of that sort, sir knight, " said Maritornes at this. "What then, discreet dame, is it that your mistress wants?" replied Don Quixote. "Only one of your fair hands, " said Maritornes, "to enable her to vent over it thegreat passion passion which has brought her to this loophole, so much to the riskof her honour; for if the lord her father had heard her, the least slice he would cutoff her would be her ear. ""I should like to see that tried, " said Don Quixote; "but he had better beware ofthat, if he does not want to meet the most disastrous end that ever father in theworld met for having laid hands on the tender limbs of a love-stricken daughter. "Maritornes felt sure that Don Quixote would present the hand she had asked, and making up her mind what to do, she got down from the hole and went intothe stable, where she took the halter of Sancho Panza's ass, and in all hastereturned to the hole, just as Don Quixote had planted himself standing onRocinante's saddle in order to reach the grated window where he supposed thelovelorn damsel to be; and giving her his hand, he said, "Lady, take this hand, orrather this scourge of the evil-doers of the earth; take, I say, this hand which noother hand of woman has ever touched, not even hers who has completepossession of my entire body. I present it to you, not that you may kiss it, butthat you may observe the contexture of the sinews, the close network of themuscles, the breadth and capacity of the veins, whence you may infer what mustbe the strength of the arm that has such a hand. ""That we shall see presently, " said Maritornes, and making a running knot onthe halter, she passed it over his wrist and coming down from the hole tied theother end very firmly to the bolt of the door of the straw-loft. Don Quixote, feeling the roughness of the rope on his wrist, exclaimed, "Yourgrace seems to be grating rather than caressing my hand; treat it not so harshly, for it is not to blame for the offence my resolution has given you, nor is it just towreak all your vengeance on so small a part; remember that one who loves so wellshould not revenge herself so cruelly. "But there was nobody now to listen to these words of Don Quixote's, for assoon as Maritornes had tied him she and the other made off, ready to die withlaughing, leaving him fastened in such a way that it was impossible for him torelease himself. He was, as has been said, standing on Rocinante, with his arm passed throughthe hole and his wrist tied to the bolt of the door, and in mighty fear and dread ofbeing left hanging by the arm if Rocinante were to stir one side or the other; so hedid not dare to make the least movement, although from the patience andimperturbable disposition of Rocinante, he had good reason to expect that hewould stand without budging for a whole century. Finding himself fast, then, andthat the ladies had retired, he began to fancy that all this was done byenchantment, as on the former occasion when in that same castle that enchantedMoor of a carrier had belaboured him; and he cursed in his heart his own want ofsense and judgment in venturing to enter the castle again, after having come off sobadly the first time; it being a settled point with knights-errant that when theyhave tried an adventure, and have not succeeded in it, it is a sign that it is notreserved for them but for others, and that therefore they need not try it again. Nevertheless he pulled his arm to see if he could release himself, but it had beenmade so fast that all his efforts were in vain. It is true he pulled it gently lestRocinante should move, but try as he might to seat himself in the saddle, he hadnothing for it but to stand upright or pull his hand off. Then it was he wished forthe sword of Amadis, against which no enchantment whatever had any power;then he cursed his ill fortune; then he magnified the loss the world would sustainby his absence while he remained there enchanted, for that he believed he wasbeyond all doubt; then he once more took to thinking of his beloved Dulcinea delToboso; then he called to his worthy squire Sancho Panza, who, buried in sleepand stretched upon the pack-saddle of his ass, was oblivious, at that moment, ofthe mother that bore him; then he called upon the sages Lirgandeo and Alquife tocome to his aid; then he invoked his good friend Urganda to succour him; andthen, at last, morning found him in such a state of desperation and perplexity thathe was bellowing like a bull, for he had no hope that day would bring any relief tohis suffering, which he believed would last for ever, inasmuch as he wasenchanted; and of this he was convinced by seeing that Rocinante never stirred, much or little, and he felt persuaded that he and his horse were to remain in thisstate, without eating or drinking or sleeping, until the malign influence of thestars was overpast, or until some other more sage enchanter should disenchanthim. But he was very much deceived in this conclusion, for daylight had hardlybegun to appear when there came up to the inn four men on horseback, wellequipped and accoutred, with firelocks across their saddle-bows. They called outand knocked loudly at the gate of the inn, which was still shut; on seeing which, Don Quixote, even there where he was, did not forget to act as sentinel, and saidin a loud and imperious tone, "Knights, or squires, or whatever ye be, ye have noright to knock at the gates of this castle; for it is plain enough that they who arewithin are either asleep, or else are not in the habit of throwing open the fortressuntil the sun's rays are spread over the whole surface of the earth. Withdraw to adistance, and wait till it is broad daylight, and then we shall see whether it will beproper or not to open to you. ""What the devil fortress or castle is this, " said one, "to make us stand on suchceremony? If you are the innkeeper bid them open to us; we are travellers whoonly want to feed our horses and go on, for we are in haste. ""Do you think, gentlemen, that I look like an innkeeper?" said Don Quixote. "I don't know what you look like, " replied the other; "but I know that you aretalking nonsense when you call this inn a castle. ""A castle it is, " returned Don Quixote, "nay, more, one of the best in this wholeprovince, and it has within it people who have had the sceptre in the hand andthe crown on the head. ""It would be better if it were the other way, " said the traveller, "the sceptre onthe head and the crown in the hand; but if so, may be there is within somecompany of players, with whom it is a common thing to have those crowns andsceptres you speak of; for in such a small inn as this, and where such silence iskept, I do not believe any people entitled to crowns and sceptres can have takenup their quarters. ""You know but little of the world, " returned Don Quixote, "since you areignorant of what commonly occurs in knight-errantry. "But the comrades of the spokesman, growing weary of the dialogue with DonQuixote, renewed their knocks with great vehemence, so much so that the host, and not only he but everybody in the inn, awoke, and he got up to ask whoknocked. It happened at this moment that one of the horses of the four who wereseeking admittance went to smell Rocinante, who melancholy, dejected, and withdrooping ears stood motionless, supporting his sorely stretched master; and as hewas, after all, flesh, though he looked as if he were made of wood, he could nothelp giving way and in return smelling the one who had come to offer himattentions. But he had hardly moved at all when Don Quixote lost his footing; andslipping off the saddle, he would have come to the ground, but for beingsuspended by the arm, which caused him such agony that he believed either hiswrist would be cut through or his arm torn off; and he hung so near the groundthat he could just touch it with his feet, which was all the worse for him; for, finding how little was wanted to enable him to plant his feet firmly, he struggledand stretched himself as much as he could to gain a footing; just like thoseundergoing the torture of the strappado, when they are fixed at "touch and notouch, " who aggravate their own sufferings by their violent efforts to stretchthemselves, deceived by the hope which makes them fancy that with a very littlemore they will reach the ground. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XLIV. IN WHICH ARE CONTINUED THE UNHEARD-OF ADVENTURES OFTHE INNSo loud, in fact, were the shouts of Don Quixote, that the landlord opening thegate of the inn in all haste, came out in dismay, and ran to see who was utteringsuch cries, and those who were outside joined him. Maritornes, who had been bythis time roused up by the same outcry, suspecting what it was, ran to the loftand, without anyone seeing her, untied the halter by which Don Quixote wassuspended, and down he came to the ground in the sight of the landlord and thetravellers, who approaching asked him what was the matter with him that heshouted so. He without replying a word took the rope off his wrist, and rising tohis feet leaped upon Rocinante, braced his buckler on his arm, put his lance inrest, and making a considerable circuit of the plain came back at a half-gallopexclaiming:"Whoever shall say that I have been enchanted with just cause, provided mylady the Princess Micomicona grants me permission to do so, I give him the lie, challenge him and defy him to single combat. "The newly arrived travellers were amazed at the words of Don Quixote; but thelandlord removed their surprise by telling them who he was, and not to mind himas he was out of his senses. They then asked the landlord if by any chance ayouth of about fifteen years of age had come to that inn, one dressed like amuleteer, and of such and such an appearance, describing that of Dona Clara'slover. The landlord replied that there were so many people in the inn he had notnoticed the person they were inquiring for; but one of them observing the coach inwhich the Judge had come, said, "He is here no doubt, for this is the coach he isfollowing: let one of us stay at the gate, and the rest go in to look for him; orindeed it would be as well if one of us went round the inn, lest he should escapeover the wall of the yard. " "So be it, " said another; and while two of them went in, one remained at the gate and the other made the circuit of the inn; observing allwhich, the landlord was unable to conjecture for what reason they were taking allthese precautions, though he understood they were looking for the youth whosedescription they had given him. It was by this time broad daylight; and for that reason, as well as inconsequence of the noise Don Quixote had made, everybody was awake and up, but particularly Dona Clara and Dorothea; for they had been able to sleep butbadly that night, the one from agitation at having her lover so near her, the otherfrom curiosity to see him. Don Quixote, when he saw that not one of the fourtravellers took any notice of him or replied to his challenge, was furious and readyto die with indignation and wrath; and if he could have found in the ordinances ofchivalry that it was lawful for a knight-errant to undertake or engage in anotherenterprise, when he had plighted his word and faith not to involve himself in anyuntil he had made an end of the one to which he was pledged, he would haveattacked the whole of them, and would have made them return an answer in spiteof themselves. But considering that it would not become him, nor be right, tobegin any new emprise until he had established Micomicona in her kingdom, hewas constrained to hold his peace and wait quietly to see what would be theupshot of the proceedings of those same travellers; one of whom found the youththey were seeking lying asleep by the side of a muleteer, without a thought ofanyone coming in search of him, much less finding him. The man laid hold of him by the arm, saying, "It becomes you well indeed, Senor Don Luis, to be in the dress you wear, and well the bed in which I find youagrees with the luxury in which your mother reared you. "The youth rubbed his sleepy eyes and stared for a while at him who held him, but presently recognised him as one of his father's servants, at which he was sotaken aback that for some time he could not find or utter a word; while theservant went on to say, "There is nothing for it now, Senor Don Luis, but tosubmit quietly and return home, unless it is your wish that my lord, your father, should take his departure for the other world, for nothing else can be theconsequence of the grief he is in at your absence. ""But how did my father know that I had gone this road and in this dress?" saidDon Luis. "It was a student to whom you confided your intentions, " answered the servant, "that disclosed them, touched with pity at the distress he saw your father sufferon missing you; he therefore despatched four of his servants in quest of you, andhere we all are at your service, better pleased than you can imagine that we shallreturn so soon and be able to restore you to those eyes that so yearn for you. ""That shall be as I please, or as heaven orders, " returned Don Luis. "What can you please or heaven order, " said the other, "except to agree to goback? Anything else is impossible. "All this conversation between the two was overheard by the muleteer at whoseside Don Luis lay, and rising, he went to report what had taken place to DonFernando, Cardenio, and the others, who had by this time dressed themselves;and told them how the man had addressed the youth as "Don, " and what wordshad passed, and how he wanted him to return to his father, which the youth wasunwilling to do. With this, and what they already knew of the rare voice thatheaven had bestowed upon him, they all felt very anxious to know moreparticularly who he was, and even to help him if it was attempted to employ forceagainst him; so they hastened to where he was still talking and arguing with hisservant. Dorothea at this instant came out of her room, followed by Dona Claraall in a tremor; and calling Cardenio aside, she told him in a few words the storyof the musician and Dona Clara, and he at the same time told her what hadhappened, how his father's servants had come in search of him; but in telling herso, he did not speak low enough but that Dona Clara heard what he said, atwhich she was so much agitated that had not Dorothea hastened to support hershe would have fallen to the ground. Cardenio then bade Dorothea return to herroom, as he would endeavour to make the whole matter right, and they did as hedesired. All the four who had come in quest of Don Luis had now come into theinn and surrounded him, urging him to return and console his father at once andwithout a moment's delay. He replied that he could not do so on any account untilhe had concluded some business in which his life, honour, and heart were atstake. The servants pressed him, saying that most certainly they would not returnwithout him, and that they would take him away whether he liked it or not. "You shall not do that, " replied Don Luis, "unless you take me dead; thoughhowever you take me, it will be without life. "By this time most of those in the inn had been attracted by the dispute, butparticularly Cardenio, Don Fernando, his companions, the Judge, the curate, thebarber, and Don Quixote; for he now considered there was no necessity formounting guard over the castle any longer. Cardenio being already acquaintedwith the young man's story, asked the men who wanted to take him away, whatobject they had in seeking to carry off this youth against his will. "Our object, " said one of the four, "is to save the life of his father, who is indanger of losing it through this gentleman's disappearance. "Upon this Don Luis exclaimed, "There is no need to make my affairs publichere; I am free, and I will return if I please; and if not, none of you shall compelme. ""Reason will compel your worship, " said the man, "and if it has no power overyou, it has power over us, to make us do what we came for, and what it is ourduty to do. ""Let us hear what the whole affair is about, " said the Judge at this; but the man, who knew him as a neighbour of theirs, replied, "Do you not know thisgentleman, Senor Judge? He is the son of your neighbour, who has run away fromhis father's house in a dress so unbecoming his rank, as your worship mayperceive. "The judge on this looked at him more carefully and recognised him, andembracing him said, "What folly is this, Senor Don Luis, or what can have beenthe cause that could have induced you to come here in this way, and in this dress, which so ill becomes your condition?"Tears came into the eyes of the young man, and he was unable to utter a wordin reply to the Judge, who told the four servants not to be uneasy, for all would besatisfactorily settled; and then taking Don Luis by the hand, he drew him asideand asked the reason of his having come there. But while he was questioning him they heard a loud outcry at the gate of theinn, the cause of which was that two of the guests who had passed the nightthere, seeing everybody busy about finding out what it was the four men wanted, had conceived the idea of going off without paying what they owed; but thelandlord, who minded his own affairs more than other people's, caught them goingout of the gate and demanded his reckoning, abusing them for their dishonestywith such language that he drove them to reply with their fists, and so they beganto lay on him in such a style that the poor man was forced to cry out, and call forhelp. The landlady and her daughter could see no one more free to give aid thanDon Quixote, and to him the daughter said, "Sir knight, by the virtue God hasgiven you, help my poor father, for two wicked men are beating him to amummy. "To which Don Quixote very deliberately and phlegmatically replied, "Fairdamsel, at the present moment your request is inopportune, for I am debarredfrom involving myself in any adventure until I have brought to a happy conclusionone to which my word has pledged me; but that which I can do for you is what Iwill now mention: run and tell your father to stand his ground as well as he can inthis battle, and on no account to allow himself to be vanquished, while I go andrequest permission of the Princess Micomicona to enable me to succour him in hisdistress; and if she grants it, rest assured I will relieve him from it. ""Sinner that I am, " exclaimed Maritornes, who stood by; "before you have gotyour permission my master will be in the other world. ""Give me leave, senora, to obtain the permission I speak of, " returned DonQuixote; "and if I get it, it will matter very little if he is in the other world; for Iwill rescue him thence in spite of all the same world can do; or at any rate I willgive you such a revenge over those who shall have sent him there that you will bemore than moderately satisfied;" and without saying anything more he went andknelt before Dorothea, requesting her Highness in knightly and errant phrase tobe pleased to grant him permission to aid and succour the castellan of that castle, who now stood in grievous jeopardy. The princess granted it graciously, and he atonce, bracing his buckler on his arm and drawing his sword, hastened to the inn-gate, where the two guests were still handling the landlord roughly; but as soon ashe reached the spot he stopped short and stood still, though Maritornes and thelandlady asked him why he hesitated to help their master and husband. "I hesitate, " said Don Quixote, "because it is not lawful for me to draw swordagainst persons of squirely condition; but call my squire Sancho to me; for thisdefence and vengeance are his affair and business. "Thus matters stood at the inn-gate, where there was a very lively exchange offisticuffs and punches, to the sore damage of the landlord and to the wrath ofMaritornes, the landlady, and her daughter, who were furious when they saw thepusillanimity of Don Quixote, and the hard treatment their master, husband andfather was undergoing. But let us leave him there; for he will surely find some oneto help him, and if not, let him suffer and hold his tongue who attempts morethan his strength allows him to do; and let us go back fifty paces to see what DonLuis said in reply to the Judge whom we left questioning him privately as to hisreasons for coming on foot and so meanly dressed. To which the youth, pressing his hand in a way that showed his heart wastroubled by some great sorrow, and shedding a flood of tears, made answer:"Senor, I have no more to tell you than that from the moment when, throughheaven's will and our being near neighbours, I first saw Dona Clara, your daughterand my lady, from that instant I made her the mistress of my will, and if yours, my true lord and father, offers no impediment, this very day she shall become mywife. For her I left my father's house, and for her I assumed this disguise, tofollow her whithersoever she may go, as the arrow seeks its mark or the sailor thepole-star. She knows nothing more of my passion than what she may have learnedfrom having sometimes seen from a distance that my eyes were filled with tears. You know already, senor, the wealth and noble birth of my parents, and that I amtheir sole heir; if this be a sufficient inducement for you to venture to make mecompletely happy, accept me at once as your son; for if my father, influenced byother objects of his own, should disapprove of this happiness I have sought formyself, time has more power to alter and change things, than human will. "With this the love-smitten youth was silent, while the Judge, after hearing him, was astonished, perplexed, and surprised, as well at the manner and intelligencewith which Don Luis had confessed the secret of his heart, as at the position inwhich he found himself, not knowing what course to take in a matter so suddenand unexpected. All the answer, therefore, he gave him was to bid him to makehis mind easy for the present, and arrange with his servants not to take him backthat day, so that there might be time to consider what was best for all parties. Don Luis kissed his hands by force, nay, bathed them with his tears, in a waythat would have touched a heart of marble, not to say that of the Judge, who, as ashrewd man, had already perceived how advantageous the marriage would be tohis daughter; though, were it possible, he would have preferred that it should bebrought about with the consent of the father of Don Luis, who he knew looked fora title for his son. The guests had by this time made peace with the landlord, for, by persuasionand Don Quixote's fair words more than by threats, they had paid him what hedemanded, and the servants of Don Luis were waiting for the end of theconversation with the Judge and their master's decision, when the devil, whonever sleeps, contrived that the barber, from whom Don Quixote had takenMambrino's helmet, and Sancho Panza the trappings of his ass in exchange forthose of his own, should at this instant enter the inn; which said barber, as he ledhis ass to the stable, observed Sancho Panza engaged in repairing something orother belonging to the pack-saddle; and the moment he saw it he knew it, andmade bold to attack Sancho, exclaiming, "Ho, sir thief, I have caught you! handover my basin and my pack-saddle, and all my trappings that you robbed me of. "Sancho, finding himself so unexpectedly assailed, and hearing the abuse pouredupon him, seized the pack-saddle with one hand, and with the other gave thebarber a cuff that bathed his teeth in blood. The barber, however, was not soready to relinquish the prize he had made in the pack-saddle; on the contrary, heraised such an outcry that everyone in the inn came running to know what thenoise and quarrel meant. "Here, in the name of the king and justice!" he cried, "this thief and highwayman wants to kill me for trying to recover my property. ""You lie, " said Sancho, "I am no highwayman; it was in fair war my master DonQuixote won these spoils. "Don Quixote was standing by at the time, highly pleased to see his squire'sstoutness, both offensive and defensive, and from that time forth he reckoned hima man of mettle, and in his heart resolved to dub him a knight on the firstopportunity that presented itself, feeling sure that the order of chivalry would befittingly bestowed upon him. In the course of the altercation, among other things the barber said, "Gentlemen, this pack-saddle is mine as surely as I owe God a death, and I knowit as well as if I had given birth to it, and here is my ass in the stable who will notlet me lie; only try it, and if it does not fit him like a glove, call me a rascal; andwhat is more, the same day I was robbed of this, they robbed me likewise of anew brass basin, never yet handselled, that would fetch a crown any day. "At this Don Quixote could not keep himself from answering; and interposingbetween the two, and separating them, he placed the pack-saddle on the ground, to lie there in sight until the truth was established, and said, "Your worships mayperceive clearly and plainly the error under which this worthy squire lies when hecalls a basin which was, is, and shall be the helmet of Mambrino which I wonfrom him in air war, and made myself master of by legitimate and lawfulpossession. With the pack-saddle I do not concern myself; but I may tell you onthat head that my squire Sancho asked my permission to strip off the caparison ofthis vanquished poltroon's steed, and with it adorn his own; I allowed him, and hetook it; and as to its having been changed from a caparison into a pack-saddle, Ican give no explanation except the usual one, that such transformations will takeplace in adventures of chivalry. To confirm all which, run, Sancho my son, andfetch hither the helmet which this good fellow calls a basin. ""Egad, master, " said Sancho, "if we have no other proof of our case than whatyour worship puts forward, Mambrino's helmet is just as much a basin as thisgood fellow's caparison is a pack-saddle. ""Do as I bid thee, " said Don Quixote; "it cannot be that everything in this castlegoes by enchantment. "Sancho hastened to where the basin was, and brought it back with him, andwhen Don Quixote saw it, he took hold of it and said:"Your worships may see with what a face this squire can assert that this is abasin and not the helmet I told you of; and I swear by the order of chivalry Iprofess, that this helmet is the identical one I took from him, without anythingadded to or taken from it. ""There is no doubt of that, " said Sancho, "for from the time my master won ituntil now he has only fought one battle in it, when he let loose those unlucky menin chains; and if had not been for this basin-helmet he would not have come offover well that time, for there was plenty of stone-throwing in that affair. "CHAPTER XLV. IN WHICH THE DOUBTFUL QUESTION OF MAMBRINO'S HELMETAND THE PACK-SADDLE IS FINALLY SETTLED, WITH OTHERADVENTURES THAT OCCURRED IN TRUTH AND EARNEST"What do you think now, gentlemen, " said the barber, "of what these gentlessay, when they want to make out that this is a helmet?""And whoever says the contrary, " said Don Quixote, "I will let him know he liesif he is a knight, and if he is a squire that he lies again a thousand times. "Our own barber, who was present at all this, and understood Don Quixote'shumour so thoroughly, took it into his head to back up his delusion and carry onthe joke for the general amusement; so addressing the other barber he said:"Senor barber, or whatever you are, you must know that I belong to yourprofession too, and have had a licence to practise for more than twenty years, andI know the implements of the barber craft, every one of them, perfectly well; and Iwas likewise a soldier for some time in the days of my youth, and I know alsowhat a helmet is, and a morion, and a headpiece with a visor, and other thingspertaining to soldiering, I meant to say to soldiers' arms; and I say--saving betteropinions and always with submission to sounder judgments--that this piece wehave now before us, which this worthy gentleman has in his hands, not only is nobarber's basin, but is as far from being one as white is from black, and truth fromfalsehood; I say, moreover, that this, although it is a helmet, is not a completehelmet. ""Certainly not, " said Don Quixote, "for half of it is wanting, that is to say thebeaver. ""It is quite true, " said the curate, who saw the object of his friend the barber;and Cardenio, Don Fernando and his companions agreed with him, and even theJudge, if his thoughts had not been so full of Don Luis's affair, would have helpedto carry on the joke; but he was so taken up with the serious matters he had onhis mind that he paid little or no attention to these facetious proceedings. "God bless me!" exclaimed their butt the barber at this; "is it possible that suchan honourable company can say that this is not a basin but a helmet? Why, this isa thing that would astonish a whole university, however wise it might be! Thatwill do; if this basin is a helmet, why, then the pack-saddle must be a horse'scaparison, as this gentleman has said. ""To me it looks like a pack-saddle, " said Don Quixote; "but I have already saidthat with that question I do not concern myself. ""As to whether it be pack-saddle or caparison, " said the curate, "it is only forSenor Don Quixote to say; for in these matters of chivalry all these gentlemen andI bow to his authority. ""By God, gentlemen, " said Don Quixote, "so many strange things have happenedto me in this castle on the two occasions on which I have sojourned in it, that Iwill not venture to assert anything positively in reply to any question touchinganything it contains; for it is my belief that everything that goes on within it goesby enchantment. The first time, an enchanted Moor that there is in it gave mesore trouble, nor did Sancho fare well among certain followers of his; and lastnight I was kept hanging by this arm for nearly two hours, without knowing howor why I came by such a mishap. So that now, for me to come forward to give anopinion in such a puzzling matter, would be to risk a rash decision. As regards theassertion that this is a basin and not a helmet I have already given an answer; butas to the question whether this is a pack-saddle or a caparison I will not ventureto give a positive opinion, but will leave it to your worships' better judgment. Perhaps as you are not dubbed knights like myself, the enchantments of this placehave nothing to do with you, and your faculties are unfettered, and you can seethings in this castle as they really and truly are, and not as they appear to me. ""There can be no question, " said Don Fernando on this, "but that Senor DonQuixote has spoken very wisely, and that with us rests the decision of this matter;and that we may have surer ground to go on, I will take the votes of thegentlemen in secret, and declare the result clearly and fully. "To those who were in the secret of Don Quixote's humour all this afforded greatamusement; but to those who knew nothing about it, it seemed the greatestnonsense in the world, in particular to the four servants of Don Luis, as well as toDon Luis himself, and to three other travellers who had by chance come to theinn, and had the appearance of officers of the Holy Brotherhood, as indeed theywere; but the one who above all was at his wits' end, was the barber basin, therebefore his very eyes, had been turned into Mambrino's helmet, and whose pack-saddle he had no doubt whatever was about to become a rich caparison for ahorse. All laughed to see Don Fernando going from one to another collecting thevotes, and whispering to them to give him their private opinion whether thetreasure over which there had been so much fighting was a pack-saddle or acaparison; but after he had taken the votes of those who knew Don Quixote, hesaid aloud, "The fact is, my good fellow, that I am tired collecting such a numberof opinions, for I find that there is not one of whom I ask what I desire to know, who does not tell me that it is absurd to say that this is the pack-saddle of an ass, and not the caparison of a horse, nay, of a thoroughbred horse; so you mustsubmit, for, in spite of you and your ass, this is a caparison and no pack-saddle, and you have stated and proved your case very badly. ""May I never share heaven, " said the poor barber, "if your worships are not allmistaken; and may my soul appear before God as that appears to me a pack-saddle and not a caparison; but, 'laws go, '--I say no more; and indeed I am notdrunk, for I am fasting, except it be from sin. "The simple talk of the barber did not afford less amusement than theabsurdities of Don Quixote, who now observed:"There is no more to be done now than for each to take what belongs to him, and to whom God has given it, may St. Peter add his blessing. "But said one of the four servants, "Unless, indeed, this is a deliberate joke, Icannot bring myself to believe that men so intelligent as those present are, orseem to be, can venture to declare and assert that this is not a basin, and that nota pack-saddle; but as I perceive that they do assert and declare it, I can only cometo the conclusion that there is some mystery in this persistence in what is soopposed to the evidence of experience and truth itself; for I swear by"--and herehe rapped out a round oath--"all the people in the world will not make me believethat this is not a barber's basin and that a jackass's pack-saddle. ""It might easily be a she-ass's, " observed the curate. "It is all the same, " said the servant; "that is not the point; but whether it is oris not a pack-saddle, as your worships say. "On hearing this one of the newly arrived officers of the Brotherhood, who hadbeen listening to the dispute and controversy, unable to restrain his anger andimpatience, exclaimed, "It is a pack-saddle as sure as my father is my father, andwhoever has said or will say anything else must be drunk. ""You lie like a rascally clown, " returned Don Quixote; and lifting his pike, whichhe had never let out of his hand, he delivered such a blow at his head that, hadnot the officer dodged it, it would have stretched him at full length. The pike wasshivered in pieces against the ground, and the rest of the officers, seeing theircomrade assaulted, raised a shout, calling for help for the Holy Brotherhood. Thelandlord, who was of the fraternity, ran at once to fetch his staff of office and hissword, and ranged himself on the side of his comrades; the servants of Don Luisclustered round him, lest he should escape from them in the confusion; thebarber, seeing the house turned upside down, once more laid hold of his pack-saddle and Sancho did the same; Don Quixote drew his sword and charged theofficers; Don Luis cried out to his servants to leave him alone and go and helpDon Quixote, and Cardenio and Don Fernando, who were supporting him; thecurate was shouting at the top of his voice, the landlady was screaming, herdaughter was wailing, Maritornes was weeping, Dorothea was aghast, Luscindaterror-stricken, and Dona Clara in a faint. The barber cudgelled Sancho, andSancho pommelled the barber; Don Luis gave one of his servants, who ventured tocatch him by the arm to keep him from escaping, a cuff that bathed his teeth inblood; the Judge took his part; Don Fernando had got one of the officers downand was belabouring him heartily; the landlord raised his voice again calling forhelp for the Holy Brotherhood; so that the whole inn was nothing but cries, shouts, shrieks, confusion, terror, dismay, mishaps, sword-cuts, fisticuffs, cudgellings, kicks, and bloodshed; and in the midst of all this chaos, complication, and general entanglement, Don Quixote took it into his head that he had beenplunged into the thick of the discord of Agramante's camp; and, in a voice thatshook the inn like thunder, he cried out:"Hold all, let all sheathe their swords, let all be calm and attend to me as theyvalue their lives!"All paused at his mighty voice, and he went on to say, "Did I not tell you, sirs, that this castle was enchanted, and that a legion or so of devils dwelt in it? Inproof whereof I call upon you to behold with your own eyes how the discord ofAgramante's camp has come hither, and been transferred into the midst of us. Seehow they fight, there for the sword, here for the

horse, on that side for the eagle, on this for the helmet; we are all fighting, and all at cross purposes. Come then, you, Senor Judge, and you, senor curate; let the one represent King Agramanteand the other King Sobrino, and make peace among us; for by God Almighty it isa sorry business that so many persons of quality as we are should slay oneanother for such trifling cause. " The officers, who did not understand DonQuixote's mode of speaking, and found themselves roughly handled by DonFernando, Cardenio, and their companions, were not to be appeased; the barberwas, however, for both his beard and his pack-saddle were the worse for thestruggle; Sancho like a good servant obeyed the slightest word of his master; whilethe four servants of Don Luis kept quiet when they saw how little they gained bynot being so. The landlord alone insisted upon it that they must punish theinsolence of this madman, who at every turn raised a disturbance in the inn; butat length the uproar was stilled for the present; the pack-saddle remained acaparison till the day of judgment, and the basin a helmet and the inn a castle inDon Quixote's imagination. All having been now pacified and made friends by the persuasion of the Judgeand the curate, the servants of Don Luis began again to urge him to return withthem at once; and while he was discussing the matter with them, the Judge tookcounsel with Don Fernando, Cardenio, and the curate as to what he ought to doin the case, telling them how it stood, and what Don Luis had said to him. It wasagreed at length that Don Fernando should tell the servants of Don Luis who hewas, and that it was his desire that Don Luis should accompany him to Andalusia, where he would receive from the marquis his brother the welcome his qualityentitled him to; for, otherwise, it was easy to see from the determination of DonLuis that he would not return to his father at present, though they tore him topieces. On learning the rank of Don Fernando and the resolution of Don Luis thefour then settled it between themselves that three of them should return to tell hisfather how matters stood, and that the other should remain to wait upon DonLuis, and not leave him until they came back for him, or his father's orders wereknown. Thus by the authority of Agramante and the wisdom of King Sobrino allthis complication of disputes was arranged; but the enemy of concord and hater ofpeace, feeling himself slighted and made a fool of, and seeing how little he hadgained after having involved them all in such an elaborate entanglement, resolvedto try his hand once more by stirring up fresh quarrels and disturbances. It came about in this wise: the officers were pacified on learning the rank ofthose with whom they had been engaged, and withdrew from the contest, considering that whatever the result might be they were likely to get the worst ofthe battle; but one of them, the one who had been thrashed and kicked by DonFernando, recollected that among some warrants he carried for the arrest ofcertain delinquents, he had one against Don Quixote, whom the Holy Brotherhoodhad ordered to be arrested for setting the galley slaves free, as Sancho had, withvery good reason, apprehended. Suspecting how it was, then, he wished to satisfyhimself as to whether Don Quixote's features corresponded; and taking aparchment out of his bosom he lit upon what he was in search of, and settinghimself to read it deliberately, for he was not a quick reader, as he made out eachword he fixed his eyes on Don Quixote, and went on comparing the description inthe warrant with his face, and discovered that beyond all doubt he was the persondescribed in it. As soon as he had satisfied himself, folding up the parchment, hetook the warrant in his left hand and with his right seized Don Quixote by thecollar so tightly that he did not allow him to breathe, and shouted aloud, "Help forthe Holy Brotherhood! and that you may see I demand it in earnest, read thiswarrant which says this highwayman is to be arrested. "The curate took the warrant and saw that what the officer said was true, andthat it agreed with Don Quixote's appearance, who, on his part, when he foundhimself roughly handled by this rascally clown, worked up to the highest pitch ofwrath, and all his joints cracking with rage, with both hands seized the officer bythe throat with all his might, so that had he not been helped by his comrades hewould have yielded up his life ere Don Quixote released his hold. The landlord, who had perforce to support his brother officers, ran at once to aid them. Thelandlady, when she saw her husband engaged in a fresh quarrel, lifted up hervoice afresh, and its note was immediately caught up by Maritornes and herdaughter, calling upon heaven and all present for help; and Sancho, seeing whatwas going on, exclaimed, "By the Lord, it is quite true what my master says aboutthe enchantments of this castle, for it is impossible to live an hour in peace in it!"Don Fernando parted the officer and Don Quixote, and to their mutualcontentment made them relax the grip by which they held, the one the coat collar, the other the throat of his adversary; for all this, however, the officers did notcease to demand their prisoner and call on them to help, and deliver him overbound into their power, as was required for the service of the King and of theHoly Brotherhood, on whose behalf they again demanded aid and assistance toeffect the capture of this robber and footpad of the highways. Don Quixote smiled when he heard these words, and said very calmly, "Comenow, base, ill-born brood; call ye it highway robbery to give freedom to those inbondage, to release the captives, to succour the miserable, to raise up the fallen, to relieve the needy? Infamous beings, who by your vile grovelling intellectsdeserve that heaven should not make known to you the virtue that lies in knight-errantry, or show you the sin and ignorance in which ye lie when ye refuse torespect the shadow, not to say the presence, of any knight-errant! Come now;band, not of officers, but of thieves; footpads with the licence of the HolyBrotherhood; tell me who was the ignoramus who signed a warrant of arrestagainst such a knight as I am? Who was he that did not know that knights-errantare independent of all jurisdictions, that their law is their sword, their chartertheir prowess, and their edicts their will? Who, I say again, was the fool thatknows not that there are no letters patent of nobility that confer such privileges orexemptions as a knight-errant acquires the day he is dubbed a knight, and devoteshimself to the arduous calling of chivalry? What knight-errant ever paid poll-tax, duty, queen's pin-money, king's dues, toll or ferry? What tailor ever took paymentof him for making his clothes? What castellan that received him in his castle evermade him pay his shot? What king did not seat him at his table? What damselwas not enamoured of him and did not yield herself up wholly to his will andpleasure? And, lastly, what knight-errant has there been, is there, or will thereever be in the world, not bold enough to give, single-handed, four hundredcudgellings to four hundred officers of the Holy Brotherhood if they come in hisway?"CHAPTER XLVI. OF THE END OF THE NOTABLE ADVENTURE OF THE OFFICERSOF THE HOLY BROTHERHOOD; AND OF THE GREAT FEROCITYOF OUR WORTHY KNIGHT, DON QUIXOTEWhile Don Quixote was talking in this strain, the curate was endeavouring topersuade the officers that he was out of his senses, as they might perceive by hisdeeds and his words, and that they need not press the matter any further, foreven if they arrested him and carried him off, they would have to release him by-and-by as a madman; to which the holder of the warrant replied that he hadnothing to do with inquiring into Don Quixote's madness, but only to execute hissuperior's orders, and that once taken they might let him go three hundred timesif they liked. "For all that, " said the curate, "you must not take him away this time, nor willhe, it is my opinion, let himself be taken away. "In short, the curate used such arguments, and Don Quixote did such madthings, that the officers would have been more mad than he was if they had notperceived his want of wits, and so they thought it best to allow themselves to bepacified, and even to act as peacemakers between the barber and Sancho Panza, who still continued their altercation with much bitterness. In the end they, asofficers of justice, settled the question by arbitration in such a manner that bothsides were, if not perfectly contented, at least to some extent satisfied; for theychanged the pack-saddles, but not the girths or head-stalls; and as to Mambrino'shelmet, the curate, under the rose and without Don Quixote's knowing it, paideight reals for the basin, and the barber executed a full receipt and engagement tomake no further demand then or thenceforth for evermore, amen. These twodisputes, which were the most important and gravest, being settled, it onlyremained for the servants of Don Luis to consent that three of them should returnwhile one was left to accompany him whither Don Fernando desired to take him;and good luck and better fortune, having already begun to solve difficulties andremove obstructions in favour of the lovers and warriors of the inn, were pleasedto persevere and bring everything to a happy issue; for the servants agreed to doas Don Luis wished; which gave Dona Clara such happiness that no one couldhave looked into her face just then without seeing the joy of her heart. Zoraida, though she did not fully comprehend all she saw, was grave or gay withoutknowing why, as she watched and studied the various countenances, butparticularly her Spaniard's, whom she followed with her eyes and clung to withher soul. The gift and compensation which the curate gave the barber had notescaped the landlord's notice, and he demanded Don Quixote's reckoning, togetherwith the amount of the damage to his wine-skins, and the loss of his wine, swearing that neither Rocinante nor Sancho's ass should leave the inn until he hadbeen paid to the very last farthing. The curate settled all amicably, and DonFernando paid; though the Judge had also very readily offered to pay the score;and all became so peaceful and quiet that the inn no longer reminded one of thediscord of Agramante's camp, as Don Quixote said, but of the peace andtranquillity of the days of Octavianus: for all which it was the universal opinionthat their thanks were due to the great zeal and eloquence of the curate, and tothe unexampled generosity of Don Fernando. Finding himself now clear and quit of all quarrels, his squire's as well as hisown, Don Quixote considered that it would be advisable to continue the journeyhe had begun, and bring to a close that great adventure for which he had beencalled and chosen; and with this high resolve he went and knelt before Dorothea, who, however, would not allow him to utter a word until he had risen; so to obeyher he rose, and said, "It is a common proverb, fair lady, that 'diligence is themother of good fortune, ' and experience has often shown in important affairs thatthe earnestness of the negotiator brings the doubtful case to a successfultermination; but in nothing does this truth show itself more plainly than in war, where quickness and activity forestall the devices of the enemy, and win thevictory before the foe has time to defend himself. All this I say, exalted andesteemed lady, because it seems to me that for us to remain any longer in thiscastle now is useless, and may be injurious to us in a way that we shall find outsome day; for who knows but that your enemy the giant may have learned bymeans of secret and diligent spies that I am going to destroy him, and if theopportunity be given him he may seize it to fortify himself in some impregnablecastle or stronghold, against which all my efforts and the might of myindefatigable arm may avail but little? Therefore, lady, let us, as I say, forestallhis schemes by our activity, and let us depart at once in quest of fair fortune; foryour highness is only kept from enjoying it as fully as you could desire by mydelay in encountering your adversary. "Don Quixote held his peace and said no more, calmly awaiting the reply of thebeauteous princess, who, with commanding dignity and in a style adapted to DonQuixote's own, replied to him in these words, "I give you thanks, sir knight, forthe eagerness you, like a good knight to whom it is a natural obligation to succourthe orphan and the needy, display to afford me aid in my sore trouble; andheaven grant that your wishes and mine may be realised, so that you may see thatthere are women in this world capable of gratitude; as to my departure, let it beforthwith, for I have no will but yours; dispose of me entirely in accordance withyour good pleasure; for she who has once entrusted to you the defence of herperson, and placed in your hands the recovery of her dominions, must not thinkof offering opposition to that which your wisdom may ordain. ""On, then, in God's name, " said Don Quixote; "for, when a lady humbles herselfto me, I will not lose the opportunity of raising her up and placing her on thethrone of her ancestors. Let us depart at once, for the common saying that indelay there is danger, lends spurs to my eagerness to take the road; and as neitherheaven has created nor hell seen any that can daunt or intimidate me, saddleRocinante, Sancho, and get ready thy ass and the queen's palfrey, and let us takeleave of the castellan and these gentlemen, and go hence this very instant. "Sancho, who was standing by all the time, said, shaking his head, "Ah! master, master, there is more mischief in the village than one hears of, begging all goodbodies' pardon. ""What mischief can there be in any village, or in all the cities of the world, youbooby, that can hurt my reputation?" said Don Quixote. "If your worship is angry, " replied Sancho, "I will hold my tongue and leaveunsaid what as a good squire I am bound to say, and what a good servant shouldtell his master. ""Say what thou wilt, " returned Don Quixote, "provided thy words be not meantto work upon my fears; for thou, if thou fearest, art behaving like thyself; but Ilike myself, in not fearing. ""It is nothing of the sort, as I am a sinner before God, " said Sancho, "but that Itake it to be sure and certain that this lady, who calls herself queen of the greatkingdom of Micomicon, is no more so than my mother; for, if she was what shesays, she would not go rubbing noses with one that is here every instant andbehind every door. "Dorothea turned red at Sancho's words, for the truth was that her husband DonFernando had now and then, when the others were not looking, gathered from herlips some of the reward his love had earned, and Sancho seeing this hadconsidered that such freedom was more like a courtesan than a queen of a greatkingdom; she, however, being unable or not caring to answer him, allowed him toproceed, and he continued, "This I say, senor, because, if after we have travelledroads and highways, and passed bad nights and worse days, one who is nowenjoying himself in this inn is to reap the fruit of our labours, there is no need forme to be in a hurry to saddle Rocinante, put the pad on the ass, or get ready thepalfrey; for it will be better for us to stay quiet, and let every jade mind herspinning, and let us go to dinner. "Good God, what was the indignation of Don Quixote when he heard theaudacious words of his squire! So great was it, that in a voice inarticulate withrage, with a stammering tongue, and eyes that flashed living fire, he exclaimed, "Rascally clown, boorish, insolent, and ignorant, ill-spoken, foul-mouthed, impudent backbiter and slanderer! Hast thou dared to utter such words in mypresence and in that of these illustrious ladies? Hast thou dared to harbour suchgross and shameless thoughts in thy muddled imagination? Begone from mypresence, thou born monster, storehouse of lies, hoard of untruths, garner ofknaveries, inventor of scandals, publisher of absurdities, enemy of the respect dueto royal personages! Begone, show thyself no more before me under pain of mywrath;" and so saying he knitted his brows, puffed out his cheeks, gazed aroundhim, and stamped on the ground violently with his right foot, showing in everyway the rage that was pent up in his heart; and at his words and furious gesturesSancho was so scared and terrified that he would have been glad if the earth hadopened that instant and swallowed him, and his only thought was to turn roundand make his escape from the angry presence of his master. But the ready-witted Dorothea, who by this time so well understood DonQuixote's humour, said, to mollify his wrath, "Be not irritated at the absurditiesyour good squire has uttered, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, for perhapshe did not utter them without cause, and from his good sense and Christianconscience it is not likely that he would bear false witness against anyone. Wemay therefore believe, without any hesitation, that since, as you say, sir knight, everything in this castle goes and is brought about by means of enchantment, Sancho, I say, may possibly have seen, through this diabolical medium, what hesays he saw so much to the detriment of my modesty. ""I swear by God Omnipotent, " exclaimed Don Quixote at this, "your highnesshas hit the point; and that some vile illusion must have come before this sinner ofa Sancho, that made him see what it would have been impossible to see by anyother means than enchantments; for I know well enough, from the poor fellow'sgoodness and harmlessness, that he is incapable of bearing false witness againstanybody. ""True, no doubt, " said Don Fernando, "for which reason, Senor Don Quixote, you ought to forgive him and restore him to the bosom of your favour, sicut eratin principio, before illusions of this sort had taken away his senses. "Don Quixote said he was ready to pardon him, and the curate went for Sancho, who came in very humbly, and falling on his knees begged for the hand of hismaster, who having presented it to him and allowed him to kiss it, gave him hisblessing and said, "Now, Sancho my son, thou wilt be convinced of the truth ofwhat I have many a time told thee, that everything in this castle is done by meansof enchantment. ""So it is, I believe, " said Sancho, "except the affair of the blanket, which came topass in reality by ordinary means. ""Believe it not, " said Don Quixote, "for had it been so, I would have avengedthee that instant, or even now; but neither then nor now could I, nor have I seenanyone upon whom to avenge thy wrong. "They were all eager to know what the affair of the blanket was, and thelandlord gave them a minute account of Sancho's flights, at which they laughednot a little, and at which Sancho would have been no less out of countenance hadnot his master once more assured him it was all enchantment. For all that hissimplicity never reached so high a pitch that he could persuade himself it was notthe plain and simple truth, without any deception whatever about it, that he hadbeen blanketed by beings of flesh and blood, and not by visionary and imaginaryphantoms, as his master believed and protested. The illustrious company had now been two days in the inn; and as it seemed tothem time to depart, they devised a plan so that, without giving Dorothea andDon Fernando the trouble of going back with Don Quixote to his village underpretence of restoring Queen Micomicona, the curate and the barber might carryhim away with them as they proposed, and the curate be able to take his madnessin hand at home; and in pursuance of their plan they arranged with the owner ofan oxcart who happened to be passing that way to carry him after this fashion. They constructed a kind of cage with wooden bars, large enough to hold DonQuixote comfortably; and then Don Fernando and his companions, the servants ofDon Luis, and the officers of the Brotherhood, together with the landlord, by thedirections and advice of the curate, covered their faces and disguised themselves, some in one way, some in another, so as to appear to Don Quixote quite differentfrom the persons he had seen in the castle. This done, in profound silence theyentered the room where he was asleep, taking his his rest after the past frays, andadvancing to where he was sleeping tranquilly, not dreaming of anything of thekind happening, they seized him firmly and bound him fast hand and foot, sothat, when he awoke startled, he was unable to move, and could only marvel andwonder at the strange figures he saw before him; upon which he at once gave wayto the idea which his crazed fancy invariably conjured up before him, and took itinto his head that all these shapes were phantoms of the enchanted castle, andthat he himself was unquestionably enchanted as he could neither move nor helphimself; precisely what the curate, the concoctor of the scheme, expected wouldhappen. Of all that were there Sancho was the only one who was at once in hissenses and in his own proper character, and he, though he was within very littleof sharing his master's infirmity, did not fail to perceive who all these disguisedfigures were; but he did not dare to open his lips until he saw what came of thisassault and capture of his master; nor did the latter utter a word, waiting to theupshot of his mishap; which was that bringing in the cage, they shut him up in itand nailed the bars so firmly that they could not be easily burst open. They then took him on their shoulders, and as they passed out of the room anawful voice--as much so as the barber, not he of the pack-saddle but the other, was able to make it--was heard to say, "O Knight of the Rueful Countenance, letnot this captivity in which thou art placed afflict thee, for this must needs be, forthe more speedy accomplishment of the adventure in which thy great heart hasengaged thee; the which shall be accomplished when the raging Manchegan lionand the white Tobosan dove shall be linked together, having first humbled theirhaughty necks to the gentle yoke of matrimony. And from this marvellous unionshall come forth to the light of the world brave whelps that shall rival theravening claws of their valiant father; and this shall come to pass ere the pursuerof the flying nymph shall in his swift natural course have twice visited the starrysigns. And thou, O most noble and obedient squire that ever bore sword at side, beard on face, or nose to smell with, be not dismayed or grieved to see the flowerof knight-errantry carried away thus before thy very eyes; for soon, if it so pleasethe Framer of the universe, thou shalt see thyself exalted to such a height thatthou shalt not know thyself, and the promises which thy good master has madethee shall not prove false; and I assure thee, on the authority of the sageMentironiana, that thy wages shall be paid thee, as thou shalt see in due season. Follow then the footsteps of the valiant enchanted knight, for it is expedient thatthou shouldst go to the destination assigned to both of you; and as it is notpermitted to me to say more, God be with thee; for I return to that place I wotof;" and as he brought the prophecy to a close he raised his voice to a high pitch, and then lowered it to such a soft tone, that even those who knew it was all ajoke were almost inclined to take what they heard seriously. Don Quixote was comforted by the prophecy he heard, for he at oncecomprehended its meaning perfectly, and perceived it was promised to him thathe should see himself united in holy and lawful matrimony with his belovedDulcinea del Toboso, from whose blessed womb should proceed the whelps, hissons, to the eternal glory of La Mancha; and being thoroughly and firmlypersuaded of this, he lifted up his voice, and with a deep sigh exclaimed, "Ohthou, whoever thou art, who hast foretold me so much good, I implore of theethat on my part thou entreat that sage enchanter who takes charge of myinterests, that he leave me not to perish in this captivity in which they are nowcarrying me away, ere I see fulfilled promises so joyful and incomparable as thosewhich have been now made me; for, let this but come to pass, and I shall glory inthe pains of my prison, find comfort in these chains wherewith they bind me, andregard this bed whereon they stretch me, not as a hard battle-field, but as a softand happy nuptial couch; and touching the consolation of Sancho Panza, mysquire, I rely upon his goodness and rectitude that he will not desert me in goodor evil fortune; for if, by his ill luck or mine, it may not happen to be in my powerto give him the island I have promised, or any equivalent for it, at least his wagesshall not be lost; for in my will, which is already made, I have declared the sumthat shall be paid to him, measured, not by his many faithful services, but by themeans at my disposal. "Sancho bowed his head very respectfully and kissed both his hands, for, beingtied together, he could not kiss one; and then the apparitions lifted the cage upontheir shoulders and fixed it upon the ox-cart. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 16Chapters 47-49EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XLVII. OF THE STRANGE MANNER IN WHICH DON QUIXOTE OF LAMANCHA WAS CARRIED AWAY ENCHANTED, TOGETHER WITHOTHER REMARKABLE INCIDENTSWhen Don Quixote saw himself caged and hoisted on the cart in this way, hesaid, "Many grave histories of knights-errant have I read; but never yet have Iread, seen, or heard of their carrying off enchanted knights-errant in this fashion, or at the slow pace that these lazy, sluggish animals promise; for they always takethem away through the air with marvellous swiftness, enveloped in a dark thickcloud, or on a chariot of fire, or it may be on some hippogriff or other beast of thekind; but to carry me off like this on an ox-cart! By God, it puzzles me! Butperhaps the chivalry and enchantments of our day take a different course fromthat of those in days gone by; and it may be, too, that as I am a new knight in theworld, and the first to revive the already forgotten calling of knight-adventurers, they may have newly invented other kinds of enchantments and other modes ofcarrying off the enchanted. What thinkest thou of the matter, Sancho my son?""I don't know what to think, " answered Sancho, "not being as well read as yourworship in errant writings; but for all that I venture to say and swear that theseapparitions that are about us are not quite catholic. ""Catholic!" said Don Quixote. "Father of me! how can they be Catholic whenthey are all devils that have taken fantastic shapes to come and do this, and bringme to this condition? And if thou wouldst prove it, touch them, and feel them, and thou wilt find they have only bodies of air, and no consistency except inappearance. ""By God, master, " returned Sancho, "I have touched them already; and thatdevil, that goes about there so busily, has firm flesh, and another property verydifferent from what I have heard say devils have, for by all accounts they all smellof brimstone and other bad smells; but this one smells of amber half a league off. "Sancho was here speaking of Don Fernando, who, like a gentleman of his rank, was very likely perfumed as Sancho said. "Marvel not at that, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote; "for let me tell theedevils are crafty; and even if they do carry odours about with them, theythemselves have no smell, because they are spirits; or, if they have any smell, theycannot smell of anything sweet, but of something foul and fetid; and the reason isthat as they carry hell with them wherever they go, and can get no ease whateverfrom their torments, and as a sweet smell is a thing that gives pleasure andenjoyment, it is impossible that they can smell sweet; if, then, this devil thouspeakest of seems to thee to smell of amber, either thou art deceiving thyself, orhe wants to deceive thee by making thee fancy he is not a devil. "Such was the conversation that passed between master and man; and DonFernando and Cardenio, apprehensive of Sancho's making a complete discovery oftheir scheme, towards which he had already gone some way, resolved to hastentheir departure, and calling the landlord aside, they directed him to saddleRocinante and put the pack-saddle on Sancho's ass, which he did with greatalacrity. In the meantime the curate had made an arrangement with the officersthat they should bear them company as far as his village, he paying them so mucha day. Cardenio hung the buckler on one side of the bow of Rocinante's saddleand the basin on the other, and by signs commanded Sancho to mount his ass andtake Rocinante's bridle, and at each side of the cart he placed two officers withtheir muskets; but before the cart was put in motion, out came the landlady andher daughter and Maritornes to bid Don Quixote farewell, pretending to weepwith grief at his misfortune; and to them Don Quixote said:"Weep not, good ladies, for all these mishaps are the lot of those who follow theprofession I profess; and if these reverses did not befall me I should not esteemmyself a famous knight-errant; for such things never happen to knights of littlerenown and fame, because nobody in the world thinks about them; to valiantknights they do, for these are envied for their virtue and valour by many princesand other knights who compass the destruction of the worthy by base means. Nevertheless, virtue is of herself so mighty, that, in spite of all the magic thatZoroaster its first inventor knew, she will come victorious out of every trial, andshed her light upon the earth as the sun does upon the heavens. Forgive me, fairladies, if, through inadvertence, I have in aught offended you; for intentionallyand wittingly I have never done so to any; and pray to God that he deliver mefrom this captivity to which some malevolent enchanter has consigned me; andshould I find myself released therefrom, the favours that ye have bestowed uponme in this castle shall be held in memory by me, that I may acknowledge, recognise, and requite them as they deserve. "While this was passing between the ladies of the castle and Don Quixote, thecurate and the barber bade farewell to Don Fernando and his companions, to thecaptain, his brother, and the ladies, now all made happy, and in particular toDorothea and Luscinda. They all embraced one another, and promised to let eachother know how things went with them, and Don Fernando directed the curatewhere to write to him, to tell him what became of Don Quixote, assuring him thatthere was nothing that could give him more pleasure than to hear of it, and thathe too, on his part, would send him word of everything he thought he would liketo know, about his marriage, Zoraida's baptism, Don Luis's affair, and Luscinda'sreturn to her home. The curate promised to comply with his request carefully, andthey embraced once more, and renewed their promises. The landlord approached the curate and handed him some papers, saying hehad discovered them in the lining of the valise in which the novel of "The Ill-advised Curiosity" had been found, and that he might take them all away withhim as their owner had not since returned; for, as he could not read, he did notwant them himself. The curate thanked him, and opening them he saw at thebeginning of the manuscript the words, "Novel of Rinconete and Cortadillo, " bywhich he perceived that it was a novel, and as that of "The Ill-advised Curiosity"had been good he concluded this would be so too, as they were both probably bythe same author; so he kept it, intending to read it when he had an opportunity. He then mounted and his friend the barber did the same, both masked, so as notto be recognised by Don Quixote, and set out following in the rear of the cart. Theorder of march was this: first went the cart with the owner leading it; at each sideof it marched the officers of the Brotherhood, as has been said, with theirmuskets; then followed Sancho Panza on his ass, leading Rocinante by the bridle;and behind all came the curate and the barber on their mighty mules, with facescovered, as aforesaid, and a grave and serious air, measuring their pace to suit theslow steps of the oxen. Don Quixote was seated in the cage, with his hands tiedand his feet stretched out, leaning against the bars as silent and as patient as if hewere a stone statue and not a man of flesh. Thus slowly and silently they made, itmight be, two leagues, until they reached a valley which the carter thought aconvenient place for resting and feeding his oxen, and he said so to the curate, but the barber was of opinion that they ought to push on a little farther, as at theother side of a hill which appeared close by he knew there was a valley that hadmore grass and much better than the one where they proposed to halt; and hisadvice was taken and they continued their journey. Just at that moment the curate, looking back, saw coming on behind them six orseven mounted men, well found and equipped, who soon overtook them, for theywere travelling, not at the sluggish, deliberate pace of oxen, but like men whorode canons' mules, and in haste to take their noontide rest as soon as possible atthe inn which was in sight not a league off. The quick travellers came up with theslow, and courteous salutations were exchanged; and one of the new comers, whowas, in fact, a canon of Toledo and master of the others who accompanied him, observing the regular order of the procession, the cart, the officers, Sancho, Rocinante, the curate and the barber, and above all Don Quixote caged andconfined, could not help asking what was the meaning of carrying the man in thatfashion; though, from the badges of the officers, he already concluded that hemust be some desperate highwayman or other malefactor whose punishment fellwithin the jurisdiction of the Holy Brotherhood. One of the officers to whom hehad put the question, replied, "Let the gentleman himself tell you the meaning ofhis going this way, senor, for we do not know. "Don Quixote overheard the conversation and said, "Haply, gentlemen, you areversed and learned in matters of errant chivalry? Because if you are I will tell youmy misfortunes; if not, there is no good in my giving myself the trouble of relatingthem;" but here the curate and the barber, seeing that the travellers were engagedin conversation with Don Quixote, came forward, in order to answer in such away as to save their stratagem from being discovered. The canon, replying to Don Quixote, said, "In truth, brother, I know more aboutbooks of chivalry than I do about Villalpando's elements of logic; so if that be all, you may safely tell me what you please. ""In God's name, then, senor, " replied Don Quixote; "if that be so, I would haveyou know that I am held enchanted in this cage by the envy and fraud of wickedenchanters; for virtue is more persecuted by the wicked than loved by the good. Iam a knight-errant, and not one of those whose names Fame has never thought ofimmortalising in her record, but of those who, in defiance and in spite of envyitself, and all the magicians that Persia, or Brahmans that India, orGymnosophists that Ethiopia ever produced, will place their names in the templeof immortality, to serve as examples and patterns for ages to come, wherebyknights-errant may see the footsteps in which they must tread if they would attainthe summit and crowning point of honour in arms. ""What Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha says, " observed the curate, "is thetruth; for he goes enchanted in this cart, not from any fault or sins of his, butbecause of the malevolence of those to whom virtue is odious and valour hateful. This, senor, is the Knight of the Rueful Countenance, if you have ever heard himnamed, whose valiant achievements and mighty deeds shall be written on lastingbrass and imperishable marble, notwithstanding all the efforts of envy to obscurethem and malice to hide them. "When the canon heard both the prisoner and the man who was at liberty talk insuch a strain he was ready to cross himself in his astonishment, and could notmake out what had befallen him; and all his attendants were in the same state ofamazement. At this point Sancho Panza, who had drawn near to hear the conversation, said, in order to make everything plain, "Well, sirs, you may like or dislike what I amgoing to say, but the fact of the matter is, my master, Don Quixote, is just asmuch enchanted as my mother. He is in his full senses, he eats and he drinks, andhe has his calls like other men and as he had yesterday, before they caged him. And if that's the case, what do they mean by wanting me to believe that he isenchanted? For I have heard many a one say that enchanted people neither eat, nor sleep, nor talk; and my master, if you don't stop him, will talk more thanthirty lawyers. " Then turning to the curate he exclaimed, "Ah, senor curate, senorcurate! do you think I don't know you? Do you think I don't guess and see thedrift of these new enchantments? Well then, I can tell you I know you, for all yourface is covered, and I can tell you I am up to you, however you may hide yourtricks. After all, where envy reigns virtue cannot live, and where there isniggardliness there can be no liberality. Ill betide the devil! if it had not been foryour worship my master would be married to the Princess Micomicona thisminute, and I should be a count at least; for no less was to be expected, as wellfrom the goodness of my master, him of the Rueful Countenance, as from thegreatness of my services. But I see now how true it is what they say in theseparts, that the wheel of fortune turns faster than a mill-wheel, and that those whowere up yesterday are down to-day. I am sorry for my wife and children, for whenthey might fairly and reasonably expect to see their father return to them agovernor or viceroy of some island or kingdom, they will see him come back ahorse-boy. I have said all this, senor curate, only to urge your paternity to lay toyour conscience your ill-treatment of my master; and have a care that God doesnot call you to account in another life for making a prisoner of him in this way, and charge against you all the succours and good deeds that my lord Don Quixoteleaves undone while he is shut up. "Trim those lamps there!" exclaimed the barber at this; "so you are of the samefraternity as your master, too, Sancho? By God, I begin to see that you will haveto keep him company in the cage, and be enchanted like him for having caughtsome of his humour and chivalry. It was an evil hour when you let yourself be gotwith child by his promises, and that island you long so much for found its wayinto your head. ""I am not with child by anyone, " returned Sancho, "nor am I a man to let myselfbe got with child, if it was by the King himself. Though I am poor I am an oldChristian, and I owe nothing to nobody, and if I long for an island, other peoplelong for worse. Each of us is the son of his own works; and being a man I maycome to be pope, not to say governor of an island, especially as my master maywin so many that he will not know whom to give them to. Mind how you talk, master barber; for shaving is not everything, and there is some difference betweenPeter and Peter. I say this because we all know one another, and it will not do tothrow false dice with me; and as to the enchantment of my master, God knowsthe truth; leave it as it is; it only makes it worse to stir it. "The barber did not care to answer Sancho lest by his plain speaking he shoulddisclose what the curate and he himself were trying so hard to conceal; and underthe same apprehension the curate had asked the canon to ride on a little inadvance, so that he might tell him the mystery of this man in the cage, and otherthings that would amuse him. The canon agreed, and going on ahead with hisservants, listened with attention to the account of the character, life, madness, and ways of Don Quixote, given him by the curate, who described to him brieflythe beginning and origin of his craze, and told him the whole story of hisadventures up to his being confined in the cage, together with the plan they hadof taking him home to try if by any means they could discover a cure for hismadness. The canon and his servants were surprised anew when they heard DonQuixote's strange story, and when it was finished he said, "To tell the truth, senorcurate, I for my part consider what they call books of chivalry to be mischievousto the State; and though, led by idle and false taste, I have read the beginnings ofalmost all that have been printed, I never could manage to read any one of themfrom beginning to end; for it seems to me they are all more or less the same thing;and one has nothing more in it than another; this no more than that. And in myopinion this sort of writing and composition is of the same species as the fablesthey call the Milesian, nonsensical tales that aim solely at giving amusement andnot instruction, exactly the opposite of the apologue

fables which amuse andinstruct at the same time. And though it may be the chief object of such books toamuse, I do not know how they can succeed, when they are so full of suchmonstrous nonsense. For the enjoyment the mind feels must come from thebeauty and harmony which it perceives or contemplates in the things that the eyeor the imagination brings before it; and nothing that has any ugliness ordisproportion about it can give any pleasure. What beauty, then, or whatproportion of the parts to the whole, or of the whole to the parts, can there be ina book or fable where a lad of sixteen cuts down a giant as tall as a tower andmakes two halves of him as if he was an almond cake? And when they want togive us a picture of a battle, after having told us that there are a million ofcombatants on the side of the enemy, let the hero of the book be opposed tothem, and we have perforce to believe, whether we like it or not, that the saidknight wins the victory by the single might of his strong arm. And then, whatshall we say of the facility with which a born queen or empress will give herselfover into the arms of some unknown wandering knight? What mind, that is notwholly barbarous and uncultured, can find pleasure in reading of how a greattower full of knights sails away across the sea like a ship with a fair wind, andwill be to-night in Lombardy and to-morrow morning in the land of Prester John ofthe Indies, or some other that Ptolemy never described nor Marco Polo saw? Andif, in answer to this, I am told that the authors of books of the kind write them asfiction, and therefore are not bound to regard niceties of truth, I would reply thatfiction is all the better the more it looks like truth, and gives the more pleasurethe more probability and possibility there is about it. Plots in fiction should bewedded to the understanding of the reader, and be constructed in such a waythat, reconciling impossibilities, smoothing over difficulties, keeping the mind onthe alert, they may surprise, interest, divert, and entertain, so that wonder anddelight joined may keep pace one with the other; all which he will fail to effectwho shuns verisimilitude and truth to nature, wherein lies the perfection ofwriting. I have never yet seen any book of chivalry that puts together a connectedplot complete in all its numbers, so that the middle agrees with the beginning, andthe end with the beginning and middle; on the contrary, they construct them withsuch a multitude of members that it seems as though they meant to produce achimera or monster rather than a well-proportioned figure. And besides all thisthey are harsh in their style, incredible in their achievements, licentious in theiramours, uncouth in their courtly speeches, prolix in their battles, silly in theirarguments, absurd in their travels, and, in short, wanting in everything likeintelligent art; for which reason they deserve to be banished from the Christiancommonwealth as a worthless breed. "The curate listened to him attentively and felt that he was a man of soundunderstanding, and that there was good reason in what he said; so he told himthat, being of the same opinion himself, and bearing a grudge to books ofchivalry, he had burned all Don Quixote's, which were many; and gave him anaccount of the scrutiny he had made of them, and of those he had condemned tothe flames and those he had spared, with which the canon was not a littleamused, adding that though he had said so much in condemnation of these books, still he found one good thing in them, and that was the opportunity they affordedto a gifted intellect for displaying itself; for they presented a wide and spaciousfield over which the pen might range freely, describing shipwrecks, tempests, combats, battles, portraying a valiant captain with all the qualifications requisiteto make one, showing him sagacious in foreseeing the wiles of the enemy, eloquent in speech to encourage or restrain his soldiers, ripe in counsel, rapid inresolve, as bold in biding his time as in pressing the attack; now picturing somesad tragic incident, now some joyful and unexpected event; here a beauteous lady, virtuous, wise, and modest; there a Christian knight, brave and gentle; here alawless, barbarous braggart; there a courteous prince, gallant and gracious; settingforth the devotion and loyalty of vassals, the greatness and generosity of nobles. "Or again, " said he, "the author may show himself to be an astronomer, or askilled cosmographer, or musician, or one versed in affairs of state, andsometimes he will have a chance of coming forward as a magician if he likes. Hecan set forth the craftiness of Ulysses, the piety of AEneas, the valour of Achilles, the misfortunes of Hector, the treachery of Sinon, the friendship of Euryalus, thegenerosity of Alexander, the boldness of Caesar, the clemency and truth of Trajan, the fidelity of Zopyrus, the wisdom of Cato, and in short all the faculties thatserve to make an illustrious man perfect, now uniting them in one individual, again distributing them among many; and if this be done with charm of style andingenious invention, aiming at the truth as much as possible, he will assuredlyweave a web of bright and varied threads that, when finished, will display suchperfection and beauty that it will attain the worthiest object any writing can seek, which, as I said before, is to give instruction and pleasure combined; for theunrestricted range of these books enables the author to show his powers, epic, lyric, tragic, or comic, and all the moods the sweet and winning arts of poesy andoratory are capable of; for the epic may be written in prose just as well as inverse. "CHAPTER XLVIII. IN WHICH THE CANON PURSUES THE SUBJECT OF THE BOOKSOF CHIVALRY, WITH OTHER MATTERS WORTHY OF HIS WIT"It is as you say, senor canon, " said the curate; "and for that reason those whohave hitherto written books of the sort deserve all the more censure for writingwithout paying any attention to good taste or the rules of art, by which they mightguide themselves and become as famous in prose as the two princes of Greek andLatin poetry are in verse. ""I myself, at any rate, " said the canon, "was once tempted to write a book ofchivalry in which all the points I have mentioned were to be observed; and if Imust own the truth I have more than a hundred sheets written; and to try if itcame up to my own opinion of it, I showed them to persons who were fond of thiskind of reading, to learned and intelligent men as well as to ignorant people whocared for nothing but the pleasure of listening to nonsense, and from all Iobtained flattering approval; nevertheless I proceeded no farther with it, as wellbecause it seemed to me an occupation inconsistent with my profession, asbecause I perceived that the fools are more numerous than the wise; and, thoughit is better to be praised by the wise few than applauded by the foolish many, Ihave no mind to submit myself to the stupid judgment of the silly public, to whomthe reading of such books falls for the most part. "But what most of all made me hold my hand and even abandon all idea offinishing it was an argument I put to myself taken from the plays that are actednow-a-days, which was in this wise: if those that are now in vogue, as well thosethat are pure invention as those founded on history, are, all or most of them, downright nonsense and things that have neither head nor tail, and yet the publiclistens to them with delight, and regards and cries them up as perfection whenthey are so far from it; and if the authors who write them, and the players whoact them, say that this is what they must be, for the public wants this and willhave nothing else; and that those that go by rule and work out a plot according tothe laws of art will only find some half-dozen intelligent people to understandthem, while all the rest remain blind to the merit of their composition; and thatfor themselves it is better to get bread from the many than praise from the few;then my book will fare the same way, after I have burnt off my eyebrows in tryingto observe the principles I have spoken of, and I shall be 'the tailor of the corner. 'And though I have sometimes endeavoured to convince actors that they aremistaken in this notion they have adopted, and that they would attract morepeople, and get more credit, by producing plays in accordance with the rules ofart, than by absurd ones, they are so thoroughly wedded to their own opinion thatno argument or evidence can wean them from it. "I remember saying one day to one of these obstinate fellows, 'Tell me, do younot recollect that a few years ago, there were three tragedies acted in Spain, written by a famous poet of these kingdoms, which were such that they filled allwho heard them with admiration, delight, and interest, the ignorant as well as thewise, the masses as well as the higher orders, and brought in more money to theperformers, these three alone, than thirty of the best that have been sinceproduced?'"'No doubt, ' replied the actor in question, 'you mean the "Isabella, " the "Phyllis, "and the "Alexandra. "'"'Those are the ones I mean, ' said I; 'and see if they did not observe theprinciples of art, and if, by observing them, they failed to show their superiorityand please all the world; so that the fault does not lie with the public that insistsupon nonsense, but with those who don't know how to produce something else. "The Ingratitude Revenged" was not nonsense, nor was there any in "TheNumantia, " nor any to be found in "The Merchant Lover, " nor yet in "The FriendlyFair Foe, " nor in some others that have been written by certain gifted poets, totheir own fame and renown, and to the profit of those that brought them out;'some further remarks I added to these, with which, I think, I left him ratherdumbfoundered, but not so satisfied or convinced that I could disabuse him of hiserror. ""You have touched upon a subject, senor canon, " observed the curate here, "thathas awakened an old enmity I have against the plays in vogue at the present day, quite as strong as that which I bear to the books of chivalry; for while the drama, according to Tully, should be the mirror of human life, the model of manners, andthe image of the truth, those which are presented now-a-days are mirrors ofnonsense, models of folly, and images of lewdness. For what greater nonsense canthere be in connection with what we are now discussing than for an infant toappear in swaddling clothes in the first scene of the first act, and in the second agrown-up bearded man? Or what greater absurdity can there be than puttingbefore us an old man as a swashbuckler, a young man as a poltroon, a lackeyusing fine language, a page giving sage advice, a king plying as a porter, a princesswho is a kitchen-maid? And then what shall I say of their attention to the time inwhich the action they represent may or can take place, save that I have seen aplay where the first act began in Europe, the second in Asia, the third finished inAfrica, and no doubt, had it been in four acts, the fourth would have ended inAmerica, and so it would have been laid in all four quarters of the globe? And iftruth to life is the main thing the drama should keep in view, how is it possiblefor any average understanding to be satisfied when the action is supposed to passin the time of King Pepin or Charlemagne, and the principal personage in it theyrepresent to be the Emperor Heraclius who entered Jerusalem with the cross andwon the Holy Sepulchre, like Godfrey of Bouillon, there being years innumerablebetween the one and the other? or, if the play is based on fiction and historicalfacts are introduced, or bits of what occurred to different people and at differenttimes mixed up with it, all, not only without any semblance of probability, butwith obvious errors that from every point of view are inexcusable? And the worstof it is, there are ignorant people who say that this is perfection, and thatanything beyond this is affected refinement. And then if we turn to sacreddramas--what miracles they invent in them! What apocryphal, ill-devisedincidents, attributing to one saint the miracles of another! And even in secularplays they venture to introduce miracles without any reason or object except thatthey think some such miracle, or transformation as they call it, will come in wellto astonish stupid people and draw them to the play. All this tends to theprejudice of the truth and the corruption of history, nay more, to the reproach ofthe wits of Spain; for foreigners who scrupulously observe the laws of the dramalook upon us as barbarous and ignorant, when they see the absurdity andnonsense of the plays we produce. Nor will it be a sufficient excuse to say that thechief object well-ordered governments have in view when they permit plays to beperformed in public is to entertain the people with some harmless amusementoccasionally, and keep it from those evil humours which idleness is apt toengender; and that, as this may be attained by any sort of play, good or bad, thereis no need to lay down laws, or bind those who write or act them to make them asthey ought to be made, since, as I say, the object sought for may be secured byany sort. To this I would reply that the same end would be, beyond allcomparison, better attained by means of good plays than by those that are not so;for after listening to an artistic and properly constructed play, the hearer willcome away enlivened by the jests, instructed by the serious parts, full ofadmiration at the incidents, his wits sharpened by the arguments, warned by thetricks, all the wiser for the examples, inflamed against vice, and in love withvirtue; for in all these ways a good play will stimulate the mind of the hearer behe ever so boorish or dull; and of all impossibilities the greatest is that a playendowed with all these qualities will not entertain, satisfy, and please much morethan one wanting in them, like the greater number of those which are commonlyacted now-a-days. Nor are the poets who write them to be blamed for this; forsome there are among them who are perfectly well aware of their faults, and knowwhat they ought to do; but as plays have become a salable commodity, they say, and with truth, that the actors will not buy them unless they are after thisfashion; and so the poet tries to adapt himself to the requirements of the actorwho is to pay him for his work. And that this is the truth may be seen by thecountless plays that a most fertile wit of these kingdoms has written, with somuch brilliancy, so much grace and gaiety, such polished versification, suchchoice language, such profound reflections, and in a word, so rich in eloquenceand elevation of style, that he has filled the world with his fame; and yet, inconsequence of his desire to suit the taste of the actors, they have not all, as someof them have, come as near perfection as they ought. Others write plays with suchheedlessness that, after they have been acted, the actors have to fly and abscond, afraid of being punished, as they often have been, for having acted somethingoffensive to some king or other, or insulting to some noble family. All which evils, and many more that I say nothing of, would be removed if there were someintelligent and sensible person at the capital to examine all plays before they wereacted, not only those produced in the capital itself, but all that were intended tobe acted in Spain; without whose approval, seal, and signature, no localmagistracy should allow any play to be acted. In that case actors would take careto send their plays to the capital, and could act them in safety, and those whowrite them would be more careful and take more pains with their work, standingin awe of having to submit it to the strict examination of one who understood thematter; and so good plays would be produced and the objects they aim at happilyattained; as well the amusement of the people, as the credit of the wits of Spain, the interest and safety of the actors, and the saving of trouble in inflictingpunishment on them. And if the same or some other person were authorised toexamine the newly written books of chivalry, no doubt some would appear withall the perfections you have described, enriching our language with the graciousand precious treasure of eloquence, and driving the old books into obscuritybefore the light of the new ones that would come out for the harmlessentertainment, not merely of the idle but of the very busiest; for the bow cannotbe always bent, nor can weak human nature exist without some lawfulamusement. "The canon and the curate had proceeded thus far with their conversation, whenthe barber, coming forward, joined them, and said to the curate, "This is the spot, senor licentiate, that I said was a good one for fresh and plentiful pasture for theoxen, while we take our noontide rest. ""And so it seems, " returned the curate, and he told the canon what he proposedto do, on which he too made up his mind to halt with them, attracted by theaspect of the fair valley that lay before their eyes; and to enjoy it as well as theconversation of the curate, to whom he had begun to take a fancy, and also tolearn more particulars about the doings of Don Quixote, he desired some of hisservants to go on to the inn, which was not far distant, and fetch from it whateatables there might be for the whole party, as he meant to rest for the afternoonwhere he was; to which one of his servants replied that the sumpter mule, whichby this time ought to have reached the inn, carried provisions enough to make itunnecessary to get anything from the inn except barley. "In that case, " said the canon, "take all the beasts there, and bring the sumptermule back. "While this was going on, Sancho, perceiving that he could speak to his masterwithout having the curate and the barber, of whom he had his suspicions, presentall the time, approached the cage in which Don Quixote was placed, and said, "Senor, to ease my conscience I want to tell you the state of the case as to yourenchantment, and that is that these two here, with their faces covered, are thecurate of our village and the barber; and I suspect they have hit upon this plan ofcarrying you off in this fashion, out of pure envy because your worship surpassesthem in doing famous deeds; and if this be the truth it follows that you are notenchanted, but hoodwinked and made a fool of. And to prove this I want to askyou one thing; and if you answer me as I believe you will answer, you will be ableto lay your finger on the trick, and you will see that you are not enchanted butgone wrong in your wits. ""Ask what thou wilt, Sancho my son, " returned Don Quixote, "for I will satisfythee and answer all thou requirest. As to what thou sayest, that these whoaccompany us yonder are the curate and the barber, our neighbours andacquaintances, it is very possible that they may seem to be those same persons;but that they are so in reality and in fact, believe it not on any account; what thouart to believe and think is that, if they look like them, as thou sayest, it must bethat those who have enchanted me have taken this shape and likeness; for it iseasy for enchanters to take any form they please, and they may have taken thoseof our friends in order to make thee think as thou dost, and lead thee into alabyrinth of fancies from which thou wilt find no escape though thou hadst thecord of Theseus; and they may also have done it to make me uncertain in mymind, and unable to conjecture whence this evil comes to me; for if on the onehand thou dost tell me that the barber and curate of our village are here incompany with us, and on the other I find myself shut up in a cage, and know inmy heart that no power on earth that was not supernatural would have been ableto shut me in, what wouldst thou have me say or think, but that my enchantmentis of a sort that transcends all I have ever read of in all the histories that deal withknights-errant that have been enchanted? So thou mayest set thy mind at rest asto the idea that they are what thou sayest, for they are as much so as I am a Turk. But touching thy desire to ask me something, say on, and I will answer thee, though thou shouldst ask questions from this till to-morrow morning. ""May Our Lady be good to me!" said Sancho, lifting up his voice; "and is itpossible that your worship is so thick of skull and so short of brains that youcannot see that what I say is the simple truth, and that malice has more to dowith your imprisonment and misfortune than enchantment? But as it is so, I willprove plainly to you that you are not enchanted. Now tell me, so may God deliveryou from this affliction, and so may you find yourself when you least expect it inthe arms of my lady Dulcinea-""Leave off conjuring me, " said Don Quixote, "and ask what thou wouldst know;I have already told thee I will answer with all possible precision. ""That is what I want, " said Sancho; "and what I would know, and have you tellme, without adding or leaving out anything, but telling the whole truth as oneexpects it to be told, and as it is told, by all who profess arms, as your worshipprofesses them, under the title of knights-errant-""I tell thee I will not lie in any particular, " said Don Quixote; "finish thyquestion; for in truth thou weariest me with all these asseverations, requirements, and precautions, Sancho. ""Well, I rely on the goodness and truth of my master, " said Sancho; "and so, because it bears upon what we are talking about, I would ask, speaking with allreverence, whether since your worship has been shut up and, as you think, enchanted in this cage, you have felt any desire or inclination to go anywhere, asthe saying is?""I do not understand 'going anywhere, '" said Don Quixote; "explain thyself moreclearly, Sancho, if thou wouldst have me give an answer to the point. ""Is it possible, " said Sancho, "that your worship does not understand 'goinganywhere'? Why, the schoolboys know that from the time they were babes. Wellthen, you must know I mean have you had any desire to do what cannot beavoided?""Ah! now I understand thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "yes, often, and eventhis minute; get me out of this strait, or all will not go right. "CHAPTER XLIX. WHICH TREATS OF THE SHREWD CONVERSATION WHICHSANCHO PANZA HELD WITH HIS MASTER DON QUIXOTE"Aha, I have caught you, " said Sancho; "this is what in my heart and soul I waslonging to know. Come now, senor, can you deny what is commonly said aroundus, when a person is out of humour, 'I don't know what ails so-and-so, that heneither eats, nor drinks, nor sleeps, nor gives a proper answer to any question;one would think he was enchanted'? From which it is to be gathered that thosewho do not eat, or drink, or sleep, or do any of the natural acts I am speaking of--that such persons are enchanted; but not those that have the desire your worshiphas, and drink when drink is given them, and eat when there is anything to eat, and answer every question that is asked them. ""What thou sayest is true, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote; "but I have alreadytold thee there are many sorts of enchantments, and it may be that in the courseof time they have been changed one for another, and that now it may be the waywith enchanted people to do all that I do, though they did not do so before; so itis vain to argue or draw inferences against the usage of the time. I know and feelthat I am enchanted, and that is enough to ease my conscience; for it would weighheavily on it if I thought that I was not enchanted, and that in a faint-hearted andcowardly way I allowed myself to lie in this cage, defrauding multitudes of thesuccour I might afford to those in need and distress, who at this very momentmay be in sore want of my aid and protection. ""Still for all that, " replied Sancho, "I say that, for your greater and fullersatisfaction, it would be well if your worship were to try to get out of this prison(and I promise to do all in my power to help, and even to take you out of it), andsee if you could once more mount your good Rocinante, who seems to beenchanted too, he is so melancholy and dejected; and then we might try ourchance in looking for adventures again; and if we have no luck there will be timeenough to go back to the cage; in which, on the faith of a good and loyal squire, Ipromise to shut myself up along with your worship, if so be you are sounfortunate, or I so stupid, as not to be able to carry out my plan. ""I am content to do as thou sayest, brother Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "andwhen thou seest an opportunity for effecting my release I will obey theeabsolutely; but thou wilt see, Sancho, how mistaken thou art in thy conception ofmy misfortune. "The knight-errant and the ill-errant squire kept up their conversation till theyreached the place where the curate, the canon, and the barber, who had alreadydismounted, were waiting for them. The carter at once unyoked the oxen and leftthem to roam at large about the pleasant green spot, the freshness of whichseemed to invite, not enchanted people like Don Quixote, but wide-awake, sensible folk like his squire, who begged the curate to allow his master to leavethe cage for a little; for if they did not let him out, the prison might not be asclean as the propriety of such a gentleman as his master required. The curateunderstood him, and said he would very gladly comply with his request, only thathe feared his master, finding himself at liberty, would take to his old courses andmake off where nobody could ever find him again. "I will answer for his not running away, " said Sancho. "And I also, " said the canon, "especially if he gives me his word as a knight notto leave us without our consent. "Don Quixote, who was listening to all this, said, "I give it;--moreover one who isenchanted as I am cannot do as he likes with himself; for he who had enchantedhim could prevent his moving from one place for three ages, and if he attemptedto escape would bring him back flying. "--And that being so, they might as wellrelease him, particularly as it would be to the advantage of all; for, if they did notlet him out, he protested he would be unable to avoid offending their nostrilsunless they kept their distance. The canon took his hand, tied together as they both were, and on his word andpromise they unbound him, and rejoiced beyond measure he was to find himselfout of the cage. The first thing he did was to stretch himself all over, and then hewent to where Rocinante was standing and giving him a couple of slaps on thehaunches said, "I still trust in God and in his blessed mother, O flower and mirrorof steeds, that we shall soon see ourselves, both of us, as we wish to be, thouwith thy master on thy back, and I mounted upon thee, following the calling forwhich God sent me into the world. " And so saying, accompanied by Sancho, hewithdrew to a retired spot, from which he came back much relieved and moreeager than ever to put his squire's scheme into execution. The canon gazed at him, wondering at the extraordinary nature of his madness, and that in all his remarks and replies he should show such excellent sense, andonly lose his stirrups, as has been already said, when the subject of chivalry wasbroached. And so, moved by compassion, he said to him, as they all sat on thegreen grass awaiting the arrival of the provisions:"Is it possible, gentle sir, that the nauseous and idle reading of books of chivalrycan have had such an effect on your worship as to upset your reason so that youfancy yourself enchanted, and the like, all as far from the truth as falsehood itselfis? How can there be any human understanding that can persuade itself there everwas all that infinity of Amadises in the world, or all that multitude of famousknights, all those emperors of Trebizond, all those Felixmartes of Hircania, allthose palfreys, and damsels-errant, and serpents, and monsters, and giants, andmarvellous adventures, and enchantments of every kind, and battles, andprodigious encounters, splendid costumes, love-sick princesses, squires madecounts, droll dwarfs, love letters, billings and cooings, swashbuckler women, and, in a word, all that nonsense the books of chivalry contain? For myself, I can onlysay that when I read them, so long as I do not stop to think that they are all liesand frivolity, they give me a certain amount of pleasure; but when I come toconsider what they are, I fling the very best of them at the wall, and would fling itinto the fire if there were one at hand, as richly deserving such punishment ascheats and impostors out of the range of ordinary toleration, and as founders ofnew sects and modes of life, and teachers that lead the ignorant public to believeand accept as truth all the folly they contain. And such is their audacity, theyeven dare to unsettle the wits of gentlemen of birth and intelligence, as is shownplainly by the way they have served your worship, when they have brought you tosuch a pass that you have to be shut up in a cage and carried on an ox-cart as onewould carry a lion or a tiger from place to place to make money by showing it. Come, Senor Don Quixote, have some compassion for yourself, return to thebosom of common sense, and make use of the liberal share of it that heaven hasbeen pleased to bestow upon you, employing your abundant gifts of mind in someother reading that may serve to benefit your conscience and add to your honour. And if, still led away by your natural bent, you desire to read books ofachievements and of chivalry, read the Book of Judges in the Holy Scriptures, forthere you will find grand reality, and deeds as true as they are heroic. Lusitaniahad a Viriatus, Rome a Caesar, Carthage a Hannibal, Greece an Alexander, Castilea Count Fernan Gonzalez, Valencia a Cid, Andalusia a Gonzalo Fernandez, Estremadura a Diego Garcia de Paredes, Jerez a Garci Perez de Vargas, Toledo aGarcilaso, Seville a Don Manuel de Leon, to read of whose valiant deeds willentertain and instruct the loftiest minds and fill them with delight and wonder. Here, Senor Don Quixote, will be reading worthy of your sound understanding;from which you will rise learned in history, in love with virtue, strengthened ingoodness, improved in manners, brave without rashness, prudent withoutcowardice; and all to the honour of God, your own advantage and the glory of LaMancha, whence, I am informed, your worship derives your birth. "Don Quixote listened with the greatest attention to the canon's words, andwhen he found he had finished, after regarding him for some time, he replied tohim:"It appears to me, gentle sir, that your worship's discourse is intended topersuade me that there never were any knights-errant in the world, and that allthe books of chivalry are false, lying, mischievous and useless to the State, andthat I have done wrong in reading them, and worse in believing them, and stillworse in imitating them, when I undertook to follow the arduous calling of knight-errantry which they set forth; for you deny that there ever were Amadises of Gaulor of Greece, or any other of the knights of whom the books are full. ""It is all exactly as you state it, " said the canon; to which Don Quixote returned, "You also went on to say that books of this kind had done me much harm, inasmuch as they had upset my senses, and shut me up in a cage, and that itwould be better for me to reform and change my studies, and read other truerbooks which would afford more pleasure and instruction. ""Just so, " said the canon. "Well then, " returned Don Quixote, "to my mind it is you who are the one that isout of his wits and enchanted, as you have ventured to utter such blasphemiesagainst a thing so universally acknowledged and accepted as true that whoeverdenies it, as you do, deserves the same punishment which you say you inflict onthe books that irritate you when you read them. For to try to persuade anybodythat Amadis, and all the other knights-adventurers with whom the books arefilled, never existed, would be like trying to persuade him that the sun does notyield light, or ice cold, or earth nourishment. What wit in the world can persuadeanother that the story of the Princess Floripes and Guy of Burgundy is not true, orthat of Fierabras and the bridge of Mantible, which happened in the time ofCharlemagne? For by all that is good it is as true as that it is daylight now; and ifit be a lie, it must be a lie too that there was a Hector, or Achilles, or Trojan war, or Twelve Peers of France, or Arthur of England, who still lives changed into araven, and is unceasingly looked for in his kingdom. One might just as well try tomake out that the history of Guarino Mezquino, or of the quest of the Holy Grail, is false, or that the loves of Tristram and the Queen Yseult are apocryphal, as wellas those of Guinevere and Lancelot, when there are persons who can almostremember having seen the Dame Quintanona, who was the best cupbearer inGreat Britain. And so true is this, that I recollect a grandmother of mine on thefather's side, whenever she saw any dame in a venerable hood, used to say to me, 'Grandson, that one is like Dame Quintanona, ' from which I conclude that shemust have known her, or at least had managed to see some portrait of her. Thenwho can deny that the story of Pierres and the fair Magalona is true, when evento this day may be seen in the king's armoury the pin with which the valiantPierres guided the wooden horse he rode through the air, and it is a trifle biggerthan the pole of a cart? And alongside of the pin is Babieca's saddle, and atRoncesvalles there is Roland's horn, as large as a large beam; whence we mayinfer that there were Twelve Peers, and a Pierres, and a Cid, and other knightslike them, of the sort people commonly call adventurers. Or perhaps I shall betold, too, that there was no such knight-errant as the valiant Lusitanian Juan deMerlo, who went to Burgundy and in the city of Arras fought with the famous lordof Charny, Mosen Pierres by name, and afterwards in the city of Basle withMosen Enrique de Remesten, coming out of both encounters covered with fameand honour; or adventures and challenges achieved and delivered, also inBurgundy, by the valiant Spaniards Pedro Barba and Gutierre Quixada (of whosefamily I come in the direct male line), when they vanquished the sons of theCount of San Polo. I shall be told, too, that Don Fernando de Guevara did not goin quest of adventures to Germany, where he engaged in combat with MicerGeorge, a knight of the house of the Duke of Austria. I shall be told that thejousts of Suero de Quinones, him of the 'Paso, ' and the emprise of Mosen Luis deFalces against the Castilian knight, Don Gonzalo de Guzman, were meremockeries; as well as many other achievements of Christian knights of these andforeign realms, which are so authentic and true, that, I repeat, he who deniesthem must be totally wanting in reason and good sense. "The canon was amazed to hear the medley of truth and fiction Don Quixoteuttered, and to see how well acquainted he was with everything relating orbelonging to the achievements of his knight-errantry; so he said in reply:"I cannot deny, Senor Don Quixote, that there is some truth in what you say, especially as regards the Spanish knights-errant; and I am willing to grant too thatthe Twelve Peers of France existed, but I am not disposed to believe that they didall the things that the Archbishop Turpin relates of them. For the truth of thematter is they were knights chosen by the kings of France, and called 'Peers'because they were all equal in worth, rank and prowess (at least if they were notthey ought to have been), and it was a kind of religious order like those ofSantiago and Calatrava in the present day, in which it is assumed that those whotake it are valiant knights of distinction and good birth; and just as we say now aKnight of St. John, or of Alcantara, they used to say then a Knight of the TwelvePeers, because twelve equals were chosen for that military order. That there was aCid, as well as a Bernardo del Carpio, there can be no doubt; but that they did thedeeds people say they did, I hold to be very doubtful. In that other matter of thepin of Count Pierres that you speak of, and say is near Babieca's saddle in theArmoury, I confess my sin; for I am either so stupid or so short-sighted, that, though I have seen the saddle, I have never been able to see the pin, in spite of itbeing as big as your worship says it is. ""For all that it is there, without any manner of doubt, " said Don Quixote; "andmore by token they say it is inclosed in a sheath of cowhide to keep it fromrusting. ""All that may be, " replied the canon; "but, by the orders I have received, I donot remember seeing it. However, granting it is there, that is no reason why I ambound to believe the stories of all those Amadises and of all that multitude ofknights they tell us about, nor is it reasonable that a man like your worship, soworthy, and with so many good qualities, and endowed with such a goodunderstanding, should allow himself to be persuaded that such wild crazy thingsas are written in those absurd books of chivalry are really true. "DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 17. Chapter 50EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER L. OF THE SHREWD CONTROVERSY WHICH DON QUIXOTE ANDTHE CANON HELD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER INCIDENTS"A good joke, that!" returned Don Quixote. "Books that have been printed withthe king's licence, and with the approbation of those to whom they have beensubmitted, and read with universal delight, and extolled by great and small, richand poor, learned and ignorant, gentle and simple, in a word by people of everysort, of whatever rank or condition they may be--that these should be lies! Andabove all when they carry such an appearance of truth with them; for they tell usthe father, mother, country, kindred, age, place, and the achievements, step bystep, and day by day, performed by such a knight or knights! Hush, sir; utter notsuch blasphemy; trust me I am advising you now to act as a sensible man should;only read them, and you will see the pleasure you will derive from them. For, come, tell me, can there be anything more delightful than to see, as it were, herenow displayed before us a vast lake of bubbling pitch with a host of snakes andserpents and lizards, and ferocious and terrible creatures of all sorts swimmingabout in it, while from the middle of the lake there comes a plaintive voice saying:'Knight, whosoever thou art who beholdest this dread lake, if thou wouldst winthe prize that lies hidden beneath these dusky waves, prove the valour of thystout heart and cast thyself into the midst of its dark burning waters, else thoushalt not be worthy to see the mighty wonders contained in the seven castles ofthe seven Fays that lie beneath this black expanse;' and then the knight, almostere the awful voice has ceased, without stopping to consider, without pausing toreflect upon the danger to which he is exposing himself, without even relievinghimself of the weight of his massive armour, commending himself to God and tohis lady, plunges into the midst of the boiling lake, and when he little looks for it, or knows what his fate is to be, he finds himself among flowery meadows, withwhich the Elysian fields are not to be compared. "The sky seems more transparent there, and the sun shines with a strangebrilliancy, and a delightful grove of green leafy trees presents itself to the eyes andcharms the sight with its verdure, while the ear is soothed by the sweet untutoredmelody of the countless birds of gay plumage that flit to and fro among theinterlacing branches. Here he sees a brook whose limpid waters, like liquidcrystal, ripple over fine sands and white pebbles that look like sifted gold andpurest pearls. There he perceives a cunningly wrought fountain of many-colouredjasper and polished marble; here another of rustic fashion where the little mussel-shells and the spiral white and yellow mansions of the snail disposed in studiousdisorder, mingled with fragments of glittering crystal and mock emeralds, makeup a work of varied aspect, where art, imitating nature, seems to have outdone it. "Suddenly there is presented to his sight a strong castle or gorgeous palace withwalls of massy gold, turrets of diamond and gates of jacinth; in short, somarvellous is its structure that though the materials of which it is built arenothing less than diamonds, carbuncles, rubies, pearls, gold, and emeralds, theworkmanship is still more rare. And after having seen all this, what can be morecharming than to see how a bevy of damsels comes forth from the gate of thecastle in gay and gorgeous attire, such that, were I to set myself now to depict itas the histories describe it to us, I should never have done; and then how she whoseems to be the first among them all takes the bold knight who plunged into theboiling lake by the hand, and without addressing a word to him leads him into

therich palace or castle, and strips him as naked as when his mother bore him, andbathes him in lukewarm water, and anoints him all over with sweet-smellingunguents, and clothes him in a shirt of the softest sendal, all scented andperfumed, while another damsel comes and throws over his shoulders a mantlewhich is said to be worth at the very least a city, and even more?How charming it is, then, when they tell us how, after all this, they lead him toanother chamber where he finds the tables set out in such style that he is filledwith amazement and wonder; to see how they pour out water for his handsdistilled from amber and sweet-scented flowers; how they seat him on an ivorychair; to see how the damsels wait on him all in profound silence; how they bringhim such a variety of dainties so temptingly prepared that the appetite is at a losswhich to select; to hear the music that resounds while he is at table, by whom orwhence produced he knows not. And then when the repast is over and the tablesremoved, for the knight to recline in the chair, picking his teeth perhaps as usual, and a damsel, much lovelier than any of the others, to enter unexpectedly by thechamber door, and herself by his side, and begin to tell him what the castle is, and how she is held enchanted there, and other things that amaze the knight andastonish the readers who are perusing his history. "But I will not expatiate any further upon this, as it may be gathered from itthat whatever part of whatever history of a knight-errant one reads, it will fill thereader, whoever he be, with delight and wonder; and take my advice, sir, and, asI said before, read these books and you will see how they will banish anymelancholy you may feel and raise your spirits should they be depressed. Formyself I can say that since I have been a knight-errant I have become valiant, polite, generous, well-bred, magnanimous, courteous, dauntless, gentle, patient, and have learned to bear hardships, imprisonments, and enchantments; andthough it be such a short time since I have seen myself shut up in a cage like amadman, I hope by the might of my arm, if heaven aid me and fortune thwart menot, to see myself king of some kingdom where I may be able to show thegratitude and generosity that dwell in my heart; for by my faith, senor, the poorman is incapacitated from showing the virtue of generosity to anyone, though hemay possess it in the highest degree; and gratitude that consists of dispositiononly is a dead thing, just as faith without works is dead. For this reason I shouldbe glad were fortune soon to offer me some opportunity of making myself anemperor, so as to show my heart in doing good to my friends, particularly to thispoor Sancho Panza, my squire, who is the best fellow in the world; and I wouldgladly give him a county I have promised him this ever so long, only that I amafraid he has not the capacity to govern his realm. "Sancho partly heard these last words of his master, and said to him, "Strivehard you, Senor Don Quixote, to give me that county so often promised by youand so long looked for by me, for I promise you there will be no want of capacityin me to govern it; and even if there is, I have heard say there are men in theworld who farm seigniories, paying so much a year, and they themselves takingcharge of the government, while the lord, with his legs stretched out, enjoys therevenue they pay him, without troubling himself about anything else. That's whatI'll do, and not stand haggling over trifles, but wash my hands at once of thewhole business, and enjoy my rents like a duke, and let things go their own way. ""That, brother Sancho, " said the canon, "only holds good as far as the enjoymentof the revenue goes; but the lord of the seigniory must attend to theadministration of justice, and here capacity and sound judgment come in, andabove all a firm determination to find out the truth; for if this be wanting in thebeginning, the middle and the end will always go wrong; and God as commonlyaids the honest intentions of the simple as he frustrates the evil designs of thecrafty. ""I don't understand those philosophies, " returned Sancho Panza; "all I know is Iwould I had the county as soon as I shall know how to govern it; for I have asmuch soul as another, and as much body as anyone, and I shall be as much kingof my realm as any other of his; and being so I should do as I liked, and doing as Iliked I should please myself, and pleasing myself I should be content, and whenone is content he has nothing more to desire, and when one has nothing more todesire there is an end of it; so let the county come, and God he with you, and letus see one another, as one blind man said to the other. ""That is not bad philosophy thou art talking, Sancho, " said the canon; "but forall that there is a good deal to be said on this matter of counties. "To which Don Quixote returned, "I know not what more there is to be said; Ionly guide myself by the example set me by the great Amadis of Gaul, when hemade his squire count of the Insula Firme; and so, without any scruples ofconscience, I can make a count of Sancho Panza, for he is one of the best squiresthat ever knight-errant had. "The canon was astonished at the methodical nonsense (if nonsense be capableof method) that Don Quixote uttered, at the way in which he had described theadventure of the knight of the lake, at the impression that the deliberate lies ofthe books he read had made upon him, and lastly he marvelled at the simplicity ofSancho, who desired so eagerly to obtain the county his master had promised him. By this time the canon's servants, who had gone to the inn to fetch the sumptermule, had returned, and making a carpet and the green grass of the meadow serveas a table, they seated themselves in the shade of some trees and made theirrepast there, that the carter might not be deprived of the advantage of the spot, ashas been already said. As they were eating they suddenly heard a loud noise andthe sound of a bell that seemed to come from among some brambles and thickbushes that were close by, and the same instant they observed a beautiful goat, spotted all over black, white, and brown, spring out of the thicket with a goatherdafter it, calling to it and uttering the usual cries to make it stop or turn back tothe fold. The fugitive goat, scared and frightened, ran towards the company as ifseeking their protection and then stood still, and the goatherd coming up seized itby the horns and began to talk to it as if it were possessed of reason andunderstanding: "Ah wanderer, wanderer, Spotty, Spotty; how have you gonelimping all this time? What wolves have frightened you, my daughter? Won't youtell me what is the matter, my beauty? But what else can it be except that you area she, and cannot keep quiet? A plague on your humours and the humours ofthose you take after! Come back, come back, my darling; and if you will not be sohappy, at any rate you will be safe in the fold or with your companions; for if youwho ought to keep and lead them, go wandering astray, what will become ofthem?"The goatherd's talk amused all who heard it, but especially the canon, who saidto him, "As you live, brother, take it easy, and be not in such a hurry to drive thisgoat back to the fold; for, being a female, as you say, she will follow her naturalinstinct in spite of all you can do to prevent it. Take this morsel and drink a sup, and that will soothe your irritation, and in the meantime the goat will restherself, " and so saying, he handed him the loins of a cold rabbit on a fork. The goatherd took it with thanks, and drank and calmed himself, and then said, "I should be sorry if your worships were to take me for a simpleton for havingspoken so seriously as I did to this animal; but the truth is there is a certainmystery in the words I used. I am a clown, but not so much of one but that Iknow how to behave to men and to beasts. ""That I can well believe, " said the curate, "for I know already by experience thatthe woods breed men of learning, and shepherds' harbour philosophers. ""At all events, senor, " returned the goatherd, "they shelter men of experience;and that you may see the truth of this and grasp it, though I may seem to putmyself forward without being asked, I will, if it will not tire you, gentlemen, andyou will give me your attention for a little, tell you a true story which will confirmthis gentleman's word (and he pointed to the curate) as well as my own. "To this Don Quixote replied, "Seeing that this affair has a certain colour ofchivalry about it, I for my part, brother, will hear you most gladly, and so will allthese gentlemen, from the high intelligence they possess and their love of curiousnovelties that interest, charm, and entertain the mind, as I feel quite sure yourstory will do. So begin, friend, for we are all prepared to listen. ""I draw my stakes, " said Sancho, "and will retreat with this pasty to the brookthere, where I mean to victual myself for three days; for I have heard my lord, Don Quixote, say that a knight-errant's squire should eat until he can hold nomore, whenever he has the chance, because it often happens them to get byaccident into a wood so thick that they cannot find a way out of it for six days;and if the man is not well filled or his alforjas well stored, there he may stay, asvery often he does, turned into a dried mummy. ""Thou art in the right of it, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "go where thou wilt andeat all thou canst, for I have had enough, and only want to give my mind itsrefreshment, as I shall by listening to this good fellow's story. ""It is what we shall all do, " said the canon; and then begged the goatherd tobegin the promised tale. The goatherd gave the goat which he held by the horns a couple of slaps on theback, saying, "Lie down here beside me, Spotty, for we have time enough to returnto our fold. " The goat seemed to understand him, for as her master seated himself, she stretched herself quietly beside him and looked up in his face to show him shewas all attention to what he was going to say, and then in these words he beganhis story. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume I. , Part 18. Chapters 51-52EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LI. WHICH DEALS WITH WHAT THE GOATHERD TOLD THOSE WHOWERE CARRYING OFF DON QUIXOTEThree leagues from this valley there is a village which, though small, is one ofthe richest in all this neighbourhood, and in it there lived a farmer, a very worthyman, and so much respected that, although to be so is the natural consequence ofbeing rich, he was even more respected for his virtue than for the wealth he hadacquired. But what made him still more fortunate, as he said himself, was havinga daughter of such exceeding beauty, rare intelligence, gracefulness, and virtue, that everyone who knew her and beheld her marvelled at the extraordinary giftswith which heaven and nature had endowed her. As a child she was beautiful, shecontinued to grow in beauty, and at the age of sixteen she was most lovely. Thefame of her beauty began to spread abroad through all the villages around--butwhy do I say the villages around, merely, when it spread to distant cities, andeven made its way into the halls of royalty and reached the ears of people of everyclass, who came from all sides to see her as if to see something rare and curious, or some wonder-working image?Her father watched over her and she watched over herself; for there are nolocks, or guards, or bolts that can protect a young girl better than her ownmodesty. The wealth of the father and the beauty of the daughter led manyneighbours as well as strangers to seek her for a wife; but he, as one might well bewho had the disposal of so rich a jewel, was perplexed and unable to make up hismind to which of her countless suitors he should entrust her. I was one among themany who felt a desire so natural, and, as her father knew who I was, and I wasof the same town, of pure blood, in the bloom of life, and very rich inpossessions, I had great hopes of success. There was another of the same placeand qualifications who also sought her, and this made her father's choice hang inthe balance, for he felt that on either of us his daughter would be well bestowed;so to escape from this state of perplexity he resolved to refer the matter toLeandra (for that is the name of the rich damsel who has reduced me to misery), reflecting that as we were both equal it would be best to leave it to his deardaughter to choose according to her inclination--a course that is worthy ofimitation by all fathers who wish to settle their children in life. I do not mean thatthey ought to leave them to make a choice of what is contemptible and bad, butthat they should place before them what is good and then allow them to make agood choice as they please. I do not know which Leandra chose; I only know herfather put us both off with the tender age of his daughter and vague words thatneither bound him nor dismissed us. My rival is called Anselmo and I myselfEugenio--that you may know the names of the personages that figure in thistragedy, the end of which is still in suspense, though it is plain to see it must bedisastrous. About this time there arrived in our town one Vicente de la Roca, the son of apoor peasant of the same town, the said Vicente having returned from service as asoldier in Italy and divers other parts. A captain who chanced to pass that waywith his company had carried him off from our village when he was a boy ofabout twelve years, and now twelve years later the young man came back in asoldier's uniform, arrayed in a thousand colours, and all over glass trinkets andfine steel chains. To-day he would appear in one gay dress, to-morrow in another;but all flimsy and gaudy, of little substance and less worth. The peasant folk, whoare naturally malicious, and when they have nothing to do can be malice itself, remarked all this, and took note of his finery and jewellery, piece by piece, anddiscovered that he had three suits of different colours, with garters and stockingsto match; but he made so many arrangements and combinations out of them, thatif they had not counted them, anyone would have sworn that he had made adisplay of more than ten suits of clothes and twenty plumes. Do not look upon allthis that I am telling you about the clothes as uncalled for or spun out, for theyhave a great deal to do with the story. He used to seat himself on a bench underthe great poplar in our plaza, and there he would keep us all hanging open-mouthed on the stories he told us of his exploits. There was no country on theface of the globe he had not seen, nor battle he had not been engaged in; he hadkilled more Moors than there are in Morocco and Tunis, and fought more singlecombats, according to his own account, than Garcilaso, Diego Garcia de Paredesand a thousand others he named, and out of all he had come victorious withoutlosing a drop of blood. On the other hand he showed marks of wounds, which, though they could not be made out, he said were gunshot wounds received indivers encounters and actions. Lastly, with monstrous impudence he used to say"you" to his equals and even those who knew what he was, and declare that hisarm was his father and his deeds his pedigree, and that being a soldier he was asgood as the king himself. And to add to these swaggering ways he was a trifle of amusician, and played the guitar with such a flourish that some said he made itspeak; nor did his accomplishments end here, for he was something of a poet too, and on every trifle that happened in the town he made a ballad a league long. This soldier, then, that I have described, this Vicente de la Roca, this bravo, gallant, musician, poet, was often seen and watched by Leandra from a window ofher house which looked out on the plaza. The glitter of his showy attire took herfancy, his ballads bewitched her (for he gave away twenty copies of every one hemade), the tales of his exploits which he told about himself came to her ears; andin short, as the devil no doubt had arranged it, she fell in love with him before thepresumption of making love to her had suggested itself to him; and as in love-affairs none are more easily brought to an issue than those which have theinclination of the lady for an ally, Leandra and Vicente came to an understandingwithout any difficulty; and before any of her numerous suitors had any suspicionof her design, she had already carried it into effect, having left the house of herdearly beloved father (for mother she had none), and disappeared from the villagewith the soldier, who came more triumphantly out of this enterprise than out ofany of the large number he laid claim to. All the village and all who heard of itwere amazed at the affair; I was aghast, Anselmo thunderstruck, her father full ofgrief, her relations indignant, the authorities all in a ferment, the officers of theBrotherhood in arms. They scoured the roads, they searched the woods and allquarters, and at the end of three days they found the flighty Leandra in amountain cave, stript to her shift, and robbed of all the money and preciousjewels she had carried away from home with her. They brought her back to her unhappy father, and questioned her as to hermisfortune, and she confessed without pressure that Vicente de la Roca haddeceived her, and under promise of marrying her had induced her to leave herfather's house, as he meant to take her to the richest and most delightful city inthe whole world, which was Naples; and that she, ill-advised and deluded, hadbelieved him, and robbed her father, and handed over all to him the night shedisappeared; and that he had carried her away to a rugged mountain and shut herup in the eave where they had found her. She said, moreover, that the soldier, without robbing her of her honour, had taken from her everything she had, andmade off, leaving her in the cave, a thing that still further surprised everybody. Itwas not easy for us to credit the young man's continence, but she asserted it withsuch earnestness that it helped to console her distressed father, who thoughtnothing of what had been taken since the jewel that once lost can never berecovered had been left to his daughter. The same day that Leandra made herappearance her father removed her from our sight and took her away to shut herup in a convent in a town near this, in the hope that time may wear away some ofthe disgrace she has incurred. Leandra's youth furnished an excuse for her fault, at least with those to whom it was of no consequence whether she was good orbad; but those who knew her shrewdness and intelligence did not attribute hermisdemeanour to ignorance but to wantonness and the natural disposition ofwomen, which is for the most part flighty and ill-regulated. Leandra withdrawn from sight, Anselmo's eyes grew blind, or at any rate foundnothing to look at that gave them any pleasure, and mine were in darknesswithout a ray of light to direct them to anything enjoyable while Leandra wasaway. Our melancholy grew greater, our patience grew less; we cursed thesoldier's finery and railed at the carelessness of Leandra's father. At last Anselmoand I agreed to leave the village and come to this valley; and, he feeding a greatflock of sheep of his own, and I a large herd of goats of mine, we pass our lifeamong the trees, giving vent to our sorrows, together singing the fair Leandra'spraises, or upbraiding her, or else sighing alone, and to heaven pouring forth ourcomplaints in solitude. Following our example, many more of Leandra's lovershave come to these rude mountains and adopted our mode of life, and they are sonumerous that one would fancy the place had been turned into the pastoralArcadia, so full is it of shepherds and sheep-folds; nor is there a spot in it wherethe name of the fair Leandra is not heard. Here one curses her and calls hercapricious, fickle, and immodest, there another condemns her as frail andfrivolous; this pardons and absolves her, that spurns and reviles her; one extolsher beauty, another assails her character, and in short all abuse her, and all adoreher, and to such a pitch has this general infatuation gone that there are some whocomplain of her scorn without ever having exchanged a word with her, and evensome that bewail and mourn the raging fever of jealousy, for which she never gaveanyone cause, for, as I have already said, her misconduct was known before herpassion. There is no nook among the rocks, no brookside, no shade beneath thetrees that is not haunted by some shepherd telling his woes to the breezes;wherever there is an echo it repeats the name of Leandra; the mountains ring with"Leandra, " "Leandra" murmur the brooks, and Leandra keeps us all bewildered andbewitched, hoping without hope and fearing without knowing what we fear. Of allthis silly set the one that shows the least and also the most sense is my rivalAnselmo, for having so many other things to complain of, he only complains ofseparation, and to the accompaniment of a rebeck, which he plays admirably, hesings his complaints in verses that show his ingenuity. I follow another, easier, and to my mind wiser course, and that is to rail at the frivolity of women, at theirinconstancy, their double dealing, their broken promises, their unkept pledges, and in short the want of reflection they show in fixing their affections andinclinations. This, sirs, was the reason of words and expressions I made use of tothis goat when I came up just now; for as she is a female I have a contempt forher, though she is the best in all my fold. This is the story I promised to tell you, and if I have been tedious in telling it, I will not be slow to serve you; my hut isclose by, and I have fresh milk and dainty cheese there, as well as a variety oftoothsome fruit, no less pleasing to the eye than to the palate. CHAPTER LII. OF THE QUARREL THAT DON QUIXOTE HAD WITH THEGOATHERD, TOGETHER WITH THE RARE ADVENTURE OF THEPENITENTS, WHICH WITH AN EXPENDITURE OF SWEAT HEBROUGHT TO A HAPPY CONCLUSIONThe goatherd's tale gave great satisfaction to all the hearers, and the canonespecially enjoyed it, for he had remarked with particular attention the manner inwhich it had been told, which was as unlike the manner of a clownish goatherd asit was like that of a polished city wit; and he observed that the curate had beenquite right in saying that the woods bred men of learning. They all offered theirservices to Eugenio but he who showed himself most liberal in this way was DonQuixote, who said to him, "Most assuredly, brother goatherd, if I found myself ina position to attempt any adventure, I would, this very instant, set out on yourbehalf, and would rescue Leandra from that convent (where no doubt she is keptagainst her will), in spite of the abbess and all who might try to prevent me, andwould place her in your hands to deal with her according to your will andpleasure, observing, however, the laws of chivalry which lay down that noviolence of any kind is to be offered to any damsel. But I trust in God our Lordthat the might of one malignant enchanter may not prove so great but that thepower of another better disposed may prove superior to it, and then I promise youmy support and assistance, as I am bound to do by my profession, which is noneother than to give aid to the weak and needy. "The goatherd eyed him, and noticing Don Quixote's sorry appearance and looks, he was filled with wonder, and asked the barber, who was next him, "Senor, whois this man who makes such a figure and talks in such a strain?""Who should it be, " said the barber, "but the famous Don Quixote of LaMancha, the undoer of injustice, the righter of wrongs, the protector of damsels, the terror of giants, and the winner of battles?""That, " said the goatherd, "sounds like what one reads in the books of theknights-errant, who did all that you say this man does; though it is my belief thateither you are joking, or else this gentleman has empty lodgings in his head. ""You are a great scoundrel, " said Don Quixote, "and it is you who are empty anda fool. I am fuller than ever was the whoreson bitch that bore you;" and passingfrom words to deeds, he caught up a loaf that was near him and sent it full in thegoatherd's face, with such force that he flattened his nose; but the goatherd, whodid not understand jokes, and found himself roughly handled in such goodearnest, paying no respect to carpet, tablecloth, or diners, sprang upon DonQuixote, and seizing him by the throat with both hands would no doubt havethrottled him, had not Sancho Panza that instant come to the rescue, and graspinghim by the shoulders flung him down on the table, smashing plates, breakingglasses, and upsetting and scattering everything on it. Don Quixote, findinghimself free, strove to get on top of the goatherd, who, with his face covered withblood, and soundly kicked by Sancho, was on all fours feeling about for one of thetable-knives to take a bloody revenge with. The canon and the curate, however, prevented him, but the barber so contrived it that he got Don Quixote under him, and rained down upon him such a shower of fisticuffs that the poor knight's facestreamed with blood as freely as his own. The canon and the curate were burstingwith laughter, the officers were capering with delight, and both the one and theother hissed them on as they do dogs that are worrying one another in a fight. Sancho alone was frantic, for he could not free himself from the grasp of one ofthe canon's servants, who kept him from going to his master's assistance. At last, while they were all, with the exception of the two bruisers who weremauling each other, in high glee and enjoyment, they heard a trumpet sound anote so doleful that it made them all look in the direction whence the soundseemed to come. But the one that was most excited by hearing it was DonQuixote, who though sorely against his will he was under the goatherd, andsomething more than pretty well pummelled, said to him, "Brother devil (for it isimpossible but that thou must be one since thou hast had might and strengthenough to overcome mine), I ask thee to agree to a truce for but one hour for thesolemn note of yonder trumpet that falls on our ears seems to me to summon meto some new adventure. " The goatherd, who was by this time tired of pummellingand being pummelled, released him at once, and Don Quixote rising to his feetand turning his eyes to the quarter where the sound had been heard, suddenlysaw coming down the slope of a hill several men clad in white like penitents. The fact was that the clouds had that year withheld their moisture from theearth, and in all the villages of the district they were organising processions, rogations, and penances, imploring God to open the hands of his mercy and sendthe rain; and to this end the people of a village that was hard by were going inprocession to a holy hermitage there was on one side of that valley. Don Quixotewhen he saw the strange garb of the penitents, without reflecting how often hehad seen it before, took it into his head that this was a case of adventure, andthat it fell to him alone as a knight-errant to engage in it; and he was all the moreconfirmed in this notion, by the idea that an image draped in black they had withthem was some illustrious lady that these villains and discourteous thieves werecarrying off by force. As soon as this occurred to him he ran with all speed toRocinante who was grazing at large, and taking the bridle and the buckler fromthe saddle-bow, he had him bridled in an instant, and calling to Sancho for hissword he mounted Rocinante, braced his buckler on his arm, and in a loud voiceexclaimed to those who stood by, "Now, noble company, ye shall see howimportant it is that there should be knights in the world professing the of knight-errantry; now, I say, ye shall see, by the deliverance of that worthy lady who isborne captive there, whether knights-errant deserve to be held in estimation, " andso saying he brought his legs to bear on Rocinante--for he had no spurs--and at afull canter (for in all this veracious history we never read of Rocinante fairlygalloping) set off to encounter the penitents, though the curate, the canon, andthe barber ran to prevent him. But it was out of their power, nor did he even stopfor the shouts of Sancho calling after him, "Where are you going, Senor DonQuixote? What devils have possessed you to set you on against our Catholic faith?Plague take me! mind, that is a procession of penitents, and the lady they arecarrying on that stand there is the blessed image of the immaculate Virgin. Takecare what you are doing, senor, for this time it may be safely said you don't knowwhat you are about. " Sancho laboured in vain, for his master was so bent oncoming to quarters with these sheeted figures and releasing the lady in black thathe did not hear a word; and even had he heard, he would not have turned back ifthe king had ordered him. He came up with the procession and reined inRocinante, who was already anxious enough to slacken speed a little, and in ahoarse, excited voice he exclaimed, "You who hide your faces, perhaps becauseyou are not good subjects, pay attention and listen to what I am about to say toyou. " The first to halt were those who were carrying the image, and one of thefour ecclesiastics who were chanting the Litany, struck by the strange figure ofDon Quixote, the leanness of Rocinante, and the other ludicrous peculiarities heobserved, said in reply to him, "Brother, if you have anything to say to us say itquickly, for these brethren are whipping themselves, and we cannot stop, nor is itreasonable we should stop to hear anything, unless indeed it is short enough to besaid in two words. ""I will say it in one, " replied Don Quixote, "and it is this; that at once, this veryinstant, ye release that fair lady whose tears and sad aspect show plainly that yeare carrying her off against her will, and that ye have committed some scandalousoutrage against her; and I, who was born into the world to redress all such likewrongs, will not permit you to advance another step until you have restored toher the liberty she pines for and deserves. "From these words all the hearers concluded that he must be a madman, andbegan to laugh heartily, and their laughter acted like gunpowder on Don Quixote'sfury, for drawing his sword without another word he made a rush at the stand. One of those who supported it, leaving the burden to his comrades, advanced tomeet him, flourishing a forked stick that he had for propping up the stand whenresting, and with this he caught a mighty cut Don Quixote made at him thatsevered it in two; but with the portion that remained in his hand he dealt such athwack on the shoulder of Don Quixote's sword arm (which the buckler could notprotect against the clownish assault) that poor Don Quixote came to the ground ina sad plight. Sancho Panza, who was coming on close behind puffing and blowing, seeinghim fall, cried out to his assailant not to strike him again, for he was poorenchanted knight, who had never harmed anyone all the days of his life; but whatchecked the clown was, not Sancho's shouting, but seeing that Don Quixote didnot stir hand or foot; and so, fancying he had killed him, he hastily hitched up histunic under his girdle and took to his heels across the country like a deer. By this time all Don Quixote's companions had come up to where he lay; butthe processionists seeing them come running, and with them the officers of theBrotherhood with their crossbows, apprehended mischief, and clustering roundthe image, raised their hoods, and grasped their scourges, as the priests did theirtapers, and awaited the attack, resolved to defend themselves and even to takethe offensive against their assailants if they could. Fortune, however, arranged thematter better than they expected, for all Sancho did was to fling himself on hismaster's body, raising over him the most doleful and laughable lamentation thatever was heard, for he believed he was dead. The curate was known to anothercurate who walked in the procession, and their recognition of one another set atrest the apprehensions of both parties; the first then told the other in two wordswho Don Quixote was, and he and the whole troop of penitents went to see if thepoor gentleman was dead, and heard Sancho Panza saying, with tears in his eyes, "Oh flower of chivalry, that with one blow of a stick hast ended the course of thywell-spent life! Oh pride of thy race, honour and glory of all La Mancha, nay, ofall the world, that for want of thee will be full of evil-doers, no longer in fear ofpunishment for their misdeeds! Oh thou, generous above all the Alexanders, sincefor only eight months of service thou hast given me the best island the sea girdsor surrounds! Humble with the proud, haughty with the humble, encounterer ofdangers, endurer of outrages, enamoured without reason, imitator of the good, scourge of the wicked, enemy of the mean, in short, knight-errant, which is allthat can be said!"At the cries and moans of Sancho, Don Quixote came to himself, and the firstword he said was, "He who lives separated from you, sweetest Dulcinea, hasgreater miseries to endure than these. Aid me, friend Sancho, to mount theenchanted cart, for I am not in a condition to press the saddle of Rocinante, asthis shoulder is all knocked to pieces. ""That I will do with all my heart, senor, " said Sancho; "and let us return to ourvillage with these gentlemen, who seek your good, and there we will prepare formaking another sally, which may turn out more profitable and creditable to us. ""Thou art right, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote; "It will be wise to let themalign influence of the stars which now prevails pass off. "The canon, the curate, and the barber told him he would act very wisely indoing as he said; and so, highly amused at Sancho Panza's simplicities, theyplaced Don Quixote in the cart as before. The procession once more formed itselfin order and proceeded on its road; the goatherd took his leave of the party; theofficers of the Brotherhood declined to go any farther, and the curate paid themwhat was due to them; the canon begged the curate to let him know how DonQuixote did, whether he was cured of his madness or still suffered from it, andthen begged leave to continue his journey; in short, they all separated and wenttheir ways, leaving to themselves the curate and the barber, Don Quixote, SanchoPanza, and the good Rocinante, who regarded everything with as great resignationas his master. The carter yoked his oxen and made Don Quixote comfortable on atruss of hay, and at his usual deliberate pace took the road the curate directed, and at the end of six days they reached Don Quixote's village, and entered itabout the middle of the day, which it so happened was a Sunday, and the peoplewere all in the plaza, through which Don Quixote's cart passed. They all flocked tosee what was in the cart, and when they recognised their townsman they werefilled with amazement, and a boy ran off to bring the news to his housekeeper andhis niece that their master and uncle had come back all lean and yellow andstretched on a truss of hay on an ox-cart. It was piteous to hear the cries the twogood ladies raised, how they beat their breasts and poured out fresh maledictionson those accursed books of chivalry; all which was renewed when they saw DonQuixote coming in at the gate. At the news of Don Quixote's arrival Sancho Panza's wife came running, for sheby this time knew that her husband had gone away with him as his squire, and onseeing Sancho, the first thing she asked him was if the ass was well. Sanchoreplied that he was, better than his master was. "Thanks be to God, " said she, "for being so good to me; but now tell me, myfriend, what have you made by your squirings? What gown have you brought meback? What shoes for your children?""I bring nothing of that sort, wife, " said Sancho; "though I bring other things ofmore consequence and value. ""I am very glad of that, " returned his wife; "show me these things of more valueand consequence, my friend; for I want to see them to cheer my heart that hasbeen so sad and heavy all these ages that you have been away. ""I will show them to you at home, wife, " said Sancho; "be content for thepresent; for if it please God that we should again go on our travels in search ofadventures, you will soon see me a count, or governor of an island, and that notone of those everyday ones, but the best that is to be had. ""Heaven grant it, husband, " said she, "for indeed we have need of it. But tellme, what's this about islands, for I don't understand it?""Honey is not for the mouth of the ass, " returned Sancho; "all in good time thoushalt see, wife--nay, thou wilt be surprised to hear thyself called 'your ladyship'by all thy vassals. ""What are you talking about, Sancho, with your ladyships, islands, and vassals?"returned Teresa Panza--for so Sancho's wife was called, though they were notrelations, for in La Mancha it is customary for wives to take their husbands'surnames. "Don't be in such a hurry to know all this, Teresa, " said Sancho; "it is enoughthat I am telling you the truth, so shut your mouth. But I may tell you this muchby the way, that there is nothing in the world more delightful than to be a personof consideration, squire to a knight-errant, and a seeker of adventures. To be suremost of those one finds do not end as pleasantly as one could wish, for out of ahundred, ninety-nine will turn out cross and contrary. I know it by experience, forout of some I came blanketed, and out of others belaboured. Still, for all that, it isa fine thing to be on the look-out for what may happen, crossing mountains, searching woods, climbing rocks, visiting castles, putting up at inns, all at freequarters, and devil take the maravedi to pay. "While this conversation passed between Sancho Panza and his wife, DonQuixote's housekeeper and niece took him in and undressed him and laid him inhis old bed. He eyed them askance, and could not make out where he was. Thecurate charged his niece to be very careful to make her uncle comfortable and tokeep a watch over him lest he should make his escape from them again, telling herwhat they had been obliged to do to bring him home. On this the pair once morelifted up their voices and renewed their maledictions upon the books of chivalry, and implored heaven to plunge the authors of such lies and nonsense into themidst of the bottomless pit. They were, in short, kept in anxiety and dread lesttheir uncle and master should give them the slip the moment he found himselfsomewhat better, and as they feared so it fell out. But the author of this history, though he has devoted research and industry tothe discovery of the deeds achieved by Don Quixote in his third sally, has beenunable to obtain any information respecting them, at any rate derived fromauthentic documents; tradition has merely preserved in the memory of La Manchathe fact that Don Quixote, the third time he sallied forth from his home, betookhimself to Saragossa, where he was present at some famous jousts which came offin that city, and that he had adventures there worthy of his valour and highintelligence. Of his end and death he could learn no particulars, nor would hehave ascertained it or known of it, if good fortune had not produced an oldphysician for him who had in his possession a leaden box, which, according to hisaccount, had been discovered among the crumbling foundations of an ancienthermitage that was being rebuilt; in which box were found certain parchmentmanuscripts in Gothic character, but in Castilian verse, containing many of hisachievements, and setting forth the beauty of Dulcinea, the form of Rocinante, thefidelity of Sancho Panza, and the burial of Don Quixote himself, together withsundry epitaphs and eulogies on his life and character; but all that could be readand deciphered were those which the trustworthy author of this new andunparalleled history here presents. And the said author asks of those that shallread it nothing in return for the vast toil which it has cost him in examining andsearching the Manchegan archives in order to bring it to light, save that they givehim the same credit that people of sense give to the books of chivalry that pervadethe world and are so popular; for with this he will consider himself amply paidand fully satisfied, and will be encouraged to seek out and produce otherhistories, if not as truthful, at least equal in invention and not less entertaining. The first words written on the parchment found in the leaden box were these:THE ACADEMICIANS OFARGAMASILLA, A VILLAGE OFLA MANCHA, ON THE LIFE AND DEATHOF DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA, HOC SCRIPSERUNTMONICONGO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTEEPITAPHThe scatterbrain that gave La Mancha moreRich spoils than Jason's; who a point so keenHad to his wit, and

happier far had beenIf his wit's weathercock a blunter bore;The arm renowned far as Gaeta's shore, Cathay, and all the lands that lie between;The muse discreet and terrible in mienAs ever wrote on brass in days of yore;He who surpassed the Amadises all, And who as naught the Galaors accounted, Supported by his love and gallantry:Who made the Belianises sing small, And sought renown on Rocinante mounted;Here, underneath this cold stone, doth he lie. PANIAGUADO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, IN LAUDEM DULCINEAE DEL TOBOSOSONNETShe, whose full features may be here descried, High-bosomed, with a bearing of disdain, Is Dulcinea, she for whom in vainThe great Don Quixote of La Mancha sighed. For her, Toboso's queen, from side to sideHe traversed the grim sierra, the champaignOf Aranjuez, and Montiel's famous plain:On Rocinante oft a weary ride. Malignant planets, cruel destiny, Pursued them both, the fair Manchegan dame, And the unconquered star of chivalry. Nor youth nor beauty saved her from the claimOf death; he paid love's bitter penalty, And left the marble to preserve his name. CAPRICHOSO, A MOST ACUTE ACADEMICIANOF ARGAMASILLA, IN PRAISE OF ROCINANTE, STEED OF DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHASONNETOn that proud throne of diamantine sheen, Which the blood-reeking feet of Mars degrade, The mad Manchegan's banner now hath beenBy him in all its bravery displayed. There hath he hung his arms and trenchant bladeWherewith, achieving deeds till now unseen, He slays, lays low, cleaves, hews; but art hath madeA novel style for our new paladin. If Amadis be the proud boast of Gaul, If by his progeny the fame of GreeceThrough all the regions of the earth be spread, Great Quixote crowned in grim Bellona's hallTo-day exalts La Mancha over these, And above Greece or Gaul she holds her head. Nor ends his glory here, for his good steedDoth Brillador and Bayard far exceed;As mettled steeds compared with Rocinante, The reputation they have won is scanty. BURLADOR, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON SANCHO PANZASONNETThe worthy Sancho Panza here you see;A great soul once was in that body small, Nor was there squire upon this earthly ballSo plain and simple, or of guile so free. Within an ace of being Count was he, And would have been but for the spite and gallOf this vile age, mean and illiberal, That cannot even let a donkey be. For mounted on an ass (excuse the word), By Rocinante's side this gentle squireWas wont his wandering master to attend. Delusive hopes that lure the common herdWith promises of ease, the heart's desire, In shadows, dreams, and smoke ye always end. CACHIDIABLO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTEEPITAPHThe knight lies here below, Ill-errant and bruised sore, Whom Rocinante boreIn his wanderings to and fro. By the side of the knight is laidStolid man Sancho too, Than whom a squire more trueWas not in the esquire trade. TIQUITOC, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE TOMB OF DULCINEA DEL TOBOSOEPITAPHHere Dulcinea lies. Plump was she and robust:Now she is ashes and dust:The end of all flesh that dies. A lady of high degree, With the port of a lofty dame, And the great Don Quixote's flame, And the pride of her village was she. These were all the verses that could be deciphered; the rest, the writing beingworm-eaten, were handed over to one of the Academicians to make out theirmeaning conjecturally. We have been informed that at the cost of many sleeplessnights and much toil he has succeeded, and that he means to publish them inhopes of Don Quixote's third sally. "Forse altro cantera con miglior plectro. "DON QUIXOTEVolume II. DEDICATION OF VOLUME II. TO THE COUNT OF LEMOS:These days past, when sending Your Excellency my plays, that had appeared inprint before being shown on the stage, I said, if I remember well, that DonQuixote was putting on his spurs to go and render homage to Your Excellency. Now I say that "with his spurs, he is on his way. " Should he reach destinationmethinks I shall have rendered some service to Your Excellency, as from manyparts I am urged to send him off, so as to dispel the loathing and disgust causedby another Don Quixote who, under the name of Second Part, has runmasquerading through the whole world. And he who has shown the greatestlonging for him has been the great Emperor of China, who wrote me a letter inChinese a month ago and sent it by a special courier. He asked me, or to betruthful, he begged me to send him Don Quixote, for he intended to found acollege where the Spanish tongue would be taught, and it was his wish that thebook to be read should be the History of Don Quixote. He also added that Ishould go and be the rector of this college. I asked the bearer if His Majesty hadafforded a sum in aid of my travel expenses. He answered, "No, not even inthought. ""Then, brother, " I replied, "you can return to your China, post haste or atwhatever haste you are bound to go, as I am not fit for so long a travel and, besides being ill, I am very much without money, while Emperor for Emperor andMonarch for Monarch, I have at Naples the great Count of Lemos, who, withoutso many petty titles of colleges and rectorships, sustains me, protects me and doesme more favour than I can wish for. "Thus I gave him his leave and I beg mine from you, offering Your Excellency the"Trabajos de Persiles y Sigismunda, " a book I shall finish within four months, Deovolente, and which will be either the worst or the best that has been composed inour language, I mean of those intended for entertainment; at which I repent ofhaving called it the worst, for, in the opinion of friends, it is bound to attain thesummit of possible quality. May Your Excellency return in such health that iswished you; Persiles will be ready to kiss your hand and I your feet, being as Iam, Your Excellency's most humble servant. From Madrid, this last day of October of the year one thousand six hundredand fifteen. At the service of Your Excellency:MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRATHE AUTHOR'S PREFACEGod bless me, gentle (or it may be plebeian) reader, how eagerly must thou belooking forward to this preface, expecting to find there retaliation, scolding, andabuse against the author of the second Don Quixote--I mean him who was, theysay, begotten at Tordesillas and born at Tarragona! Well then, the truth is, I amnot going to give thee that satisfaction; for, though injuries stir up anger inhumbler breasts, in mine the rule must admit of an exception. Thou wouldst haveme call him ass, fool, and malapert, but I have no such intention; let his offencebe his punishment, with his bread let him eat it, and there's an end of it. What Icannot help taking amiss is that he charges me with being old and one-handed, asif it had been in my power to keep time from passing over me, or as if the loss ofmy hand had been brought about in some tavern, and not on the grandestoccasion the past or present has seen, or the future can hope to see. If my woundshave no beauty to the beholder's eye, they are, at least, honourable in theestimation of those who know where they were received; for the soldier shows togreater advantage dead in battle than alive in flight; and so strongly is this myfeeling, that if now it were proposed to perform an impossibility for me, I wouldrather have had my share in that mighty action, than be free from my wounds thisminute without having been present at it. Those the soldier shows on his face andbreast are stars that direct others to the heaven of honour and ambition ofmerited praise; and moreover it is to be observed that it is not with grey hairs thatone writes, but with the understanding, and that commonly improves with years. I take it amiss, too, that he calls me envious, and explains to me, as if I wereignorant, what envy is; for really and truly, of the two kinds there are, I onlyknow that which is holy, noble, and high-minded; and if that be so, as it is, I amnot likely to attack a priest, above all if, in addition, he holds the rank of familiarof the Holy Office. And if he said what he did on account of him on whose behalfit seems he spoke, he is entirely mistaken; for I worship the genius of that person, and admire his works and his unceasing and strenuous industry. After all, I amgrateful to this gentleman, the author, for saying that my novels are more satiricalthan exemplary, but that they are good; for they could not be that unless therewas a little of everything in them. I suspect thou wilt say that I am taking a very humble line, and keeping myselftoo much within the bounds of my moderation, from a feeling that additionalsuffering should not be inflicted upon a sufferer, and that what this gentleman hasto endure must doubtless be very great, as he does not dare to come out into theopen field and broad daylight, but hides his name and disguises his country as ifhe had been guilty of some lese majesty. If perchance thou shouldst come to knowhim, tell him from me that I do not hold myself aggrieved; for I know well whatthe temptations of the devil are, and that one of the greatest is putting it into aman's head that he can write and print a book by which he will get as much fameas money, and as much money as fame; and to prove it I will beg of you, in yourown sprightly, pleasant way, to tell him this story. There was a madman in Seville who took to one of the drollest absurdities andvagaries that ever madman in the world gave way to. It was this: he made a tubeof reed sharp at one end, and catching a dog in the street, or wherever it mightbe, he with his foot held one of its legs fast, and with his hand lifted up the other, and as best he could fixed the tube where, by blowing, he made the dog as roundas a ball; then holding it in this position, he gave it a couple of slaps on the belly, and let it go, saying to the bystanders (and there were always plenty of them): "Doyour worships think, now, that it is an easy thing to blow up a dog?"--Does yourworship think now, that it is an easy thing to write a book?And if this story does not suit him, you may, dear reader, tell him this one, which is likewise of a madman and a dog. In Cordova there was another madman, whose way it was to carry a piece ofmarble slab or a stone, not of the lightest, on his head, and when he came uponany unwary dog he used to draw close to him and let the weight fall right on topof him; on which the dog in a rage, barking and howling, would run three streetswithout stopping. It so happened, however, that one of the dogs he discharged hisload upon was a cap-maker's dog, of which his master was very fond. The stonecame down hitting it on the head, the dog raised a yell at the blow, the mastersaw the affair and was wroth, and snatching up a measuring-yard rushed out atthe madman and did not leave a sound bone in his body, and at every stroke hegave him he said, "You dog, you thief! my lurcher! Don't you see, you brute, thatmy dog is a lurcher?" and so, repeating the word "lurcher" again and again, hesent the madman away beaten to a jelly. The madman took the lesson to heart, and vanished, and for more than a month never once showed himself in public;but after that he came out again with his old trick and a heavier load than ever. He came up to where there was a dog, and examining it very carefully withoutventuring to let the stone fall, he said: "This is a lurcher; ware!" In short, all thedogs he came across, be they mastiffs or terriers, he said were lurchers; and hedischarged no more stones. Maybe it will be the same with this historian; that hewill not venture another time to discharge the weight of his wit in books, which, being bad, are harder than stones. Tell him, too, that I do not care a farthing forthe threat he holds out to me of depriving me of my profit by means of his book;for, to borrow from the famous interlude of "The Perendenga, " I say in answer tohim, "Long life to my lord the Veintiquatro, and Christ be with us all. " Long life tothe great Conde de Lemos, whose Christian charity and well-known generositysupport me against all the strokes of my curst fortune; and long life to thesupreme benevolence of His Eminence of Toledo, Don Bernardo de Sandoval yRojas; and what matter if there be no printing-presses in the world, or if theyprint more books against me than there are letters in the verses of Mingo Revulgo!These two princes, unsought by any adulation or flattery of mine, of their owngoodness alone, have taken it upon them to show me kindness and protect me, and in this I consider myself happier and richer than if Fortune had raised me toher greatest height in the ordinary way. The poor man may retain honour, but notthe vicious; poverty may cast a cloud over nobility, but cannot hide it altogether;and as virtue of itself sheds a certain light, even though it be through the straitsand chinks of penury, it wins the esteem of lofty and noble spirits, and inconsequence their protection. Thou needst say no more to him, nor will I sayanything more to thee, save to tell thee to bear in mind that this Second Part of"Don Quixote" which I offer thee is cut by the same craftsman and from the samecloth as the First, and that in it I present thee Don Quixote continued, and atlength dead and buried, so that no one may dare to bring forward any furtherevidence against him, for that already produced is sufficient; and suffice it, too, that some reputable person should have given an account of all these shrewdlunacies of his without going into the matter again; for abundance, even of goodthings, prevents them from being valued; and scarcity, even in the case of what isbad, confers a certain value. I was forgetting to tell thee that thou mayest expectthe "Persiles, " which I am now finishing, and also the Second Part of "Galatea. "CHAPTER I. OF THE INTERVIEW THE CURATE AND THE BARBER HAD WITHDON QUIXOTE ABOUT HIS MALADYCide Hamete Benengeli, in the Second Part of this history, and third sally ofDon Quixote, says that the curate and the barber remained nearly a monthwithout seeing him, lest they should recall or bring back to his recollection whathad taken place. They did not, however, omit to visit his niece and housekeeper, and charge them to be careful to treat him with attention, and give himcomforting things to eat, and such as were good for the heart and the brain, whence, it was plain to see, all his misfortune proceeded. The niece andhousekeeper replied that they did so, and meant to do so with all possible careand assiduity, for they could perceive that their master was now and thenbeginning to show signs of being in his right mind. This gave great satisfaction tothe curate and the barber, for they concluded they had taken the right course incarrying him off enchanted on the ox-cart, as has been described in the First Partof this great as well as accurate history, in the last chapter thereof. So theyresolved to pay him a visit and test the improvement in his condition, althoughthey thought it almost impossible that there could be any; and they agreed not totouch upon any point connected with knight-errantry so as not to run the risk ofreopening wounds which were still so tender. They came to see him consequently, and found him sitting up in bed in a greenbaize waistcoat and a red Toledo cap, and so withered and dried up that helooked as if he had been turned into a mummy. They were very cordially receivedby him; they asked him after his health, and he talked to them about himself verynaturally and in very well-chosen language. In the course of their conversationthey fell to discussing what they call State-craft and systems of government, correcting this abuse and condemning that, reforming one practice and abolishinganother, each of the three setting up for a new legislator, a modern Lycurgus, or abrand-new Solon; and so completely did they remodel the State, that they seemedto have thrust it into a furnace and taken out something quite different from whatthey had put in; and on all the subjects they dealt with, Don Quixote spoke withsuch good sense that the pair of examiners were fully convinced that he was quiterecovered and in his full senses. The niece and housekeeper were present at the conversation and could not findwords enough to express their thanks to God at seeing their master so clear in hismind; the curate, however, changing his original plan, which was to avoidtouching upon matters of chivalry, resolved to test Don Quixote's recoverythoroughly, and see whether it were genuine or not; and so, from one subject toanother, he came at last to talk of the news that had come from the capital, and, among other things, he said it was considered certain that the Turk was comingdown with a powerful fleet, and that no one knew what his purpose was, or whenthe great storm would burst; and that all Christendom was in apprehension ofthis, which almost every year calls us to arms, and that his Majesty had madeprovision for the security of the coasts of Naples and Sicily and the island ofMalta. To this Don Quixote replied, "His Majesty has acted like a prudent warrior inproviding for the safety of his realms in time, so that the enemy may not find himunprepared; but if my advice were taken I would recommend him to adopt ameasure which at present, no doubt, his Majesty is very far from thinking of. "The moment the curate heard this he said to himself, "God keep thee in hishand, poor Don Quixote, for it seems to me thou art precipitating thyself from theheight of thy madness into the profound abyss of thy simplicity. "But the barber, who had the same suspicion as the curate, asked Don Quixotewhat would be his advice as to the measures that he said ought to be adopted; forperhaps it might prove to be one that would have to be added to the list of themany impertinent suggestions that people were in the habit of offering to princes. "Mine, master shaver, " said Don Quixote, "will not be impertinent, but, on thecontrary, pertinent. ""I don't mean that, " said the barber, "but that experience has shown that all ormost of the expedients which are proposed to his Majesty are either impossible, orabsurd, or injurious to the King and to the kingdom. ""Mine, however, " replied Don Quixote, "is neither impossible nor absurd, butthe easiest, the most reasonable, the readiest and most expeditious that couldsuggest itself to any projector's mind. ""You take a long time to tell it, Senor Don Quixote, " said the curate. "I don't choose to tell it here, now, " said Don Quixote, "and have it reach theears of the lords of the council to-morrow morning, and some other carry off thethanks and rewards of my trouble. ""For my part, " said the barber, "I give my word here and before God that I willnot repeat what your worship says, to King, Rook or earthly man--an oath Ilearned from the ballad of the curate, who, in the prelude, told the king of thethief who had robbed him of the hundred gold crowns and his pacing mule. ""I am not versed in stories, " said Don Quixote; "but I know the oath is a goodone, because I know the barber to be an honest fellow. ""Even if he were not, " said the curate, "I will go bail and answer for him that inthis matter he will be as silent as a dummy, under pain of paying any penalty thatmay be pronounced. ""And who will be security for you, senor curate?" said Don Quixote. "My profession, " replied the curate, "which is to keep secrets. ""Ods body!" said Don Quixote at this, "what more has his Majesty to do but tocommand, by public proclamation, all the knights-errant that are scattered overSpain to assemble on a fixed day in the capital, for even if no more than half adozen come, there may be one among them who alone will suffice to destroy theentire might of the Turk. Give me your attention and follow me. Is it, pray, anynew thing for a single knight-errant to demolish an army of two hundred thousandmen, as if they all had but one throat or were made of sugar paste? Nay, tell me, how many histories are there filled with these marvels? If only (in an evil hour forme: I don't speak for anyone else) the famous Don Belianis were alive now, or anyone of the innumerable progeny of Amadis of Gaul! If any these were alive today, and were to come face to face with the Turk, by my faith, I would not give muchfor the Turk's chance. But God will have regard for his people, and will providesome one, who, if not so valiant as the knights-errant of yore, at least will not beinferior to them in spirit; but God knows what I mean, and I say no more. ""Alas!" exclaimed the niece at this, "may I die if my master does not want toturn knight-errant again;" to which Don Quixote replied, "A knight-errant I shalldie, and let the Turk come down or go up when he likes, and in as strong force ashe can, once more I say, God knows what I mean. " But here the barber said, "Iask your worships to give me leave to tell a short story of something thathappened in Seville, which comes so pat to the purpose just now that I should likegreatly to tell it. " Don Quixote gave him leave, and the rest prepared to listen, andhe began thus:"In the madhouse at Seville there was a man whom his relations had placedthere as being out of his mind. He was a graduate of Osuna in canon law; buteven if he had been of Salamanca, it was the opinion of most people that hewould have been mad all the same. This graduate, after some years ofconfinement, took it into his head that he was sane and in his full senses, andunder this impression wrote to the Archbishop, entreating him earnestly, and invery correct language, to have him released from the misery in which he wasliving; for by God's mercy he had now recovered his lost reason, though hisrelations, in order to enjoy his property, kept him there, and, in spite of the truth, would make him out to be mad until his dying day. The Archbishop, moved byrepeated sensible, well-written letters, directed one of his chaplains to makeinquiry of the madhouse as to the truth of the licentiate's statements, and to havean interview with the madman himself, and, if it should appear that he was in hissenses, to take him out and restore him to liberty. The chaplain did so, and thegovernor assured him that the man was still mad, and that though he often spokelike a highly intelligent person, he would in the end break out into nonsense thatin quantity and quality counterbalanced all the sensible things he had said before, as might be easily tested by talking to him. The chaplain resolved to try theexperiment, and obtaining access to the madman conversed with him for an houror more, during the whole of which time he never uttered a word that wasincoherent or absurd, but, on the contrary, spoke so rationally that the chaplainwas compelled to believe him to be sane. Among other things, he said thegovernor was against him, not to lose the presents his relations made him forreporting him still mad but with lucid intervals; and that the worst foe he had inhis misfortune was his large property; for in order to enjoy it his enemiesdisparaged and threw doubts upon the mercy our Lord had shown him in turninghim from a brute beast into a man. In short, he spoke in such a way that he castsuspicion on the governor, and made his relations appear covetous and heartless, and himself so rational that the chaplain determined to take him away with himthat the Archbishop might see him, and ascertain for himself the truth of thematter. Yielding to this conviction, the worthy chaplain begged the governor tohave the clothes in which the licentiate had entered the house given to him. Thegovernor again bade him beware of what he was doing, as the licentiate wasbeyond a doubt still mad; but all his cautions and warnings were unavailing todissuade the chaplain from taking him away. The governor, seeing that it was theorder of the Archbishop, obeyed, and they dressed the licentiate in his ownclothes, which were new and decent. He, as soon as he saw himself clothed likeone in his senses, and divested of the appearance of a madman, entreated thechaplain to permit him in charity to go and take leave of his comrades themadmen. The chaplain said he would go with him to see what madmen there werein the house; so they went upstairs, and with them some of those who werepresent. Approaching a cage in which there was a furious madman, though just atthat moment calm and quiet, the licentiate said to him, 'Brother, think if you haveany commands for me, for I am going home, as God has been pleased, in hisinfinite goodness and mercy, without any merit of mine, to restore me my reason. I am now cured and in my senses, for with God's power nothing is impossible. Have strong hope and trust in him, for as he has restored me to my originalcondition, so likewise he will restore you if you trust in him. I will take care tosend you some good things to eat; and be sure you eat them; for I would have youknow I am convinced, as one who has gone through it, that all this madness ofours comes of having the stomach empty and the brains full of wind. Takecourage! take courage! for despondency in misfortune breaks down health andbrings on death. '"To all these words of the licentiate another madman in a cage opposite that ofthe furious one was listening; and raising himself up from an old mat on which helay stark naked, he asked in a loud voice who it was that was going away curedand in his senses. The licentiate answered, 'It is I, brother, who am going; I havenow no need to remain here any longer, for which I return infinite thanks toHeaven that has had so great mercy upon me. '"'Mind what you are saying, licentiate; don't let the devil deceive you, ' repliedthe madman. 'Keep quiet, stay where you are, and you will save yourself thetrouble of coming back. '"'I know I am cured, ' returned the licentiate, 'and that I shall not have to gostations again. '"'You cured!' said the madman; 'well, we shall see; God be with you; but I swearto you by Jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth, that for this crime alone, which Seville is committing to-day in releasing you from this house, and treatingyou as if you were in your senses, I shall have to inflict such a punishment on itas will be remembered for ages and ages, amen. Dost thou not know, thoumiserable little licentiate, that I can do it, being, as I say, Jupiter the Thunderer, who hold in my hands the fiery bolts with which I am able and am wont tothreaten and lay waste the world? But in one way only will I punish this ignoranttown, and that is by not raining upon it, nor on any part of its district or territory, for three whole years, to be reckoned from the day and moment when this threatis pronounced. Thou free, thou cured, thou in thy senses! and I mad, I disordered, I bound! I will as soon think of sending rain as of hanging myself. "Those present stood listening to the words and exclamations of the madman;but our licentiate, turning to the chaplain and seizing him by the hands, said tohim, 'Be not uneasy, senor; attach no importance to what this madman has said;for if he is Jupiter and will not send rain, I, who am Neptune, the father and godof the waters, will rain as often as it pleases me and may be needful. '"The governor and the bystanders laughed, and at their laughter the chaplainwas half ashamed, and he replied, 'For all that, Senor Neptune, it will not do tovex Senor Jupiter; remain where you are, and some other day, when there is abetter opportunity and more time, we will come back for you. ' So they strippedthe licentiate, and he was left where he was; and that's the end of the story. ""So that's the story, master barber, " said Don Quixote, "which came in so pat tothe purpose that you could not help telling it? Master shaver, master shaver! howblind is he who cannot see through a sieve. Is it possible that you do not knowthat comparisons of wit with wit, valour with valour, beauty with beauty, birthwith birth, are always odious and unwelcome? I, master barber, am not Neptune, the god of the waters, nor do I try to make anyone take me for an astute man, forI am not one. My only endeavour is to convince the world of the mistake it makesin not reviving in itself the happy time when the order of knight-errantry was inthe field. But our depraved age does not deserve to enjoy such a blessing as thoseages enjoyed when knights-errant took upon their shoulders the defence ofkingdoms, the protection of damsels, the succour of orphans and minors, thechastisement of the proud, and the recompense of the humble. With the knights ofthese days, for the most part, it is the damask, brocade, and rich stuffs they wear, that rustle as they go, not the chain mail of their armour; no knight now-a-dayssleeps in the open field exposed to the inclemency of heaven, and in full panoplyfrom head to foot; no one now takes a nap, as they call it, without drawing hisfeet out of the stirrups, and leaning upon his lance, as the knights-errant used todo; no one now, issuing from the wood, penetrates yonder mountains, and thentreads the barren, lonely shore of the sea--mostly a tempestuous and stormyone--and finding on the beach a little bark without oars, sail, mast, or tackling ofany kind, in the intrepidity of his heart flings himself into it and commits himselfto the wrathful billows of the deep sea, that one moment lift him up to heavenand the next plunge him into the depths; and opposing his breast to theirresistible gale, finds himself, when he least expects it, three thousand leaguesand more away from the place where he embarked; and leaping ashore in aremote and unknown land has adventures that deserve to be written, not onparchment, but on brass. But now sloth triumphs over energy, indolence overexertion, vice over virtue, arrogance over courage, and theory over practice inarms, which flourished and shone only in the golden ages and in knights-errant. For tell me, who was more virtuous and more valiant than the famous Amadis ofGaul? Who more discreet than Palmerin of England? Who more gracious and easythan Tirante el Blanco? Who more courtly than Lisuarte of Greece? Who moreslashed or slashing than Don Belianis? Who more intrepid than Perion of Gaul?Who more ready to face danger than Felixmarte of Hircania? Who more sincerethan Esplandian? Who more impetuous than Don Cirongilio of Thrace? Who morebold than Rodamonte? Who more prudent than King Sobrino? Who more daringthan Reinaldos? Who more invincible than Roland? and who more gallant andcourteous than Ruggiero, from whom the dukes of Ferrara of the present day aredescended, according to Turpin in his 'Cosmography. ' All these knights, and manymore that I could name, senor curate, were knights-errant, the light and glory ofchivalry. These, or such as these, I would have to carry out my plan, and in thatcase his Majesty would find himself well served and would save great expense, and the Turk would be left tearing his beard. And so I will stay where I am, as thechaplain does not take me away; and if Jupiter, as the barber has told us, will notsend rain, here am I, and I will rain when I please. I say this that Master Basinmay know that I understand him. ""Indeed, Senor Don Quixote, " said the barber, "I did not mean it in that way, and, so help me God, my intention was good, and your worship ought not to bevexed. ""As to whether I ought to be vexed or not, " returned Don Quixote, "I myself amthe best judge. "Hereupon the curate observed, "I have hardly said a word as yet; and I wouldgladly be relieved of a doubt, arising from what Don Quixote has said, thatworries and works my conscience. ""The senor curate has leave for more than that, " returned Don Quixote, "so hemay declare his doubt, for it is not pleasant to have a doubt on one's conscience. ""Well then, with that permission, " said the curate, "I say my doubt is that, all Ican do, I cannot persuade myself that the whole pack of knights-errant you, SenorDon Quixote, have mentioned, were really and truly persons of flesh and blood, that ever lived in the world; on the contrary, I suspect it to be all fiction, fable, and falsehood, and dreams told by men awakened from sleep, or rather still halfasleep. ""That is another mistake, " replied Don Quixote, "into which many have fallenwho do not believe that there ever were such knights in the world, and I haveoften, with divers people and on divers occasions, tried to expose this almostuniversal error to the light of truth. Sometimes I have not been successful in mypurpose, sometimes I have, supporting it upon the shoulders of the truth; whichtruth is so clear that I can almost say I have with my own eyes seen Amadis ofGaul, who was a man of lofty stature, fair complexion, with a handsome thoughblack beard, of a countenance between gentle and stern in expression, sparing ofwords, slow to anger, and quick to put it away from him; and as I have depictedAmadis, so I could, I think, portray and describe all the knights-errant that are inall the histories in the world; for by the perception I have that they were whattheir histories describe, and by the deeds they did and the dispositions theydisplayed, it is possible, with the aid of sound philosophy, to deduce theirfeatures, complexion, and stature. ""How big, in your worship's opinion, may the giant Morgante have been, SenorDon Quixote?" asked the barber. "With regard to giants, " replied Don Quixote, "opinions differ as to whetherthere ever were any or not in the world; but the Holy Scripture, which cannot errby a jot from the truth, shows us that there were, when it gives us the history ofthat big Philistine, Goliath, who was seven cubits and a half in height, which is ahuge size. Likewise, in the island of Sicily, there have been found leg-bones andarm-bones so large that their size makes it plain that their owners were giants, and as tall as great towers; geometry puts this fact beyond a doubt. But, for allthat, I cannot speak with certainty as to the size of Morgante, though I suspect hecannot have been very tall; and I am inclined to be of this opinion because I findin the history in which his deeds are particularly mentioned, that he frequentlyslept under a roof and as he found houses to contain him, it is clear that his bulkcould not have been anything excessive. ""That is true, " said the curate, and yielding to the enjoyment of hearing suchnonsense, he asked him what was his notion of the features of Reinaldos ofMontalban, and Don Roland and the rest of the Twelve Peers of France, for theywere all knights-errant. "As for Reinaldos, " replied Don Quixote, "I venture to say that he was broad-faced, of ruddy complexion, with roguish and somewhat prominent eyes, excessively punctilious and touchy, and given to the society of thieves andscapegraces. With regard to Roland, or Rotolando, or Orlando (for the historiescall him by all these names), I am of opinion, and hold, that he was of middleheight, broad-shouldered, rather bow-legged, swarthy-complexioned, red-bearded, with a hairy body and a severe expression of countenance, a man of few words, but very polite and well-bred. ""If Roland was not a more graceful person than your worship has described, "said the curate, "it is no wonder that the fair Lady Angelica rejected him and lefthim for the gaiety, liveliness, and grace of that budding-bearded little Moor towhom she surrendered herself; and she showed her sense in falling in love withthe gentle softness of Medoro rather than the roughness of Roland. ""That Angelica, senor curate, " returned Don Quixote, "was a giddy damsel, flighty and somewhat wanton, and she left the world as full of her vagaries as ofthe fame of her beauty. She treated with scorn a thousand gentlemen, men ofvalour and wisdom, and took up with a smooth-faced sprig of a page, withoutfortune or fame, except such reputation for gratitude as the affection he bore hisfriend got for him. The great poet who sang her beauty, the famous Ariosto, notcaring to sing her adventures after her contemptible surrender (which probablywere not over and above creditable), dropped her where he says:How she received the sceptre of Cathay, Some bard of defter quill may singsome day;and this was no doubt a kind of prophecy, for poets are also called vates, that isto say diviners; and its truth was made plain; for since then a famous Andalusianpoet has lamented and sung her tears, and another famous and rare poet, aCastilian, has sung her beauty. ""Tell me, Senor Don Quixote, " said the barber here, "among all those whopraised her, has there been no poet to write a satire on this Lady Angelica?""I can well believe, " replied Don Quixote, "that if Sacripante or Roland had beenpoets they would have given the damsel a trimming; for it is naturally the waywith poets who have been scorned and rejected by their ladies, whether fictitiousor not, in short by those whom they select as the ladies of their thoughts, toavenge themselves in satires and libels--a vengeance, to be sure, unworthy ofgenerous hearts; but up to the present I have not heard of any defamatory verseagainst the Lady Angelica, who turned the world upside down. ""Strange, " said the curate; but at this moment they heard the housekeeper andthe niece, who had previously withdrawn from the conversation, exclaiming aloudin the courtyard, and at the noise they all ran out. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER II. WHICH TREATS OF THE NOTABLE ALTERCATION WHICHSANCHO PANZA HAD WITH DON QUIXOTE'S NIECE, ANDHOUSEKEEPER, TOGETHER WITH OTHER DROLL MATTERSThe history relates that the outcry Don Quixote, the curate, and the barberheard came from the niece and the housekeeper exclaiming to Sancho, who wasstriving to force his way in to see Don Quixote while they held the door againsthim, "What does the vagabond want in this house? Be off to your own, brother, for it is you, and no one else, that delude my master, and lead him astray, andtake him tramping about the country. "To which Sancho replied, "Devil's own housekeeper! it is I who am deluded, andled astray, and taken tramping about the country, and not thy master! He hascarried me all over the world, and you are mightily mistaken. He enticed me awayfrom home by a trick, promising me an island, which I am still waiting for. ""May evil islands choke thee, thou detestable Sancho, " said the niece; "What areislands? Is it something to eat, glutton and gormandiser that thou art?""It is not something to eat, " replied Sancho, "but something to govern and rule, and better than four cities or four judgeships at court. ""For all that, " said the housekeeper, "you don't enter here, you bag of mischiefand sack of knavery; go govern your house and dig your seed-patch, and give overlooking for islands or shylands. "The curate and the barber listened with great amusement to the words of thethree; but Don Quixote, uneasy lest Sancho should blab and blurt out a wholeheap of mischievous stupidities, and touch upon points that might not bealtogether to his credit, called to him and made the other two hold their tonguesand let him come in. Sancho entered, and the curate and the barber took theirleave of Don Quixote, of whose recovery they despaired when they saw howwedded he was to his crazy ideas, and how saturated with the nonsense of hisunlucky chivalry; and said the curate to the barber, "You will see, gossip, thatwhen we are least thinking of it, our gentleman will be off once more for anotherflight. ""I have no doubt of it, " returned the barber; "but I do not wonder so much atthe madness of the knight as at the simplicity of the squire, who has such a firmbelief in all that about the island, that I suppose all the exposures that could beimagined would not get it out of his head. ""God help them, " said the curate; "and let us be on the look-out to see whatcomes of all these absurdities of the knight and squire, for it seems as if they hadboth been cast in the same mould, and the madness of the master without thesimplicity of the man would not be worth a farthing. ""That is true, " said the barber, "and I should like very much to know what thepair are talking about at this moment. ""I promise you, " said the curate, "the niece or the housekeeper will tell us by-and-by, for they are not the ones to forget to listen. "Meanwhile Don Quixote shut himself up in his room with Sancho, and whenthey were alone he said to him, "It grieves me greatly, Sancho, that thou shouldsthave said, and sayest, that I took thee out of thy cottage, when thou knowest Idid not remain in my house. We sallied forth together, we took the road together, we wandered abroad together; we have had the same fortune and the same luck;if they blanketed thee once, they belaboured me a hundred times, and that is theonly advantage I have of thee. ""That was only reasonable,

" replied Sancho, "for, by what your worship says, misfortunes belong more properly to knights-errant than to their squires. ""Thou art mistaken, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "according to the maximquando caput dolet, etc. ""I don't understand any language but my own, " said Sancho. "I mean to say, " said Don Quixote, "that when the head suffers all the memberssuffer; and so, being thy lord and master, I am thy head, and thou a part of me asthou art my servant; and therefore any evil that affects or shall affect me shouldgive thee pain, and what affects thee give pain to me. ""It should be so, " said Sancho; "but when I was blanketed as a member, myhead was on the other side of the wall, looking on while I was flying through theair, and did not feel any pain whatever; and if the members are obliged to feel thesuffering of the head, it should be obliged to feel their sufferings. ""Dost thou mean to say now, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that I did not feelwhen they were blanketing thee? If thou dost, thou must not say so or think so, for I felt more pain then in spirit than thou didst in body. But let us put that asidefor the present, for we shall have opportunities enough for considering andsettling the point; tell me, Sancho my friend, what do they say about me in thevillage here? What do the common people think of me? What do the hidalgos?What do the caballeros? What do they say of my valour; of my achievements; ofmy courtesy? How do they treat the task I have undertaken in reviving andrestoring to the world the now forgotten order of chivalry? In short, Sancho, Iwould have thee tell me all that has come to thine ears on this subject; and thouart to tell me, without adding anything to the good or taking away anything fromthe bad; for it is the duty of loyal vassals to tell the truth to their lords just as it isand in its proper shape, not allowing flattery to add to it or any idle deference tolessen it. And I would have thee know, Sancho, that if the naked truth, undisguised by flattery, came to the ears of princes, times would be different, andother ages would be reckoned iron ages more than ours, which I hold to be thegolden of these latter days. Profit by this advice, Sancho, and report to me clearlyand faithfully the truth of what thou knowest touching what I have demanded ofthee. ""That I will do with all my heart, master, " replied Sancho, "provided yourworship will not be vexed at what I say, as you wish me to say it out in all itsnakedness, without putting any more clothes on it than it came to my knowledgein. ""I will not be vexed at all, " returned Don Quixote; "thou mayest speak freely, Sancho, and without any beating about the bush. ""Well then, " said he, "first of all, I have to tell you that the common peopleconsider your worship a mighty great madman, and me no less a fool. Thehidalgos say that, not keeping within the bounds of your quality of gentleman, you have assumed the 'Don, ' and made a knight of yourself at a jump, with fourvine-stocks and a couple of acres of land, and never a shirt to your back. Thecaballeros say they do not want to have hidalgos setting up in opposition to them, particularly squire hidalgos who polish their own shoes and darn their blackstockings with green silk. ""That, " said Don Quixote, "does not apply to me, for I always go well dressedand never patched; ragged I may be, but ragged more from the wear and tear ofarms than of time. ""As to your worship's valour, courtesy, accomplishments, and task, there is avariety of opinions. Some say, 'mad but droll;' others, 'valiant but unlucky;' others, 'courteous but meddling, ' and then they go into such a number of things that theydon't leave a whole bone either in your worship or in myself. ""Recollect, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that wherever virtue exists in aneminent degree it is persecuted. Few or none of the famous men that have livedescaped being calumniated by malice. Julius Caesar, the boldest, wisest, andbravest of captains, was charged with being ambitious, and not particularlycleanly in his dress, or pure in his morals. Of Alexander, whose deeds won himthe name of Great, they say that he was somewhat of a drunkard. Of Hercules, him of the many labours, it is said that he was lewd and luxurious. Of DonGalaor, the brother of Amadis of Gaul, it was whispered that he was overquarrelsome, and of his brother that he was lachrymose. So that, O Sancho, amongst all these calumnies against good men, mine may be let pass, since theyare no more than thou hast said. ""That's just where it is, body of my father!""Is there more, then?" asked Don Quixote. "There's the tail to be skinned yet, " said Sancho; "all so far is cakes and fancybread; but if your worship wants to know all about the calumnies they bringagainst you, I will fetch you one this instant who can tell you the whole of themwithout missing an atom; for last night the son of Bartholomew Carrasco, who hasbeen studying at Salamanca, came home after having been made a bachelor, andwhen I went to welcome him, he told me that your worship's history is alreadyabroad in books, with the title of THE INGENIOUS GENTLEMAN DONQUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA; and he says they mention me in it by my own nameof Sancho Panza, and the lady Dulcinea del Toboso too, and divers things thathappened to us when we were alone; so that I crossed myself in my wonder howthe historian who wrote them down could have known them. ""I promise thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "the author of our history will besome sage enchanter; for to such nothing that they choose to write about ishidden. ""What!" said Sancho, "a sage and an enchanter! Why, the bachelor SamsonCarrasco (that is the name of him I spoke of) says the author of the history iscalled Cide Hamete Berengena. ""That is a Moorish name, " said Don Quixote. "May be so, " replied Sancho; "for I have heard say that the Moors are mostlygreat lovers of berengenas. ""Thou must have mistaken the surname of this 'Cide'--which means in Arabic'Lord'--Sancho, " observed Don Quixote. "Very likely, " replied Sancho, "but if your worship wishes me to fetch thebachelor I will go for him in a twinkling. ""Thou wilt do me a great pleasure, my friend, " said Don Quixote, "for what thouhast told me has amazed me, and I shall not eat a morsel that will agree with meuntil I have heard all about it. ""Then I am off for him, " said Sancho; and leaving his master he went in quest ofthe bachelor, with whom he returned in a short time, and, all three together, theyhad a very droll colloquy. CHAPTER III. OF THE LAUGHABLE CONVERSATION THAT PASSED BETWEENDON QUIXOTE, SANCHO PANZA, AND THE BACHELOR SAMSONCARRASCODon Quixote remained very deep in thought, waiting for the bachelor Carrasco, from whom he was to hear how he himself had been put into a book as Sanchosaid; and he could not persuade himself that any such history could be inexistence, for the blood of the enemies he had slain was not yet dry on the bladeof his sword, and now they wanted to make out that his mighty achievementswere going about in print. For all that, he fancied some sage, either a friend or anenemy, might, by the aid of magic, have given them to the press; if a friend, inorder to magnify and exalt them above the most famous ever achieved by anyknight-errant; if an enemy, to bring them to naught and degrade them below themeanest ever recorded of any low squire, though as he said to himself, theachievements of squires never were recorded. If, however, it were the fact thatsuch a history were in existence, it must necessarily, being the story of a knight-errant, be grandiloquent, lofty, imposing, grand and true. With this he comfortedhimself somewhat, though it made him uncomfortable to think that the authorwas a Moor, judging by the title of "Cide;" and that no truth was to be looked forfrom Moors, as they are all impostors, cheats, and schemers. He was afraid hemight have dealt with his love affairs in some indecorous fashion, that might tendto the discredit and prejudice of the purity of his lady Dulcinea del Toboso; hewould have had him set forth the fidelity and respect he had always observedtowards her, spurning queens, empresses, and damsels of all sorts, and keeping incheck the impetuosity of his natural impulses. Absorbed and wrapped up in theseand divers other cogitations, he was found by Sancho and Carrasco, whom DonQuixote received with great courtesy. The bachelor, though he was called Samson, was of no great bodily size, but hewas a very great wag; he was of a sallow complexion, but very sharp-witted, somewhere about four-and-twenty years of age, with a round face, a flat nose, anda large mouth, all indications of a mischievous disposition and a love of fun andjokes; and of this he gave a sample as soon as he saw Don Quixote, by falling onhis knees before him and saying, "Let me kiss your mightiness's hand, Senor DonQuixote of La Mancha, for, by the habit of St. Peter that I wear, though I have nomore than the first four orders, your worship is one of the most famous knights-errant that have ever been, or will be, all the world over. A blessing on CideHamete Benengeli, who has written the history of your great deeds, and a doubleblessing on that connoisseur who took the trouble of having it translated out ofthe Arabic into our Castilian vulgar tongue for the universal entertainment of thepeople!"Don Quixote made him rise, and said, "So, then, it is true that there is a historyof me, and that it was a Moor and a sage who wrote it?""So true is it, senor, " said Samson, "that my belief is there are more than twelvethousand volumes of the said history in print this very day. Only ask Portugal, Barcelona, and Valencia, where they have been printed, and moreover there is areport that it is being printed at Antwerp, and I am persuaded there will not be acountry or language in which there will not be a translation of it. ""One of the things, " here observed Don Quixote, "that ought to give mostpleasure to a virtuous and eminent man is to find himself in his lifetime in printand in type, familiar in people's mouths with a good name; I say with a goodname, for if it be the opposite, then there is no death to be compared to it. ""If it goes by good name and fame, " said the bachelor, "your worship alone bearsaway the palm from all the knights-errant; for the Moor in his own language, andthe Christian in his, have taken care to set before us your gallantry, your highcourage in encountering dangers, your fortitude in adversity, your patience undermisfortunes as well as wounds, the purity and continence of the platonic loves ofyour worship and my lady Dona Dulcinea del Toboso-""I never heard my lady Dulcinea called Dona, " observed Sancho here; "nothingmore than the lady Dulcinea del Toboso; so here already the history is wrong. ""That is not an objection of any importance, " replied Carrasco. "Certainly not, " said Don Quixote; "but tell me, senor bachelor, what deeds ofmine are they that are made most of in this history?""On that point, " replied the bachelor, "opinions differ, as tastes do; some swearby the adventure of the windmills that your worship took to be Briareuses andgiants; others by that of the fulling mills; one cries up the description of the twoarmies that afterwards took the appearance of two droves of sheep; another thatof the dead body on its way to be buried at Segovia; a third says the liberation ofthe galley slaves is the best of all, and a fourth that nothing comes up to the affairwith the Benedictine giants, and the battle with the valiant Biscayan. ""Tell me, senor bachelor, " said Sancho at this point, "does the adventure withthe Yanguesans come in, when our good Rocinante went hankering afterdainties?""The sage has left nothing in the ink-bottle, " replied Samson; "he tells all andsets down everything, even to the capers that worthy Sancho cut in the blanket. ""I cut no capers in the blanket, " returned Sancho; "in the air I did, and more ofthem than I liked. ""There is no human history in the world, I suppose, " said Don Quixote, "thathas not its ups and downs, but more than others such as deal with chivalry, forthey can never be entirely made up of prosperous adventures. ""For all that, " replied the bachelor, "there are those who have read the historywho say they would have been glad if the author had left out some of thecountless cudgellings that were inflicted on Senor Don Quixote in variousencounters. ""That's where the truth of the history comes in, " said Sancho. "At the same time they might fairly have passed them over in silence, " observedDon Quixote; "for there is no need of recording events which do not change oraffect the truth of a history, if they tend to bring the hero of it into contempt. AEneas was not in truth and earnest so pious as Virgil represents him, nor Ulyssesso wise as Homer describes him. ""That is true, " said Samson; "but it is one thing to write as a poet, another towrite as a historian; the poet may describe or sing things, not as they were, but asthey ought to have been; but the historian has to write them down, not as theyought to have been, but as they were, without adding anything to the truth ortaking anything from it. ""Well then, " said Sancho, "if this senor Moor goes in for telling the truth, nodoubt among my master's drubbings mine are to be found; for they never took themeasure of his worship's shoulders without doing the same for my whole body;but I have no right to wonder at that, for, as my master himself says, themembers must share the pain of the head. ""You are a sly dog, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "i' faith, you have no want ofmemory when you choose to remember. ""If I were to try to forget the thwacks they gave me, " said Sancho, "my wealswould not let me, for they are still fresh on my ribs. ""Hush, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and don't interrupt the bachelor, whom Ientreat to go on and tell all that is said about me in this history. ""And about me, " said Sancho, "for they say, too, that I am one of the principalpresonages in it. ""Personages, not presonages, friend Sancho, " said Samson. "What! Another word-catcher!" said Sancho; "if that's to be the way we shall notmake an end in a lifetime. ""May God shorten mine, Sancho, " returned the bachelor, "if you are not thesecond person in the history, and there are even some who would rather hear youtalk than the cleverest in the whole book; though there are some, too, who sayyou showed yourself over-credulous in believing there was any possibility in thegovernment of that island offered you by Senor Don Quixote. ""There is still sunshine on the wall, " said Don Quixote; "and when Sancho issomewhat more advanced in life, with the experience that years bring, he will befitter and better qualified for being a governor than he is at present. ""By God, master, " said Sancho, "the island that I cannot govern with the years Ihave, I'll not be able to govern with the years of Methuselah; the difficulty is thatthe said island keeps its distance somewhere, I know not where; and not thatthere is any want of head in me to govern it. ""Leave it to God, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for all will be and perhaps betterthan you think; no leaf on the tree stirs but by God's will. ""That is true, " said Samson; "and if it be God's will, there will not be any wantof a thousand islands, much less one, for Sancho to govern. ""I have seen governors in these parts, " said Sancho, "that are not to becompared to my shoe-sole; and for all that they are called 'your lordship' andserved on silver. ""Those are not governors of islands, " observed Samson, "but of othergovernments of an easier kind: those that govern islands must at least knowgrammar. ""I could manage the gram well enough, " said Sancho; "but for the mar I haveneither leaning nor liking, for I don't know what it is; but leaving this matter ofthe government in God's hands, to send me wherever it may be most to hisservice, I may tell you, senor bachelor Samson Carrasco, it has pleased me beyondmeasure that the author of this history should have spoken of me in such a waythat what is said of me gives no offence; for, on the faith of a true squire, if hehad said anything about me that was at all unbecoming an old Christian, such as Iam, the deaf would have heard of it. ""That would be working miracles, " said Samson. "Miracles or no miracles, " said Sancho, "let everyone mind how he speaks orwrites about people, and not set down at random the first thing that comes intohis head. ""One of the faults they find with this history, " said the bachelor, "is that itsauthor inserted in it a novel called 'The Ill-advised Curiosity;' not that it is bad orill-told, but that it is out of place and has nothing to do with the history of hisworship Senor Don Quixote. ""I will bet the son of a dog has mixed the cabbages and the baskets, " saidSancho. "Then, I say, " said Don Quixote, "the author of my history was no sage, butsome ignorant chatterer, who, in a haphazard and heedless way, set about writingit, let it turn out as it might, just as Orbaneja, the painter of Ubeda, used to do, who, when they asked him what he was painting, answered, 'What it may turnout. ' Sometimes he would paint a cock in such a fashion, and so unlike, that hehad to write alongside of it in Gothic letters, 'This is a cock; and so it will be withmy history, which will require a commentary to make it intelligible. ""No fear of that, " returned Samson, "for it is so plain that there is nothing in itto puzzle over; the children turn its leaves, the young people read it, the grownmen understand it, the old folk praise it; in a word, it is so thumbed, and read, and got by heart by people of all sorts, that the instant they see any lean hack, they say, 'There goes Rocinante. ' And those that are most given to reading it arethe pages, for there is not a lord's ante-chamber where there is not a 'Don Quixote'to be found; one takes it up if another lays it down; this one pounces upon it, andthat begs for it. In short, the said history is the most delightful and least injuriousentertainment that has been hitherto seen, for there is not to be found in thewhole of it even the semblance of an immodest word, or a thought that is otherthan Catholic. ""To write in any other way, " said Don Quixote, "would not be to write truth, butfalsehood, and historians who have recourse to falsehood ought to be burned, likethose who coin false money; and I know not what could have led the author tohave recourse to novels and irrelevant stories, when he had so much to writeabout in mine; no doubt he must have gone by the proverb 'with straw or withhay, etc, ' for by merely setting forth my thoughts, my sighs, my tears, my loftypurposes, my enterprises, he might have made a volume as large, or larger than allthe works of El Tostado would make up. In fact, the conclusion I arrive at, senorbachelor, is, that to write histories, or books of any kind, there is need of greatjudgment and a ripe understanding. To give expression to humour, and write in astrain of graceful pleasantry, is the gift of great geniuses. The cleverest characterin comedy is the clown, for he who would make people take him for a fool, mustnot be one. History is in a measure a sacred thing, for it should be true, andwhere the truth is, there God is; but notwithstanding this, there are some whowrite and fling books broadcast on the world as if they were fritters. ""There is no book so bad but it has something good in it, " said the bachelor. "No doubt of that, " replied Don Quixote; "but it often happens that those whohave acquired and attained a well-deserved reputation by their writings, lose itentirely, or damage it in some degree, when they give them to the press. ""The reason of that, " said Samson, "is, that as printed works are examinedleisurely, their faults are easily seen; and the greater the fame of the writer, themore closely are they scrutinised. Men famous for their genius, great poets, illustrious historians, are always, or most commonly, envied by those who take aparticular delight and pleasure in criticising the writings of others, without havingproduced any of their own. ""That is no wonder, " said Don Quixote; "for there are many divines who are nogood for the pulpit, but excellent in detecting the defects or excesses of those whopreach. ""All that is true, Senor Don Quixote, " said Carrasco; "but I wish such fault-finders were more lenient and less exacting, and did not pay so much attention tothe spots on the bright sun of the work they grumble at; for if aliquando bonusdormitat Homerus, they should remember how long he remained awake to shedthe light of his work with as little shade as possible; and perhaps it may be thatwhat they find fault with may be moles, that sometimes heighten the beauty ofthe face that bears them; and so I say very great is the risk to which he whoprints a book exposes himself, for of all impossibilities the greatest is to write onethat will satisfy and please all readers. ""That which treats of me must have pleased few, " said Don Quixote. "Quite the contrary, " said the bachelor; "for, as stultorum infinitum estnumerus, innumerable are those who have relished the said history; but somehave brought a charge against the author's memory, inasmuch as he forgot to saywho the thief was who stole Sancho's Dapple; for it is not stated there, but only tobe inferred from what is set down, that he was stolen, and a little farther on wesee Sancho mounted on the same ass, without any reappearance of it. They say, too, that he forgot to state what Sancho did with those hundred crowns that hefound in the valise in the Sierra Morena, as he never alludes to them again, andthere are many who would be glad to know what he did with them, or what hespent them on, for it is one of the serious omissions of the work. ""Senor Samson, I am not in a humour now for going into accounts orexplanations, " said Sancho; "for there's a sinking of the stomach come over me, and unless I doctor it with a couple of sups of the old stuff it will put me on thethorn of Santa Lucia. I have it at home, and my old woman is waiting for me;after dinner I'll come back, and will answer you and all the world every questionyou may choose to ask, as well about the loss of the ass as about the spending ofthe hundred crowns;" and without another word or waiting for a reply he made offhome. Don Quixote begged and entreated the bachelor to stay and do penance withhim. The bachelor accepted the invitation and remained, a couple of youngpigeons were added to the ordinary fare, at dinner they talked chivalry, Carrascofell in with his host's humour, the banquet came to an end, they took theirafternoon sleep, Sancho returned, and their conversation was resumed. CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH SANCHO PANZA GIVES A SATISFACTORY REPLY TOTHE DOUBTS AND QUESTIONS OF THE BACHELOR SAMSONCARRASCO, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERS WORTHKNOWING AND TELLINGSancho came back to Don Quixote's house, and returning to the late subject ofconversation, he said, "As to what Senor Samson said, that he would like to knowby whom, or how, or when my ass was stolen, I say in reply that the same nightwe went into the Sierra Morena, flying from the Holy Brotherhood after thatunlucky adventure of the galley slaves, and the other of the corpse that was goingto Segovia, my master and I ensconced ourselves in a thicket, and there, mymaster leaning on his lance, and I seated on my Dapple, battered and weary withthe late frays we fell asleep as if it had been on four feather mattresses; and I inparticular slept so sound, that, whoever he was, he was able to come and prop meup on four stakes, which he put under the four corners of the pack-saddle in sucha way that he left me mounted on it, and took away Dapple from under mewithout my feeling it. ""That is an easy matter, " said Don Quixote, "and it is no new occurrence, for thesame thing happened to Sacripante at the siege of Albracca; the famous thief, Brunello, by the same contrivance, took his horse from between his legs. ""Day came, " continued Sancho, "and the moment I stirred the stakes gave wayand I fell to the ground with a mighty come down; I looked about for the ass, butcould not see him; the tears rushed to my eyes and I raised such a lamentationthat, if the author of our history has not put it in, he may depend upon it he hasleft out a good thing. Some days after, I know not how many, travelling with herladyship the Princess Micomicona, I saw my ass, and mounted upon him, in thedress of a gipsy, was that Gines de Pasamonte, the great rogue and rascal that mymaster and I freed from the chain. ""That is not where the mistake is, " replied Samson; "it is, that before the ass hasturned up, the author speaks of Sancho as being mounted on it. ""I don't know what to say to that, " said Sancho, "unless that the historian madea mistake, or perhaps it might be a blunder of the printer's. ""No doubt that's it, " said Samson; "but what became of the hundred crowns?Did they vanish?"To which Sancho answered, "I spent them for my own good, and my wife's, andmy children's, and it is they that have made my wife bear so patiently all mywanderings on highways and byways, in the service of my master, Don Quixote;for if after all this time I had come back to the house without a rap and withoutthe ass, it would have been a poor look-out for me; and if anyone wants to knowanything more about me, here I am, ready to answer the king himself in person;and it is no affair of anyone's whether I took or did not take, whether I spent ordid not spend; for the whacks that were given me in these journeys were to bepaid for in money, even if they were valued at no more than four maravedisapiece, another hundred crowns would not pay me for half of them. Let each lookto himself and not try to make out white black, and black white; for each of us isas God made him, aye, and often worse. ""I will take care, " said Carrasco, "to impress upon the author of the history that, if he prints it again, he must not forget what worthy Sancho has said, for it willraise it a good span higher. ""Is there anything else to correct in the history, senor bachelor?" asked DonQuixote. "No doubt there is, " replied he; "but not anything that will be of the sameimportance as those I have mentioned. ""Does the author promise a second part at all?" said Don Quixote. "He does promise one, " replied Samson; "but he says he has not found it, nordoes he know who has got it; and we cannot say whether it will appear or not;and so, on that head, as some say that no second part has ever been good, andothers that enough has been already written about Don Quixote, it is thoughtthere will be no second part; though some, who are jovial rather than saturnine, say, 'Let us have more Quixotades, let Don Quixote charge and Sancho chatter, and no matter what it may turn out, we shall be satisfied with that. '""And what does the author mean to do?" said Don Quixote. "What?" replied Samson; "why, as soon as he has found the history which he isnow searching for with extraordinary diligence, he will at once give it to the press, moved more by the profit that may accrue to him from doing so than by anythought of praise. "Whereat Sancho observed, "The author looks for money and profit, does he? Itwill be a wonder if he succeeds, for it will be only hurry, hurry, with him, like thetailor on Easter Eve; and works done in a hurry are never finished as perfectly asthey ought to be. Let master Moor, or whatever he is, pay attention to what he isdoing, and I and my master will give him as much grouting ready to his hand, inthe way of adventures and accidents of all sorts, as would make up not only onesecond part, but a hundred. The good man fancies, no doubt, that we are fastasleep in the straw here, but let him hold up our feet to be shod and he will seewhich foot it is we go lame on. All I say is, that if my master would take myadvice, we would be now afield, redressing outrages and righting wrongs, as is theuse and custom of good knights-errant. "Sancho had hardly uttered these words when the neighing of Rocinante fellupon their ears, which neighing Don Quixote accepted as a happy omen, and heresolved to make another sally in three or four days from that time. Announcinghis intention to the bachelor, he asked his advice as to the quarter in which heought to commence his expedition, and the bachelor replied that in his opinion heought to go to the kingdom of Aragon, and the city of Saragossa, where there wereto be certain solemn joustings at the festival of St. George, at which he might winrenown above all the knights of Aragon, which would be winning it above all theknights of the world. He commended his very praiseworthy and gallant resolution, but admonished him to proceed with greater caution in encountering dangers, because his life did not belong to him, but to all those who had need of him toprotect and aid them in their misfortunes. "There's where it is, what I abominate, Senor Samson, " said Sancho here; "mymaster will attack a hundred armed men as a greedy boy would half a dozenmelons. Body of the world, senor bachelor! there is a time to attack and a time toretreat, and it is not to be always 'Santiago, and close Spain!' Moreover, I haveheard it said (and I think by my master himself, if I remember rightly) that themean of valour lies between the extremes of cowardice and rashness; and if thatbe so, I don't want him to fly without having good reason, or to attack when theodds make it better not. But, above all things, I warn my master that if he is totake me with him it must be on the condition that he is to do all the fighting, andthat I am not to be called upon to do anything except what concerns keeping himclean and comfortable; in this I will dance attendance on him readily; but toexpect me to draw sword, even against rascally churls of the hatchet and hood, isidle. I don't set up to be a fighting man, Senor Samson, but only the best andmost loyal squire that ever served knight-errant; and if my master Don Quixote, inconsideration of my many faithful services, is pleased to give me some island ofthe many his worship says one may stumble on in these parts, I will take it as agreat favour; and if he does not give it to me, I was born like everyone else, and aman must not live in dependence on anyone except God; and what is more, mybread will taste as well, and perhaps even better, without a government than if Iwere a governor; and how do I know but that in these governments the devil mayhave prepared some trip for me, to make me lose my footing and fall and knockmy grinders out? Sancho I was born and Sancho I mean to die. But for all that, ifheaven were to make me a fair offer of an island or something else of the kind, without much trouble and without much risk, I am not such a fool as to refuse it;for they say, too, 'when they offer thee a heifer, run with a halter; and 'when goodluck comes to thee, take it in. '""Brother Sancho, " said Carrasco, "you have spoken like a professor; but, for allthat, put your trust in God and in Senor Don Quixote, for he will give you akingdom, not to say an island. ""It is all the same, be it more or be it less, " replied Sancho; "though I can tellSenor Carrasco that my master would not throw the kingdom he might give meinto a sack all in holes; for I have felt my own pulse and I find myself soundenough to rule kingdoms and govern islands; and I have before now told mymaster as much. ""Take care, Sancho, " said Samson; "honours change manners, and perhaps whenyou find yourself a governor you won't know the mother that bore you. ""That may hold good of those that are born in the ditches, " said Sancho, "not ofthose who have the fat of an old Christian four fingers deep on their souls, as Ihave. Nay, only look at my disposition, is that likely to show ingratitude toanyone?""God grant it, " said Don Quixote; "we shall see when the government comes;and I seem to see it already. "He then begged the bachelor, if he were a poet, to do him the favour ofcomposing some verses for him conveying the farewell he meant to take of hislady Dulcinea del Toboso, and to see that a letter of her name was placed at thebeginning of each line, so that, at the end of the verses, "Dulcinea del Toboso"might be read by putting together the first letters. The bachelor replied thatalthough he was not one of the famous poets of Spain, who were, they said, onlythree and a half, he would not fail to compose the required verses; though he sawa great difficulty in the task, as the letters which made up the name wereseventeen; so, if he made four ballad stanzas of four lines each, there would be aletter over, and if he made them of five, what they called decimas or redondillas, there were three letters short; nevertheless he would try to drop a letter as well ashe could, so that the name "Dulcinea del Toboso" might be got into four balladstanzas. "It must be, by some means or other, " said Don Quixote, "for unless the namestands there plain and manifest, no woman would believe the verses were madefor her. "They agreed upon this, and that the departure should take place in three daysfrom that time. Don Quixote charged the bachelor to keep it a secret, especiallyfrom the curate and Master Nicholas, and from his niece and the housekeeper, lest they should prevent the execution of his praiseworthy and valiant purpose. Carrasco promised all, and then took his leave, charging Don Quixote to informhim of his good or evil fortunes whenever he had an opportunity; and thus theybade each other farewell, and Sancho went away to make the necessarypreparations for their expedition. CHAPTER V. OF THE SHREWD AND DROLL CONVERSATION THAT PASSEDBETWEEN SANCHO PANZA AND HIS WIFE TERESA PANZA, ANDOTHER MATTERS WORTHY OF BEING DULY RECORDEDThe translator of this history, when he comes to write this fifth chapter, saysthat he considers it apocryphal, because in it Sancho Panza speaks in a styleunlike that which might have been expected from his limited intelligence, and saysthings so subtle that he does not think it possible he could have conceived them;however, desirous of doing what his task imposed upon him, he was unwilling toleave it untranslated, and therefore he went on to say:Sancho came home in such glee and spirits that his wife noticed his happiness abowshot off, so much so that it made her ask him, "What have you got, Sanchofriend, that you are so glad?"To which he replied, "Wife, if it were God's will, I should be very glad not to beso well pleased as I show myself. ""I don't understand you, husband, " said she, "and I don't know what you meanby saying you would be glad, if it were God's will, not to be well pleased; for, foolas I am, I don't know how one can find pleasure in not having it. ""Hark ye, Teresa, " replied Sancho, "I am glad because I have made up my mindto go back to the service of my master Don Quixote, who means to go out a thirdtime to seek for adventures; and I am going with him again, for my necessitieswill have it so, and also the hope that cheers me with the thought that I may findanother hundred crowns like those we have spent; though it makes me sad tohave to leave thee and the children; and if God would be pleased to let me havemy daily bread, dry-shod and at home, without taking me out into the byways andcross-roads--and he could do it at small cost by merely willing it--it is clear myhappiness would be more solid and lasting, for the happiness I have is mingledwith sorrow at leaving thee; so that I was right in saying I would be glad, if itwere God's will, not to be well pleased. ""Look here, Sancho, " said Teresa; "ever since you joined on to a knight-errantyou talk in such a roundabout way that there is no understanding you. ""It is enough that God understands me, wife, " replied Sancho; "for he is theunderstander of all things; that will do; but mind, sister, you must look to Dapplecarefully for the next three days, so that he may be fit to take arms; double hisfeed, and see to the pack-saddle and other harness, for it is not to a wedding weare bound, but to go round the world, and play at give and take with giants anddragons and monsters, and hear hissings and roarings and bellowings andhowlings; and even all this would be lavender, if we had not to reckon withYanguesans and enchanted Moors. ""I know well enough, husband, " said Teresa, "that squires-errant don't eat theirbread for nothing, and so I will be always praying to our Lord to deliver youspeedily from all that hard fortune. ""I can tell you, wife, " said Sancho, "if I did not expect to see myself governor ofan island before long, I would drop down dead on the spot. ""Nay, then, husband, " said Teresa; "let the hen live, though it be with her pip, live, and let the devil take all the governments in the world; you came out of yourmother's womb without a government, you have lived until now without agovernment, and when it is God's will you will go, or be carried, to your gravewithout a government. How many there are in the world who live without agovernment, and continue to live all the same, and are reckoned in the number ofthe people. The best sauce in the world is hunger, and as the poor are neverwithout that, they always eat with a relish. But mind, Sancho, if by good luck youshould find yourself with some government, don't forget me and your children. Remember that Sanchico is now full fifteen, and it is right he should go to school, if his uncle the abbot has a mind to have him trained for the Church. Consider, too, that your daughter Mari-Sancha will not die of grief if we marry her; for Ihave my suspicions that she is as eager to get a husband as you to get agovernment; and, after all, a daughter looks better ill married than well whored. ""By my faith, " replied Sancho, "if God brings me to get any sort of agovernment, I intend, wife, to make such a high match for Mari-Sancha that therewill be no approaching her without calling her 'my lady. ""Nay, Sancho, " returned Teresa; "marry her to her equal, that is the safest plan;for if you put her out of wooden clogs into high-heeled shoes, out of her greyflannel petticoat into hoops and silk gowns, out of the plain 'Marica' and 'thou, 'into 'Dona So-and-so' and 'my lady, ' the girl won't know where she is, and at everyturn she will fall into a thousand blunders that will show the thread of her coarsehomespun stuff. ""Tut, you fool, " said Sancho; "it will be only to practise it for two or three years;and then dignity and decorum will fit her as easily as a glove; and if not, whatmatter? Let her he 'my lady, ' and never mind what happens. ""Keep to your own station, Sancho, " replied Teresa; "don't try to raise yourselfhigher, and bear in mind the proverb that says, 'wipe the nose of your neigbbour'sson, and take him into your house. ' A fine thing it would be, indeed, to marry ourMaria to some great count or grand gentleman, who, when the humour took him, would abuse her and call her clown-bred and clodhopper's daughter and spinningwench. I have not been bringing up my daughter for that all this time, I can tellyou, husband. Do you bring home money, Sancho, and leave marrying her to mycare; there is Lope Tocho, Juan Tocho's son, a stout, sturdy young fellow that weknow, and I can see he does not look sour at the girl; and with him, one of ourown sort, she will be well married, and we shall have her always under our eyes, and be all one

family, parents and children, grandchildren and sons-in-law, andthe peace and blessing of God will dwell among us; so don't you go marrying herin those courts and grand palaces where they won't know what to make of her, orshe what to make of herself. ""Why, you idiot and wife for Barabbas, " said Sancho, "what do you mean bytrying, without why or wherefore, to keep me from marrying my daughter to onewho will give me grandchildren that will be called 'your lordship'? Look ye, Teresa, I have always heard my elders say that he who does not know how to takeadvantage of luck when it comes to him, has no right to complain if it gives himthe go-by; and now that it is knocking at our door, it will not do to shut it out; letus go with the favouring breeze that blows upon us. "It is this sort of talk, and what Sancho says lower down, that made thetranslator of the history say he considered this chapter apocryphal. "Don't you see, you animal, " continued Sancho, "that it will be well for me todrop into some profitable government that will lift us out of the mire, and marryMari-Sancha to whom I like; and you yourself will find yourself called 'DonaTeresa Panza, ' and sitting in church on a fine carpet and cushions and draperies, in spite and in defiance of all the born ladies of the town? No, stay as you are, growing neither greater nor less, like a tapestry figure--Let us say no more aboutit, for Sanchica shall be a countess, say what you will. ""Are you sure of all you say, husband?" replied Teresa. "Well, for all that, I amafraid this rank of countess for my daughter will be her ruin. You do as you like, make a duchess or a princess of her, but I can tell you it will not be with my willand consent. I was always a lover of equality, brother, and I can't bear to seepeople give themselves airs without any right. They called me Teresa at mybaptism, a plain, simple name, without any additions or tags or fringes of Dons orDonas; Cascajo was my father's name, and as I am your wife, I am called TeresaPanza, though by right I ought to be called Teresa Cascajo; but 'kings go wherelaws like, ' and I am content with this name without having the 'Don' put on top ofit to make it so heavy that I cannot carry it; and I don't want to make people talkabout me when they see me go dressed like a countess or governor's wife; for theywill say at once, 'See what airs the slut gives herself! Only yesterday she wasalways spinning flax, and used to go to mass with the tail of her petticoat over herhead instead of a mantle, and there she goes to-day in a hooped gown with herbroaches and airs, as if we didn't know her!' If God keeps me in my seven senses, or five, or whatever number I have, I am not going to bring myself to such a pass;go you, brother, and be a government or an island man, and swagger as much asyou like; for by the soul of my mother, neither my daughter nor I are going to stira step from our village; a respectable woman should have a broken leg and keepat home; and to be busy at something is a virtuous damsel's holiday; be off toyour adventures along with your Don Quixote, and leave us to our misadventures, for God will mend them for us according as we deserve it. I don't know, I'm sure, who fixed the 'Don' to him, what neither his father nor grandfather ever had. ""I declare thou hast a devil of some sort in thy body!" said Sancho. "God helpthee, what a lot of things thou hast strung together, one after the other, withouthead or tail! What have Cascajo, and the broaches and the proverbs and the airs, to do with what I say? Look here, fool and dolt (for so I may call you, when youdon't understand my words, and run away from good fortune), if I had said thatmy daughter was to throw herself down from a tower, or go roaming the world, asthe Infanta Dona Urraca wanted to do, you would be right in not giving way tomy will; but if in an instant, in less than the twinkling of an eye, I put the 'Don'and 'my lady' on her back, and take her out of the stubble, and place her under acanopy, on a dais, and on a couch, with more velvet cushions than all theAlmohades of Morocco ever had in their family, why won't you consent and fall inwith my wishes?""Do you know why, husband?" replied Teresa; "because of the proverb that says'who covers thee, discovers thee. ' At the poor man people only throw a hastyglance; on the rich man they fix their eyes; and if the said rich man was once on atime poor, it is then there is the sneering and the tattle and spite of backbiters;and in the streets here they swarm as thick as bees. ""Look here, Teresa, " said Sancho, "and listen to what I am now going to say toyou; maybe you never heard it in all your life; and I do not give my own notions, for what I am about to say are the opinions of his reverence the preacher, whopreached in this town last Lent, and who said, if I remember rightly, that allthings present that our eyes behold, bring themselves before us, and remain andfix themselves on our memory much better and more forcibly than things past. "These observations which Sancho makes here are the other ones on account ofwhich the translator says he regards this chapter as apocryphal, inasmuch as theyare beyond Sancho's capacity. "Whence it arises, " he continued, "that when we see any person well dressedand making a figure with rich garments and retinue of servants, it seems to leadand impel us perforce to respect him, though memory may at the same momentrecall to us some lowly condition in which we have seen him, but which, whetherit may have been poverty or low birth, being now a thing of the past, has noexistence; while the only thing that has any existence is what we see before us;and if this person whom fortune has raised from his original lowly state (thesewere the very words the padre used) to his present height of prosperity, be wellbred, generous, courteous to all, without seeking to vie with those whose nobilityis of ancient date, depend upon it, Teresa, no one will remember what he was, and everyone will respect what he is, except indeed the envious, from whom nofair fortune is safe. ""I do not understand you, husband, " replied Teresa; "do as you like, and don'tbreak my head with any more speechifying and rethoric; and if you have revolvedto do what you say-""Resolved, you should say, woman, " said Sancho, "not revolved. ""Don't set yourself to wrangle with me, husband, " said Teresa; "I speak as Godpleases, and don't deal in out-of-the-way phrases; and I say if you are bent uponhaving a government, take your son Sancho with you, and teach him from thistime on how to hold a government; for sons ought to inherit and learn the tradesof their fathers. ""As soon as I have the government, " said Sancho, "I will send for him by post, and I will send thee money, of which I shall have no lack, for there is never anywant of people to lend it to governors when they have not got it; and do thoudress him so as to hide what he is and make him look what he is to be. ""You send the money, " said Teresa, "and I'll dress him up for you as fine as youplease. ""Then we are agreed that our daughter is to be a countess, " said Sancho. "The day that I see her a countess, " replied Teresa, "it will be the same to me asif I was burying her; but once more I say do as you please, for we women are bornto this burden of being obedient to our husbands, though they be dogs;" and withthis she began to weep in earnest, as if she already saw Sanchica dead and buried. Sancho consoled her by saying that though he must make her a countess, hewould put it off as long as possible. Here their conversation came to an end, andSancho went back to see Don Quixote, and make arrangements for theirdeparture. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 20. Chapters 6-10Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER VI. OF WHAT TOOK PLACE BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS NIECEAND HOUSEKEEPER; ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT CHAPTERSIN THE WHOLE HISTORYWhile Sancho Panza and his wife, Teresa Cascajo, held the above irrelevantconversation, Don Quixote's niece and housekeeper were not idle, for by athousand signs they began to perceive that their uncle and master meant to givethem the slip the third time, and once more betake himself to his, for them, ill-errant chivalry. They strove by all the means in their power to divert him fromsuch an unlucky scheme; but it was all preaching in the desert and hammeringcold iron. Nevertheless, among many other representations made to him, thehousekeeper said to him, "In truth, master, if you do not keep still and stay quietat home, and give over roaming mountains and valleys like a troubled spirit, looking for what they say are called adventures, but what I call misfortunes, Ishall have to make complaint to God and the king with loud supplication to sendsome remedy. "To which Don Quixote replied, "What answer God will give to your complaints, housekeeper, I know not, nor what his Majesty will answer either; I only knowthat if I were king I should decline to answer the numberless silly petitions theypresent every day; for one of the greatest among the many troubles kings have isbeing obliged to listen to all and answer all, and therefore I should be sorry thatany affairs of mine should worry him. "Whereupon the housekeeper said, "Tell us, senor, at his Majesty's court arethere no knights?""There are, " replied Don Quixote, "and plenty of them; and it is right thereshould be, to set off the dignity of the prince, and for the greater glory of theking's majesty. ""Then might not your worship, " said she, "be one of those that, without stirringa step, serve their king and lord in his court?""Recollect, my friend, " said Don Quixote, "all knights cannot be courtiers, norcan all courtiers be knights-errant, nor need they be. There must be all sorts in theworld; and though we may be all knights, there is a great difference between oneand another; for the courtiers, without quitting their chambers, or the threshold ofthe court, range the world over by looking at a map, without its costing them afarthing, and without suffering heat or cold, hunger or thirst; but we, the trueknights-errant, measure the whole earth with our own feet, exposed to the sun, tothe cold, to the air, to the inclemencies of heaven, by day and night, on foot andon horseback; nor do we only know enemies in pictures, but in their own realshapes; and at all risks and on all occasions we attack them, without any regardto childish points or rules of single combat, whether one has or has not a shorterlance or sword, whether one carries relics or any secret contrivance about him, whether or not the sun is to be divided and portioned out, and other niceties ofthe sort that are observed in set combats of man to man, that you know nothingabout, but I do. And you must know besides, that the true knight-errant, thoughhe may see ten giants, that not only touch the clouds with their heads but piercethem, and that go, each of them, on two tall towers by way of legs, and whosearms are like the masts of mighty ships, and each eye like a great mill-wheel, andglowing brighter than a glass furnace, must not on any account be dismayed bythem. On the contrary, he must attack and fall upon them with a gallant bearingand a fearless heart, and, if possible, vanquish and destroy them, even thoughthey have for armour the shells of a certain fish, that they say are harder thandiamonds, and in place of swords wield trenchant blades of Damascus steel, orclubs studded with spikes also of steel, such as I have more than once seen. Allthis I say, housekeeper, that you may see the difference there is between the onesort of knight and the other; and it would be well if there were no prince who didnot set a higher value on this second, or more properly speaking first, kind ofknights-errant; for, as we read in their histories, there have been some amongthem who have been the salvation, not merely of one kingdom, but of many. ""Ah, senor, " here exclaimed the niece, "remember that all this you are sayingabout knights-errant is fable and fiction; and their histories, if indeed they werenot burned, would deserve, each of them, to have a sambenito put on it, or somemark by which it might be known as infamous and a corrupter of good manners. ""By the God that gives me life, " said Don Quixote, "if thou wert not my fullniece, being daughter of my own sister, I would inflict a chastisement upon theefor the blasphemy thou hast uttered that all the world should ring with. What! canit be that a young hussy that hardly knows how to handle a dozen lace-bobbinsdares to wag her tongue and criticise the histories of knights-errant? What wouldSenor Amadis say if he heard of such a thing? He, however, no doubt wouldforgive thee, for he was the most humble-minded and courteous knight of histime, and moreover a great protector of damsels; but some there are that mighthave heard thee, and it would not have been well for thee in that case; for theyare not all courteous or mannerly; some are ill-conditioned scoundrels; nor is iteveryone that calls himself a gentleman, that is so in all respects; some are gold, others pinchbeck, and all look like gentlemen, but not all can stand thetouchstone of truth. There are men of low rank who strain themselves to burstingto pass for gentlemen, and high gentlemen who, one would fancy, were dying topass for men of low rank; the former raise themselves by their ambition or bytheir virtues, the latter debase themselves by their lack of spirit or by their vices;and one has need of experience and discernment to distinguish these two kinds ofgentlemen, so much alike in name and so different in conduct. ""God bless me!" said the niece, "that you should know so much, uncle--enough, if need be, to get up into a pulpit and go preach in the streets--and yet that youshould fall into a delusion so great and a folly so manifest as to try to makeyourself out vigorous when you are old, strong when you are sickly, able to putstraight what is crooked when you yourself are bent by age, and, above all, acaballero when you are not one; for though gentlefolk may be so, poor men arenothing of the kind!""There is a great deal of truth in what you say, niece, " returned Don Quixote, "and I could tell you somewhat about birth that would astonish you; but, not tomix up things human and divine, I refrain. Look you, my dears, all the lineages inthe world (attend to what I am saying) can be reduced to four sorts, which arethese: those that had humble beginnings, and went on spreading and extendingthemselves until they attained surpassing greatness; those that had greatbeginnings and maintained them, and still maintain and uphold the greatness oftheir origin; those, again, that from a great beginning have ended in a point like apyramid, having reduced and lessened their original greatness till it has come tonought, like the point of a pyramid, which, relatively to its base or foundation, isnothing; and then there are those--and it is they that are the most numerous--that have had neither an illustrious beginning nor a remarkable mid-course, andso will have an end without a name, like an ordinary plebeian line. Of the first, those that had an humble origin and rose to the greatness they still preserve, theOttoman house may serve as an example, which from an humble and lowlyshepherd, its founder, has reached the height at which we now see it. Forexamples of the second sort of lineage, that began with greatness and maintains itstill without adding to it, there are the many princes who have inherited thedignity, and maintain themselves in their inheritance, without increasing ordiminishing it, keeping peacefully within the limits of their states. Of those thatbegan great and ended in a point, there are thousands of examples, for all thePharaohs and Ptolemies of Egypt, the Caesars of Rome, and the whole herd (if Imay such a word to them) of countless princes, monarchs, lords, Medes, Assyrians, Persians, Greeks, and barbarians, all these lineages and lordships haveended in a point and come to nothing, they themselves as well as their founders, for it would be impossible now to find one of their descendants, and, even shouldwe find one, it would be in some lowly and humble condition. Of plebeianlineages I have nothing to say, save that they merely serve to swell the number ofthose that live, without any eminence to entitle them to any fame or praisebeyond this. From all I have said I would have you gather, my poor innocents, that great is the confusion among lineages, and that only those are seen to begreat and illustrious that show themselves so by the virtue, wealth, and generosityof their possessors. I have said virtue, wealth, and generosity, because a greatman who is vicious will be a great example of vice, and a rich man who is notgenerous will be merely a miserly beggar; for the possessor of wealth is not madehappy by possessing it, but by spending it, and not by spending as he pleases, butby knowing how to spend it well. The poor gentleman has no way of showing thathe is a gentleman but by virtue, by being affable, well-bred, courteous, gentle-mannered, and kindly, not haughty, arrogant, or censorious, but above all bybeing charitable; for by two maravedis given with a cheerful heart to the poor, hewill show himself as generous as he who distributes alms with bell-ringing, and noone that perceives him to be endowed with the virtues I have named, even thoughhe know him not, will fail to recognise and set him down as one of good blood;and it would be strange were it not so; praise has ever been the reward of virtue, and those who are virtuous cannot fail to receive commendation. There are tworoads, my daughters, by which men may reach wealth and honours; one is that ofletters, the other that of arms. I have more of arms than of letters in mycomposition, and, judging by my inclination to arms, was born under theinfluence of the planet Mars. I am, therefore, in a measure constrained to followthat road, and by it I must travel in spite of all the world, and it will be labour invain for you to urge me to resist what heaven wills, fate ordains, reason requires, and, above all, my own inclination favours; for knowing as I do the countless toilsthat are the accompaniments of knight-errantry, I know, too, the infinite blessingsthat are attained by it; I know that the path of virtue is very narrow, and the roadof vice broad and spacious; I know their ends and goals are different, for thebroad and easy road of vice ends in death, and the narrow and toilsome one ofvirtue in life, and not transitory life, but in that which has no end; I know, as ourgreat Castilian poet says, that-It is by rugged paths like these they goThat scale the heights of immortality, Unreached by those that falter here below. ""Woe is me!" exclaimed the niece, "my lord is a poet, too! He knows everything, and he can do everything; I will bet, if he chose to turn mason, he could make ahouse as easily as a cage. ""I can tell you, niece, " replied Don Quixote, "if these chivalrous thoughts did notengage all my faculties, there would be nothing that I could not do, nor any sortof knickknack that would not come from my hands, particularly cages and tooth-picks. "At this moment there came a knocking at the door, and when they asked whowas there, Sancho Panza made answer that it was he. The instant the housekeeperknew who it was, she ran to hide herself so as not to see him; in such abhorrencedid she hold him. The niece let him in, and his master Don Quixote came forwardto receive him with open arms, and the pair shut themselves up in his room, where they had another conversation not inferior to the previous one. CHAPTER VII. OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE, TOGETHER WITH OTHER VERY NOTABLE INCIDENTSThe instant the housekeeper saw Sancho Panza shut himself in with her master, she guessed what they were about; and suspecting that the result of theconsultation would be a resolve to undertake a third sally, she seized her mantle, and in deep anxiety and distress, ran to find the bachelor Samson Carrasco, as shethought that, being a well-spoken man, and a new friend of her master's, he mightbe able to persuade him to give up any such crazy notion. She found him pacingthe patio of his house, and, perspiring and flurried, she fell at his feet the momentshe saw him. Carrasco, seeing how distressed and overcome she was, said to her, "What isthis, mistress housekeeper? What has happened to you? One would think youheart-broken. ""Nothing, Senor Samson, " said she, "only that my master is breaking out, plainlybreaking out. ""Whereabouts is he breaking out, senora?" asked Samson; "has any part of hisbody burst?""He is only breaking out at the door of his madness, " she replied; "I mean, dearsenor bachelor, that he is going to break out again (and this will be the third time)to hunt all over the world for what he calls ventures, though I can't make out whyhe gives them that name. The first time he was brought back to us slung acrossthe back of an ass, and belaboured all over; and the second time he came in anox-cart, shut up in a cage, in which he persuaded himself he was enchanted, andthe poor creature was in such a state that the mother that bore him would nothave known him; lean, yellow, with his eyes sunk deep in the cells of his skull; sothat to bring him round again, ever so little, cost me more than six hundred eggs, as God knows, and all the world, and my hens too, that won't let me tell a lie. ""That I can well believe, " replied the bachelor, "for they are so good and so fat, and so well-bred, that they would not say one thing for another, though they wereto burst for it. In short then, mistress housekeeper, that is all, and there isnothing the matter, except what it is feared Don Quixote may do?""No, senor, " said she. "Well then, " returned the bachelor, "don't be uneasy, but go home in peace; getme ready something hot for breakfast, and while you are on the way say theprayer of Santa Apollonia, that is if you know it; for I will come presently and youwill see miracles. ""Woe is me, " cried the housekeeper, "is it the prayer of Santa Apollonia youwould have me say? That would do if it was the toothache my master had; but itis in the brains, what he has got. ""I know what I am saying, mistress housekeeper; go, and don't set yourself toargue with me, for you know I am a bachelor of Salamanca, and one can't be moreof a bachelor than that, " replied Carrasco; and with this the housekeeper retired, and the bachelor went to look for the curate, and arrange with him what will betold in its proper place. While Don Quixote and Sancho were shut up together, they had a discussionwhich the history records with great precision and scrupulous exactness. Sanchosaid to his master, "Senor, I have educed my wife to let me go with your worshipwherever you choose to take me. ""Induced, you should say, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "not educed. ""Once or twice, as well as I remember, " replied Sancho, "I have begged of yourworship not to mend my words, if so be as you understand what I mean by them;and if you don't understand them to say 'Sancho, ' or 'devil, ' 'I don't understandthee; and if I don't make my meaning plain, then you may correct me, for I am sofocile-""I don't understand thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote at once; "for I know notwhat 'I am so focile' means. ""'So focile' means I am so much that way, " replied Sancho. "I understand thee still less now, " said Don Quixote. "Well, if you can't understand me, " said Sancho, "I don't know how to put it; Iknow no more, God help me. ""Oh, now I have hit it, " said Don Quixote; "thou wouldst say thou art so docile, tractable, and gentle that thou wilt take what I say to thee, and submit to what Iteach thee. ""I would bet, " said Sancho, "that from the very first you understood me, andknew what I meant, but you wanted to put me out that you might hear me makeanother couple of dozen blunders. ""May be so, " replied Don Quixote; "but to come to the point, what does Teresasay?""Teresa says, " replied Sancho, "that I should make sure with your worship, and'let papers speak and beards be still, ' for 'he who binds does not wrangle, ' sinceone 'take' is better than two 'I'll give thee's;' and I say a woman's advice is no greatthing, and he who won't take it is a fool. ""And so say I, " said Don Quixote; "continue, Sancho my friend; go on; you talkpearls to-day. ""The fact is, " continued Sancho, "that, as your worship knows better than I do, we are all of us liable to death, and to-day we are, and to-morrow we are not, andthe lamb goes as soon as the sheep, and nobody can promise himself more hoursof life in this world than God may be pleased to give him; for death is deaf, andwhen it comes to knock at our life's door, it is always urgent, and neither prayers, nor struggles, nor sceptres, nor mitres, can keep it back, as common talk andreport say, and as they tell us from the pulpits every day. ""All that is very true, " said Don Quixote; "but I cannot make out what thou artdriving at. ""What I am driving at, " said Sancho, "is that your worship settle some fixedwages for me, to be paid monthly while I am in your service, and that the same hepaid me out of your estate; for I don't care to stand on rewards which either comelate, or ill, or never at all; God help me with my own. In short, I would like toknow what I am to get, be it much or little; for the hen will lay on one egg, andmany littles make a much, and so long as one gains something there is nothinglost. To be sure, if it should happen (what I neither believe nor expect) that yourworship were to give me that island you have promised me, I am not so ungratefulnor so grasping but that I would be willing to have the revenue of such islandvalued and stopped out of my wages in due promotion. ""Sancho, my friend, " replied Don Quixote, "sometimes proportion may be asgood as promotion. ""I see, " said Sancho; "I'll bet I ought to have said proportion, and not promotion;but it is no matter, as your worship has understood me. ""And so well understood, " returned Don Quixote, "that I have seen into thedepths of thy thoughts, and know the mark thou art shooting at with thecountless shafts of thy proverbs. Look here, Sancho, I would readily fix thy wagesif I had ever found any instance in the histories of the knights-errant to show orindicate, by the slightest hint, what their squires used to get monthly or yearly;but I have read all or the best part of their histories, and I cannot rememberreading of any knight-errant having assigned fixed wages to his squire; I onlyknow that they all served on reward, and that when they least expected it, if goodluck attended their masters, they found themselves recompensed with an island orsomething equivalent to it, or at the least they were left with a title and lordship. If with these hopes and additional inducements you, Sancho, please to return tomy service, well and good; but to suppose that I am going to disturb or unhingethe ancient usage of knight-errantry, is all nonsense. And so, my Sancho, get youback to your house and explain my intentions to your Teresa, and if she likes andyou like to be on reward with me, bene quidem; if not, we remain friends; for ifthe pigeon-house does not lack food, it will not lack pigeons; and bear in mind, my son, that a good hope is better than a bad holding, and a good grievancebetter than a bad compensation. I speak in this way, Sancho, to show you that Ican shower down proverbs just as well as yourself; and in short, I mean to say, and I do say, that if you don't like to come on reward with me, and run the samechance that I run, God be with you and make a saint of you; for I shall find plentyof squires more obedient and painstaking, and not so thickheaded or talkative asyou are. "When Sancho heard his master's firm, resolute language, a cloud came over thesky with him and the wings of his heart drooped, for he had made sure that hismaster would not go without him for all the wealth of the world; and as he stoodthere dumbfoundered and moody, Samson Carrasco came in with the housekeeperand niece, who were anxious to hear by what arguments he was about to dissuadetheir master from going to seek adventures. The arch wag Samson came forward, and embracing him as he had done before, said with a loud voice, "O flower ofknight-errantry! O shining light of arms! O honour and mirror of the Spanishnation! may God Almighty in his infinite power grant that any person or persons, who would impede or hinder thy third sally, may find no way out of the labyrinthof their schemes, nor ever accomplish what they most desire!" And then, turningto the housekeeper, he said, "Mistress housekeeper may just as well give oversaying the prayer of Santa Apollonia, for I know it is the positive determination ofthe spheres that Senor Don Quixote shall proceed to put into execution his newand lofty designs; and I should lay a heavy burden on my conscience did I noturge and persuade this knight not to keep the might of his strong arm and thevirtue of his valiant spirit any longer curbed and checked, for by his inactivity heis defrauding the world of the redress of wrongs, of the protection of orphans, ofthe honour of virgins, of the aid of widows, and of the support of wives, andother matters of this kind appertaining, belonging, proper and peculiar to theorder of knight-errantry. On, then, my lord Don Quixote, beautiful and brave, letyour worship and highness set out to-day rather than to-morrow; and if anythingbe needed for the execution of your purpose, here am I ready in person and purseto supply the want; and were it requisite to attend your magnificence as squire, Ishould esteem it the happiest good fortune. "At this, Don Quixote, turning to Sancho, said, "Did I not tell thee, Sancho, therewould be squires enough and to spare for me? See now who offers to become one;no less than the illustrious bachelor Samson Carrasco, the perpetual joy anddelight of the courts of the Salamancan schools, sound in body, discreet, patientunder heat or cold, hunger or thirst, with all the qualifications requisite to make aknight-errant's squire! But heaven forbid that, to gratify my own inclination, Ishould shake or shatter this pillar of letters and vessel of the sciences, and cutdown this towering palm of the fair and liberal arts. Let this new Samson remainin his own country, and, bringing honour to it, bring honour at the same time onthe grey heads of his venerable parents; for I will be content with any squire thatcomes to hand, as Sancho does not deign to accompany me. ""I do deign, " said Sancho, deeply moved and with tears in his eyes; "it shall notbe said of me, master mine, " he continued, "'the bread eaten and the companydispersed. ' Nay, I come of no ungrateful stock, for all the world knows, butparticularly my own town, who the Panzas from whom I am descended were; and, what is more, I know and have learned, by many good words and deeds, yourworship's desire to show me favour; and if I have been bargaining more or lessabout my wages, it was only to please my wife, who, when she sets herself topress a point, no hammer drives the hoops of a cask as she drives one to do whatshe wants; but, after all, a man must be a man, and a woman a woman; and as Iam a man anyhow, which I can't deny, I will be one in my own house too, let whowill take it amiss; and so there's nothing more to do but for your worship to makeyour will with its codicil in such a way that it can't be provoked, and let us set outat once, to save Senor Samson's soul from suffering, as he says his conscienceobliges him to persuade your worship to sally out upon the world a third time; soI offer again to serve your worship faithfully and loyally, as well and better thanall the squires that served knights-errant in times past or present. "The bachelor was filled with amazement when he heard Sancho's phraseologyand style of talk, for though he had read the first part of his master's history henever thought that he could be so droll as he was there described; but now, hearing him talk of a "will and codicil that could not be provoked, " instead of "willand codicil that could not be revoked, " he believed all he had read of him, and sethim down as one of the greatest simpletons of modern times; and he said tohimself that two such lunatics as master and man the world had never seen. Infine, Don Quixote and Sancho embraced one another and made friends, and bythe advice and with the approval of the great Carrasco, who was now their oracle, it was arranged that their departure should take place three days thence, by whichtime they could have all that was requisite for the journey ready, and procure aclosed helmet, which Don Quixote said he must by all means take. Samson offeredhim one, as he knew a friend of his who had it would not refuse it to him, thoughit was more dingy with rust and mildew than bright and clean like burnishedsteel. The curses which both housekeeper and niece poured out on the bachelor werepast counting; they tore their hair, they clawed their faces, and in the style of thehired mourners that were once in fashion, they raised a lamentation over thedeparture of their master and uncle, as if it had been his death. Samson'sintention in persuading him to sally forth once more was to do what the historyrelates farther on; all by the advice of the curate and barber, with whom he hadpreviously discussed the subject. Finally, then, during those three days, DonQuixote and Sancho provided themselves with what they considered necessary, and Sancho having pacified his wife, and Don Quixote his niece and housekeeper, at nightfall, unseen by anyone except the bachelor, who thought fit to accompanythem half a league out of the village, they set out for El Toboso, Don Quixote onhis good Rocinante and Sancho on his old Dapple, his alforjas furnished withcertain matters in the way of victuals, and his purse with money that Don Quixotegave him to meet emergencies. Samson embraced him, and entreated him to lethim hear of his good or evil fortunes, so that he might rejoice over the former orcondole with him over the latter, as the laws of friendship required. Don Quixotepromised him he would do so, and Samson returned to the village, and the othertwo took the road for the great city of El Toboso. CHAPTER VIII. WHEREIN IS RELATED WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAYTO SEE HIS LADY DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO"Blessed be Allah the all-powerful!" says Hamete Benengeli on beginning thiseighth chapter; "blessed be Allah!" he repeats three times; and he says he uttersthese thanksgivings at seeing that he has now got Don Quixote and Sancho fairlyafield, and that the readers of his delightful history may reckon that theachievements and humours of Don Quixote and his squire are now about to begin;and he urges them to forget the former chivalries of the ingenious gentleman andto fix their eyes on those that are to come, which now begin on the road to ElToboso, as the others began on the plains of Montiel; nor is it much that he asksin consideration of all he promises, and so he goes on to say:Don Quixote and Sancho were left alone, and the moment Samson took hisdeparture, Rocinante began to neigh, and Dapple to sigh, which, by both knightand squire, was accepted as a good sign and a very happy omen; though, if thetruth is to be told, the sighs and brays of Dapple were louder than the neighingsof the hack, from which Sancho inferred that his good fortune was to exceed andovertop that of his master, building, perhaps, upon some judicial astrology that hemay have known, though the history says nothing about it; all that can be said is, that when he stumbled or fell, he was heard to say he wished he had not comeout, for by stumbling or falling there was nothing to be got but a damaged shoe ora broken rib; and, fool as he was, he was not much astray in this. Said Don Quixote, "Sancho, my friend, night is drawing on upon us as we go, and more darkly than will allow us to reach El Toboso by daylight; for there I amresolved to go before I engage in another adventure, and there I shall obtain theblessing and generous permission of the peerless Dulcinea, with which permissionI expect and feel assured that I shall conclude and bring to a happy terminationevery perilous adventure; for nothing in life makes knights-errant more valorousthan finding themselves favoured by their ladies. ""So I believe, " replied Sancho; "but I think it will be difficult for your worship tospeak with her or see her, at any rate where you will be able to receive herblessing; unless, indeed, she throws it over the wall of the yard where I saw herthe time before, when I took her the letter that told of the follies and mad thingsyour worship was doing in the heart of Sierra Morena. ""Didst thou take that for a yard wall, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "where or atwhich thou sawest that never sufficiently extolled grace and beauty? It must havebeen the gallery, corridor, or portico of some rich and royal palace. ""It might have been all that, " returned Sancho, "but to me it looked like a wall, unless I am short of memory. ""At all events, let us go there, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "for, so that I see her, it is the same to me whether it be over a wall, or at a window, or through thechink of a door, or the grate of a garden; for any beam of the sun of her beautythat reaches my eyes will give light to my reason and strength to my heart, so thatI shall be unmatched and unequalled in wisdom and valour. ""Well, to tell the truth, senor, " said Sancho, "when I saw that sun of the ladyDulcinea del Toboso, it was not bright enough to throw out beams at all; it musthave been, that as her grace was sifting that wheat I told you of, the thick dustshe raised came before her face like a cloud and dimmed it. ""What! dost thou still persist, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "in saying, thinking, believing, and maintaining that my lady Dulcinea was sifting wheat, that being anoccupation and task entirely at variance with what is and should be theemployment of persons of distinction, who are constituted and reserved for otheravocations and pursuits that show their rank a bowshot off? Thou hast forgotten, O Sancho, those lines of our poet wherein he paints for us how, in their crystalabodes, those four nymphs employed themselves who rose from their loved Tagusand seated themselves in a verdant meadow to embroider those tissues which theingenious poet there describes to us, how they were worked and woven with goldand silk and pearls; and something of this sort must have been the employment ofmy lady when thou sawest her, only that the spite which some wicked enchanterseems to have against everything of mine changes all those things that give mepleasure, and turns them into shapes unlike their own; and so I fear that in thathistory of my achievements which they say is now in print, if haply its author wassome sage who is an enemy of mine, he will have put one thing for another, mingling a thousand lies with one truth, and amusing himself by relatingtransactions which have nothing to do with the sequence of a true history. Oenvy, root of all countless evils, and cankerworm of the virtues! All the vices, Sancho, bring some kind of pleasure with them; but envy brings nothing butirritation, bitterness, and rage. ""So I say too, " replied Sancho; "and I suspect in that legend or history of us thatthe bachelor Samson Carrasco told us he saw, my honour goes dragged in the dirt, knocked about, up and down, sweeping the streets, as they say. And yet, on thefaith of an honest man, I never spoke ill of any enchanter, and I am not so welloff that I am to be envied; to be sure, I am rather sly, and I have a certain spice ofthe rogue in me; but all is covered by the great cloak of my simplicity, alwaysnatural and never acted; and if I had no other merit save that I believe, as Ialways do, firmly and truly in God, and all the holy Roman Catholic Church holdsand believes, and that I am a mortal enemy of the Jews, the historians ought

tohave mercy on me and treat me well in their writings. But let them say what theylike; naked was I born, naked I find myself, I neither lose nor gain; nay, while Isee myself put into a book and passed on from hand to hand over the world, Idon't care a fig, let them say what they like of me. ""That, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote, "reminds me of what happened to afamous poet of our own day, who, having written a bitter satire against all thecourtesan ladies, did not insert or name in it a certain lady of whom it wasquestionable whether she was one or not. She, seeing she was not in the list of thepoet, asked him what he had seen in her that he did not include her in thenumber of the others, telling him he must add to his satire and put her in the newpart, or else look out for the consequences. The poet did as she bade him, and lefther without a shred of reputation, and she was satisfied by getting fame though itwas infamy. In keeping with this is what they relate of that shepherd who set fireto the famous temple of Diana, by repute one of the seven wonders of the world, and burned it with the sole object of making his name live in after ages; and, though it was forbidden to name him, or mention his name by word of mouth orin writing, lest the object of his ambition should be attained, nevertheless itbecame known that he was called Erostratus. And something of the same sort iswhat happened in the case of the great emperor Charles V and a gentleman inRome. The emperor was anxious to see that famous temple of the Rotunda, calledin ancient times the temple 'of all the gods, ' but now-a-days, by a betternomenclature, 'of all the saints, ' which is the best preserved building of all thoseof pagan construction in Rome, and the one which best sustains the reputation ofmighty works and magnificence of its founders. It is in the form of a half orange, of enormous dimensions, and well lighted, though no light penetrates it save thatwhich is admitted by a window, or rather round skylight, at the top; and it wasfrom this that the emperor examined the building. A Roman gentleman stood byhis side and explained to him the skilful construction and ingenuity of the vastfabric and its wonderful architecture, and when they had left the skylight he saidto the emperor, 'A thousand times, your Sacred Majesty, the impulse came uponme to seize your Majesty in my arms and fling myself down from yonder skylight, so as to leave behind me in the world a name that would last for ever. ' 'I amthankful to you for not carrying such an evil thought into effect, ' said theemperor, 'and I shall give you no opportunity in future of again putting yourloyalty to the test; and I therefore forbid you ever to speak to me or to be where Iam; and he followed up these words by bestowing a liberal bounty upon him. Mymeaning is, Sancho, that the desire of acquiring fame is a very powerful motive. What, thinkest thou, was it that flung Horatius in full armour down from thebridge into the depths of the Tiber? What burned the hand and arm of Mutius?What impelled Curtius to plunge into the deep burning gulf that opened in themidst of Rome? What, in opposition to all the omens that declared against him, made Julius Caesar cross the Rubicon? And to come to more modern examples, what scuttled the ships, and left stranded and cut off the gallant Spaniards underthe command of the most courteous Cortes in the New World? All these and avariety of other great exploits are, were and will be, the work of fame that mortalsdesire as a reward and a portion of the immortality their famous deeds deserve;though we Catholic Christians and knights-errant look more to that future glorythat is everlasting in the ethereal regions of heaven than to the vanity of the famethat is to be acquired in this present transitory life; a fame that, however long itmay last, must after all end with the world itself, which has its own appointedend. So that, O Sancho, in what we do we must not overpass the bounds whichthe Christian religion we profess has assigned to us. We have to slay pride ingiants, envy by generosity and nobleness of heart, anger by calmness ofdemeanour and equanimity, gluttony and sloth by the spareness of our diet andthe length of our vigils, lust and lewdness by the loyalty we preserve to thosewhom we have made the mistresses of our thoughts, indolence by traversing theworld in all directions seeking opportunities of making ourselves, besidesChristians, famous knights. Such, Sancho, are the means by which we reach thoseextremes of praise that fair fame carries with it. ""All that your worship has said so far, " said Sancho, "I have understood quitewell; but still I would be glad if your worship would dissolve a doubt for me, which has just this minute come into my mind. ""Solve, thou meanest, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "say on, in God's name, and Iwill answer as well as I can. ""Tell me, senor, " Sancho went on to say, "those Julys or Augusts, and all thoseventurous knights that you say are now dead--where are they now?""The heathens, " replied Don Quixote, "are, no doubt, in hell; the Christians, ifthey were good Christians, are either in purgatory or in heaven. ""Very good, " said Sancho; "but now I want to know--the tombs where thebodies of those great lords are, have they silver lamps before them, or are thewalls of their chapels ornamented with crutches, winding-sheets, tresses of hair, legs and eyes in wax? Or what are they ornamented with?"To which Don Quixote made answer: "The tombs of the heathens were generallysumptuous temples; the ashes of Julius Caesar's body were placed on the top of astone pyramid of vast size, which they now call in Rome Saint Peter's needle. Theemperor Hadrian had for a tomb a castle as large as a good-sized village, whichthey called the Moles Adriani, and is now the castle of St. Angelo in Rome. Thequeen Artemisia buried her husband Mausolus in a tomb which was reckoned oneof the seven wonders of the world; but none of these tombs, or of the many othersof the heathens, were ornamented with winding-sheets or any of those otherofferings and tokens that show that they who are buried there are saints. ""That's the point I'm coming to, " said Sancho; "and now tell me, which is thegreater work, to bring a dead man to life or to kill a giant?""The answer is easy, " replied Don Quixote; "it is a greater work to bring to life adead man. ""Now I have got you, " said Sancho; "in that case the fame of them who bring thedead to life, who give sight to the blind, cure cripples, restore health to the sick, and before whose tombs there are lamps burning, and whose chapels are filledwith devout folk on their knees adoring their relics be a better fame in this lifeand in the other than that which all the heathen emperors and knights-errant thathave ever been in the world have left or may leave behind them?""That I grant, too, " said Don Quixote. "Then this fame, these favours, these privileges, or whatever you call it, " saidSancho, "belong to the bodies and relics of the saints who, with the approbationand permission of our holy mother Church, have lamps, tapers, winding-sheets, crutches, pictures, eyes and legs, by means of which they increase devotion andadd to their own Christian reputation. Kings carry the bodies or relics of saints ontheir shoulders, and kiss bits of their bones, and enrich and adorn their oratoriesand favourite altars with them. ""What wouldst thou have me infer from all thou hast said, Sancho?" asked DonQuixote. "My meaning is, " said Sancho, "let us set about becoming saints, and we shallobtain more quickly the fair fame we are striving after; for you know, senor, yesterday or the day before yesterday (for it is so lately one may say so) theycanonised and beatified two little barefoot friars, and it is now reckoned thegreatest good luck to kiss or touch the iron chains with which they girt andtortured their bodies, and they are held in greater veneration, so it is said, thanthe sword of Roland in the armoury of our lord the King, whom God preserve. Sothat, senor, it is better to be an humble little friar of no matter what order, than avaliant knight-errant; with God a couple of dozen of penance lashings are of moreavail than two thousand lance-thrusts, be they given to giants, or monsters, ordragons. ""All that is true, " returned Don Quixote, "but we cannot all be friars, and manyare the ways by which God takes his own to heaven; chivalry is a religion, thereare sainted knights in glory. ""Yes, " said Sancho, "but I have heard say that there are more friars in heaventhan knights-errant. ""That, " said Don Quixote, "is because those in religious orders are morenumerous than knights. ""The errants are many, " said Sancho. "Many, " replied Don Quixote, "but few they who deserve the name of knights. "With these, and other discussions of the same sort, they passed that night andthe following day, without anything worth mention happening to them, whereatDon Quixote was not a little dejected; but at length the next day, at daybreak, they descried the great city of El Toboso, at the sight of which Don Quixote'sspirits rose and Sancho's fell, for he did not know Dulcinea's house, nor in all hislife had he ever seen her, any more than his master; so that they were bothuneasy, the one to see her, the other at not having seen her, and Sancho was at aloss to know what he was to do when his master sent him to El Toboso. In theend, Don Quixote made up his mind to enter the city at nightfall, and they waiteduntil the time came among some oak trees that were near El Toboso; and whenthe moment they had agreed upon arrived, they made their entrance into the city, where something happened them that may fairly be called something. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER IX. WHEREIN IS RELATED WHAT WILL BE SEEN THERE'Twas at the very midnight hour--more or less--when Don Quixote and Sanchoquitted the wood and entered El Toboso. The town was in deep silence, for all theinhabitants were asleep, and stretched on the broad of their backs, as the sayingis. The night was darkish, though Sancho would have been glad had it been quitedark, so as to find in the darkness an excuse for his blundering. All over the placenothing was to be heard except the barking of dogs, which deafened the ears ofDon Quixote and troubled the heart of Sancho. Now and then an ass brayed, pigsgrunted, cats mewed, and the various noises they made seemed louder in thesilence of the night; all which the enamoured knight took to be of evil omen;nevertheless he said to Sancho, "Sancho, my son, lead on to the palace ofDulcinea, it may be that we shall find her awake. ""Body of the sun! what palace am I to lead to, " said Sancho, "when what I sawher highness in was only a very little house?""Most likely she had then withdrawn into some small apartment of her palace, "said Don Quixote, "to amuse herself with damsels, as great ladies and princessesare accustomed to do. ""Senor, " said Sancho, "if your worship will have it in spite of me that the houseof my lady Dulcinea is a palace, is this an hour, think you, to find the door open;and will it be right for us to go knocking till they hear us and open the door;making a disturbance and confusion all through the household? Are we going, doyou fancy, to the house of our wenches, like gallants who come and knock and goin at any hour, however late it may be?""Let us first of all find out the palace for certain, " replied Don Quixote, "andthen I will tell thee, Sancho, what we had best do; but look, Sancho, for either Isee badly, or that dark mass that one sees from here should be Dulcinea's palace. ""Then let your worship lead the way, " said Sancho, "perhaps it may be so;though I see it with my eyes and touch it with my hands, I'll believe it as much asI believe it is daylight now. "Don Quixote took the lead, and having gone a matter of two hundred paces hecame upon the mass that produced the shade, and found it was a great tower, andthen he perceived that the building in question was no palace, but the chiefchurch of the town, and said he, "It's the church we have lit upon, Sancho. ""So I see, " said Sancho, "and God grant we may not light upon our graves; it isno good sign to find oneself wandering in a graveyard at this time of night; andthat, after my telling your worship, if I don't mistake, that the house of this ladywill be in an alley without an outlet. ""The curse of God on thee for a blockhead!" said Don Quixote; "where hast thouever heard of castles and royal palaces being built in alleys without an outlet?""Senor, " replied Sancho, "every country has a way of its own; perhaps here in ElToboso it is the way to build palaces and grand buildings in alleys; so I entreatyour worship to let me search about among these streets or alleys before me, andperhaps, in some corner or other, I may stumble on this palace--and I wish I sawthe dogs eating it for leading us such a dance. ""Speak respectfully of what belongs to my lady, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "letus keep the feast in peace, and not throw the rope after the bucket. ""I'll hold my tongue, " said Sancho, "but how am I to take it patiently when yourworship wants me, with only once seeing the house of our mistress, to knowalways, and find it in the middle of the night, when your worship can't find it, who must have seen it thousands of times?""Thou wilt drive me to desperation, Sancho, " said Don Quixote. "Look here, heretic, have I not told thee a thousand times that I have never once in my lifeseen the peerless Dulcinea or crossed the threshold of her palace, and that I amenamoured solely by hearsay and by the great reputation she bears for beauty anddiscretion?""I hear it now, " returned Sancho; "and I may tell you that if you have not seenher, no more have I. ""That cannot be, " said Don Quixote, "for, at any rate, thou saidst, on bringingback the answer to the letter I sent by thee, that thou sawest her sifting wheat. ""Don't mind that, senor, " said Sancho; "I must tell you that my seeing her andthe answer I brought you back were by hearsay too, for I can no more tell who thelady Dulcinea is than I can hit the sky. ""Sancho, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "there are times for jests and times whenjests are out of place; if I tell thee that I have neither seen nor spoken to the ladyof my heart, it is no reason why thou shouldst say thou hast not spoken to her orseen her, when the contrary is the case, as thou well knowest. "While the two were engaged in this conversation, they perceived some one witha pair of mules approaching the spot where they stood, and from the noise theplough made, as it dragged along the ground, they guessed him to be somelabourer who had got up before daybreak to go to his work, and so it proved tobe. He came along singing the ballad that says-Ill did ye fare, ye men of France, In Roncesvalles chase-"May I die, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, when he heard him, "if any good willcome to us tonight! Dost thou not hear what that clown is singing?""I do, " said Sancho, "but what has Roncesvalles chase to do with what we havein hand? He might just as well be singing the ballad of Calainos, for any good orill that can come to us in our business. "By this time the labourer had come up, and Don Quixote asked him, "Can youtell me, worthy friend, and God speed you, whereabouts here is the palace of thepeerless princess Dona Dulcinea del Toboso?""Senor, " replied the lad, "I am a stranger, and I have been only a few days in thetown, doing farm work for a rich farmer. In that house opposite there live thecurate of the village and the sacristan, and both or either of them will be able togive your worship some account of this lady princess, for they have a list of all thepeople of El Toboso; though it is my belief there is not a princess living in thewhole of it; many ladies there are, of quality, and in her own house each of themmay be a princess. ""Well, then, she I am inquiring for will be one of these, my friend, " said DonQuixote. "May be so, " replied the lad; "God be with you, for here comes the daylight;"and without waiting for any more of his questions, he whipped on his mules. Sancho, seeing his master downcast and somewhat dissatisfied, said to him, "Senor, daylight will be here before long, and it will not do for us to let the sunfind us in the street; it will be better for us to quit the city, and for your worshipto hide in some forest in the neighbourhood, and I will come back in the daytime, and I won't leave a nook or corner of the whole village that I won't search for thehouse, castle, or palace, of my lady, and it will be hard luck for me if I don't findit; and as soon as I have found it I will speak to her grace, and tell her where andhow your worship is waiting for her to arrange some plan for you to see herwithout any damage to her honour and reputation. ""Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "thou hast delivered a thousand sentencescondensed in the compass of a few words; I thank thee for the advice thou hastgiven me, and take it most gladly. Come, my son, let us go look for some placewhere I may hide, while thou dost return, as thou sayest, to seek, and speak withmy lady, from whose discretion and courtesy I look for favours more thanmiraculous. "Sancho was in a fever to get his master out of the town, lest he should discoverthe falsehood of the reply he had brought to him in the Sierra Morena on behalf ofDulcinea; so he hastened their departure, which they took at once, and two milesout of the village they found a forest or thicket wherein Don Quixote ensconcedhimself, while Sancho returned to the city to speak to Dulcinea, in which embassythings befell him which demand fresh attention and a new chapter. CHAPTER X. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE CRAFTY DEVICE SANCHO ADOPTEDTO ENCHANT THE LADY DULCINEA, AND OTHER INCIDENTS ASLUDICROUS AS THEY ARE TRUEWhen the author of this great history comes to relate what is set down in thischapter he says he would have preferred to pass it over in silence, fearing it wouldnot be believed, because here Don Quixote's madness reaches the confines of thegreatest that can be conceived, and even goes a couple of bowshots beyond thegreatest. But after all, though still under the same fear and apprehension, he hasrecorded it without adding to the story or leaving out a particle of the truth, andentirely disregarding the charges of falsehood that might be brought against him;and he was right, for the truth may run fine but will not break, and always risesabove falsehood as oil above water; and so, going on with his story, he says thatas soon as Don Quixote had ensconced himself in the forest, oak grove, or woodnear El Toboso, he bade Sancho return to the city, and not come into his presenceagain without having first spoken on his behalf to his lady, and begged of her thatit might be her good pleasure to permit herself to be seen by her enslaved knight, and deign to bestow her blessing upon him, so that he might thereby hope for ahappy issue in all his encounters and difficult enterprises. Sancho undertook toexecute the task according to the instructions, and to bring back an answer asgood as the one he brought back before. "Go, my son, " said Don Quixote, "and be not dazed when thou findest thyselfexposed to the light of that sun of beauty thou art going to seek. Happy thou, above all the squires in the world! Bear in mind, and let it not escape thymemory, how she receives thee; if she changes colour while thou art giving her mymessage; if she is agitated and disturbed at hearing my name; if she cannot restupon her cushion, shouldst thou haply find her seated in the sumptuous statechamber proper to her rank; and should she be standing, observe if she poisesherself now on one foot, now on the other; if she repeats two or three times thereply she gives thee; if she passes from gentleness to austerity, from asperity totenderness; if she raises her hand to smooth her hair though it be not disarranged. In short, my son, observe all her actions and motions, for if thou wilt report themto me as they were, I will gather what she hides in the recesses of her heart asregards my love; for I would have thee know, Sancho, if thou knowest it not, thatwith lovers the outward actions and motions they give way to when their loves arein question are the faithful messengers that carry the news of what is going on inthe depths of their hearts. Go, my friend, may better fortune than mine attendthee, and bring thee a happier issue than that which I await in dread in thisdreary solitude. ""I will go and return quickly, " said Sancho; "cheer up that little heart of yours, master mine, for at the present moment you seem to have got one no bigger thana hazel nut; remember what they say, that a stout heart breaks bad luck, and thatwhere there are no fletches there are no pegs; and moreover they say, the harejumps up where it's not looked for. I say this because, if we could not find mylady's palaces or castles to-night, now that it is daylight I count upon finding themwhen I least expect it, and once found, leave it to me to manage her. ""Verily, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "thou dost always bring in thy proverbshappily, whatever we deal with; may God give me better luck in what I amanxious about. "With this, Sancho wheeled about and gave Dapple the stick, and Don Quixoteremained behind, seated on his horse, resting in his stirrups and leaning on theend of his lance, filled with sad and troubled forebodings; and there we will leavehim, and accompany Sancho, who went off no less serious and troubled than heleft his master; so much so, that as soon as he had got out of the thicket, andlooking round saw that Don Quixote was not within sight, he dismounted from hisass, and seating himself at the foot of a tree began to commune with himself, saying, "Now, brother Sancho, let us know where your worship is going. Are yougoing to look for some ass that has been lost? Not at all. Then what are you goingto look for? I am going to look for a princess, that's all; and in her for the sun ofbeauty and the whole heaven at once. And where do you expect to find all this, Sancho? Where? Why, in the great city of El Toboso. Well, and for whom are yougoing to look for her? For the famous knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, whorights wrongs, gives food to those who thirst and drink to the hungry. That's allvery well, but do you know her house, Sancho? My master says it will be someroyal palace or grand castle. And have you ever seen her by any chance? Neither Inor my master ever saw her. And does it strike you that it would be just and rightif the El Toboso people, finding out that you were here with the intention of goingto tamper with their princesses and trouble their ladies, were to come and cudgelyour ribs, and not leave a whole bone in you? They would, indeed, have verygood reason, if they did not see that I am under orders, and that 'you are amessenger, my friend, no blame belongs to you. ' Don't you trust to that, Sancho, for the Manchegan folk are as hot-tempered as they are honest, and won't put upwith liberties from anybody. By the Lord, if they get scent of you, it will be worsefor you, I promise you. Be off, you scoundrel! Let the bolt fall. Why should I golooking for three feet on a cat, to please another man; and what is more, whenlooking for Dulcinea will be looking for Marica in Ravena, or the bachelor inSalamanca? The devil, the devil and nobody else, has mixed me up in thisbusiness!"Such was the soliloquy Sancho held with himself, and all the conclusion hecould come to was to say to himself again, "Well, there's remedy for everythingexcept death, under whose yoke we have all to pass, whether we like it or not, when life's finished. I have seen by a thousand signs that this master of mine is amadman fit to be tied, and for that matter, I too, am not behind him; for I'm agreater fool than he is when I follow him and serve him, if there's any truth in theproverb that says, 'Tell me what company thou keepest, and I'll tell thee whatthou art, ' or in that other, 'Not with whom thou art bred, but with whom thou artfed. ' Well then, if he be mad, as he is, and with a madness that mostly takes onething for another, and white for black, and black for white, as was seen when hesaid the windmills were giants, and the monks' mules dromedaries, flocks of sheeparmies of enemies, and much more to the same tune, it will not be very hard tomake him believe that some country girl, the first I come across here, is the ladyDulcinea; and if he does not believe it, I'll swear it; and if he should swear, I'llswear again; and if he persists I'll persist still more, so as, come what may, tohave my quoit always over the peg. Maybe, by holding out in this way, I may puta stop to his sending me on messages of this kind another time; or maybe he willthink, as I suspect he will, that one of those wicked enchanters, who he says havea spite against him, has changed her form for the sake of doing him an ill turnand injuring him. "With this reflection Sancho made his mind easy, counting the business as goodas settled, and stayed there till the afternoon so as to make Don Quixote think hehad time enough to go to El Toboso and return; and things turned out so luckilyfor him that as he got up to mount Dapple, he spied, coming from El Tobosotowards the spot where he stood, three peasant girls on three colts, or fillies--forthe author does not make the point clear, though it is more likely they were she-asses, the usual mount with village girls; but as it is of no great consequence, weneed not stop to prove it. To be brief, the instant Sancho saw the peasant girls, he returned full speed toseek his master, and found him sighing and uttering a thousand passionatelamentations. When Don Quixote saw him he exclaimed, "What news, Sancho, myfriend? Am I to mark this day with a white stone or a black?""Your worship, " replied Sancho, "had better mark it with ruddle, like theinscriptions on the walls of class rooms, that those who see it may see it plain. ""Then thou bringest good news, " said Don Quixote. "So good, " replied Sancho, "that your worship has only to spur Rocinante andget out into the open field to see the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, who, with twoothers, damsels of hers, is coming to see your worship. ""Holy God! what art thou saying, Sancho, my friend?" exclaimed Don Quixote. "Take care thou art not deceiving me, or seeking by false joy to cheer my realsadness. ""What could I get by deceiving your worship, " returned Sancho, "especially whenit will so soon be shown whether I tell the truth or not? Come, senor, push on, and you will see the princess our mistress coming, robed and adorned--in fact, like what she is. Her damsels and she are all one glow of gold, all bunches ofpearls, all diamonds, all rubies, all cloth of brocade of more than ten borders;with their hair loose on their shoulders like so many sunbeams playing with thewind; and moreover, they come mounted on three piebald cackneys, the finestsight ever you saw. ""Hackneys, you mean, Sancho, " said Don Quixote. "There is not much difference between cackneys and hackneys, " said Sancho;"but no matter what they come on, there they are, the finest ladies one could wishfor, especially my lady the princess Dulcinea, who staggers one's senses. ""Let us go, Sancho, my son, " said Don Quixote, "and in guerdon of this news, asunexpected as it is good, I bestow upon thee the best spoil I shall win in the firstadventure I may have; or if that does not satisfy thee, I promise thee the foals Ishall have this year from my three mares that thou knowest are in foal on ourvillage common. ""I'll take the foals, " said Sancho; "for it is not quite certain that the spoils of thefirst adventure will be good ones. "By this time they had cleared the wood, and saw the three village lasses close athand. Don Quixote looked all along the road to El Toboso, and as he could seenobody except the three peasant girls, he was completely puzzled, and askedSancho if it was outside the city he had left them. "How outside the city?" returned Sancho. "Are your worship's eyes in the backof your head, that you can't see that they are these who are coming here, shininglike the very sun at noonday?""I see nothing, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "but three country girls on threejackasses. ""Now, may God deliver me from the devil!" said Sancho, "and can it be thatyour worship takes three hackneys--or whatever they're called--as white as thedriven snow, for jackasses? By the Lord, I could tear my beard if that was thecase!""Well, I can only say, Sancho, my friend, " said Don Quixote, "that it is as plainthey are jackasses--or jennyasses--as that I am Don Quixote, and thou SanchoPanza: at any rate, they seem to me to be so. ""Hush, senor, " said Sancho, "don't talk that way, but open your eyes, and comeand pay your respects to the lady of your thoughts, who is close upon us now;"and with these words he advanced to receive the three village lasses, anddismounting from Dapple, caught hold of one of the asses of the three countrygirls by the halter, and dropping on both knees on the ground, he said, "Queenand princess and duchess of beauty, may it please your haughtiness and greatnessto receive into your favour and good-will your captive knight who stands thereturned into marble stone, and quite stupefied and benumbed at finding himself inyour magnificent presence. I am Sancho Panza, his squire, and he the vagabondknight Don Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called 'The Knight of the RuefulCountenance. '"Don Quixote had by this time placed himself on his knees beside Sancho, and, with eyes starting out of his head and a puzzled gaze, was regarding her whomSancho called queen and lady; and as he could see nothing in her except a villagelass, and not a very well-favoured one, for she was platter-faced and snub-nosed, he was perplexed and bewildered, and did not venture to open his lips. Thecountry girls, at the same time, were astonished to see these two men, so differentin appearance, on their knees, preventing their companion from going on. She, however, who had been stopped, breaking silence, said angrily and testily, "Getout of the way, bad luck to you, and let us pass, for we are in a hurry. "To which Sancho returned, "Oh, princess and universal lady of El Toboso, is notyour magnanimous heart softened by seeing the pillar and prop of knight-errantryon his knees before your sublimated presence?"On hearing this, one of the others exclaimed, "Woa then! why, I'm rubbing theedown, she-ass of my father-in-law! See how the lordlings come to make game ofthe village girls now, as if we here could not chaff as well as themselves. Go yourown way, and let us go ours, and it will be better for you. ""Get up, Sancho, " said Don Quixote at this; "I see that fortune, 'with evil doneto me unsated still, ' has taken possession of all the roads by which any comfortmay reach 'this wretched soul' that I carry in my flesh. And thou, highestperfection of excellence that can be desired, utmost limit of grace in human shape, sole relief of this afflicted heart that adores thee, though the malign enchanterthat persecutes me has brought clouds and cataracts on my eyes, and to them, and them only, transformed thy unparagoned beauty and changed thy featuresinto those of a poor peasant girl, if so be he has not at the same time changedmine into those of some monster to render them loathsome in thy sight, refuse notto look upon me with tenderness and love; seeing in this submission that I makeon my knees to thy transformed beauty the humility with which my soul adoresthee. ""Hey-day! My grandfather!" cried the girl, "much I care for your love-making!Get out of the way and let us pass, and we'll thank you. "Sancho stood aside and let her go, very well pleased to have got so well out ofthe hobble he was in. The instant the village lass who had done duty for Dulcineafound herself free, prodding her "cackney" with a spike she had at the end of astick, she set off at full speed across the field. The she-ass, however, feeling thepoint more acutely than usual, began cutting such capers, that it flung the ladyDulcinea to the ground; seeing which, Don Quixote ran to raise her up, andSancho to fix and girth the pack-saddle, which also had slipped under the ass'sbelly. The pack-saddle being secured, as Don Quixote was about to lift up hisenchanted mistress in his arms and put her upon her beast, the lady, getting upfrom the ground, saved him the trouble, for, going back a little, she took a shortrun, and putting both hands on the croup of the ass she dropped into the saddlemore lightly than a falcon, and sat astride like a man, whereat Sancho said, "Rogue! but our lady is lighter than a lanner, and might teach the cleverestCordovan or Mexican how to mount; she cleared the back of the saddle in onejump, and without spurs she is making the hackney go like a zebra; and herdamsels are no way behind her, for they all fly like the wind;" which was thetruth, for as soon as they saw Dulcinea mounted, they pushed on after her, andsped away without looking back, for more than half a league. Don Quixote followed them with his eyes, and when they were no longer insight, he turned to Sancho and said, "How now, Sancho? thou seest how I amhated by enchanters! And see to what a length the malice and spite they bear mego, when they seek to deprive me of the happiness it would give me to see mylady in her own proper form. The fact is I was born to be an example ofmisfortune, and the target and mark at which the arrows of adversity are aimedand directed. Observe too, Sancho, that these traitors were not content withchanging and transforming my Dulcinea, but they transformed and changed herinto a shape as mean and ill-favoured as that of the village girl yonder; and at thesame time they robbed her of that which is such a peculiar property of ladies ofdistinction, that is to say, the sweet fragrance that comes of being always amongperfumes and flowers. For I must tell thee, Sancho, that when I approached to putDulcinea upon her hackney (as thou sayest it was, though to me it appeared a she-ass), she gave me a whiff of raw garlic that made my head reel, and poisoned myvery heart. ""O scum of the earth!" cried Sancho at this, "O miserable, spiteful enchanters! Othat I could see you all strung by the gills, like sardines on a twig! Ye know agreat deal, ye can do a great deal, and ye do a great deal more. It ought to havebeen enough for you, ye scoundrels, to have changed the pearls of my lady's eyesinto oak galls, and her hair of purest gold into the bristles of a red ox's tail, and inshort, all her features from fair to foul, without meddling with her smell; for bythat we might somehow have found out what was hidden underneath that uglyrind; though, to tell the truth, I never perceived her ugliness, but only her beauty, which was raised to the highest pitch of perfection by a mole she had on her rightlip, like a moustache, with seven or eight red hairs like threads of gold, and morethan a palm long. ""From the correspondence which exists between those of the face and those ofthe body, " said Don Quixote, "Dulcinea must have another mole resembling thaton the thick of the thigh on that side on which she has the one on her ace; buthairs of the length thou hast mentioned are very long for moles. ""Well, all I can say is there they were as plain as could be, " replied Sancho. "I believe it, my friend, " returned Don Quixote; "for nature bestowed nothing onDulcinea that was not perfect and well-finished; and so, if she had a hundredmoles like the one thou hast described, in her they would not be moles, butmoons and shining stars. But tell me, Sancho, that which seemed to me to be apack-saddle as thou wert fixing it, was it a flat-saddle or a side-saddle?""It was neither, " replied Sancho, "but a jineta saddle, with a field covering worthhalf a kingdom, so rich is it. ""And that I could not see all this, Sancho!" said Don Quixote; "once more I say, and will say a thousand times, I am the most unfortunate of men. "Sancho, the rogue, had enough to do to hide his laughter, at hearing thesimplicity of the master he had so nicely befooled. At length, after a good dealmore conversation had passed between them, they remounted their beasts, andfollowed the road to Saragossa, which they expected to reach in time to take partin a certain grand festival which is held every year in that illustrious city; butbefore they got there things happened to them, so many, so important, and sostrange, that they deserve to be recorded and read, as will be seen farther on. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 21. Chapters 11-14Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XI. OF THE STRANGE ADVENTURE WHICH THE VALIANT DONQUIXOTE HAD WITH THE CAR OR CART OF "THE CORTES OFDEATH"Dejected beyond measure did Don Quixote pursue his journey, turning over inhis mind the cruel trick the enchanters had played him in changing his ladyDulcinea into the vile shape of the village lass, nor could he think of any way ofrestoring her to her original form; and these reflections so absorbed him, thatwithout being aware of it he let go Rocinante's bridle, and he, perceiving theliberty that was granted him, stopped at every step to crop the fresh grass withwhich the plain abounded. Sancho recalled him from his reverie. "Melancholy, senor, " said he, "was made, not for beasts, but for men; but if men give way to it overmuch they turn tobeasts; control yourself, your worship; be yourself again; gather up Rocinante'sreins; cheer up, rouse yourself and show that gallant spirit that knights-errantought to have. What the devil is this? What weakness is this? Are we here or inFrance? The devil fly away with all the Dulcineas in the world; for the well-beingof a single knight-errant is of more consequence than all the enchantments andtransformations on earth. ""Hush, Sancho, " said Don Quixote in a weak and faint voice, "hush and utter noblasphemies against that enchanted lady; for I alone am to blame for hermisfortune and hard fate; her calamity has come of the hatred the wicked bearme. ""So say I, " returned Sancho; "his heart rend in twain, I trow, who saw her once, to see her now. ""Thou mayest well say that, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "as thou sawest herin the full perfection of her beauty; for the enchantment does not go so far as topervert thy vision or hide her loveliness from thee; against me alone and againstmy eyes is the strength of its venom directed. Nevertheless, there is one thingwhich has occurred to me, and that is that thou didst ill describe her beauty tome, for, as well as I recollect, thou saidst that her eyes were pearls; but eyes thatare like pearls are rather the eyes of a sea-bream than of a lady, and I ampersuaded that Dulcinea's must be green emeralds, full and soft, with tworainbows for eyebrows; take away those pearls from her eyes and transfer them toher teeth; for beyond a doubt, Sancho, thou hast taken the one for the other, theeyes for the teeth. ""Very likely, " said Sancho; "for her beauty bewildered me as much as herugliness did your worship; but let us leave it all to God, who alone knows what isto happen in this vale of tears, in this evil world of ours, where there is hardly athing to be found without some mixture of wickedness, roguery, and rascality. Butone thing, senor, troubles me more than all the rest, and that is thinking what isto be done when your worship conquers some giant, or some other knight, andorders him to go and present himself before the beauty of the lady Dulcinea. Where is this poor giant, or this poor wretch of a vanquished knight, to find her? Ithink I can see them wandering all over El Toboso, looking like noddies, andasking for my lady Dulcinea; and even if they meet her in the middle of the streetthey won't know her any more than they would my

father. ""Perhaps, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote, "the enchantment does not go so faras to deprive conquered and presented giants and knights of the power ofrecognising Dulcinea; we will try by experiment with one or two of the first Ivanquish and send to her, whether they see her or not, by commanding them toreturn and give me an account of what happened to them in this respect. ""I declare, I think what your worship has proposed is excellent, " said Sancho;"and that by this plan we shall find out what we want to know; and if it be that itis only from your worship she is hidden, the misfortune will be more yours thanhers; but so long as the lady Dulcinea is well and happy, we on our part will makethe best of it, and get on as well as we can, seeking our adventures, and leavingTime to take his own course; for he is the best physician for these and greaterailments. "Don Quixote was about to reply to Sancho Panza, but he was prevented by acart crossing the road full of the most diverse and strange personages and figuresthat could be imagined. He who led the mules and acted as carter was a hideousdemon; the cart was open to the sky, without a tilt or cane roof, and the firstfigure that presented itself to Don Quixote's eyes was that of Death itself with ahuman face; next to it was an angel with large painted wings, and at one side anemperor, with a crown, to all appearance of gold, on his head. At the feet ofDeath was the god called Cupid, without his bandage, but with his bow, quiver, and arrows; there was also a knight in full armour, except that he had no morionor helmet, but only a hat decked with plumes of divers colours; and along withthese there were others with a variety of costumes and faces. All this, unexpectedly encountered, took Don Quixote somewhat aback, and struck terrorinto the heart of Sancho; but the next instant Don Quixote was glad of it, believing that some new perilous adventure was presenting itself to him, andunder this impression, and with a spirit prepared to face any danger, he plantedhimself in front of the cart, and in a loud and menacing tone, exclaimed, "Carter, or coachman, or devil, or whatever thou art, tell me at once who thou art, whitherthou art going, and who these folk are thou carriest in thy wagon, which looksmore like Charon's boat than an ordinary cart. "To which the devil, stopping the cart, answered quietly, "Senor, we are playersof Angulo el Malo's company; we have been acting the play of 'The Cortes ofDeath' this morning, which is the octave of Corpus Christi, in a village behind thathill, and we have to act it this afternoon in that village which you can see fromthis; and as it is so near, and to save the trouble of undressing and dressing again, we go in the costumes in which we perform. That lad there appears as Death, thatother as an angel, that woman, the manager's wife, plays the queen, this one thesoldier, that the emperor, and I the devil; and I am one of the principal charactersof the play, for in this company I take the leading parts. If you want to knowanything more about us, ask me and I will answer with the utmost exactitude, foras I am a devil I am up to everything. ""By the faith of a knight-errant, " replied Don Quixote, "when I saw this cart Ifancied some great adventure was presenting itself to me; but I declare one musttouch with the hand what appears to the eye, if illusions are to be avoided. Godspeed you, good people; keep your festival, and remember, if you demand of meought wherein I can render you a service, I will do it gladly and willingly, for froma child I was fond of the play, and in my youth a keen lover of the actor's art. "While they were talking, fate so willed it that one of the company in amummers' dress with a great number of bells, and armed with three blown ox-bladders at the end of a stick, joined them, and this merry-andrew approachingDon Quixote, began flourishing his stick and banging the ground with thebladders and cutting capers with great jingling of the bells, which untowardapparition so startled Rocinante that, in spite of Don Quixote's efforts to hold himin, taking the bit between his teeth he set off across the plain with greater speedthan the bones of his anatomy ever gave any promise of. Sancho, who thought his master was in danger of being thrown, jumped offDapple, and ran in all haste to help him; but by the time he reached him he wasalready on the ground, and beside him was Rocinante, who had come down withhis master, the usual end and upshot of Rocinante's vivacity and high spirits. Butthe moment Sancho quitted his beast to go and help Don Quixote, the dancingdevil with the bladders jumped up on Dapple, and beating him with them, moreby the fright and the noise than by the pain of the blows, made him fly across thefields towards the village where they were going to hold their festival. Sanchowitnessed Dapple's career and his master's fall, and did not know which of thetwo cases of need he should attend to first; but in the end, like a good squire andgood servant, he let his love for his master prevail over his affection for his ass;though every time he saw the bladders rise in the air and come down on the hindquarters of his Dapple he felt the pains and terrors of death, and he would haverather had the blows fall on the apples of his own eyes than on the least hair ofhis ass's tail. In this trouble and perplexity he came to where Don Quixote lay in afar sorrier plight than he liked, and having helped him to mount Rocinante, hesaid to him, "Senor, the devil has carried off my Dapple. ""What devil?" asked Don Quixote. "The one with the bladders, " said Sancho. "Then I will recover him, " said Don Quixote, "even if he be shut up with him inthe deepest and darkest dungeons of hell. Follow me, Sancho, for the cart goesslowly, and with the mules of it I will make good the loss of Dapple. ""You need not take the trouble, senor, " said Sancho; "keep cool, for as I nowsee, the devil has let Dapple go and he is coming back to his old quarters;" and soit turned out, for, having come down with Dapple, in imitation of Don Quixoteand Rocinante, the devil made off on foot to the town, and the ass came back tohis master. "For all that, " said Don Quixote, "it will be well to visit the discourtesy of thatdevil upon some of those in the cart, even if it were the emperor himself. ""Don't think of it, your worship, " returned Sancho; "take my advice and nevermeddle with actors, for they are a favoured class; I myself have known an actortaken up for two murders, and yet come off scot-free; remember that, as they aremerry folk who give pleasure, everyone favours and protects them, and helps andmakes much of them, above all when they are those of the royal companies andunder patent, all or most of whom in dress and appearance look like princes. ""Still, for all that, " said Don Quixote, "the player devil must not go off boasting, even if the whole human race favours him. "So saying, he made for the cart, which was now very near the town, shoutingout as he went, "Stay! halt! ye merry, jovial crew! I want to teach you how to treatasses and animals that serve the squires of knights-errant for steeds. "So loud were the shouts of Don Quixote, that those in the cart heard andunderstood them, and, guessing by the words what the speaker's intention was, Death in an instant jumped out of the cart, and the emperor, the devil carter andthe angel after him, nor did the queen or the god Cupid stay behind; and allarmed themselves with stones and formed in line, prepared to receive DonQuixote on the points of their pebbles. Don Quixote, when he saw them drawn upin such a gallant array with uplifted arms ready for a mighty discharge of stones, checked Rocinante and began to consider in what way he could attack them withthe least danger to himself. As he halted Sancho came up, and seeing himdisposed to attack this well-ordered squadron, said to him, "It would be the heightof madness to attempt such an enterprise; remember, senor, that against sopsfrom the brook, and plenty of them, there is no defensive armour in the world, except to stow oneself away under a brass bell; and besides, one should rememberthat it is rashness, and not valour, for a single man to attack an army that hasDeath in it, and where emperors fight in person, with angels, good and bad, tohelp them; and if this reflection will not make you keep quiet, perhaps it will toknow for certain that among all these, though they look like kings, princes, andemperors, there is not a single knight-errant. ""Now indeed thou hast hit the point, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "which mayand should turn me from the resolution I had already formed. I cannot and mustnot draw sword, as I have many a time before told thee, against anyone who isnot a dubbed knight; it is for thee, Sancho, if thou wilt, to take vengeance for thewrong done to thy Dapple; and I will help thee from here by shouts and salutarycounsels. ""There is no occasion to take vengeance on anyone, senor, " replied Sancho; "forit is not the part of good Christians to revenge wrongs; and besides, I will arrangeit with my ass to leave his grievance to my good-will and pleasure, and that is tolive in peace as long as heaven grants me life. ""Well, " said Don Quixote, "if that be thy determination, good Sancho, sensibleSancho, Christian Sancho, honest Sancho, let us leave these phantoms alone andturn to the pursuit of better and worthier adventures; for, from what I see of thiscountry, we cannot fail to find plenty of marvellous ones in it. "He at once wheeled about, Sancho ran to take possession of his Dapple, Deathand his flying squadron returned to their cart and pursued their journey, and thusthe dread adventure of the cart of Death ended happily, thanks to the adviceSancho gave his master; who had, the following day, a fresh adventure, of no lessthrilling interest than the last, with an enamoured knight-errant. CHAPTER XII. OF THE STRANGE ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL THE VALIANTDON QUIXOTE WITH THE BOLD KNIGHT OF THE MIRRORSThe night succeeding the day of the encounter with Death, Don Quixote and hissquire passed under some tall shady trees, and Don Quixote at Sancho'spersuasion ate a little from the store carried by Dapple, and over their supperSancho said to his master, "Senor, what a fool I should have looked if I hadchosen for my reward the spoils of the first adventure your worship achieved, instead of the foals of the three mares. After all, 'a sparrow in the hand is betterthan a vulture on the wing. '""At the same time, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "if thou hadst let me attackthem as I wanted, at the very least the emperor's gold crown and Cupid's paintedwings would have fallen to thee as spoils, for I should have taken them by forceand given them into thy hands. ""The sceptres and crowns of those play-actor emperors, " said Sancho, "werenever yet pure gold, but only brass foil or tin. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote, "for it would not be right that the accessoriesof the drama should be real, instead of being mere fictions and semblances, likethe drama itself; towards which, Sancho--and, as a necessary consequence, towards those who represent and produce it--I would that thou wert favourablydisposed, for they are all instruments of great good to the State, placing before usat every step a mirror in which we may see vividly displayed what goes on inhuman life; nor is there any similitude that shows us more faithfully what we areand ought to be than the play and the players. Come, tell me, hast thou not seen aplay acted in which kings, emperors, pontiffs, knights, ladies, and divers otherpersonages were introduced? One plays the villain, another the knave, this onethe merchant, that the soldier, one the sharp-witted fool, another the foolishlover; and when the play is over, and they have put off the dresses they wore init, all the actors become equal. ""Yes, I have seen that, " said Sancho. "Well then, " said Don Quixote, "the same thing happens in the comedy and lifeof this world, where some play emperors, others popes, and, in short, all thecharacters that can be brought into a play; but when it is over, that is to say whenlife ends, death strips them all of the garments that distinguish one from theother, and all are equal in the grave. ""A fine comparison!" said Sancho; "though not so new but that I have heard itmany and many a time, as well as that other one of the game of chess; how, solong as the game lasts, each piece has its own particular office, and when thegame is finished they are all mixed, jumbled up and shaken together, and stowedaway in the bag, which is much like ending life in the grave. ""Thou art growing less doltish and more shrewd every day, Sancho, " said DonQuixote. "Ay, " said Sancho; "it must be that some of your worship's shrewdness sticks tome; land that, of itself, is barren and dry, will come to yield good fruit if you dungit and till it; what I mean is that your worship's conversation has been the dungthat has fallen on the barren soil of my dry wit, and the time I have been in yourservice and society has been the tillage; and with the help of this I hope to yieldfruit in abundance that will not fall away or slide from those paths of goodbreeding that your worship has made in my parched understanding. "Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's affected phraseology, and perceived that whathe said about his improvement was true, for now and then he spoke in a way thatsurprised him; though always, or mostly, when Sancho tried to talk fine andattempted polite language, he wound up by toppling over from the summit of hissimplicity into the abyss of his ignorance; and where he showed his culture andhis memory to the greatest advantage was in dragging in proverbs, no matterwhether they had any bearing or not upon the subject in hand, as may have beenseen already and will be noticed in the course of this history. In conversation of this kind they passed a good part of the night, but Sanchofelt a desire to let down the curtains of his eyes, as he used to say when hewanted to go to sleep; and stripping Dapple he left him at liberty to graze his fill. He did not remove Rocinante's saddle, as his master's express orders were, that solong as they were in the field or not sleeping under a roof Rocinante was not to bestripped--the ancient usage established and observed by knights-errant being totake off the bridle and hang it on the saddle-bow, but to remove the saddle fromthe horse--never! Sancho acted accordingly, and gave him the same liberty he hadgiven Dapple, between whom and Rocinante there was a friendship so unequalledand so strong, that it is handed down by tradition from father to son, that theauthor of this veracious history devoted some special chapters to it, which, inorder to preserve the propriety and decorum due to a history so heroic, he did notinsert therein; although at times he forgets this resolution of his and describeshow eagerly the two beasts would scratch one another when they were togetherand how, when they were tired or full, Rocinante would lay his neck acrossDapple's, stretching half a yard or more on the other side, and the pair wouldstand thus, gazing thoughtfully on the ground, for three days, or at least so longas they were left alone, or hunger did not drive them to go and look for food. Imay add that they say the author left it on record that he likened their friendshipto that of Nisus and Euryalus, and Pylades and Orestes; and if that be so, it maybe perceived, to the admiration of mankind, how firm the friendship must havebeen between these two peaceful animals, shaming men, who preserve friendshipswith one another so badly. This was why it was said-For friend no longer is there friend; The reeds turn lances now. And some one else has sung--Friend to friend the bug, etc. And let no one fancy that the author was at all astray when he compared thefriendship of these animals to that of men; for men have received many lessonsfrom beasts, and learned many important things, as, for example, the clyster fromthe stork, vomit and gratitude from the dog, watchfulness from the crane, foresight from the ant, modesty from the elephant, and loyalty from the horse. Sancho at last fell asleep at the foot of a cork tree, while Don Quixote dozed atthat of a sturdy oak; but a short time only had elapsed when a noise he heardbehind him awoke him, and rising up startled, he listened and looked in thedirection the noise came from, and perceived two men on horseback, one ofwhom, letting himself drop from the saddle, said to the other, "Dismount, myfriend, and take the bridles off the horses, for, so far as I can see, this place willfurnish grass for them, and the solitude and silence my love-sick thoughts needof. " As he said this he stretched himself upon the ground, and as he flung himselfdown, the armour in which he was clad rattled, whereby Don Quixote perceivedthat he must be a knight-errant; and going over to Sancho, who was asleep, heshook him by the arm and with no small difficulty brought him back to his senses, and said in a low voice to him, "Brother Sancho, we have got an adventure. ""God send us a good one, " said Sancho; "and where may her ladyship theadventure be?""Where, Sancho?" replied Don Quixote; "turn thine eyes and look, and thou wiltsee stretched there a knight-errant, who, it strikes me, is not over and abovehappy, for I saw him fling himself off his horse and throw himself on the groundwith a certain air of dejection, and his armour rattled as he fell. ""Well, " said Sancho, "how does your worship make out that to be an adventure?""I do not mean to say, " returned Don Quixote, "that it is a complete adventure, but that it is the beginning of one, for it is in this way adventures begin. Butlisten, for it seems he is tuning a lute or guitar, and from the way he is spittingand clearing his chest he must be getting ready to sing something. ""Faith, you are right, " said Sancho, "and no doubt he is some enamouredknight. ""There is no knight-errant that is not, " said Don Quixote; "but let us listen tohim, for, if he sings, by that thread we shall extract the ball of his thoughts;because out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. "Sancho was about to reply to his master, but the Knight of the Grove's voice, which was neither very bad nor very good, stopped him, and listening attentivelythe pair heard him sing thisSONNETYour pleasure, prithee, lady mine, unfold;Declare the terms that I am to obey;My will to yours submissively I mould, And from your law my feet shall never stray. Would you I die, to silent grief a prey?Then count me even now as dead and cold;Would you I tell my woes in some new way?Then shall my tale by Love itself be told. The unison of opposites to prove, Of the soft wax and diamond hard am I;But still, obedient to the laws of love, Here, hard or soft, I offer you my breast, Whate'er you grave or stamp thereon shall restIndelible for all eternity. With an "Ah me!" that seemed to be drawn from the inmost recesses of hisheart, the Knight of the Grove brought his lay to an end, and shortly afterwardsexclaimed in a melancholy and piteous voice, "O fairest and most ungratefulwoman on earth! What! can it be, most serene Casildea de Vandalia, that thouwilt suffer this thy captive knight to waste away and perish in ceaselesswanderings and rude and arduous toils? It is not enough that I have compelled allthe knights of Navarre, all the Leonese, all the Tartesians, all the Castilians, andfinally all the knights of La Mancha, to confess thee the most beautiful in theworld?""Not so, " said Don Quixote at this, "for I am of La Mancha, and I have neverconfessed anything of the sort, nor could I nor should I confess a thing so much tothe prejudice of my lady's beauty; thou seest how this knight is raving, Sancho. But let us listen, perhaps he will tell us more about himself. ""That he will, " returned Sancho, "for he seems in a mood to bewail himself for amonth at a stretch. "But this was not the case, for the Knight of the Grove, hearing voices near him, instead of continuing his lamentation, stood up and exclaimed in a distinct butcourteous tone, "Who goes there? What are you? Do you belong to the number ofthe happy or of the miserable?""Of the miserable, " answered Don Quixote. "Then come to me, " said he of the Grove, "and rest assured that it is to woeitself and affliction itself you come. "Don Quixote, finding himself answered in such a soft and courteous manner, went over to him, and so did Sancho. The doleful knight took Don Quixote by the arm, saying, "Sit down here, sirknight; for, that you are one, and of those that profess knight-errantry, it is to mea sufficient proof to have found you in this place, where solitude and night, thenatural couch and proper retreat of knights-errant, keep you company. " To whichDon made answer, "A knight I am of the profession you mention, and thoughsorrows, misfortunes, and calamities have made my heart their abode, thecompassion I feel for the misfortunes of others has not been thereby banishedfrom it. From what you have just now sung I gather that yours spring from love, Imean from the love you bear that fair ingrate you named in your lament. "In the meantime, they had seated themselves together on the hard groundpeaceably and sociably, just as if, as soon as day broke, they were not going tobreak one another's heads. "Are you, sir knight, in love perchance?" asked he of the Grove of Don Quixote. "By mischance I am, " replied Don Quixote; "though the ills arising from well-bestowed affections should be esteemed favours rather than misfortunes. ""That is true, " returned he of the Grove, "if scorn did not unsettle our reasonand understanding, for if it be excessive it looks like revenge. ""I was never scorned by my lady, " said Don Quixote. "Certainly not, " said Sancho, who stood close by, "for my lady is as a lamb, andsofter than a roll of butter. ""Is this your squire?" asked he of the Grove. "He is, " said Don Quixote. "I never yet saw a squire, " said he of the Grove, "who ventured to speak whenhis master was speaking; at least, there is mine, who is as big as his father, and itcannot be proved that he has ever opened his lips when I am speaking. ""By my faith then, " said Sancho, "I have spoken, and am fit to speak, in thepresence of one as much, or even--but never mind--it only makes it worse to stirit. "The squire of the Grove took Sancho by the arm, saying to him, "Let us two gowhere we can talk in squire style as much as we please, and leave these gentlemenour masters to fight it out over the story of their loves; and, depend upon it, daybreak will find them at it without having made an end of it. ""So be it by all means, " said Sancho; "and I will tell your worship who I am, thatyou may see whether I am to be reckoned among the number of the most talkativesquires. "With this the two squires withdrew to one side, and between them there passeda conversation as droll as that which passed between their masters was serious. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE ADVENTURE OF THE KNIGHT OFTHE GROVE, TOGETHER WITH THE SENSIBLE, ORIGINAL, ANDTRANQUIL COLLOQUY THAT PASSED BETWEEN THE TWOSQUIRESThe knights and the squires made two parties, these telling the story of theirlives, the others the story of their loves; but the history relates first of all theconversation of the servants, and afterwards takes up that of the masters; and itsays that, withdrawing a little from the others, he of the Grove said to Sancho, "Ahard life it is we lead and live, senor, we that are squires to knights-errant; verily, we eat our bread in the sweat of our faces, which is one of the curses God laid onour first parents. ""It may be said, too, " added Sancho, "that we eat it in the chill of our bodies; forwho gets more heat and cold than the miserable squires of knight-errantry? Evenso it would not be so bad if we had something to eat, for woes are lighter if there'sbread; but sometimes we go a day or two without breaking our fast, except withthe wind that blows. ""All that, " said he of the Grove, "may be endured and put up with when wehave hopes of reward; for, unless the knight-errant he serves is excessivelyunlucky, after a few turns the squire will at least find himself rewarded with afine government of some island or some fair county. ""I, " said Sancho, "have already told my master that I shall be content with thegovernment of some island, and he is so noble and generous that he has promisedit to me ever so many times. ""I, " said he of the Grove, "shall be satisfied with a canonry for my services, andmy master has already assigned me one. ""Your master, " said Sancho, "no doubt is a knight in the Church line, and canbestow rewards of that sort on his good squire; but mine is only a layman; thoughI remember some clever, but, to my mind, designing people, strove to persuadehim to try and become an archbishop. He, however, would not be anything but anemperor; but I was trembling all the time lest he should take a fancy to go intothe Church, not finding myself fit to hold office in it; for I may tell you, though Iseem a man, I am no better than a beast for the Church. ""Well, then, you are wrong there, " said he of the Grove; "for those islandgovernments are not all satisfactory; some are awkward, some are poor, some aredull, and, in short, the highest and choicest brings with it a heavy burden of caresand troubles which the unhappy wight to whose lot it has fallen bears upon hisshoulders. Far better would it be for us who have adopted this accursed service togo back to our own houses, and there employ ourselves in pleasanteroccupations--in hunting or fishing, for instance; for what squire in the world isthere so poor as not to have a hack and a couple of greyhounds and a fishingrodto amuse himself with in his own village?""I am not in want of any of those things, " said Sancho; "to be sure I have nohack, but I have an ass that is worth my master's horse twice over; God send me abad Easter, and that the next one I am to see, if I would swap, even if I got fourbushels of barley to boot. You will laugh at the value I put on my Dapple--fordapple is the colour of my beast. As to greyhounds, I can't want for them, forthere are enough and to spare in my town; and, moreover, there is more pleasurein sport when it is at other people's expense. ""In truth and earnest, sir squire, " said he of the Grove, "I have made up mymind and determined to have done with these drunken vagaries of these knights, and go back to my village, and bring up my children; for I have three, like threeOriental pearls. ""I have two, " said Sancho, "that might be presented before the Pope himself, especially a girl whom I am breeding up for a countess, please God, though inspite of her mother. ""And how old is this lady that is being bred up for a countess?" asked he of theGrove. "Fifteen, a couple of years more or less, " answered Sancho; "but she is as tall asa lance, and as fresh as an April morning, and as strong as a porter. ""Those are gifts to fit her to be not only a countess but a nymph of thegreenwood, " said he of the Grove; "whoreson strumpet! what pith the rogue musthave!"To which Sancho made answer, somewhat sulkily, "She's no strumpet, nor washer mother, nor will either of them be, please God, while I live; speak morecivilly; for one bred up among knights-errant, who are courtesy itself, your wordsdon't seem to me to be very becoming. ""O how little you know about compliments, sir squire, " returned he of theGrove. "What! don't you know that when a horseman delivers a good lance thrustat the bull in the plaza, or when anyone does anything very well, the people arewont to say, 'Ha, whoreson rip! how well he has done it!' and that what seems tobe abuse in the expression is high praise? Disown sons and daughters, senor, whodon't do what deserves that compliments of this sort should be paid to theirparents. ""I do disown them, " replied Sancho, "and in this way, and by the samereasoning, you might call me and my children and my wife all the strumpets inthe world, for all they do and say is of a kind that in the highest degree deservesthe same praise; and to see them again I pray God to deliver me from mortal sin, or, what comes to the same thing, to deliver me from this perilous calling ofsquire into which I have fallen a second time, decayed and beguiled by a pursewith a hundred ducats that I found one day in the heart of the Sierra Morena; andthe devil is always putting a bag full of doubloons before my eyes, here, there, everywhere, until I fancy at every stop I am putting my hand on it, and huggingit, and carrying it home with me, and making investments, and getting interest, and living like a prince; and so long as I think of this I make light of all thehardships I endure with this simpleton of a master of mine, who, I well know, ismore of a madman than a knight. ""There's why they say that 'covetousness bursts the bag, '" said he of the Grove;"but if you come to talk of that sort, there is not a greater one in the world thanmy master, for he is one of those of whom they say, 'the cares of others kill theass;' for, in order that another knight may recover the senses he has lost, hemakes a madman of himself and goes looking for what, when found, may, for all Iknow, fly in his own face. " "And is he in love perchance?" asked Sancho. "He is, " said of the Grove, "with one Casildea de Vandalia, the rawest and bestroasted lady the whole world could produce; but that rawness is not the only foothe limps on, for he has greater schemes rumbling in his bowels, as will be seenbefore many hours are over. ""There's no road so smooth but it has some hole or hindrance in it, " saidSancho; "in other houses they cook beans, but in mine it's by the potful; madnesswill have more followers and hangers-on than sound sense; but if there be anytruth in the common saying, that to have companions in trouble gives some relief, I may take consolation from you, inasmuch as you serve a master as crazy as myown. ""Crazy but valiant, " replied he of the Grove, "and more roguish than crazy orvaliant. ""Mine is not that, " said Sancho; "I mean he has nothing of the rogue in him; onthe contrary, he has the soul of a pitcher; he has no thought of doing harm toanyone, only good to all, nor has he any malice whatever in him; a child mightpersuade him that it is night at noonday; and for this simplicity I love him as thecore of my heart, and I can't bring myself to leave him, let him do ever suchfoolish things. ""For all that, brother and senor, " said he of the Grove, "if the blind lead theblind, both are in danger of falling into the pit. It is better for us to beat a quietretreat and get back to our own quarters; for those who seek adventures don'talways find good ones. "Sancho kept spitting from time to time, and his spittle seemed somewhat ropyand dry, observing which the compassionate squire of the Grove said, "It seems tome that with all this talk of ours our tongues are sticking to the roofs of ourmouths; but I have a pretty good loosener hanging from the saddle-bow of myhorse, " and getting up he came back the next minute with a large bota of wine anda pasty half a yard across; and this is no exaggeration, for it was made of a houserabbit so big that Sancho, as he handled it, took it to be made of a goat, not tosay a kid, and looking at it he said, "And do you carry this with you, senor?""Why, what are you thinking about?" said the other; "do you take me for somepaltry squire? I carry a better larder on my horse's croup than a general takes withhim when he goes on a march. "Sancho ate without requiring to be pressed, and in the dark bolted mouthfulslike the knots on a tether, and said he, "You are a proper trusty squire, one of theright sort, sumptuous and grand, as this banquet shows, which, if it has not comehere by magic art, at any rate has the look of it; not like me, unlucky beggar, thathave nothing more in my alforjas than a scrap of cheese, so hard that one mightbrain a giant with it, and, to keep it company, a few dozen carobs and as manymore filberts and walnuts; thanks to the austerity of my master, and the idea hehas and the rule he follows, that knights-errant must not live or sustainthemselves on anything except dried fruits and the herbs of the field. ""By my faith, brother, " said he of the Grove, "my stomach is not made forthistles, or wild pears, or roots of the woods; let our masters do as they like, withtheir chivalry notions and laws, and eat what those enjoin; I carry my prog-basketand this bota hanging to the saddle-bow, whatever they may say; and it is such anobject of worship with me, and I love it so, that there is hardly a moment but Iam kissing and embracing it over and over again;" and so saying he thrust it intoSancho's hands, who raising it aloft pointed to his mouth, gazed at the stars for aquarter of an hour; and when he had done drinking let his head fall on one side, and giving a deep sigh, exclaimed, "Ah, whoreson rogue, how catholic it is!""There, you see, " said he of the Grove, hearing Sancho's exclamation, "how youhave called this wine whoreson by way of praise. ""Well, " said Sancho, "I own it, and I grant it is no dishonour to call anyonewhoreson when it is to be understood as praise. But tell me, senor, by what youlove best, is this Ciudad Real wine?""O rare wine-taster!" said he of the Grove; "nowhere else indeed does it comefrom, and it has some years' age too. ""Leave me alone for that, " said Sancho; "never fear but I'll hit upon the place itcame from somehow. What would you say, sir squire, to my having such a greatnatural instinct in judging wines that you have only to let me smell one and I cantell positively its country, its kind, its flavour and soundness, the changes it willundergo, and everything that appertains to a wine? But it is no wonder, for I havehad in my family, on my father's side, the two best wine-tasters that have beenknown in La Mancha for many a long year, and to prove it I'll tell you now a thingthat happened them. They gave the two of them some wine out of a cask, to try, asking their opinion as to the condition, quality, goodness or badness of the wine. One of them tried it with the tip of his tongue, the other did no more than bring itto his nose. The first said the wine had a flavour of iron, the second said it had astronger flavour of cordovan. The owner said the cask was clean, and that nothinghad been added to the wine from which it could have got a flavour of either ironor leather. Nevertheless, these two great wine-tasters held to what they had said. Time went by, the wine was sold, and when they came to clean out the cask, theyfound in it a small key hanging to a thong of cordovan; see now if one who comesof the same stock has not a right to give his opinion in such like cases. ""Therefore, I say, " said he of the Grove, "let us give up going in quest ofadventures, and as we have loaves let us not go looking for cakes, but return toour cribs, for God will find us there if it be his will. ""Until my master reaches Saragossa, " said Sancho, "I'll remain in his service;after that we'll see. "The end of it was that the two squires talked so much and drank so much thatsleep had to tie their tongues and moderate their thirst, for to quench it wasimpossible; and so the pair of them fell asleep clinging to the now nearly emptybota and with half-chewed morsels in their mouths; and there we will leave themfor the present, to relate what passed between the Knight of the Grove and him ofthe Rueful Countenance. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XIV. WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE ADVENTURE OF THE KNIGHT OFTHE GROVEAmong the things that passed between Don Quixote and the Knight of theWood, the history tells us he of the Grove said to Don Quixote, "In fine, sirknight, I would have you know that my destiny, or, more properly speaking, mychoice led me to fall in love with the peerless Casildea de Vandalia. I call herpeerless because she has no peer, whether it be in bodily stature or in thesupremacy of rank and beauty. This same Casildea, then, that I speak of, requitedmy honourable passion and gentle aspirations by compelling me, as hisstepmother did Hercules, to engage in many perils of various sorts, at the end ofeach promising me that, with the end of the next, the object of my hopes shouldbe attained; but my labours have gone on increasing link by link until they arepast counting, nor do I know what will be the last one that is to be the beginningof the accomplishment of my chaste desires. On one occasion she bade me go andchallenge the famous giantess of Seville, La Giralda by name, who is as mightyand strong as if made of brass, and though never stirring from one spot, is themost restless and changeable woman in the world. I came, I saw, I conquered, and I made her stay quiet and behave herself, for nothing but north winds blewfor more than a week. Another time I was ordered to lift those ancient stones, themighty bulls of Guisando, an enterprise that might more fitly be entrusted toporters than to knights. Again, she bade me fling myself into the cavern ofCabra--an unparalleled and awful peril--and bring her a minute account of allthat is concealed in those gloomy depths. I stopped the motion of the Giralda, Ilifted the bulls of Guisando, I flung myself into the cavern and brought to lightthe secrets of its abyss; and my hopes are as dead as dead can be, and her scornand her commands as lively as ever. To be brief, last of all she has commandedme to go through all the provinces of Spain and compel all the knights-errantwandering therein to confess that she surpasses all women alive to-day in beauty, and that I am the most valiant and the most deeply enamoured knight on earth; insupport of which claim I have already travelled over the greater part of Spain, andhave there vanquished several knights who have dared to contradict me; but whatI most plume and pride myself upon is having vanquished in single combat that sofamous knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, and made him confess that myCasildea is more beautiful than his Dulcinea; and in this one victory I hold myselfto have conquered all the knights in the world; for this Don Quixote that I speakof has vanquished them all, and I having vanquished him, his glory, his fame, andhis honour have passed and are transferred to my person; forThe more the vanquished hath of fair renown, The greater glory gilds the victor's crown. Thus the innumerable achievements of the said Don Quixote are now set downto my account and have become mine. "Don Quixote was amazed when he heard the Knight of the Grove, and was athousand times on the point of telling him he lied, and had the lie direct alreadyon the tip of his tongue; but he restrained himself as well as he could, in order toforce him to confess the lie with his own lips; so he said to him quietly, "As towhat you say, sir knight, about having vanquished most of the knights of Spain, or even of the whole world, I say nothing; but that you have vanquished DonQuixote of La Mancha I consider doubtful; it may have been some other thatresembled him, although there are few like him. ""How! not vanquished?" said he of the Grove; "by the heaven that is above us Ifought Don Quixote and overcame him and made him yield; and he is a man oftall stature, gaunt features, long, lank limbs, with hair turning grey, an aquilinenose rather hooked, and large black drooping moustaches; he does battle underthe name of 'The Countenance, ' and he has for squire a peasant called SanchoPanza; he presses the loins and rules the reins of a famous steed called Rocinante;and lastly, he has for the mistress of his will a certain Dulcinea del Toboso, onceupon a time called Aldonza Lorenzo, just as I call mine Casildea de Vandaliabecause her name is Casilda and she is of Andalusia. If all these tokens are notenough to vindicate the

truth of what I say, here is my sword, that will compelincredulity itself to give credence to it. ""Calm yourself, sir knight, " said Don Quixote, "and give ear to what I am aboutto say to you. I would have you know that this Don Quixote you speak of is thegreatest friend I have in the world; so much so that I may say I regard him in thesame light as my own person; and from the precise and clear indications you havegiven I cannot but think that he must be the very one you have vanquished. Onthe other hand, I see with my eyes and feel with my hands that it is impossible itcan have been the same; unless indeed it be that, as he has many enemies who areenchanters, and one in particular who is always persecuting him, some one ofthese may have taken his shape in order to allow himself to be vanquished, so asto defraud him of the fame that his exalted achievements as a knight have earnedand acquired for him throughout the known world. And in confirmation of this, Imust tell you, too, that it is but ten hours since these said enchanters his enemiestransformed the shape and person of the fair Dulcinea del Toboso into a foul andmean village lass, and in the same way they must have transformed Don Quixote;and if all this does not suffice to convince you of the truth of what I say, here isDon Quixote himself, who will maintain it by arms, on foot or on horseback or inany way you please. "And so saying he stood up and laid his hand on his sword, waiting to see whatthe Knight of the Grove would do, who in an equally calm voice said in reply, "Pledges don't distress a good payer; he who has succeeded in vanquishing youonce when transformed, Sir Don Quixote, may fairly hope to subdue you in yourown proper shape; but as it is not becoming for knights to perform their feats ofarms in the dark, like highwaymen and bullies, let us wait till daylight, that thesun may behold our deeds; and the conditions of our combat shall be that thevanquished shall be at the victor's disposal, to do all that he may enjoin, providedthe injunction be such as shall be becoming a knight. ""I am more than satisfied with these conditions and terms, " replied DonQuixote; and so saying, they betook themselves to where their squires lay, andfound them snoring, and in the same posture they were in when sleep fell uponthem. They roused them up, and bade them get the horses ready, as at sunrisethey were to engage in a bloody and arduous single combat; at which intelligenceSancho was aghast and thunderstruck, trembling for the safety of his masterbecause of the mighty deeds he had heard the squire of the Grove ascribe to his;but without a word the two squires went in quest of their cattle; for by this timethe three horses and the ass had smelt one another out, and were all together. On the way, he of the Grove said to Sancho, "You must know, brother, that it isthe custom with the fighting men of Andalusia, when they are godfathers in anyquarrel, not to stand idle with folded arms while their godsons fight; I say so toremind you that while our masters are fighting, we, too, have to fight, and knockone another to shivers. ""That custom, sir squire, " replied Sancho, "may hold good among those bulliesand fighting men you talk of, but certainly not among the squires of knights-errant; at least, I have never heard my master speak of any custom of the sort, and he knows all the laws of knight-errantry by heart; but granting it true thatthere is an express law that squires are to fight while their masters are fighting, Idon't mean to obey it, but to pay the penalty that may be laid on peacefullyminded squires like myself; for I am sure it cannot be more than two pounds ofwax, and I would rather pay that, for I know it will cost me less than the lint Ishall be at the expense of to mend my head, which I look upon as broken andsplit already; there's another thing that makes it impossible for me to fight, that Ihave no sword, for I never carried one in my life. ""I know a good remedy for that, " said he of the Grove; "I have here two linenbags of the same size; you shall take one, and I the other, and we will fight at bagblows with equal arms. ""If that's the way, so be it with all my heart, " said Sancho, "for that sort ofbattle will serve to knock the dust out of us instead of hurting us. ""That will not do, " said the other, "for we must put into the bags, to keep thewind from blowing them away, half a dozen nice smooth pebbles, all of the sameweight; and in this way we shall be able to baste one another without doingourselves any harm or mischief. ""Body of my father!" said Sancho, "see what marten and sable, and pads ofcarded cotton he is putting into the bags, that our heads may not be broken andour bones beaten to jelly! But even if they are filled with toss silk, I can tell you, senor, I am not going to fight; let our masters fight, that's their lookout, and let usdrink and live; for time will take care to ease us of our lives, without our going tolook for fillips so that they may be finished off before their proper time comes andthey drop from ripeness. ""Still, " returned he of the Grove, "we must fight, if it be only for half an hour. ""By no means, " said Sancho; "I am not going to be so discourteous or soungrateful as to have any quarrel, be it ever so small, with one I have eaten anddrunk with; besides, who the devil could bring himself to fight in cold blood, without anger or provocation?""I can remedy that entirely, " said he of the Grove, "and in this way: before webegin the battle, I will come up to your worship fair and softly, and give you threeor four buffets, with which I shall stretch you at my feet and rouse your anger, though it were sleeping sounder than a dormouse. ""To match that plan, " said Sancho, "I have another that is not a whit behind it; Iwill take a cudgel, and before your worship comes near enough to waken myanger I will send yours so sound to sleep with whacks, that it won't waken unlessit be in the other world, where it is known that I am not a man to let my face behandled by anyone; let each look out for the arrow--though the surer way wouldbe to let everyone's anger sleep, for nobody knows the heart of anyone, and a manmay come for wool and go back shorn; God gave his blessing to peace and hiscurse to quarrels; if a hunted cat, surrounded and hard pressed, turns into a lion, God knows what I, who am a man, may turn into; and so from this time forth Iwarn you, sir squire, that all the harm and mischief that may come of our quarrelwill be put down to your account. ""Very good, " said he of the Grove; "God will send the dawn and we shall be allright. "And now gay-plumaged birds of all sorts began to warble in the trees, and withtheir varied and gladsome notes seemed to welcome and salute the fresh mornthat was beginning to show the beauty of her countenance at the gates andbalconies of the east, shaking from her locks a profusion of liquid pearls; in whichdulcet moisture bathed, the plants, too, seemed to shed and shower down a pearlyspray, the willows distilled sweet manna, the fountains laughed, the brooksbabbled, the woods rejoiced, and the meadows arrayed themselves in all theirglory at her coming. But hardly had the light of day made it possible to see anddistinguish things, when the first object that presented itself to the eyes of SanchoPanza was the squire of the Grove's nose, which was so big that it almostovershadowed his whole body. It is, in fact, stated, that it was of enormous size, hooked in the middle, covered with warts, and of a mulberry colour like an egg-plant; it hung down two fingers' length below his mouth, and the size, the colour, the warts, and the bend of it, made his face so hideous, that Sancho, as he lookedat him, began to tremble hand and foot like a child in convulsions, and he vowedin his heart to let himself be given two hundred buffets, sooner than be provokedto fight that monster. Don Quixote examined his adversary, and found that healready had his helmet on and visor lowered, so that he could not see his face; heobserved, however, that he was a sturdily built man, but not very tall in stature. Over his armour he wore a surcoat or cassock of what seemed to be the finestcloth of gold, all bespangled with glittering mirrors like little moons, which gavehim an extremely gallant and splendid appearance; above his helmet fluttered agreat quantity of plumes, green, yellow, and white, and his lance, which wasleaning against a tree, was very long and stout, and had a steel point more than apalm in length. Don Quixote observed all, and took note of all, and from what he saw andobserved he concluded that the said knight must be a man of great strength, buthe did not for all that give way to fear, like Sancho Panza; on the contrary, with acomposed and dauntless air, he said to the Knight of the Mirrors, "If, sir knight, your great eagerness to fight has not banished your courtesy, by it I would entreatyou to raise your visor a little, in order that I may see if the comeliness of yourcountenance corresponds with that of your equipment. ""Whether you come victorious or vanquished out of this emprise, sir knight, "replied he of the Mirrors, "you will have more than enough time and leisure to seeme; and if now I do not comply with your request, it is because it seems to me Ishould do a serious wrong to the fair Casildea de Vandalia in wasting time while Istopped to raise my visor before compelling you to confess what you are alreadyaware I maintain. ""Well then, " said Don Quixote, "while we are mounting you can at least tell meif I am that Don Quixote whom you said you vanquished. ""To that we answer you, " said he of the Mirrors, "that you are as like the veryknight I vanquished as one egg is like another, but as you say enchanterspersecute you, I will not venture to say positively whether you are the said personor not. ""That, " said Don Quixote, "is enough to convince me that you are under adeception; however, entirely to relieve you of it, let our horses be brought, and inless time than it would take you to raise your visor, if God, my lady, and my armstand me in good stead, I shall see your face, and you shall see that I am not thevanquished Don Quixote you take me to be. "With this, cutting short the colloquy, they mounted, and Don Quixote wheeledRocinante round in order to take a proper distance to charge back upon hisadversary, and he of the Mirrors did the same; but Don Quixote had not movedaway twenty paces when he heard himself called by the other, and, each returninghalf-way, he of the Mirrors said to him, "Remember, sir knight, that the terms ofour combat are, that the vanquished, as I said before, shall be at the victor'sdisposal. ""I am aware of it already, " said Don Quixote; "provided what is commanded andimposed upon the vanquished be things that do not transgress the limits ofchivalry. ""That is understood, " replied he of the Mirrors. At this moment the extraordinary nose of the squire presented itself to DonQuixote's view, and he was no less amazed than Sancho at the sight; insomuchthat he set him down as a monster of some kind, or a human being of some newspecies or unearthly breed. Sancho, seeing his master retiring to run his course, did not like to be left alone with the nosy man, fearing that with one flap of thatnose on his own the battle would be all over for him and he would be leftstretched on the ground, either by the blow or with fright; so he ran after hismaster, holding on to Rocinante's stirrup-leather, and when it seemed to him timeto turn about, he said, "I implore of your worship, senor, before you turn tocharge, to help me up into this cork tree, from which I will be able to witness thegallant encounter your worship is going to have with this knight, more to my tasteand better than from the ground. ""It seems to me rather, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that thou wouldst mount ascaffold in order to see the bulls without danger. ""To tell the truth, " returned Sancho, "the monstrous nose of that squire hasfilled me with fear and terror, and I dare not stay near him. ""It is, " said Don Quixote, "such a one that were I not what I am it would terrifyme too; so, come, I will help thee up where thou wilt. "While Don Quixote waited for Sancho to mount into the cork tree he of theMirrors took as much ground as he considered requisite, and, supposing DonQuixote to have done the same, without waiting for any sound of trumpet or othersignal to direct them, he wheeled his horse, which was not more agile or better-looking than Rocinante, and at his top speed, which was an easy trot, heproceeded to charge his enemy; seeing him, however, engaged in putting Sanchoup, he drew rein, and halted in mid career, for which his horse was very grateful, as he was already unable to go. Don Quixote, fancying that his foe was comingdown upon him flying, drove his spurs vigorously into Rocinante's lean flanks andmade him scud along in such style that the history tells us that on this occasiononly was he known to make something like running, for on all others it was asimple trot with him; and with this unparalleled fury he bore down where he ofthe Mirrors stood digging his spurs into his horse up to buttons, without beingable to make him stir a finger's length from the spot where he had come to astandstill in his course. At this lucky moment and crisis, Don Quixote came uponhis adversary, in trouble with his horse, and embarrassed with his lance, which heeither could not manage, or had no time to lay in rest. Don Quixote, however, paid no attention to these difficulties, and in perfect safety to himself and withoutany risk encountered him of the Mirrors with such force that he brought him tothe ground in spite of himself over the haunches of his horse, and with so heavy afall that he lay to all appearance dead, not stirring hand or foot. The instantSancho saw him fall he slid down from the cork tree, and made all haste to wherehis master was, who, dismounting from Rocinante, went and stood over him ofthe Mirrors, and unlacing his helmet to see if he was dead, and to give him air ifhe should happen to be alive, he saw--who can say what he saw, without fillingall who hear it with astonishment, wonder, and awe? He saw, the history says, the very countenance, the very face, the very look, the very physiognomy, thevery effigy, the very image of the bachelor Samson Carrasco! As soon as he saw ithe called out in a loud voice, "Make haste here, Sancho, and behold what thou artto see but not to believe; quick, my son, and learn what magic can do, andwizards and enchanters are capable of. "Sancho came up, and when he saw the countenance of the bachelor Carrasco, he fell to crossing himself a thousand times, and blessing himself as many more. All this time the prostrate knight showed no signs of life, and Sancho said to DonQuixote, "It is my opinion, senor, that in any case your worship should take andthrust your sword into the mouth of this one here that looks like the bachelorSamson Carrasco; perhaps in him you will kill one of your enemies, theenchanters. ""Thy advice is not bad, " said Don Quixote, "for of enemies the fewer the better;"and he was drawing his sword to carry into effect Sancho's counsel andsuggestion, when the squire of the Mirrors came up, now without the nose whichhad made him so hideous, and cried out in a loud voice, "Mind what you areabout, Senor Don Quixote; that is your friend, the bachelor Samson Carrasco, youhave at your feet, and I am his squire. ""And the nose?" said Sancho, seeing him without the hideous feature he hadbefore; to which he replied, "I have it here in my pocket, " and putting his handinto his right pocket, he pulled out a masquerade nose of varnished pasteboard ofthe make already described; and Sancho, examining him more and more closely, exclaimed aloud in a voice of amazement, "Holy Mary be good to me! Isn't it TomCecial, my neighbour and gossip?""Why, to be sure I am!" returned the now unnosed squire; "Tom Cecial I am, gossip and friend Sancho Panza; and I'll tell you presently the means and tricksand falsehoods by which I have been brought here; but in the meantime, beg andentreat of your master not to touch, maltreat, wound, or slay the Knight of theMirrors whom he has at his feet; because, beyond all dispute, it is the rash andill-advised bachelor Samson Carrasco, our fellow townsman. "At this moment he of the Mirrors came to himself, and Don Quixote perceivingit, held the naked point of his sword over his face, and said to him, "You are adead man, knight, unless you confess that the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso excelsyour Casildea de Vandalia in beauty; and in addition to this you must promise, ifyou should survive this encounter and fall, to go to the city of El Toboso andpresent yourself before her on my behalf, that she deal with you according to hergood pleasure; and if she leaves you free to do yours, you are in like manner toreturn and seek me out (for the trail of my mighty deeds will serve you as a guideto lead you to where I may be), and tell me what may have passed between youand her--conditions which, in accordance with what we stipulated before ourcombat, do not transgress the just limits of knight-errantry. ""I confess, " said the fallen knight, "that the dirty tattered shoe of the ladyDulcinea del Toboso is better than the ill-combed though clean beard of Casildea;and I promise to go and to return from her presence to yours, and to give you afull and particular account of all you demand of me. ""You must also confess and believe, " added Don Quixote, "that the knight youvanquished was not and could not be Don Quixote of La Mancha, but some oneelse in his likeness, just as I confess and believe that you, though you seem to bethe bachelor Samson Carrasco, are not so, but some other resembling him, whommy enemies have here put before me in his shape, in order that I may restrain andmoderate the vehemence of my wrath, and make a gentle use of the glory of myvictory. ""I confess, hold, and think everything to be as you believe, hold, and think it, "the crippled knight; "let me rise, I entreat you; if, indeed, the shock of my fall willallow me, for it has left me in a sorry plight enough. "Don Quixote helped him to rise, with the assistance of his squire Tom Cecial;from whom Sancho never took his eyes, and to whom he put questions, the repliesto which furnished clear proof that he was really and truly the Tom Cecial he said;but the impression made on Sancho's mind by what his master said about theenchanters having changed the face of the Knight of the Mirrors into that of thebachelor Samson Carrasco, would not permit him to believe what he saw with hiseyes. In fine, both master and man remained under the delusion; and, down inthe mouth, and out of luck, he of the Mirrors and his squire parted from DonQuixote and Sancho, he meaning to go look for some village where he couldplaster and strap his ribs. Don Quixote and Sancho resumed their journey toSaragossa, and on it the history leaves them in order that it may tell who theKnight of the Mirrors and his long-nosed squire were. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 22. Chapters 15-18Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVOLUME II. CHAPTER XV. WHEREIN IT IS TOLD AND KNOWN WHO THE KNIGHT OF THEMIRRORS AND HIS SQUIRE WEREDon Quixote went off satisfied, elated, and vain-glorious in the highest degreeat having won a victory over such a valiant knight as he fancied him of theMirrors to be, and one from whose knightly word he expected to learn whetherthe enchantment of his lady still continued; inasmuch as the said vanquishedknight was bound, under the penalty of ceasing to be one, to return and renderhim an account of what took place between him and her. But Don Quixote was ofone mind, he of the Mirrors of another, for he just then had no thought ofanything but finding some village where he could plaster himself, as has been saidalready. The history goes on to say, then, that when the bachelor SamsonCarrasco recommended Don Quixote to resume his knight-errantry which he hadlaid aside, it was in consequence of having been previously in conclave with thecurate and the barber on the means to be adopted to induce Don Quixote to stayat home in peace and quiet without worrying himself with his ill-starredadventures; at which consultation it was decided by the unanimous vote of all, and on the special advice of Carrasco, that Don Quixote should be allowed to go, as it seemed impossible to restrain him, and that Samson should sally forth tomeet him as a knight-errant, and do battle with him, for there would be nodifficulty about a cause, and vanquish him, that being looked upon as an easymatter; and that it should be agreed and settled that the vanquished was to be atthe mercy of the victor. Then, Don Quixote being vanquished, the bachelor knightwas to command him to return to his village and his house, and not quit it for twoyears, or until he received further orders from him; all which it was clear DonQuixote would unhesitatingly obey, rather than contravene or fail to observe thelaws of chivalry; and during the period of his seclusion he might perhaps forgethis folly, or there might be an opportunity of discovering some ready remedy forhis madness. Carrasco undertook the task, and Tom Cecial, a gossip andneighbour of Sancho Panza's, a lively, feather-headed fellow, offered himself as hissquire. Carrasco armed himself in the fashion described, and Tom Cecial, that hemight not be known by his gossip when they met, fitted on over his own naturalnose the false masquerade one that has been mentioned; and so they followed thesame route Don Quixote took, and almost came up with him in time to be presentat the adventure of the cart of Death and finally encountered them in the grove, where all that the sagacious reader has been reading about took place; and had itnot been for the extraordinary fancies of Don Quixote, and his conviction that thebachelor was not the bachelor, senor bachelor would have been incapacitated forever from taking his degree of licentiate, all through not finding nests where hethought to find birds. Tom Cecial, seeing how ill they had succeeded, and what a sorry end theirexpedition had come to, said to the bachelor, "Sure enough, Senor SamsonCarrasco, we are served right; it is easy enough to plan and set about anenterprise, but it is often a difficult matter to come well out of it. Don Quixote amadman, and we sane; he goes off laughing, safe, and sound, and you are leftsore and sorry! I'd like to know now which is the madder, he who is so because hecannot help it, or he who is so of his own choice?"To which Samson replied, "The difference between the two sorts of madmen is, that he who is so will he nil he, will be one always, while he who is so of his ownaccord can leave off being one whenever he likes. ""In that case, " said Tom Cecial, "I was a madman of my own accord when Ivolunteered to become your squire, and, of my own accord, I'll leave off being oneand go home. ""That's your affair, " returned Samson, "but to suppose that I am going homeuntil I have given Don Quixote a thrashing is absurd; and it is not any wish thathe may recover his senses that will make me hunt him out now, but a wish for thesore pain I am in with my ribs won't let me entertain more charitable thoughts. "Thus discoursing, the pair proceeded until they reached a town where it wastheir good luck to find a bone-setter, with whose help the unfortunate Samsonwas cured. Tom Cecial left him and went home, while he stayed behindmeditating vengeance; and the history will return to him again at the proper time, so as not to omit making merry with Don Quixote now. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XVI. OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH A DISCREET GENTLEMANOF LA MANCHADon Quixote pursued his journey in the high spirits, satisfaction, and self-complacency already described, fancying himself the most valorous knight-errantof the age in the world because of his late victory. All the adventures that couldbefall him from that time forth he regarded as already done and brought to ahappy issue; he made light of enchantments and enchanters; he thought no moreof the countless drubbings that had been administered to him in the course of hisknight-errantry, nor of the volley of stones that had levelled half his teeth, nor ofthe ingratitude of the galley slaves, nor of the audacity of the Yanguesans and theshower of stakes that fell upon him; in short, he said to himself that could hediscover any means, mode, or way of disenchanting his lady Dulcinea, he wouldnot envy the highest fortune that the most fortunate knight-errant of yore everreached or could reach. He was going along entirely absorbed in these fancies, when Sancho said tohim, "Isn't it odd, senor, that I have still before my eyes that monstrous enormousnose of my gossip, Tom Cecial?""And dost thou, then, believe, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that the Knight ofthe Mirrors was the bachelor Carrasco, and his squire Tom Cecial thy gossip?""I don't know what to say to that, " replied Sancho; "all I know is that the tokenshe gave me about my own house, wife and children, nobody else but himselfcould have given me; and the face, once the nose was off, was the very face ofTom Cecial, as I have seen it many a time in my town and next door to my ownhouse; and the sound of the voice was just the same. ""Let us reason the matter, Sancho, " said Don Quixote. "Come now, by whatprocess of thinking can it be supposed that the bachelor Samson Carrasco wouldcome as a knight-errant, in arms offensive and defensive, to fight with me? Have Iever been by any chance his enemy? Have I ever given him any occasion to oweme a grudge? Am I his rival, or does he profess arms, that he should envy thefame I have acquired in them?""Well, but what are we to say, senor, " returned Sancho, "about that knight, whoever he is, being so like the bachelor Carrasco, and his squire so like mygossip, Tom Cecial? And if that be enchantment, as your worship says, was thereno other pair in the world for them to take the likeness of?""It is all, " said Don Quixote, "a scheme and plot of the malignant magicians thatpersecute me, who, foreseeing that I was to be victorious in the conflict, arrangedthat the vanquished knight should display the countenance of my friend thebachelor, in order that the friendship I bear him should interpose to stay the edgeof my sword and might of my arm, and temper the just wrath of my heart; so thathe who sought to take my life by fraud and falsehood should save his own. And toprove it, thou knowest already, Sancho, by experience which cannot lie ordeceive, how easy it is for enchanters to change one countenance into another, turning fair into foul, and foul into fair; for it is not two days since thou sawestwith thine own eyes the beauty and elegance of the peerless Dulcinea in all itsperfection and natural harmony, while I saw her in the repulsive and mean formof a coarse country wench, with cataracts in her eyes and a foul smell in hermouth; and when the perverse enchanter ventured to effect so wicked atransformation, it is no wonder if he effected that of Samson Carrasco and thygossip in order to snatch the glory of victory out of my grasp. For all that, however, I console myself, because, after all, in whatever shape he may havebeen, I have victorious over my enemy. ""God knows what's the truth of it all, " said Sancho; and knowing as he did thatthe transformation of Dulcinea had been a device and imposition of his own, hismaster's illusions were not satisfactory to him; but he did not like to reply lest heshould say something that might disclose his trickery. As they were engaged in this conversation they were overtaken by a man whowas following the same road behind them, mounted on a very handsome flea-bitten mare, and dressed in a gaban of fine green cloth, with tawny velvet facings, and a montera of the same velvet. The trappings of the mare were of the field andjineta fashion, and of mulberry colour and green. He carried a Moorish cutlasshanging from a broad green and gold baldric; the buskins were of the same makeas the baldric; the spurs were not gilt, but lacquered green, and so brightlypolished that, matching as they did the rest of his apparel, they looked better thanif they had been of pure gold. When the traveller came up with them he saluted them courteously, andspurring his mare was passing them without stopping, but Don Quixote called outto him, "Gallant sir, if so be your worship is going our road, and has no occasionfor speed, it would be a pleasure to me if we were to join company. ""In truth, " replied he on the mare, "I would not pass you so hastily but for fearthat horse might turn restive in the company of my mare. ""You may safely hold in your mare, senor, " said Sancho in reply to this, "for ourhorse is the most virtuous and well-behaved horse in the world; he never doesanything wrong on such occasions, and the only time he misbehaved, my masterand I suffered for it sevenfold; I say again your worship may pull up if you like;for if she was offered to him between two plates the horse would not hanker afterher. "The traveller drew rein, amazed at the trim and features of Don Quixote, whorode without his helmet, which Sancho carried like a valise in front of Dapple'spack-saddle; and if the man in green examined Don Quixote closely, still moreclosely did Don Quixote examine the man in green, who struck him as being aman of intelligence. In appearance he was about fifty years of age, with but fewgrey hairs, an aquiline cast of features, and an expression between grave and gay;and his dress and accoutrements showed him to be a man of good condition. Whathe in green thought of Don Quixote of La Mancha was that a man of that sort andshape he had never yet seen; he marvelled at the length of his hair, his loftystature, the lankness and sallowness of his countenance, his armour, his bearingand his gravity--a figure and picture such as had not been seen in those regionsfor many a long day. Don Quixote saw very plainly the attention with which the traveller wasregarding him, and read his curiosity in his astonishment; and courteous as hewas and ready to please everybody, before the other could ask him any questionhe anticipated him by saying, "The appearance I present to your worship being sostrange and so out of the common, I should not be surprised if it filled you withwonder; but you will cease to wonder when I tell you, as I do, that I am one ofthose knights who, as people say, go seeking adventures. I have left my home, Ihave mortgaged my estate, I have given up my comforts, and committed myself tothe arms of Fortune, to bear me whithersoever she may please. My desire was tobring to life again knight-errantry, now dead, and for some time past, stumblinghere, falling there, now coming down headlong, now raising myself up again, Ihave carried out a great portion of my design, succouring widows, protectingmaidens, and giving aid to wives, orphans, and minors, the proper and naturalduty of knights-errant; and, therefore, because of my many valiant and Christianachievements, I have been already found worthy to make my way in print to well-nigh all, or most, of the nations of the earth. Thirty thousand volumes of myhistory have been printed, and it is on the high-road to be printed thirty thousandthousands of times, if heaven does not put a stop to it. In short, to sum up all in afew words, or in a single one, I may tell you I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called 'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance;' for though self-praise isdegrading, I must perforce sound my own sometimes, that is to say, when there isno one at hand to do it for me. So that, gentle sir, neither this horse, nor thislance, nor this shield, nor this squire, nor all these arms put together, nor thesallowness of my countenance, nor my gaunt leanness, will henceforth astonishyou, now that you know who I am and what profession I follow. "With these words Don Quixote held his peace, and, from the time he took toanswer, the man in green seemed to be at a loss for a reply; after a long pause, however, he said to him, "You were right when you saw curiosity in myamazement, sir knight; but you have not succeeded in removing the astonishmentI feel at seeing you; for although you say, senor, that knowing who you are oughtto remove it, it has not done so; on the contrary, now that I know, I am left moreamazed and astonished than before. What! is it possible that there are knights-errant in the world in these days, and histories of real chivalry printed? I cannotrealise the fact that there can be anyone on earth now-a-days who aids widows, orprotects maidens, or defends wives, or succours orphans; nor should I believe ithad I not seen it in your worship with my own eyes. Blessed be heaven! for bymeans of this history of your noble and genuine chivalrous deeds, which you sayhas been printed, the countless stories of fictitious knights-errant with which theworld is filled, so much to the injury of morality and the prejudice and discredit ofgood histories, will have been driven into oblivion. ""There is a good deal to be said on that point, " said Don Quixote, "as to whetherthe histories of the knights-errant are fiction or not. ""Why, is there anyone who doubts that those histories are false?" said the manin green. "I doubt it, " said Don Quixote, "but never mind that just now; if our journeylasts long enough, I trust in God I shall show your worship that you do wrong ingoing with the stream of those who regard it as a matter of certainty that they arenot true. "From this last observation of Don Quixote's, the traveller began to have asuspicion that he was some crazy being, and was waiting him to confirm it bysomething further; but before they could turn to any new subject Don Quixotebegged him to tell him who he was, since he himself had rendered account of hisstation and life. To this, he in the green gaban replied "I, Sir Knight of the RuefulCountenance, am a gentleman by birth, native of the village where, please God, we are going to dine today; I am more than fairly well off, and my name is DonDiego de Miranda. I pass my life with my wife, children, and friends; my pursuitsare hunting and fishing, but I keep neither hawks nor greyhounds, nothing but atame partridge or a bold ferret or two; I have six dozen or so of books, some inour mother tongue, some Latin, some of them history, others devotional; those ofchivalry have not as yet crossed the threshold of my door; I am more given toturning over the profane than the devotional, so long as they are books of honestentertainment that charm by their style and attract and interest by the inventionthey display, though of these there are very few in Spain. Sometimes I dine withmy neighbours and friends, and often invite them; my entertainments are neatand well served without stint of anything. I have no taste for tattle, nor do I allowtattling in my presence; I pry not into my neighbours' lives, nor have I lynx-eyesfor what others do. I hear mass every day; I share my substance with the poor, making no display of good works, lest I let hypocrisy and vainglory, those enemiesthat subtly take possession of the most watchful heart, find an entrance intomine. I strive to make peace between those whom I know to be at variance; I amthe devoted servant of Our Lady, and my trust is ever in the infinite mercy of Godour Lord. "Sancho listened with the greatest attention to the account of the gentleman's lifeand occupation; and thinking it a good and a holy life, and that he who led itought to work miracles, he threw himself off Dapple, and running in haste seizedhis right stirrup and kissed his foot again and again with a devout heart andalmost with tears. Seeing this the gentleman asked him, "What are you about, brother? What arethese kisses for?""Let me kiss, " said Sancho, "for I think your worship is the first saint in thesaddle I ever saw all the days of my life. ""I am no saint, " replied the gentleman, "but a great sinner; but you are, brother, for you must be a good fellow, as your simplicity shows. "Sancho went back and regained his pack-saddle, having extracted a laugh fromhis master's profound melancholy, and excited fresh amazement in Don Diego. Don Quixote then asked him how many children he had, and observed that one ofthe things wherein the ancient philosophers, who were without the trueknowledge of God, placed the summum bonum was in the gifts of nature, in thoseof fortune, in having many friends, and many and good children. "I, Senor Don Quixote, " answered the gentleman, "have one son, without whom, perhaps, I should count myself happier than I am, not because he is a bad son, but because he is not so good as I could wish. He is eighteen years of age; he hasbeen for six at Salamanca studying Latin and Greek, and when I wished him toturn to the study of other sciences I found him so wrapped up in that of poetry (ifthat can be called a science) that there is no getting him to take kindly to the law, which I wished him to study, or to theology, the queen of them all. I would likehim to be an honour to his family, as we live in days when our kings liberallyreward learning that is virtuous and worthy; for learning without virtue is a pearlon a dunghill. He spends the whole day in settling whether Homer expressedhimself correctly or not in such and such a line of the Iliad, whether Martial wasindecent or not in such and such an epigram, whether such and such lines ofVirgil are to be understood in this way or in that; in short, all his talk is of theworks of these poets, and those of Horace, Perseus, Juvenal, and Tibullus; for ofthe moderns in our own language he makes no great account; but with all hisseeming indifference to Spanish poetry, just now his thoughts are absorbed inmaking a gloss on four lines that have been sent him from Salamanca, which Isuspect are for some poetical tournament. "To all this Don Quixote said in reply, "Children, senor, are portions of theirparents' bowels, and therefore, be they good or bad, are to be loved as we love thesouls that give us life; it is for the parents to guide them from infancy in the waysof virtue, propriety, and worthy Christian conduct, so that when grown up theymay be the staff of their parents' old age, and the glory of their posterity; and toforce them to study this or that science I do not think wise, though it may be noharm to persuade them; and when there is no need to study for the sake of panelucrando, and it is the student's good fortune that heaven has given him parentswho provide him with it, it would be my advice to them to let him pursuewhatever science they may see him most inclined to; and though that of poetry isless useful than pleasurable, it is not one of those that bring discredit upon thepossessor. Poetry, gentle sir, is, as I take it, like a tender young maiden ofsupreme beauty, to array, bedeck, and adorn whom is the task of several othermaidens, who are all the rest of the sciences; and she must avail herself of thehelp of all, and all derive their lustre from her. But this maiden will not bear to behandled, nor dragged through the streets, nor exposed either at the corners of themarket-places, or in the closets of palaces. She is the product of an Alchemy ofsuch virtue that he who is able to practise it, will turn her into pure gold ofinestimable worth. He that possesses her must keep her within bounds, notpermitting her to break out in ribald satires or soulless sonnets. She must on noaccount be offered for sale, unless, indeed, it be in heroic poems, movingtragedies, or sprightly and ingenious comedies. She must not be touched by thebuffoons, nor by the ignorant vulgar, incapable of comprehending or appreciatingher hidden treasures. And do not suppose, senor, that I apply the term vulgarhere merely to plebeians and the lower orders; for everyone who is ignorant, be helord or prince, may and should be included among the vulgar. He, then, who shallembrace and cultivate poetry under the conditions I have named, shall becomefamous, and his name honoured throughout all the civilised nations of the earth. And with regard to what you say, senor, of your son having no great opinion ofSpanish poetry, I am inclined to think that he is not quite right there, and for thisreason: the great poet Homer did not write in Latin, because he was a Greek, nordid Virgil write in Greek, because he was a Latin; in short, all the ancient poetswrote in the language

they imbibed with their mother's milk, and never went inquest of foreign ones to express their sublime conceptions; and that being so, theusage should in justice extend to all nations, and the German poet should not beundervalued because he writes in his own language, nor the Castilian, nor eventhe Biscayan, for writing in his. But your son, senor, I suspect, is not prejudicedagainst Spanish poetry, but against those poets who are mere Spanish versewriters, without any knowledge of other languages or sciences to adorn and givelife and vigour to their natural inspiration; and yet even in this he may be wrong;for, according to a true belief, a poet is born one; that is to say, the poet bynature comes forth a poet from his mother's womb; and following the bent thatheaven has bestowed upon him, without the aid of study or art, he producesthings that show how truly he spoke who said, 'Est Deus in nobis, ' etc. At thesame time, I say that the poet by nature who calls in art to his aid will be a farbetter poet, and will surpass him who tries to be one relying upon his knowledgeof art alone. The reason is, that art does not surpass nature, but only brings it toperfection; and thus, nature combined with art, and art with nature, will producea perfect poet. To bring my argument to a close, I would say then, gentle sir, letyour son go on as his star leads him, for being so studious as he seems to be, andhaving already successfully surmounted the first step of the sciences, which isthat of the languages, with their help he will by his own exertions reach thesummit of polite literature, which so well becomes an independent gentleman, andadorns, honours, and distinguishes him, as much as the mitre does the bishop, orthe gown the learned counsellor. If your son write satires reflecting on the honourof others, chide and correct him, and tear them up; but if he compose discoursesin which he rebukes vice in general, in the style of Horace, and with elegance likehis, commend him; for it is legitimate for a poet to write against envy and lash theenvious in his verse, and the other vices too, provided he does not single outindividuals; there are, however, poets who, for the sake of saying somethingspiteful, would run the risk of being banished to the coast of Pontus. If the poetbe pure in his morals, he will be pure in his verses too; the pen is the tongue ofthe mind, and as the thought engendered there, so will be the things that it writesdown. And when kings and princes observe this marvellous science of poetry inwise, virtuous, and thoughtful subjects, they honour, value, exalt them, and evencrown them with the leaves of that tree which the thunderbolt strikes not, as if toshow that they whose brows are honoured and adorned with such a crown are notto be assailed by anyone. "He of the green gaban was filled with astonishment at Don Quixote's argument, so much so that he began to abandon the notion he had taken up about his beingcrazy. But in the middle of the discourse, it being not very much to his taste, Sancho had turned aside out of the road to beg a little milk from some shepherds, who were milking their ewes hard by; and just as the gentleman, highly pleased, was about to renew the conversation, Don Quixote, raising his head, perceived acart covered with royal flags coming along the road they were travelling; andpersuaded that this must be some new adventure, he called aloud to Sancho tocome and bring him his helmet. Sancho, hearing himself called, quitted theshepherds, and, prodding Dapple vigorously, came up to his master, to whomthere fell a terrific and desperate adventure. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XVII. WHEREIN IS SHOWN THE FURTHEST AND HIGHEST POINTWHICH THE UNEXAMPLED COURAGE OF DON QUIXOTEREACHED OR COULD REACH; TOGETHER WITH THE HAPPILYACHIEVED ADVENTURE OF THE LIONSThe history tells that when Don Quixote called out to Sancho to bring him hishelmet, Sancho was buying some curds the shepherds agreed to sell him, andflurried by the great haste his master was in did not know what to do with themor what to carry them in; so, not to lose them, for he had already paid for them, he thought it best to throw them into his master's helmet, and acting on thisbright idea he went to see what his master wanted with him. He, as heapproached, exclaimed to him:"Give me that helmet, my friend, for either I know little of adventures, or whatI observe yonder is one that will, and does, call upon me to arm myself. "He of the green gaban, on hearing this, looked in all directions, but couldperceive nothing, except a cart coming towards them with two or three smallflags, which led him to conclude it must be carrying treasure of the King's, and hesaid so to Don Quixote. He, however, would not believe him, being alwayspersuaded and convinced that all that happened to him must be adventures andstill more adventures; so he replied to the gentleman, "He who is prepared has hisbattle half fought; nothing is lost by my preparing myself, for I know byexperience that I have enemies, visible and invisible, and I know not when, orwhere, or at what moment, or in what shapes they will attack me;" and turning toSancho he called for his helmet; and Sancho, as he had no time to take out thecurds, had to give it just as it was. Don Quixote took it, and without perceivingwhat was in it thrust it down in hot haste upon his head; but as the curds werepressed and squeezed the whey began to run all over his face and beard, whereathe was so startled that he cried out to Sancho:"Sancho, what's this? I think my head is softening, or my brains are melting, orI am sweating from head to foot! If I am sweating it is not indeed from fear. I amconvinced beyond a doubt that the adventure which is about to befall me is aterrible one. Give me something to wipe myself with, if thou hast it, for thisprofuse sweat is blinding me. "Sancho held his tongue, and gave him a cloth, and gave thanks to God at thesame time that his master had not found out what was the matter. Don Quixotethen wiped himself, and took off his helmet to see what it was that made his headfeel so cool, and seeing all that white mash inside his helmet he put it to his nose, and as soon as he had smelt it he exclaimed:"By the life of my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, but it is curds thou hast put here, thou treacherous, impudent, ill-mannered squire!"To which, with great composure and pretended innocence, Sancho replied, "Ifthey are curds let me have them, your worship, and I'll eat them; but let the devileat them, for it must have been he who put them there. I dare to dirty yourhelmet! You have guessed the offender finely! Faith, sir, by the light God givesme, it seems I must have enchanters too, that persecute me as a creature and limbof your worship, and they must have put that nastiness there in order to provokeyour patience to anger, and make you baste my ribs as you are wont to do. Well, this time, indeed, they have missed their aim, for I trust to my master's goodsense to see that I have got no curds or milk, or anything of the sort; and that if Ihad it is in my stomach I would put it and not in the helmet. ""May be so, " said Don Quixote. All this the gentleman was observing, and withastonishment, more especially when, after having wiped himself clean, his head, face, beard, and helmet, Don Quixote put it on, and settling himself firmly in hisstirrups, easing his sword in the scabbard, and grasping his lance, he cried, "Now, come who will, here am I, ready to try conclusions with Satan himself in person!"By this time the cart with the flags had come up, unattended by anyone exceptthe carter on a mule, and a man sitting in front. Don Quixote planted himselfbefore it and said, "Whither are you going, brothers? What cart is this? What haveyou got in it? What flags are those?"To this the carter replied, "The cart is mine; what is in it is a pair of wild cagedlions, which the governor of Oran is sending to court as a present to his Majesty;and the flags are our lord the King's, to show that what is here is his property. ""And are the lions large?" asked Don Quixote. "So large, " replied the man who sat at the door of the cart, "that larger, or aslarge, have never crossed from Africa to Spain; I am the keeper, and I havebrought over others, but never any like these. They are male and female; the maleis in that first cage and the female in the one behind, and they are hungry now, for they have eaten nothing to-day, so let your worship stand aside, for we mustmake haste to the place where we are to feed them. "Hereupon, smiling slightly, Don Quixote exclaimed, "Lion-whelps to me! to mewhelps of lions, and at such a time! Then, by God! those gentlemen who sendthem here shall see if I am a man to be frightened by lions. Get down, my goodfellow, and as you are the keeper open the cages, and turn me out those beasts, and in the midst of this plain I will let them know who Don Quixote of LaMancha is, in spite and in the teeth of the enchanters who send them to me. ""So, so, " said the gentleman to himself at this; "our worthy knight has shown ofwhat sort he is; the curds, no doubt, have softened his skull and brought hisbrains to a head. "At this instant Sancho came up to him, saying, "Senor, for God's sake dosomething to keep my master, Don Quixote, from tackling these lions; for if hedoes they'll tear us all to pieces here. ""Is your master then so mad, " asked the gentleman, "that you believe and areafraid he will engage such fierce animals?""He is not mad, " said Sancho, "but he is venturesome. ""I will prevent it, " said the gentleman; and going over to Don Quixote, who wasinsisting upon the keeper's opening the cages, he said to him, "Sir knight, knights-errant should attempt adventures which encourage the hope of a successful issue, not those which entirely withhold it; for valour that trenches upon temeritysavours rather of madness than of courage; moreover, these lions do not come tooppose you, nor do they dream of such a thing; they are going as presents to hisMajesty, and it will not be right to stop them or delay their journey. ""Gentle sir, " replied Don Quixote, "you go and mind your tame partridge andyour bold ferret, and leave everyone to manage his own business; this is mine, and I know whether these gentlemen the lions come to me or not;" and thenturning to the keeper he exclaimed, "By all that's good, sir scoundrel, if you don'topen the cages this very instant, I'll pin you to the cart with this lance. "The carter, seeing the determination of this apparition in armour, said to him, "Please your worship, for charity's sake, senor, let me unyoke the mules and placemyself in safety along with them before the lions are turned out; for if they killthem on me I am ruined for life, for all I possess is this cart and mules. ""O man of little faith, " replied Don Quixote, "get down and unyoke; you willsoon see that you are exerting yourself for nothing, and that you might havespared yourself the trouble. "The carter got down and with all speed unyoked the mules, and the keepercalled out at the top of his voice, "I call all here to witness that against my willand under compulsion I open the cages and let the lions loose, and that I warnthis gentleman that he will be accountable for all the harm and mischief whichthese beasts may do, and for my salary and dues as well. You, gentlemen, placeyourselves in safety before I open, for I know they will do me no harm. "Once more the gentleman strove to persuade Don Quixote not to do such a madthing, as it was tempting God to engage in such a piece of folly. To this, DonQuixote replied that he knew what he was about. The gentleman in returnentreated him to reflect, for he knew he was under a delusion. "Well, senor, " answered Don Quixote, "if you do not like to be a spectator ofthis tragedy, as in your opinion it will be, spur your flea-bitten mare, and placeyourself in safety. "Hearing this, Sancho with tears in his eyes entreated him to give up anenterprise compared with which the one of the windmills, and the awful one ofthe fulling mills, and, in fact, all the feats he had attempted in the whole course ofhis life, were cakes and fancy bread. "Look ye, senor, " said Sancho, "there's noenchantment here, nor anything of the sort, for between the bars and chinks ofthe cage I have seen the paw of a real lion, and judging by that I reckon the lionsuch a paw could belong to must be bigger than a mountain. ""Fear at any rate, " replied Don Quixote, "will make him look bigger to thee thanhalf the world. Retire, Sancho, and leave me; and if I die here thou knowest ourold compact; thou wilt repair to Dulcinea--I say no more. " To these he addedsome further words that banished all hope of his giving up his insane project. Heof the green gaban would have offered resistance, but he found himself ill-matched as to arms, and did not think it prudent to come to blows with amadman, for such Don Quixote now showed himself to be in every respect; andthe latter, renewing his commands to the keeper and repeating his threats, gavewarning to the gentleman to spur his mare, Sancho his Dapple, and the carter hismules, all striving to get away from the cart as far as they could before the lionsbroke loose. Sancho was weeping over his master's death, for this time he firmlybelieved it was in store for him from the claws of the lions; and he cursed his fateand called it an unlucky hour when he thought of taking service with him again;but with all his tears and lamentations he did not forget to thrash Dapple so as toput a good space between himself and the cart. The keeper, seeing that thefugitives were now some distance off, once more entreated and warned him asbefore; but he replied that he heard him, and that he need not trouble himselfwith any further warnings or entreaties, as they would be fruitless, and bade himmake haste. During the delay that occurred while the keeper was opening the first cage, DonQuixote was considering whether it would not be well to do battle on foot, insteadof on horseback, and finally resolved to fight on foot, fearing that Rocinante mighttake fright at the sight of the lions; he therefore sprang off his horse, flung hislance aside, braced his buckler on his arm, and drawing his sword, advancedslowly with marvellous intrepidity and resolute courage, to plant himself in frontof the cart, commending himself with all his heart to God and to his ladyDulcinea. It is to be observed, that on coming to this passage, the author of this veracioushistory breaks out into exclamations. "O doughty Don Quixote! high-mettled pastextolling! Mirror, wherein all the heroes of the world may see themselves! Secondmodern Don Manuel de Leon, once the glory and honour of Spanish knighthood!In what words shall I describe this dread exploit, by what language shall I make itcredible to ages to come, what eulogies are there unmeet for thee, though they behyperboles piled on hyperboles! On foot, alone, undaunted, high-souled, with buta simple sword, and that no trenchant blade of the Perrillo brand, a shield, but nobright polished steel one, there stoodst thou, biding and awaiting the two fiercestlions that Africa's forests ever bred! Thy own deeds be thy praise, valiantManchegan, and here I leave them as they stand, wanting the words wherewith toglorify them!"Here the author's outburst came to an end, and he proceeded to take up thethread of his story, saying that the keeper, seeing that Don Quixote had taken uphis position, and that it was impossible for him to avoid letting out the malewithout incurring the enmity of the fiery and daring knight, flung open the doorsof the first cage, containing, as has been said, the lion, which was now seen to beof enormous size, and grim and hideous mien. The first thing he did was to turnround in the cage in which he lay, and protrude his claws, and stretch himselfthoroughly; he next opened his mouth, and yawned very leisurely, and with neartwo palms' length of tongue that he had thrust forth, he licked the dust out of hiseyes and washed his face; having done this, he put his head out of the cage andlooked all round with eyes like glowing coals, a spectacle and demeanour to striketerror into temerity itself. Don Quixote merely observed him steadily, longing forhim to leap from the cart and come to close quarters with him, when he hoped tohew him in pieces. So far did his unparalleled madness go; but the noble lion, more courteous thanarrogant, not troubling himself about silly bravado, after having looked all round, as has been said, turned about and presented his hind-quarters to Don Quixote, and very coolly and tranquilly lay down again in the cage. Seeing this, DonQuixote ordered the keeper to take a stick to him and provoke him to make himcome out. "That I won't, " said the keeper; "for if I anger him, the first he'll tear in pieceswill be myself. Be satisfied, sir knight, with what you have done, which leavesnothing more to be said on the score of courage, and do not seek to tempt fortunea second time. The lion has the door open; he is free to come out or not to comeout; but as he has not come out so far, he will not come out to-day. Yourworship's great courage has been fully manifested already; no brave champion, soit strikes me, is bound to do more than challenge his enemy and wait for him onthe field; if his adversary does not come, on him lies the disgrace, and he whowaits for him carries off the crown of victory. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote; "close the door, my friend, and let me have, inthe best form thou canst, what thou hast seen me do, by way of certificate; to wit, that thou didst open for the lion, that I waited for him, that he did not come out, that I still waited for him, and that still he did not come out, and lay down again. I am not bound to do more; enchantments avaunt, and God uphold the right, thetruth, and true chivalry! Close the door as I bade thee, while I make signals to thefugitives that have left us, that they may learn this exploit from thy lips. "The keeper obeyed, and Don Quixote, fixing on the point of his lance the clothhe had wiped his face with after the deluge of curds, proceeded to recall theothers, who still continued to fly, looking back at every step, all in a body, thegentleman bringing up the rear. Sancho, however, happening to observe the signalof the white cloth, exclaimed, "May I die, if my master has not overcome the wildbeasts, for he is calling to us. "They all stopped, and perceived that it was Don Quixote who was makingsignals, and shaking off their fears to some extent, they approached slowly untilthey were near enough to hear distinctly Don Quixote's voice calling to them. They returned at length to the cart, and as they came up, Don Quixote said to thecarter, "Put your mules to once more, brother, and continue your journey; and dothou, Sancho, give him two gold crowns for himself and the keeper, tocompensate for the delay they have incurred through me. ""That will I give with all my heart, " said Sancho; "but what has become of thelions? Are they dead or alive?"The keeper, then, in full detail, and bit by bit, described the end of the contest, exalting to the best of his power and ability the valour of Don Quixote, at thesight of whom the lion quailed, and would not and dared not come out of thecage, although he had held the door open ever so long; and showing how, inconsequence of his having represented to the knight that it was tempting God toprovoke the lion in order to force him out, which he wished to have done, he veryreluctantly, and altogether against his will, had allowed the door to be closed. "What dost thou think of this, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Are there anyenchantments that can prevail against true valour? The enchanters may be able torob me of good fortune, but of fortitude and courage they cannot. "Sancho paid the crowns, the carter put to, the keeper kissed Don Quixote'shands for the bounty bestowed upon him, and promised to give an account of thevaliant exploit to the King himself, as soon as he saw him at court. "Then, " said Don Quixote, "if his Majesty should happen to ask who performedit, you must say THE KNIGHT OF THE LIONS; for it is my desire that into thisthe name I have hitherto borne of Knight of the Rueful Countenance be from thistime forward changed, altered, transformed, and turned; and in this I follow theancient usage of knights-errant, who changed their names when they pleased, orwhen it suited their purpose. "The cart went its way, and Don Quixote, Sancho, and he of the green gabanwent theirs. All this time, Don Diego de Miranda had not spoken a word, beingentirely taken up with observing and noting all that Don Quixote did and said, and the opinion he formed was that he was a man of brains gone mad, and amadman on the verge of rationality. The first part of his history had not yetreached him, for, had he read it, the amazement with which his words and deedsfilled him would have vanished, as he would then have understood the nature ofhis madness; but knowing nothing of it, he took him to be rational one moment, and crazy the next, for what he said was sensible, elegant, and well expressed, and what he did, absurd, rash, and foolish; and said he to himself, "What could bemadder than putting on a helmet full of curds, and then persuading oneself thatenchanters are softening one's skull; or what could be greater rashness and follythan wanting to fight lions tooth and nail?"Don Quixote roused him from these reflections and this soliloquy by saying, "Nodoubt, Senor Don Diego de Miranda, you set me down in your mind as a fool anda madman, and it would be no wonder if you did, for my deeds do not argueanything else. But for all that, I would have you take notice that I am neither somad nor so foolish as I must have seemed to you. A gallant knight shows toadvantage bringing his lance to bear adroitly upon a fierce bull under the eyes ofhis sovereign, in the midst of a spacious plaza; a knight shows to advantagearrayed in glittering armour, pacing the lists before the ladies in some joyoustournament, and all those knights show to advantage that entertain, divert, and, ifwe may say so, honour the courts of their princes by warlike exercises, or whatresemble them; but to greater advantage than all these does a knight-errant showwhen he traverses deserts, solitudes, cross-roads, forests, and mountains, in questof perilous adventures, bent on bringing them to a happy and successful issue, allto win a glorious and lasting renown. To greater advantage, I maintain, does theknight-errant show bringing aid to some widow in some lonely waste, than thecourt knight dallying with some city damsel. All knights have their own specialparts to play; let the courtier devote himself to the ladies, let him add lustre to hissovereign's court by his liveries, let him entertain poor gentlemen with thesumptuous fare of his table, let him arrange joustings, marshal tournaments, andprove himself noble, generous, and magnificent, and above all a good Christian, and so doing he will fulfil the duties that are especially his; but let the knight-errant explore the corners of the earth and penetrate the most intricate labyrinths, at each step let him attempt impossibilities, on desolate heaths let him endure theburning rays of the midsummer sun, and the bitter inclemency of the winterwinds and frosts; let no lions daunt him, no monsters terrify him, no dragonsmake him quail; for to seek these, to attack those, and to vanquish all, are intruth his main duties. I, then, as it has fallen to my lot to be a member of knight-errantry, cannot avoid attempting all that to me seems to come within the sphereof my duties; thus it was my bounden duty to attack those lions that I just nowattacked, although I knew it to be the height of rashness; for I know well whatvalour is, that it is a virtue that occupies a place between two vicious extremes, cowardice and temerity; but it will be a lesser evil for him who is valiant to risetill he reaches the point of rashness, than to sink until he reaches the point ofcowardice; for, as it is easier for the prodigal than for the miser to becomegenerous, so it is easier for a rash man to prove truly valiant than for a coward torise to true valour; and believe me, Senor Don Diego, in attempting adventures itis better to lose by a card too many than by a card too few; for to hear it said, 'such a knight is rash and daring, ' sounds better than 'such a knight is timid andcowardly. '""I protest, Senor Don Quixote, " said Don Diego, "everything you have said anddone is proved correct by the test of reason itself; and I believe, if the laws andordinances of knight-errantry should be lost, they might be found in yourworship's breast as in their own proper depository and muniment-house; but letus make haste, and reach my village, where you shall take rest after your lateexertions; for if they have not been of the body they have been of the spirit, andthese sometimes tend to produce bodily fatigue. ""I take the invitation as a great favour and honour, Senor Don Diego, " repliedDon Quixote; and pressing forward at a better pace than before, at about two inthe afternoon they reached the village and house of Don Diego, or, as DonQuixote called him, "The Knight of the Green Gaban. "CHAPTER XVIII. OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE IN THE CASTLE OR HOUSEOF THE KNIGHT OF THE GREEN GABAN, TOGETHER WITHOTHER MATTERS OUT OF THE COMMONDon Quixote found Don Diego de Miranda's house built in village style, with hisarms in rough stone over the street door; in the patio was the store-room, and atthe entrance the cellar, with plenty of wine-jars standing round, which, comingfrom El Toboso, brought back to his memory his enchanted and transformedDulcinea; and with a sigh, and not thinking of what he was saying, or in whosepresence he was, he exclaimed-"O ye sweet treasures, to my sorrow found!Once sweet and welcome when 'twas heaven's good-will. "O ye Tobosan jars, how ye bring back to my memory thesweet object of my bitter regrets!"The student poet, Don Diego's son, who had come out with his mother toreceive him, heard this exclamation, and both mother and son were filled withamazement at the extraordinary figure he presented; he, however, dismountingfrom Rocinante, advanced with great politeness to ask permission to kiss thelady's hand, while Don Diego said, "Senora, pray receive with your wontedkindness Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, whom you see before you, a knight-errant, and the bravest and wisest in the world. "The lady, whose name was Dona Christina, received him with every sign ofgood-will and great courtesy, and Don Quixote placed himself at her service withan abundance of well-chosen and polished phrases. Almost the same civilitieswere exchanged between him and the student, who listening to Don Quixote, tookhim to be a sensible, clear-headed person. Here the author describes minutely everything belonging to Don Diego'smansion, putting before us in his picture the whole contents of a rich gentleman-farmer's house; but the translator of the history thought it best to pass over theseand other details of the same sort in silence, as they are not in harmony with themain purpose of the story, the strong point of which is truth rather than dulldigressions. They led Don Quixote into a room, and Sancho removed his armour, leavinghim in loose Walloon breeches and chamois-leather doublet, all stained with therust of his armour; his collar was a falling one of scholastic cut, without starch orlace, his buskins buff-coloured, and his shoes polished. He wore his good sword, which hung in a baldric of sea-wolf's skin, for he had suffered for many years, they say, from an ailment of the kidneys; and over all he threw a long cloak ofgood grey cloth. But first of all, with five or six buckets of water (for as regard thenumber of buckets there is some dispute), he washed his head and face, and stillthe water remained whey-coloured, thanks to Sancho's greediness and purchase ofthose unlucky curds that turned his master so white. Thus arrayed, and with aneasy, sprightly, and gallant air, Don Quixote passed out into another room, wherethe student was waiting to entertain him while the table was being laid; for on thearrival of so distinguished a guest, Dona Christina was anxious to show that sheknew how and was able to give a becoming reception to those who came to herhouse. While Don Quixote was taking off his armour, Don Lorenzo (for so Don Diego'sson was called) took the opportunity to say to his father, "What are we to make ofthis gentleman you have brought home to us, sir? For his name, his appearance, and your describing him as a knight-errant have completely puzzled my motherand me. ""I don't know what to say, my son, " replied. Don Diego; "all I can tell thee isthat I have seen him act the acts of the greatest madman in the world, and heardhim make observations so sensible that they efface and undo all he does; do thoutalk to him and feel the pulse of his wits, and as thou art shrewd, form the mostreasonable conclusion thou canst as to his wisdom or folly; though, to tell thetruth, I am more inclined to take him to be mad than sane. "With this Don Lorenzo went away to entertain Don Quixote as has been said, and in the course of the conversation that passed between them Don Quixote saidto Don Lorenzo, "Your father, Senor Don Diego de Miranda, has told me of therare abilities and subtle intellect you possess, and, above all, that you are a greatpoet. ""A poet, it may be, " replied Don Lorenzo, "but a great one, by no means. It istrue that I am somewhat given to poetry and to reading good poets, but not somuch so as to justify the title of 'great' which my father gives me. ""I do not dislike that modesty, " said Don Quixote; "for there is no poet who isnot conceited and does not think he is the best poet in the world. ""There is no rule without an exception, " said Don Lorenzo; "there may be somewho are poets and yet do not think they are. ""Very few, " said Don Quixote; "but tell me, what verses are those which youhave now in hand, and which your father tells me keep you somewhat restlessand absorbed? If it be some gloss, I know something about glosses, and I shouldlike to hear them; and if they are for a poetical tournament, contrive to carry offthe second prize; for the first always goes by favour or personal standing, thesecond by simple justice; and so the third comes to be the second, and the first, reckoning in this way, will be third, in the same way as licentiate degrees areconferred at the universities; but, for all that, the title of first is a greatdistinction. ""So far, " said Don Lorenzo to himself, "I should not take you to be a madman;but let us go on. " So he said to him, "Your worship has apparently attended theschools; what sciences have you studied?""That of knight-errantry, " said Don Quixote, "which is as good as that of poetry, and even a finger or two above it. ""I do not know what science that is, " said Don Lorenzo, "and until now I havenever heard of it. ""It is a science, " said Don Quixote, "that comprehends in itself all or most of thesciences in the world, for he who professes it must be a jurist, and must know therules of justice, distributive and equitable, so as to give to each one what belongsto him and is due to him. He must be a theologian, so as to be able to give a clearand distinctive reason for the Christian faith he professes, wherever it may beasked of him. He must be a physician, and above all a herbalist, so as in wastesand solitudes to know the herbs that have the property of healing wounds, for aknight-errant must not go looking for some one to cure him at every step. He mustbe an astronomer, so as to know by the stars how many hours of the night havepassed, and what clime and quarter of the world he is in. He must knowmathematics, for at every turn some occasion for them will present itself to him;and, putting it aside that he must be adorned with all the virtues, cardinal andtheological, to come down to minor particulars, he must, I say, be able to swim aswell as Nicholas or Nicolao the Fish could, as the story goes; he must know howto shoe a horse, and repair his saddle and bridle; and, to return to higher matters, he must be faithful to God and to his lady; he must be pure in thought, decorousin words, generous in works, valiant in deeds, patient in suffering, compassionatetowards the needy, and, lastly, an upholder of the truth though its defence shouldcost him his life. Of all these qualities, great and small, is a true knight-errantmade up; judge then, Senor Don Lorenzo, whether it be a contemptible sciencewhich the knight who studies and professes it has to learn, and whether it maynot compare with the very loftiest that are taught in the schools. ""If that be so, " replied Don Lorenzo, "this science, I protest, surpasses all. ""How, if that be so?" said Don Quixote. "What I mean to say, " said Don Lorenzo, "is, that I doubt whether there arenow, or ever were, any knights-errant, and adorned with such virtues. ""Many a time, " replied Don Quixote, "have I said what I now say once more, that the majority of the world are of opinion that there never were any knights-errant in it; and as it is my opinion that, unless heaven by some miracle bringshome to them the truth that there were and are, all the pains one takes will be invain (as experience has often proved to me), I will not now stop to disabuse you ofthe error you share with the multitude. All I shall do is to pray to heaven todeliver you from it, and show you how beneficial and necessary knights-errantwere in days of yore, and how useful they would be in these days were they but invogue; but now, for the sins of the people, sloth and indolence, gluttony andluxury are triumphant. ""Our guest has broken out on our hands, " said Don Lorenzo to himself at thispoint; "but, for all that, he is a glorious madman, and I should be a dull blockheadto doubt it. "Here, being summoned to dinner, they brought their colloquy to a close. DonDiego asked his son what he had been able to make out as to the wits of theirguest. To which he replied, "All the doctors and clever scribes in the world willnot make sense of the scrawl of his madness; he is a madman full of streaks, fullof lucid intervals. "They went in to dinner, and the repast was such as Don Diego said on the roadhe was in the habit of giving to his guests, neat, plentiful, and tasty; but whatpleased Don Quixote most was the marvellous silence that reigned throughout thehouse, for it was like a Carthusian monastery. When the cloth had been removed, grace said and their hands washed, DonQuixote earnestly pressed Don Lorenzo to repeat to him his verses for the poeticaltournament, to which he replied, "Not to be like those poets who, when they areasked to recite their verses, refuse, and when they are not asked for them vomitthem up, I will repeat my gloss, for which I do not expect any prize, havingcomposed it merely as an exercise of ingenuity. ""A discerning friend of mine, " said Don Quixote, "was of opinion that no oneought to waste labour in glossing verses; and the reason he gave was that thegloss can never come up to the text, and that often or most frequently it wandersaway from the meaning and purpose aimed at in the glossed lines; and besides, that the laws of the gloss were too strict, as they did not allow interrogations, nor'said he, ' nor 'I say, ' nor turning verbs into nouns, or altering the construction, notto speak of other restrictions and limitations that fetter gloss-writers, as you nodoubt know. ""Verily, Senor Don Quixote, " said Don Lorenzo, "I wish I could catch yourworship tripping at a stretch, but I cannot, for you slip through my fingers like aneel. ""I don't understand what you say, or mean by slipping, " said Don Quixote. "I will explain myself another time, " said Don Lorenzo; "for the present prayattend to the glossed verses and the gloss, which run thus:Could 'was' become an 'is' for me, Then would I ask no more than this;Or could, for me, the time that isBecome the time that is to be!--GLOSSDame Fortune once upon a dayTo me was bountiful and kind;But all things change; she changed her mind, And what she gave she took away. O Fortune, long I've sued to thee;The gifts thou gavest me restore, For, trust me, I would ask no more, Could 'was' become an 'is' for me. No other prize I seek to gain, No triumph, glory, or success, Only the long-lost happiness, The memory whereof is pain. One taste, methinks, of bygone blissThe heart-consuming fire might stay;And, so it come without delay, Then would I ask no more than this. I ask what cannot be, alas!That time should ever be, and thenCome back to us, and be again, No power on earth can bring to pass;For fleet of foot is he, I wis, And idly, therefore, do we prayThat what for aye hath left us mayBecome for us the time that is. Perplexed, uncertain, to remain'Twixt hope and fear, is death, not life;'Twere better, sure, to end the strife, And dying, seek release from pain. And yet, thought were the best for me. Anon the thought aside I fling, And to the present fondly cling, And dread the time that is to be. "When Don Lorenzo had finished reciting his gloss, Don Quixote stood up, andin a loud voice, almost a shout, exclaimed as he grasped Don Lorenzo's right handin his, "By the highest heavens, noble youth, but you are the best poet on earth, and deserve to be crowned with laurel, not by Cyprus or by Gaeta--as a certainpoet, God forgive him, said--but by the Academies of Athens, if they stillflourished, and by those that flourish now, Paris, Bologna, Salamanca. Heavengrant that the judges who rob you of the first prize--that Phoebus may piercethem with his arrows, and the Muses never cross the thresholds of their doors. Repeat me some of your long-measure verses, senor, if you will be so good, for Iwant thoroughly to feel the pulse of your rare genius. "Is there any need to say that Don Lorenzo enjoyed hearing himself praised byDon Quixote, albeit he looked upon him as a madman? power of flattery, how far-reaching art thou, and how wide are the bounds of thy pleasant jurisdiction! DonLorenzo gave a proof of it, for he complied with Don Quixote's request andentreaty, and repeated to him this sonnet on the fable or story of Pyramus andThisbe. SONNETThe lovely maid, she pierces now the wall;Heart-pierced by her young Pyramus doth lie;And Love spreads wing from Cyprus isle to fly, A chink to view so wondrous great and small. There silence speaketh, for no voice at allCan pass so strait a strait; but love will plyWhere to all other power 'twere vain to try;For love will find a way whate'er befall. Impatient of delay, with reckless paceThe rash maid wins the fatal spot where sheSinks not in lover's arms but death's embrace. So runs the strange tale, how the lovers twainOne sword, one sepulchre, one memory, Slays, and entombs, and brings to life again. "Blessed be God, " said Don Quixote when he had heard Don Lorenzo's sonnet, "that among the hosts there are of irritable poets I have found one consummateone, which, senor, the art of this sonnet proves to me that you are!"For four days was Don Quixote most sumptuously entertained in Don Diego'shouse, at the end of which time he asked his permission to depart, telling him hethanked him for the kindness and hospitality he had received in his house, butthat, as it did not become knights-errant to give themselves up for long to idlenessand luxury, he was anxious to fulfill the duties of his calling in seekingadventures, of which he was informed there was an abundance in thatneighbourhood, where he hoped to employ his time until the day came round forthe jousts at Saragossa, for that was his proper destination; and that, first of all, he meant to enter the cave of Montesinos, of which so many marvellous thingswere reported all through the country, and at the same time to investigate andexplore the origin and true source of the seven lakes commonly called the lakes ofRuidera. Don Diego and his son commended his laudable resolution, and bade himfurnish himself with all he wanted from their house and belongings, as they wouldmost gladly be of service to him; which, indeed, his personal worth and hishonourable profession made incumbent upon them. The day of his departure came at length, as welcome to Don Quixote as it wassad and sorrowful to Sancho Panza, who was very well satisfied

with theabundance of Don Diego's house, and objected to return to the starvation of thewoods and wilds and the short-commons of his ill-stocked alforjas; these, however, he filled and packed with what he considered needful. On taking leave, Don Quixote said to Don Lorenzo, "I know not whether I have told you already, but if I have I tell you once more, that if you wish to spare yourself fatigue andtoil in reaching the inaccessible summit of the temple of fame, you have nothingto do but to turn aside out of the somewhat narrow path of poetry and take thestill narrower one of knight-errantry, wide enough, however, to make you anemperor in the twinkling of an eye. "In this speech Don Quixote wound up the evidence of his madness, but stillbetter in what he added when he said, "God knows, I would gladly take DonLorenzo with me to teach him how to spare the humble, and trample the proudunder foot, virtues that are part and parcel of the profession I belong to; but sincehis tender age does not allow of it, nor his praiseworthy pursuits permit it, I willsimply content myself with impressing it upon your worship that you will becomefamous as a poet if you are guided by the opinion of others rather than by yourown; because no fathers or mothers ever think their own children ill-favoured, andthis sort of deception prevails still more strongly in the case of the children of thebrain. "Both father and son were amazed afresh at the strange medley Don Quixotetalked, at one moment sense, at another nonsense, and at the pertinacity andpersistence he displayed in going through thick and thin in quest of his unluckyadventures, which he made the end and aim of his desires. There was a renewalof offers of service and civilities, and then, with the gracious permission of thelady of the castle, they took their departure, Don Quixote on Rocinante, andSancho on Dapple. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 23. Chapters 19-20Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XIX. IN WHICH IS RELATED THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENAMOUREDSHEPHERD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER TRULY DROLL INCIDENTSDon Quixote had gone but a short distance beyond Don Diego's village, whenhe fell in with a couple of either priests or students, and a couple of peasants, mounted on four beasts of the ass kind. One of the students carried, wrapped upin a piece of green buckram by way of a portmanteau, what seemed to be a littlelinen and a couple of pairs of-ribbed stockings; the other carried nothing but apair of new fencing-foils with buttons. The peasants carried divers articles thatshowed they were on their way from some large town where they had boughtthem, and were taking them home to their village; and both students and peasantswere struck with the same amazement that everybody felt who saw Don Quixotefor the first time, and were dying to know who this man, so different fromordinary men, could be. Don Quixote saluted them, and after ascertaining thattheir road was the same as his, made them an offer of his company, and beggedthem to slacken their pace, as their young asses travelled faster than his horse;and then, to gratify them, he told them in a few words who he was and the callingand profession he followed, which was that of a knight-errant seeking adventuresin all parts of the world. He informed them that his own name was Don Quixoteof La Mancha, and that he was called, by way of surname, the Knight of theLions. All this was Greek or gibberish to the peasants, but not so to the students, whovery soon perceived the crack in Don Quixote's pate; for all that, however, theyregarded him with admiration and respect, and one of them said to him, "If you, sir knight, have no fixed road, as it is the way with those who seek adventures notto have any, let your worship come with us; you will see one of the finest andrichest weddings that up to this day have ever been celebrated in La Mancha, orfor many a league round. "Don Quixote asked him if it was some prince's, that he spoke of it in this way. "Not at all, " said the student; "it is the wedding of a farmer and a farmer'sdaughter, he the richest in all this country, and she the fairest mortal ever set eyeson. The display with which it is to be attended will be something rare and out ofthe common, for it will be celebrated in a meadow adjoining the town of thebride, who is called, par excellence, Quiteria the fair, as the bridegroom is calledCamacho the rich. She is eighteen, and he twenty-two, and they are fairlymatched, though some knowing ones, who have all the pedigrees in the world byheart, will have it that the family of the fair Quiteria is better than Camacho's; butno one minds that now-a-days, for wealth can solder a great many flaws. At anyrate, Camacho is free-handed, and it is his fancy to screen the whole meadow withboughs and cover it in overhead, so that the sun will have hard work if he tries toget in to reach the grass that covers the soil. He has provided dancers too, notonly sword but also bell-dancers, for in his own town there are those who ring thechanges and jingle the bells to perfection; of shoe-dancers I say nothing, for ofthem he has engaged a host. But none of these things, nor of the many others Ihave omitted to mention, will do more to make this a memorable wedding thanthe part which I suspect the despairing Basilio will play in it. This Basilio is ayouth of the same village as Quiteria, and he lived in the house next door to thatof her parents, of which circumstance Love took advantage to reproduce to theword the long-forgotten loves of Pyramus and Thisbe; for Basilio loved Quiteriafrom his earliest years, and she responded to his passion with countless modestproofs of affection, so that the loves of the two children, Basilio and Quiteria, were the talk and the amusement of the town. As they grew up, the father ofQuiteria made up his mind to refuse Basilio his wonted freedom of access to thehouse, and to relieve himself of constant doubts and suspicions, he arranged amatch for his daughter with the rich Camacho, as he did not approve of marryingher to Basilio, who had not so large a share of the gifts of fortune as of nature; forif the truth be told ungrudgingly, he is the most agile youth we know, a mightythrower of the bar, a first-rate wrestler, and a great ball-player; he runs like adeer, and leaps better than a goat, bowls over the nine-pins as if by magic, singslike a lark, plays the guitar so as to make it speak, and, above all, handles asword as well as the best. ""For that excellence alone, " said Don Quixote at this, "the youth deserves tomarry, not merely the fair Quiteria, but Queen Guinevere herself, were she alivenow, in spite of Launcelot and all who would try to prevent it. ""Say that to my wife, " said Sancho, who had until now listened in silence, "forshe won't hear of anything but each one marrying his equal, holding with theproverb 'each ewe to her like. ' What I would like is that this good Basilio (for I ambeginning to take a fancy to him already) should marry this lady Quiteria; and ablessing and good luck--I meant to say the opposite--on people who wouldprevent those who love one another from marrying. ""If all those who love one another were to marry, " said Don Quixote, "it woulddeprive parents of the right to choose, and marry their children to the properperson and at the proper time; and if it was left to daughters to choose husbandsas they pleased, one would be for choosing her father's servant, and another, someone she has seen passing in the street and fancies gallant and dashing, though hemay be a drunken bully; for love and fancy easily blind the eyes of the judgment, so much wanted in choosing one's way of life; and the matrimonial choice is veryliable to error, and it needs great caution and the special favour of heaven tomake it a good one. He who has to make a long journey, will, if he is wise, lookout for some trusty and pleasant companion to accompany him before he sets out. Why, then, should not he do the same who has to make the whole journey of lifedown to the final halting-place of death, more especially when the companion hasto be his companion in bed, at board, and everywhere, as the wife is to herhusband? The companionship of one's wife is no article of merchandise, that, afterit has been bought, may be returned, or bartered, or changed; for it is aninseparable accident that lasts as long as life lasts; it is a noose that, once you putit round your neck, turns into a Gordian knot, which, if the scythe of Death doesnot cut it, there is no untying. I could say a great deal more on this subject, were Inot prevented by the anxiety I feel to know if the senor licentiate has anythingmore to tell about the story of Basilio. "To this the student, bachelor, or, as Don Quixote called him, licentiate, replied, "I have nothing whatever to say further, but that from the moment Basilio learnedthat the fair Quiteria was to be married to Camacho the rich, he has never beenseen to smile, or heard to utter rational word, and he always goes about moodyand dejected, talking to himself in a way that shows plainly he is out of hissenses. He eats little and sleeps little, and all he eats is fruit, and when he sleeps, if he sleeps at all, it is in the field on the hard earth like a brute beast. Sometimeshe gazes at the sky, at other times he fixes his eyes on the earth in such anabstracted way that he might be taken for a clothed statue, with its draperystirred by the wind. In short, he shows such signs of a heart crushed by suffering, that all we who know him believe that when to-morrow the fair Quiteria says 'yes, 'it will be his sentence of death. ""God will guide it better, " said Sancho, "for God who gives the wound gives thesalve; nobody knows what will happen; there are a good many hours between thisand to-morrow, and any one of them, or any moment, the house may fall; I haveseen the rain coming down and the sun shining all at one time; many a one goesto bed in good health who can't stir the next day. And tell me, is there anyonewho can boast of having driven a nail into the wheel of fortune? No, faith; andbetween a woman's 'yes' and 'no' I wouldn't venture to put the point of a pin, forthere would not be room for it; if you tell me Quiteria loves Basilio heart and soul, then I'll give him a bag of good luck; for love, I have heard say, looks throughspectacles that make copper seem gold, poverty wealth, and blear eyes pearls. ""What art thou driving at, Sancho? curses on thee!" said Don Quixote; "for whenthou takest to stringing proverbs and sayings together, no one can understandthee but Judas himself, and I wish he had thee. Tell me, thou animal, what dostthou know about nails or wheels, or anything else?""Oh, if you don't understand me, " replied Sancho, "it is no wonder my words aretaken for nonsense; but no matter; I understand myself, and I know I have notsaid anything very foolish in what I have said; only your worship, senor, is alwaysgravelling at everything I say, nay, everything I do. ""Cavilling, not gravelling, " said Don Quixote, "thou prevaricator of honestlanguage, God confound thee!""Don't find fault with me, your worship, " returned Sancho, "for you know I havenot been bred up at court or trained at Salamanca, to know whether I am addingor dropping a letter or so in my words. Why! God bless me, it's not fair to force aSayago-man to speak like a Toledan; maybe there are Toledans who do not hit itoff when it comes to polished talk. ""That is true, " said the licentiate, "for those who have been bred up in theTanneries and the Zocodover cannot talk like those who are almost all day pacingthe cathedral cloisters, and yet they are all Toledans. Pure, correct, elegant andlucid language will be met with in men of courtly breeding and discrimination, though they may have been born in Majalahonda; I say of discrimination, becausethere are many who are not so, and discrimination is the grammar of goodlanguage, if it be accompanied by practice. I, sirs, for my sins have studied canonlaw at Salamanca, and I rather pique myself on expressing my meaning in clear, plain, and intelligible language. ""If you did not pique yourself more on your dexterity with those foils you carrythan on dexterity of tongue, " said the other student, "you would have been head ofthe degrees, where you are now tail. ""Look here, bachelor Corchuelo, " returned the licentiate, "you have the mostmistaken idea in the world about skill with the sword, if you think it useless. ""It is no idea on my part, but an established truth, " replied Corchuelo; "and ifyou wish me to prove it to you by experiment, you have swords there, and it is agood opportunity; I have a steady hand and a strong arm, and these joined withmy resolution, which is not small, will make you confess that I am not mistaken. Dismount and put in practice your positions and circles and angles and science, for I hope to make you see stars at noonday with my rude raw swordsmanship, inwhich, next to God, I place my trust that the man is yet to be born who will makeme turn my back, and that there is not one in the world I will not compel to giveground. ""As to whether you turn your back or not, I do not concern myself, " replied themaster of fence; "though it might be that your grave would be dug on the spotwhere you planted your foot the first time; I mean that you would be stretcheddead there for despising skill with the sword. ""We shall soon see, " replied Corchuelo, and getting off his ass briskly, he drewout furiously one of the swords the licentiate carried on his beast. "It must not be that way, " said Don Quixote at this point; "I will be the directorof this fencing match, and judge of this often disputed question;" and dismountingfrom Rocinante and grasping his lance, he planted himself in the middle of theroad, just as the licentiate, with an easy, graceful bearing and step, advancedtowards Corchuelo, who came on against him, darting fire from his eyes, as thesaying is. The other two of the company, the peasants, without dismounting fromtheir asses, served as spectators of the mortal tragedy. The cuts, thrusts, downstrokes, back strokes and doubles, that Corchuelo delivered were past counting, and came thicker than hops or hail. He attacked like an angry lion, but he wasmet by a tap on the mouth from the button of the licentiate's sword that checkedhim in the midst of his furious onset, and made him kiss it as if it were a relic, though not as devoutly as relics are and ought to be kissed. The end of it was thatthe licentiate reckoned up for him by thrusts every one of the buttons of the shortcassock he wore, tore the skirts into strips, like the tails of a cuttlefish, knockedoff his hat twice, and so completely tired him out, that in vexation, anger, andrage, he took the sword by the hilt and flung it away with such force, that one ofthe peasants that were there, who was a notary, and who went for it, made anaffidavit afterwards that he sent it nearly three-quarters of a league, whichtestimony will serve, and has served, to show and establish with all certainty thatstrength is overcome by skill. Corchuelo sat down wearied, and Sancho approaching him said, "By my faith, senor bachelor, if your worship takes my advice, you will never challenge anyoneto fence again, only to wrestle and throw the bar, for you have the youth andstrength for that; but as for these fencers as they call them, I have heard say theycan put the point of a sword through the eye of a needle. ""I am satisfied with having tumbled off my donkey, " said Corchuelo, "and withhaving had the truth I was so ignorant of proved to me by experience;" and gettingup he embraced the licentiate, and they were better friends than ever; and notcaring to wait for the notary who had gone for the sword, as they saw he wouldbe a long time about it, they resolved to push on so as to reach the village ofQuiteria, to which they all belonged, in good time. During the remainder of the journey the licentiate held forth to them on theexcellences of the sword, with such conclusive arguments, and such figures andmathematical proofs, that all were convinced of the value of the science, andCorchuelo cured of his dogmatism. It grew dark; but before they reached the town it seemed to them all as if therewas a heaven full of countless glittering stars in front of it. They heard, too, thepleasant mingled notes of a variety of instruments, flutes, drums, psalteries, pipes, tabors, and timbrels, and as they drew near they perceived that the trees ofa leafy arcade that had been constructed at the entrance of the town were filledwith lights unaffected by the wind, for the breeze at the time was so gentle that ithad not power to stir the leaves on the trees. The musicians were the life of thewedding, wandering through the pleasant grounds in separate bands, somedancing, others singing, others playing the various instruments alreadymentioned. In short, it seemed as though mirth and gaiety were frisking andgambolling all over the meadow. Several other persons were engaged in erectingraised benches from which people might conveniently see the plays and dancesthat were to be performed the next day on the spot dedicated to the celebration ofthe marriage of Camacho the rich and the obsequies of Basilio. Don Quixotewould not enter the village, although the peasant as well as the bachelor pressedhim; he excused himself, however, on the grounds, amply sufficient in hisopinion, that it was the custom of knights-errant to sleep in the fields and woodsin preference to towns, even were it under gilded ceilings; and so turned aside alittle out of the road, very much against Sancho's will, as the good quarters he hadenjoyed in the castle or house of Don Diego came back to his mind. CHAPTER XX. WHEREIN AN ACCOUNT IS GIVEN OF THE WEDDING OFCAMACHO THE RICH, TOGETHER WITH THE INCIDENT OFBASILIO THE POORScarce had the fair Aurora given bright Phoebus time to dry the liquid pearlsupon her golden locks with the heat of his fervent rays, when Don Quixote, shaking off sloth from his limbs, sprang to his feet and called to his squireSancho, who was still snoring; seeing which Don Quixote ere he roused him thusaddressed him: "Happy thou, above all the dwellers on the face of the earth, that, without envying or being envied, sleepest with tranquil mind, and that neitherenchanters persecute nor enchantments affright. Sleep, I say, and will say ahundred times, without any jealous thoughts of thy mistress to make thee keepceaseless vigils, or any cares as to how thou art to pay the debts thou owest, orfind to-morrow's food for thyself and thy needy little family, to interfere with thyrepose. Ambition breaks not thy rest, nor doth this world's empty pomp disturbthee, for the utmost reach of thy anxiety is to provide for thy ass, since upon myshoulders thou hast laid the support of thyself, the counterpoise and burden thatnature and custom have imposed upon masters. The servant sleeps and the masterlies awake thinking how he is to feed him, advance him, and reward him. Thedistress of seeing the sky turn brazen, and withhold its needful moisture from theearth, is not felt by the servant but by the master, who in time of scarcity andfamine must support him who has served him in times of plenty and abundance. "To all this Sancho made no reply because he was asleep, nor would he havewakened up so soon as he did had not Don Quixote brought him to his senseswith the butt of his lance. He awoke at last, drowsy and lazy, and casting his eyesabout in every direction, observed, "There comes, if I don't mistake, from thequarter of that arcade a steam and a smell a great deal more like fried rashersthan galingale or thyme; a wedding that begins with smells like that, by my faith, ought to be plentiful and unstinting. ""Have done, thou glutton, " said Don Quixote; "come, let us go and witness thisbridal, and see what the rejected Basilio does. ""Let him do what he likes, " returned Sancho; "be he not poor, he would marryQuiteria. To make a grand match for himself, and he without a farthing; is therenothing else? Faith, senor, it's my opinion the poor man should be content withwhat he can get, and not go looking for dainties in the bottom of the sea. I willbet my arm that Camacho could bury Basilio in reals; and if that be so, as nodoubt it is, what a fool Quiteria would be to refuse the fine dresses and jewelsCamacho must have given her and will give her, and take Basilio's bar-throwingand sword-play. They won't give a pint of wine at the tavern for a good cast of thebar or a neat thrust of the sword. Talents and accomplishments that can't beturned into money, let Count Dirlos have them; but when such gifts fall to onethat has hard cash, I wish my condition of life was as becoming as they are. On agood foundation you can raise a good building, and the best foundation in theworld is money. ""For God's sake, Sancho, " said Don Quixote here, "stop that harangue; it is mybelief, if thou wert allowed to continue all thou beginnest every instant, thouwouldst have no time left for eating or sleeping; for thou wouldst spend it all intalking. ""If your worship had a good memory, " replied Sancho, "you would remember thearticles of our agreement before we started from home this last time; one of themwas that I was to be let say all I liked, so long as it was not against my neighbouror your worship's authority; and so far, it seems to me, I have not broken the saidarticle. ""I remember no such article, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "and even if it were so, I desire you to hold your tongue and come along; for the instruments we heardlast night are already beginning to enliven the valleys again, and no doubt themarriage will take place in the cool of the morning, and not in the heat of theafternoon. "Sancho did as his master bade him, and putting the saddle on Rocinante andthe pack-saddle on Dapple, they both mounted and at a leisurely pace entered thearcade. The first thing that presented itself to Sancho's eyes was a whole oxspitted on a whole elm tree, and in the fire at which it was to be roasted therewas burning a middling-sized mountain of faggots, and six stewpots that stoodround the blaze had not been made in the ordinary mould of common pots, forthey were six half wine-jars, each fit to hold the contents of a slaughter-house;they swallowed up whole sheep and hid them away in their insides withoutshowing any more sign of them than if they were pigeons. Countless were thehares ready skinned and the plucked fowls that hung on the trees for burial in thepots, numberless the wildfowl and game of various sorts suspended from thebranches that the air might keep them cool. Sancho counted more than sixty wineskins of over six gallons each, and all filled, as it proved afterwards, withgenerous wines. There were, besides, piles of the whitest bread, like the heaps ofcorn one sees on the threshing-floors. There was a wall made of cheeses arrangedlike open brick-work, and two cauldrons full of oil, bigger than those of a dyer'sshop, served for cooking fritters, which when fried were taken out with twomighty shovels, and plunged into another cauldron of prepared honey that stoodclose by. Of cooks and cook-maids there were over fifty, all clean, brisk, andblithe. In the capacious belly of the ox were a dozen soft little sucking-pigs, which, sewn up there, served to give it tenderness and flavour. The spices ofdifferent kinds did not seem to have been bought by the pound but by thequarter, and all lay open to view in a great chest. In short, all the preparationsmade for the wedding were in rustic style, but abundant enough to feed an army. Sancho observed all, contemplated all, and everything won his heart. The firstto captivate and take his fancy were the pots, out of which he would have verygladly helped himself to a moderate pipkinful; then the wine skins secured hisaffections; and lastly, the produce of the frying-pans, if, indeed, such imposingcauldrons may be called frying-pans; and unable to control himself or bear it anylonger, he approached one of the busy cooks and civilly but hungrily beggedpermission to soak a scrap of bread in one of the pots; to which the cook madeanswer, "Brother, this is not a day on which hunger is to have any sway, thanks tothe rich Camacho; get down and look about for a ladle and skim off a hen or two, and much good may they do you. ""I don't see one, " said Sancho. "Wait a bit, " said the cook; "sinner that I am! how particular and bashful youare!" and so saying, he seized a bucket and plunging it into one of the half jarstook up three hens and a couple of geese, and said to Sancho, "Fall to, friend, andtake the edge off your appetite with these skimmings until dinner-time comes. ""I have nothing to put them in, " said Sancho. "Well then, " said the cook, "take spoon and all; for Camacho's wealth andhappiness furnish everything. "While Sancho fared thus, Don Quixote was watching the entrance, at one end ofthe arcade, of some twelve peasants, all in holiday and gala dress, mounted ontwelve beautiful mares with rich handsome field trappings and a number of littlebells attached to their petrals, who, marshalled in regular order, ran not one butseveral courses over the meadow, with jubilant shouts and cries of "Long liveCamacho and Quiteria! he as rich as she is fair; and she the fairest on earth!"Hearing this, Don Quixote said to himself, "It is easy to see these folk havenever seen my Dulcinea del Toboso; for if they had they would be more moderatein their praises of this Quiteria of theirs. "Shortly after this, several bands of dancers of various sorts began to enter thearcade at different points, and among them one of sword-dancers composed ofsome four-and-twenty lads of gallant and high-spirited mien, clad in the finest andwhitest of linen, and with handkerchiefs embroidered in various colours with finesilk; and one of those on the mares asked an active youth who led them if any ofthe dancers had been wounded. "As yet, thank God, no one has been wounded, "said he, "we are all safe and sound;" and he at once began to execute complicatedfigures with the rest of his comrades, with so many turns and so great dexterity, that although Don Quixote was well used to see dances of the same kind, hethought he had never seen any so good as this. He also admired another that camein composed of fair young maidens, none of whom seemed to be under fourteen orover eighteen years of age, all clad in green stuff, with their locks partly braided, partly flowing loose, but all of such bright gold as to vie with the sunbeams, andover them they wore garlands of jessamine, roses, amaranth, and honeysuckle. Attheir head were a venerable old man and an ancient dame, more brisk and active, however, than might have been expected from their years. The notes of a Zamorabagpipe accompanied them, and with modesty in their countenances and in theireyes, and lightness in their feet, they looked the best dancers in the world. Following these there came an artistic dance of the sort they call "speakingdances. " It was composed of eight nymphs in two files, with the god Cupid leadingone and Interest the other, the former furnished with wings, bow, quiver andarrows, the latter in a rich dress of gold and silk of divers colours. The nymphsthat followed Love bore their names written on white parchment in large letterson their backs. "Poetry" was the name of the first, "Wit" of the second, "Birth" ofthe third, and "Valour" of the fourth. Those that followed Interest weredistinguished in the same way; the badge of the first announced "Liberality, " thatof the second "Largess, " the third "Treasure, " and the fourth "Peaceful Possession. "In front of them all came a wooden castle drawn by four wild men, all clad in ivyand hemp stained green, and looking so natural that they nearly terrified Sancho. On the front of the castle and on each of the four sides of its frame it bore theinscription "Castle of Caution. " Four skillful tabor and flute players accompaniedthem, and the dance having been opened, Cupid, after executing two figures, raised his eyes and bent his bow against a damsel who stood between the turretsof the castle, and thus addressed her:I am the mighty God whose swayIs potent over land and sea. The heavens above us own me; nay, The shades below acknowledge me. I know not fear, I have my will, Whate'er my whim or fancy be;For me there's no impossible, I order, bind, forbid, set free. Having concluded the stanza he discharged an arrow at the top of the castle, and went back to his place. Interest then came forward and went through twomore figures, and as soon as the tabors ceased, he said:But mightier than Love am I, Though Love it be that leads me on, Than mine no lineage is more high, Or older, underneath the sun. To use me rightly few know how, To act without me fewer still, For I am Interest, and I vowFor evermore to do thy will. Interest retired, and Poetry came forward, and when she had gone through herfigures like the others, fixing her eyes on the damsel of the castle, she said:With many a fanciful conceit, Fair Lady, winsome PoesyHer soul, an offering at thy feet, Presents in sonnets unto thee. If thou my homage wilt not scorn, Thy fortune, watched by envious eyes, On wings of poesy upborneShall be exalted to the skies. Poetry withdrew, and on the side of Interest Liberality advanced, and afterhaving gone through her figures, said:To give, while shunning each extreme, The sparing hand, the over-free, Therein consists, so wise men deem, The virtue Liberality. But thee, fair lady, to enrich, Myself a prodigal I'll prove, A vice not wholly shameful, whichMay find its fair excuse in love. In the same manner all the characters of the two bands advanced and retired, and each executed its figures, and delivered its verses, some of them graceful, some burlesque, but Don Quixote's memory (though he had an excellent one) onlycarried away those that have been just quoted. All then mingled together, formingchains and breaking off again with graceful, unconstrained gaiety; and wheneverLove passed in front of the castle he shot his arrows up at it, while Interest brokegilded pellets against it. At length, after they had danced a good while, Interestdrew out a great purse, made of the skin of a large brindled cat and to allappearance full of money, and flung it at the castle, and with the force of theblow the boards fell asunder and tumbled down, leaving the damsel exposed andunprotected. Interest and the characters of his band advanced, and throwing agreat chain of gold over her neck pretended to take her and lead her away captive, on seeing which, Love and his supporters made as though they would release her, the whole action being to the accompaniment of the tabors and in the form of aregular dance. The wild men made peace between them, and with great dexterityreadjusted and fixed the boards of the castle, and the damsel once moreensconced herself within; and with this the dance wound up, to the greatenjoyment of the beholders. Don Quixote asked one of the nymphs who it was that had composed andarranged it. She replied that it was a beneficiary of the town who had a nice tastein devising things of the sort. "I will lay a wager, " said Don Quixote, "that thesame bachelor or beneficiary is a greater friend of Camacho's than of Basilio's, andthat he is better at satire than at vespers; he has introduced the accomplishmentsof Basilio and the riches of Camacho very neatly into the dance. " Sancho Panza, who was listening to all this, exclaimed, "The king is my cock; I stick toCamacho. " "It is easy to see thou art a clown, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and oneof that sort that cry 'Long life to the conqueror. '""I don't know of what sort I am, " returned Sancho, "but I know very well I'llnever get such elegant skimmings off Basilio's pots as these I have got offCamacho's;" and he showed him the bucketful of geese and hens, and seizing onebegan to eat with great gaiety and appetite, saying, "A fig for the accomplishmentsof Basilio! As much as thou hast so much art thou worth, and as much as thou artworth so much hast thou. As a grandmother of mine used to say, there are onlytwo families in the world, the Haves and the Haven'ts; and she stuck to theHaves; and to this day, Senor Don Quixote, people would sooner feel the pulse of'Have, ' than of 'Know;' an ass covered with gold looks better than a horse with apack-saddle. So once more I say I stick to Camacho, the bountiful skimmings ofwhose pots are geese and hens, hares and rabbits; but of Basilio's, if any evercome to hand, or even to foot, they'll be only rinsings. ""Hast thou finished thy harangue, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Of course I havefinished it, " replied Sancho, "because I see your worship takes offence at it; but ifit was not for that, there was work enough cut out for three days. ""God grant I may see thee dumb before I die, Sancho, " said Don Quixote. "At the rate we are going, " said Sancho, "I'll be chewing clay before yourworship dies; and then, maybe, I'll be so dumb that I'll not say a word until theend of the world, or, at least, till the day of judgment. ""Even should that happen, O Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "thy silence will nevercome up to all thou hast talked, art talking, and wilt talk all thy life; moreover, itnaturally stands to reason, that my death will come before thine; so I never expectto see thee dumb, not even when thou art drinking or sleeping, and that is theutmost I can say. ""In good faith, senor, " replied Sancho, "there's no trusting that fleshless one, Imean Death, who devours the lamb as soon as the sheep, and, as I have heard ourcurate say, treads with equal foot upon the lofty towers of kings and the lowlyhuts of the poor. That lady is more mighty than dainty, she is no way squeamish, she devours all and is ready for all, and fills her alforjas with people of all sorts, ages, and ranks. She is no reaper that sleeps out the noontide; at all times she isreaping and cutting down, as well the dry grass as the green; she never seems tochew, but bolts and swallows all that is put before her, for she has a canineappetite that is never satisfied; and though she has no belly, she shows she has adropsy and is athirst to drink the lives of all that live, as one would drink a jug ofcold water. ""Say no more, Sancho, " said Don Quixote at this; "don't try to better it, and riska fall; for in truth what thou hast said about death in thy rustic phrase is what agood preacher might have said. I tell thee, Sancho, if thou hadst discretion equalto thy mother wit, thou mightst take a pulpit in hand, and go about the worldpreaching fine sermons. " "He preaches well who lives well, " said Sancho, "and Iknow no more theology than that. ""Nor needst thou, " said Don Quixote, "but I cannot conceive or make out how itis that, the fear of God being the beginning of wisdom, thou, who art more afraidof a lizard than of him, knowest so much. ""Pass judgment on your chivalries, senor, " returned Sancho, "and don't setyourself up to judge of other men's fears or braveries, for I am as good a fearer ofGod as my neighbours; but leave me to despatch these skimmings, for all the restis only idle talk that we shall be called to account for in the other world;" and sosaying, he began a fresh attack on the bucket, with such a hearty appetite that hearoused Don Quixote's, who no doubt would have helped him had he not beenprevented by what must be told farther on. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 24. Chapter 21Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXI. IN WHICH CAMACHO'S WEDDING IS CONTINUED, WITH OTHERDELIGHTFUL INCIDENTSWhile Don Quixote and Sancho were engaged in the discussion set forth the lastchapter, they heard loud shouts and a great noise, which were uttered and madeby the men on the mares as they went at full gallop, shouting, to receive the brideand bridegroom, who were approaching with musical instruments and pageantryof all sorts around them, and accompanied by the priest and the relatives of both, and all the most distinguished people of the surrounding villages. When Sanchosaw the bride, he exclaimed, "By my faith, she is not dressed like a country girl, but like some fine court lady; egad, as well as I can make out, the patena shewears rich coral, and her green Cuenca stuff is thirty-pile velvet; and then thewhite linen trimming--by my oath, but it's satin! Look at her hands--jet rings onthem! May I never have luck if they're not gold rings, and real gold, and set withpearls as white as a curdled milk, and every one of them worth an eye of one'shead! Whoreson baggage, what hair she has! if it's not a wig, I never saw longer orfairer all the days of my life. See how bravely she bears herself--and her shape!Wouldn't you say she was like a walking palm tree loaded with clusters of dates?for the trinkets she has hanging from her hair and neck look just like them. Iswear in my heart she is a brave lass, and fit 'to pass over the banks of Flanders. '"Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's boorish eulogies and thought that, saving hislady Dulcinea del Toboso, he had never seen a more beautiful woman. The fairQuiteria appeared somewhat pale, which was, no doubt, because of the bad nightbrides always pass dressing themselves out for their wedding on the morrow. They advanced towards a theatre that stood on one side of the meadow deckedwith carpets and boughs, where they were to plight their troth, and from whichthey were to behold the dances and plays; but at the moment of their arrival atthe spot they heard a loud outcry behind them, and a voice exclaiming, "Wait alittle, ye, as inconsiderate as ye are hasty!" At these words all turned round, andperceived that the speaker was a man clad in what seemed to be a loose blackcoat garnished with crimson patches like flames. He was crowned (as waspresently seen) with a crown of gloomy cypress, and in his hand he held a longstaff. As he approached he was recognised by everyone as the gay Basilio, and allwaited anxiously to see what would come of his words, in dread of somecatastrophe in consequence of his appearance at such a moment. He came up atlast weary and breathless, and planting himself in front of the bridal pair, drovehis staff, which had a steel spike at the end, into the ground, and, with a paleface and eyes fixed on Quiteria, he thus addressed her in a hoarse, tremblingvoice:"Well dost thou know, ungrateful Quiteria, that according to the holy law weacknowledge, so long as live thou canst take no husband; nor art thou ignoranteither that, in my hopes that time and my own exertions would improve myfortunes, I have never failed to observe the respect due to thy honour; but thou, casting behind thee all thou owest to my true love, wouldst surrender what ismine to another whose wealth serves to bring him not only good fortune butsupreme happiness; and now to complete it (not that I think he deserves it, butinasmuch as heaven is pleased to bestow it upon him), I will, with my own hands, do away with the obstacle that may interfere with it, and remove myself frombetween you. Long live the rich Camacho! many a happy year may he live withthe ungrateful Quiteria! and let the poor Basilio die, Basilio whose poverty clippedthe wings of his happiness, and brought him to the grave!"And so saying, he seized the staff he had driven into the ground, and leavingone half of it fixed there, showed it to be a sheath that concealed a tolerably longrapier; and, what may be called its hilt being planted in the ground, he swiftly, coolly, and deliberately threw himself upon it, and in an instant the bloody pointand half the steel blade appeared at his back, the unhappy man falling to theearth bathed in his blood, and transfixed by his own weapon. His friends at once ran to his aid, filled with grief at his misery and sad fate, and Don Quixote, dismounting from Rocinante, hastened to support him, andtook him in his arms, and found he had not yet ceased to breathe. They wereabout to draw out the rapier, but the priest who was standing by objected to itsbeing withdrawn before he had confessed him, as the instant of its withdrawalwould be that of this death. Basilio, however, reviving slightly, said in a

weakvoice, as though in pain, "If thou wouldst consent, cruel Quiteria, to give me thyhand as my bride in this last fatal moment, I might still hope that my rashnesswould find pardon, as by its means I attained the bliss of being thine. "Hearing this the priest bade him think of the welfare of his soul rather than ofthe cravings of the body, and in all earnestness implore God's pardon for his sinsand for his rash resolve; to which Basilio replied that he was determined not toconfess unless Quiteria first gave him her hand in marriage, for that happinesswould compose his mind and give him courage to make his confession. Don Quixote hearing the wounded man's entreaty, exclaimed aloud that whatBasilio asked was just and reasonable, and moreover a request that might beeasily complied with; and that it would be as much to Senor Camacho's honour toreceive the lady Quiteria as the widow of the brave Basilio as if he received herdirect from her father. "In this case, " said he, "it will be only to say 'yes, ' and no consequences canfollow the utterance of the word, for the nuptial couch of this marriage must bethe grave. "Camacho was listening to all this, perplexed and bewildered and not knowingwhat to say or do; but so urgent were the entreaties of Basilio's friends, imploringhim to allow Quiteria to give him her hand, so that his soul, quitting this life indespair, should not be lost, that they moved, nay, forced him, to say that ifQuiteria were willing to give it he was satisfied, as it was only putting off thefulfillment of his wishes for a moment. At once all assailed Quiteria and pressedher, some with prayers, and others with tears, and others with persuasivearguments, to give her hand to poor Basilio; but she, harder than marble andmore unmoved than any statue, seemed unable or unwilling to utter a word, norwould she have given any reply had not the priest bade her decide quickly whatshe meant to do, as Basilio now had his soul at his teeth, and there was no timefor hesitation. On this the fair Quiteria, to all appearance distressed, grieved, and repentant, advanced without a word to where Basilio lay, his eyes already turned in his head, his breathing short and painful, murmuring the name of Quiteria between histeeth, and apparently about to die like a heathen and not like a Christian. Quiteriaapproached him, and kneeling, demanded his hand by signs without speaking. Basilio opened his eyes and gazing fixedly at her, said, "O Quiteria, why hast thouturned compassionate at a moment when thy compassion will serve as a dagger torob me of life, for I have not now the strength left either to bear the happinessthou givest me in accepting me as thine, or to suppress the pain that is rapidlydrawing the dread shadow of death over my eyes? What I entreat of thee, O thoufatal star to me, is that the hand thou demandest of me and wouldst give me, benot given out of complaisance or to deceive me afresh, but that thou confess anddeclare that without any constraint upon thy will thou givest it to me as to thylawful husband; for it is not meet that thou shouldst trifle with me at such amoment as this, or have recourse to falsehoods with one who has dealt so truly bythee. "While uttering these words he showed such weakness that the bystandersexpected each return of faintness would take his life with it. Then Quiteria, overcome with modesty and shame, holding in her right hand the hand of Basilio, said, "No force would bend my will; as freely, therefore, as it is possible for me todo so, I give thee the hand of a lawful wife, and take thine if thou givest it to meof thine own free will, untroubled and unaffected by the calamity thy hasty acthas brought upon thee. ""Yes, I give it, " said Basilio, "not agitated or distracted, but with uncloudedreason that heaven is pleased to grant me, thus do I give myself to be thyhusband. ""And I give myself to be thy wife, " said Quiteria, "whether thou livest manyyears, or they carry thee from my arms to the grave. ""For one so badly wounded, " observed Sancho at this point, "this young man hasa great deal to say; they should make him leave off billing and cooing, and attendto his soul; for to my thinking he has it more on his tongue than at his teeth. "Basilio and Quiteria having thus joined hands, the priest, deeply moved andwith tears in his eyes, pronounced the blessing upon them, and implored heavento grant an easy passage to the soul of the newly wedded man, who, the instanthe received the blessing, started nimbly to his feet and with unparalleledeffrontery pulled out the rapier that had been sheathed in his body. All thebystanders were astounded, and some, more simple than inquiring, beganshouting, "A miracle, a miracle!" But Basilio replied, "No miracle, no miracle; onlya trick, a trick!" The priest, perplexed and amazed, made haste to examine thewound with both hands, and found that the blade had passed, not throughBasilio's flesh and ribs, but through a hollow iron tube full of blood, which he hadadroitly fixed at the place, the blood, as was afterwards ascertained, having beenso prepared as not to congeal. In short, the priest and Camacho and most of thosepresent saw they were tricked and made fools of. The bride showed no signs ofdispleasure at the deception; on the contrary, hearing them say that the marriage, being fraudulent, would not be valid, she said that she confirmed it afresh, whence they all concluded that the affair had been planned by agreement andunderstanding between the pair, whereat Camacho and his supporters were somortified that they proceeded to revenge themselves by violence, and a greatnumber of them drawing their swords attacked Basilio, in whose protection asmany more swords were in an instant unsheathed, while Don Quixote taking thelead on horseback, with his lance over his arm and well covered with his shield, made all give way before him. Sancho, who never found any pleasure orenjoyment in such doings, retreated to the wine-jars from which he had taken hisdelectable skimmings, considering that, as a holy place, that spot would berespected. "Hold, sirs, hold!" cried Don Quixote in a loud voice; "we have no right to takevengeance for wrongs that love may do to us: remember love and war are thesame thing, and as in war it is allowable and common to make use of wiles andstratagems to overcome the enemy, so in the contests and rivalries of love thetricks and devices employed to attain the desired end are justifiable, providedthey be not to the discredit or dishonour of the loved object. Quiteria belonged toBasilio and Basilio to Quiteria by the just and beneficent disposal of heaven. Camacho is rich, and can purchase his pleasure when, where, and as it pleaseshim. Basilio has but this ewe-lamb, and no one, however powerful he may be, shall take her from him; these two whom God hath joined man cannot separate;and he who attempts it must first pass the point of this lance;" and so saying hebrandished it so stoutly and dexterously that he overawed all who did not knowhim. But so deep an impression had the rejection of Quiteria made on Camacho'smind that it banished her at once from his thoughts; and so the counsels of thepriest, who was a wise and kindly disposed man, prevailed with him, and by theirmeans he and his partisans were pacified and tranquillised, and to prove it put uptheir swords again, inveighing against the pliancy of Quiteria rather than thecraftiness of Basilio; Camacho maintaining that, if Quiteria as a maiden had sucha love for Basilio, she would have loved him too as a married woman, and that heought to thank heaven more for having taken her than for having given her. Camacho and those of his following, therefore, being consoled and pacified, those on Basilio's side were appeased; and the rich Camacho, to show that he feltno resentment for the trick, and did not care about it, desired the festival to go onjust as if he were married in reality. Neither Basilio, however, nor his bride, northeir followers would take any part in it, and they withdrew to Basilio's village;for the poor, if they are persons of virtue and good sense, have those who follow, honour, and uphold them, just as the rich have those who flatter and danceattendance on them. With them they carried Don Quixote, regarding him as a manof worth and a stout one. Sancho alone had a cloud on his soul, for he foundhimself debarred from waiting for Camacho's splendid feast and festival, whichlasted until night; and thus dragged away, he moodily followed his master, whoaccompanied Basilio's party, and left behind him the flesh-pots of Egypt; though inhis heart he took them with him, and their now nearly finished skimmings that hecarried in the bucket conjured up visions before his eyes of the glory andabundance of the good cheer he was losing. And so, vexed and dejected thoughnot hungry, without dismounting from Dapple he followed in the footsteps ofRocinante. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 25. Chapter 22Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXII. WHERIN IS RELATED THE GRAND ADVENTURE OF THE CAVE OFMONTESINOS IN THE HEART OF LA MANCHA, WHICH THEVALIANT DON QUIXOTE BROUGHT TO A HAPPY TERMINATIONMany and great were the attentions shown to Don Quixote by the newlymarried couple, who felt themselves under an obligation to him for comingforward in defence of their cause; and they exalted his wisdom to the same levelwith his courage, rating him as a Cid in arms, and a Cicero in eloquence. WorthySancho enjoyed himself for three days at the expense of the pair, from whom theylearned that the sham wound was not a scheme arranged with the fair Quiteria, but a device of Basilio's, who counted on exactly the result they had seen; heconfessed, it is true, that he had confided his idea to some of his friends, so thatat the proper time they might aid him in his purpose and insure the success of thedeception. "That, " said Don Quixote, "is not and ought not to be called deception whichaims at virtuous ends;" and the marriage of lovers he maintained to be a mostexcellent end, reminding them, however, that love has no greater enemy thanhunger and constant want; for love is all gaiety, enjoyment, and happiness, especially when the lover is in the possession of the object of his love, and povertyand want are the declared enemies of all these; which he said to urge SenorBasilio to abandon the practice of those accomplishments he was skilled in, forthough they brought him fame, they brought him no money, and apply himself tothe acquisition of wealth by legitimate industry, which will never fail those whoare prudent and persevering. The poor man who is a man of honour (if indeed apoor man can be a man of honour) has a jewel when he has a fair wife, and if sheis taken from him, his honour is taken from him and slain. The fair woman who isa woman of honour, and whose husband is poor, deserves to be crowned with thelaurels and crowns of victory and triumph. Beauty by itself attracts the desires ofall who behold it, and the royal eagles and birds of towering flight stoop on it ason a dainty lure; but if beauty be accompanied by want and penury, then theravens and the kites and other birds of prey assail it, and she who stands firmagainst such attacks well deserves to be called the crown of her husband. "Remember, O prudent Basilio, " added Don Quixote, "it was the opinion of acertain sage, I know not whom, that there was not more than one good woman inthe whole world; and his advice was that each one should think and believe thatthis one good woman was his own wife, and in this way he would live happy. Imyself am not married, nor, so far, has it ever entered my thoughts to be so;nevertheless I would venture to give advice to anyone who might ask it, as to themode in which he should seek a wife such as he would be content to marry. Thefirst thing I would recommend him, would be to look to good name rather than towealth, for a good woman does not win a good name merely by being good, butby letting it be seen that she is so, and open looseness and freedom do much moredamage to a woman's honour than secret depravity. If you take a good womaninto your house it will be an easy matter to keep her good, and even to make herstill better; but if you take a bad one you will find it hard work to mend her, for itis no very easy matter to pass from one extreme to another. I do not say it isimpossible, but I look upon it as difficult. "Sancho, listening to all this, said to himself, "This master of mine, when I sayanything that has weight and substance, says I might take a pulpit in hand, andgo about the world preaching fine sermons; but I say of him that, when he beginsstringing maxims together and giving advice not only might he take a pulpit inhand, but two on each finger, and go into the market-places to his heart's content. Devil take you for a knight-errant, what a lot of things you know! I used to thinkin my heart that the only thing he knew was what belonged to his chivalry; butthere is nothing he won't have a finger in. "Sancho muttered this somewhat aloud, and his master overheard him, andasked, "What art thou muttering there, Sancho?""I'm not saying anything or muttering anything, " said Sancho; "I was only sayingto myself that I wish I had heard what your worship has said just now before Imarried; perhaps I'd say now, 'The ox that's loose licks himself well. '""Is thy Teresa so bad then, Sancho?""She is not very bad, " replied Sancho; "but she is not very good; at least she isnot as good as I could wish. ""Thou dost wrong, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "to speak ill of thy wife; for afterall she is the mother of thy children. " "We are quits, " returned Sancho; "for shespeaks ill of me whenever she takes it into her head, especially when she isjealous; and Satan himself could not put up with her then. "In fine, they remained three days with the newly married couple, by whom theywere entertained and treated like kings. Don Quixote begged the fencing licentiateto find him a guide to show him the way to the cave of Montesinos, as he had agreat desire to enter it and see with his own eyes if the wonderful tales that weretold of it all over the country were true. The licentiate said he would get him acousin of his own, a famous scholar, and one very much given to reading books ofchivalry, who would have great pleasure in conducting him to the mouth of thevery cave, and would show him the lakes of Ruidera, which were likewise famousall over La Mancha, and even all over Spain; and he assured him he would findhim entertaining, for he was a youth who could write books good enough to beprinted and dedicated to princes. The cousin arrived at last, leading an ass in foal, with a pack-saddle covered with a parti-coloured carpet or sackcloth; Sanchosaddled Rocinante, got Dapple ready, and stocked his alforjas, along with whichwent those of the cousin, likewise well filled; and so, commending themselves toGod and bidding farewell to all, they set out, taking the road for the famous caveof Montesinos. On the way Don Quixote asked the cousin of what sort and character hispursuits, avocations, and studies were, to which he replied that he was byprofession a humanist, and that his pursuits and studies were making books forthe press, all of great utility and no less entertainment to the nation. One wascalled "The Book of Liveries, " in which he described seven hundred and threeliveries, with their colours, mottoes, and ciphers, from which gentlemen of thecourt might pick and choose any they fancied for festivals and revels, withouthaving to go a-begging for them from anyone, or puzzling their brains, as thesaying is, to have them appropriate to their objects and purposes; "for, " said he, "Igive the jealous, the rejected, the forgotten, the absent, what will suit them, andfit them without fail. I have another book, too, which I shall call 'Metamorphoses, or the Spanish Ovid, ' one of rare and original invention, for imitating Ovid inburlesque style, I show in it who the Giralda of Seville and the Angel of theMagdalena were, what the sewer of Vecinguerra at Cordova was, what the bulls ofGuisando, the Sierra Morena, the Leganitos and Lavapies fountains at Madrid, not forgetting those of the Piojo, of the Cano Dorado, and of the Priora; and allwith their allegories, metaphors, and changes, so that they are amusing, interesting, and instructive, all at once. Another book I have which I call 'TheSupplement to Polydore Vergil, ' which treats of the invention of things, and is awork of great erudition and research, for I establish and elucidate elegantly somethings of great importance which Polydore omitted to mention. He forgot to tell uswho was the first man in the world that had a cold in his head, and who was thefirst to try salivation for the French disease, but I give it accurately set forth, andquote more than five-and-twenty authors in proof of it, so you may perceive Ihave laboured to good purpose and that the book will be of service to the wholeworld. "Sancho, who had been very attentive to the cousin's words, said to him, "Tellme, senor--and God give you luck in printing your books--can you tell me (for ofcourse you know, as you know everything) who was the first man that scratchedhis head? For to my thinking it must have been our father Adam. ""So it must, " replied the cousin; "for there is no doubt but Adam had a head andhair; and being the first man in the world he would have scratched himselfsometimes. ""So I think, " said Sancho; "but now tell me, who was the first tumbler in theworld?""Really, brother, " answered the cousin, "I could not at this moment saypositively without having investigated it; I will look it up when I go back to whereI have my books, and will satisfy you the next time we meet, for this will not bethe last time. ""Look here, senor, " said Sancho, "don't give yourself any trouble about it, for Ihave just this minute hit upon what I asked you. The first tumbler in the world, you must know, was Lucifer, when they cast or pitched him out of heaven; for hecame tumbling into the bottomless pit. ""You are right, friend, " said the cousin; and said Don Quixote, "Sancho, thatquestion and answer are not thine own; thou hast heard them from some oneelse. ""Hold your peace, senor, " said Sancho; "faith, if I take to asking questions andanswering, I'll go on from this till to-morrow morning. Nay! to ask foolish thingsand answer nonsense I needn't go looking for help from my neighbours. ""Thou hast said more than thou art aware of, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "forthere are some who weary themselves out in learning and proving things that, after they are known and proved, are not worth a farthing to the understanding ormemory. "In this and other pleasant conversation the day went by, and that night theyput up at a small hamlet whence it was not more than two leagues to the cave ofMontesinos, so the cousin told Don Quixote, adding, that if he was bent uponentering it, it would be requisite for him to provide himself with ropes, so that hemight be tied and lowered into its depths. Don Quixote said that even if itreached to the bottomless pit he meant to see where it went to; so they boughtabout a hundred fathoms of rope, and next day at two in the afternoon theyarrived at the cave, the mouth of which is spacious and wide, but full of thornand wild-fig bushes and brambles and briars, so thick and matted that theycompletely close it up and cover it over. On coming within sight of it the cousin, Sancho, and Don Quixote dismounted, and the first two immediately tied the latter very firmly with the ropes, and asthey were girding and swathing him Sancho said to him, "Mind what you areabout, master mine; don't go burying yourself alive, or putting yourself whereyou'll be like a bottle put to cool in a well; it's no affair or business of yourworship's to become the explorer of this, which must be worse than a Moorishdungeon. ""Tie me and hold thy peace, " said Don Quixote, "for an emprise like this, friendSancho, was reserved for me;" and said the guide, "I beg of you, Senor DonQuixote, to observe carefully and examine with a hundred eyes everything that iswithin there; perhaps there may be some things for me to put into my book of'Transformations. '""The drum is in hands that will know how to beat it well enough, " said SanchoPanza. When he had said this and finished the tying (which was not over the armourbut only over the doublet) Don Quixote observed, "It was careless of us not tohave provided ourselves with a small cattle-bell to be tied on the rope close to me, the sound of which would show that I was still descending and alive; but as thatis out of the question now, in God's hand be it to guide me;" and forthwith he fellon his knees and in a low voice offered up a prayer to heaven, imploring God toaid him and grant him success in this to all appearance perilous and untriedadventure, and then exclaimed aloud, "O mistress of my actions and movements, illustrious and peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, if so be the prayers andsupplications of this fortunate lover can reach thy ears, by thy incomparablebeauty I entreat thee to listen to them, for they but ask thee not to refuse me thyfavour and protection now that I stand in such need of them. I am about toprecipitate, to sink, to plunge myself into the abyss that is here before me, only tolet the world know that while thou dost favour me there is no impossibility I willnot attempt and accomplish. " With these words he approached the cavern, andperceived that it was impossible to let himself down or effect an entrance exceptby sheer force or cleaving a passage; so drawing his sword he began to demolishand cut away the brambles at the mouth of the cave, at the noise of which a vastmultitude of crows and choughs flew out of it so thick and so fast that theyknocked Don Quixote down; and if he had been as much of a believer in auguryas he was a Catholic Christian he would have taken it as a bad omen and declinedto bury himself in such a place. He got up, however, and as there came no morecrows, or night-birds like the bats that flew out at the same time with the crows, the cousin and Sancho giving him rope, he lowered himself into the depths of thedread cavern; and as he entered it Sancho sent his blessing after him, making athousand crosses over him and saying, "God, and the Pena de Francia, and theTrinity of Gaeta guide thee, flower and cream of knights-errant. There thou goest, thou dare-devil of the earth, heart of steel, arm of brass; once more, God guidethee and send thee back safe, sound, and unhurt to the light of this world thou artleaving to bury thyself in the darkness thou art seeking there;" and the cousinoffered up almost the same prayers and supplications. Don Quixote kept calling to them to give him rope and more rope, and theygave it out little by little, and by the time the calls, which came out of the cave asout of a pipe, ceased to be heard they had let down the hundred fathoms of rope. They were inclined to pull Don Quixote up again, as they could give him no morerope; however, they waited about half an hour, at the end of which time theybegan to gather in the rope again with great ease and without feeling any weight, which made them fancy Don Quixote was remaining below; and persuaded that itwas so, Sancho wept bitterly, and hauled away in great haste in order to settle thequestion. When, however, they had come to, as it seemed, rather more than eightyfathoms they felt a weight, at which they were greatly delighted; and at last, atten fathoms more, they saw Don Quixote distinctly, and Sancho called out to him, saying, "Welcome back, senor, for we had begun to think you were going to stopthere to found a family. " But Don Quixote answered not a word, and drawing himout entirely they perceived he had his eyes shut and every appearance of beingfast asleep. They stretched him on the ground and untied him, but still he did not awake;however, they rolled him back and forwards and shook and pulled him about, sothat after some time he came to himself, stretching himself just as if he werewaking up from a deep and sound sleep, and looking about him he said, "Godforgive you, friends; ye have taken me away from the sweetest and most delightfulexistence and spectacle that ever human being enjoyed or beheld. Now indeed doI know that all the pleasures of this life pass away like a shadow and a dream, orfade like the flower of the field. O ill-fated Montesinos! O sore-woundedDurandarte! O unhappy Belerma! O tearful Guadiana, and ye O hapless daughtersof Ruidera who show in your waves the tears that flowed from your beauteouseyes!"The cousin and Sancho Panza listened with deep attention to the words of DonQuixote, who uttered them as though with immense pain he drew them up fromhis very bowels. They begged of him to explain himself, and tell them what he hadseen in that hell down there. "Hell do you call it?" said Don Quixote; "call it by no such name, for it does notdeserve it, as ye shall soon see. "He then begged them to give him something to eat, as he was very hungry. Theyspread the cousin's sackcloth on the grass, and put the stores of the alforjas intorequisition, and all three sitting down lovingly and sociably, they made aluncheon and a supper of it all in one; and when the sackcloth was removed, DonQuixote of La Mancha said, "Let no one rise, and attend to me, my sons, both ofyou. "DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 26. Chapters 23-25Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXIII. OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS THE INCOMPARABLE DONQUIXOTE SAID HE SAW IN THE PROFOUND CAVE OFMONTESINOS, THE IMPOSSIBILITY AND MAGNITUDE OF WHICHCAUSE THIS ADVENTURE TO BE DEEMED APOCRYPHALIt was about four in the afternoon when the sun, veiled in clouds, with subduedlight and tempered beams, enabled Don Quixote to relate, without heat orinconvenience, what he had seen in the cave of Montesinos to his two illustrioushearers, and he began as follows:"A matter of some twelve or fourteen times a man's height down in this pit, onthe right-hand side, there is a recess or space, roomy enough to contain a largecart with its mules. A little light reaches it through some chinks or crevices, communicating with it and open to the surface of the earth. This recess or space Iperceived when I was already growing weary and disgusted at finding myselfhanging suspended by the rope, travelling downwards into that dark regionwithout any certainty or knowledge of where I was going, so I resolved to enter itand rest myself for a while. I called out, telling you not to let out more rope until Ibade you, but you cannot have heard me. I then gathered in the rope you weresending me, and making a coil or pile of it I seated myself upon it, ruminating andconsidering what I was to do to lower myself to the bottom, having no one to holdme up; and as I was thus deep in thought and perplexity, suddenly and withoutprovocation a profound sleep fell upon me, and when I least expected it, I knownot how, I awoke and found myself in the midst of the most beautiful, delightfulmeadow that nature could produce or the most lively human imaginationconceive. I opened my eyes, I rubbed them, and found I was not asleep butthoroughly awake. Nevertheless, I felt my head and breast to satisfy myselfwhether it was I myself who was there or some empty delusive phantom; buttouch, feeling, the collected thoughts that passed through my mind, all convincedme that I was the same then and there that I am this moment. Next therepresented itself to my sight a stately royal palace or castle, with walls that seemedbuilt of clear transparent crystal; and through two great doors that opened widetherein, I saw coming forth and advancing towards me a venerable old man, cladin a long gown of mulberry-coloured serge that trailed upon the ground. On hisshoulders and breast he had a green satin collegiate hood, and covering his head ablack Milanese bonnet, and his snow-white beard fell below his girdle. He carriedno arms whatever, nothing but a rosary of beads bigger than fair-sized filberts, each tenth bead being like a moderate ostrich egg; his bearing, his gait, his dignityand imposing presence held me spellbound and wondering. He approached me, and the first thing he did was to embrace me closely, and then he said to me, 'Fora long time now, O valiant knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, we who are hereenchanted in these solitudes have been hoping to see thee, that thou mayest makeknown to the world what is shut up and concealed in this deep cave, called thecave of Montesinos, which thou hast entered, an achievement reserved for thyinvincible heart and stupendous courage alone to attempt. Come with me, illustrious sir, and I will show thee the marvels hidden within this transparentcastle, whereof I am the alcaide and perpetual warden; for I am Montesinoshimself, from whom the cave takes its name. '"The instant he told me he was Montesinos, I asked him if the story they told inthe world above here was true, that he had taken out the heart of his great friendDurandarte from his breast with a little dagger, and carried it to the lady Belerma, as his friend when at the point of death had commanded him. He said in replythat they spoke the truth in every respect except as to the dagger, for it was not adagger, nor little, but a burnished poniard sharper than an awl. ""That poniard must have been made by Ramon de Hoces the Sevillian, " saidSancho. "I do not know, " said Don Quixote; "it could not have been by that poniardmaker, however, because Ramon de Hoces was a man of yesterday, and the affairof Roncesvalles, where this mishap occurred, was long ago; but the question is ofno great importance, nor does it affect or make any alteration in the truth orsubstance of the story. ""That is true, " said the cousin; "continue, Senor Don Quixote, for I am listeningto you with the greatest pleasure in the world. ""And with no less do I tell the tale, " said Don Quixote; "and so, to proceed--thevenerable Montesinos led me into the palace of crystal, where, in a lowerchamber, strangely cool and entirely of alabaster, was an elaborately wroughtmarble tomb, upon which I beheld, stretched at full length, a knight, not ofbronze, or marble, or jasper, as are seen on other tombs, but of actual flesh andbone. His right hand (which seemed to me somewhat hairy and sinewy, a sign ofgreat strength in its owner) lay on the side of his heart; but before I could put anyquestion to Montesinos, he, seeing me gazing at the tomb in amazement, said tome, 'This is my friend Durandarte, flower and mirror of the true lovers and valiantknights of his time. He is held enchanted here, as I myself and many others are, by that French enchanter Merlin, who, they say, was the devil's son; but my beliefis, not that he was the devil's son, but that he knew, as the saying is, a point morethan the devil. How or why he enchanted us, no one knows, but time will tell, and I suspect that time is not far off. What I marvel at is, that I know it to be assure as that it is now day, that Durandarte ended his life in my arms, and that, after his death, I took out his heart with my own hands; and indeed it must haveweighed more than two pounds, for, according to naturalists, he who has a largeheart is more largely endowed with valour than he who has a small one. Then, asthis is the case, and as the knight did really die, how comes it that he now moansand sighs from time to time, as if he were still alive?'"As he said this, the wretched Durandarte cried out in a loud voice:O cousin Montesinos!'T was my last request of thee, When my soul hath left the body, And that lying dead I be, With thy poniard or thy daggerCut the heart from out my breast, And bear it to Belerma. This was my last request. ""On hearing which, the venerable Montesinos fell on his knees before theunhappy knight, and with tearful eyes exclaimed, 'Long since, Senor Durandarte, my beloved cousin, long since have I done what you bade me on that sad daywhen I lost you; I took out your heart as well as I could, not leaving an atom of itin your breast, I wiped it with a lace handkerchief, and I took the road to Francewith it, having first laid you in the bosom of the earth with tears enough to washand cleanse my hands of the blood that covered them after wandering among yourbowels; and more by token, O cousin of my soul, at the first village I came toafter leaving Roncesvalles, I sprinkled a little salt upon your heart to keep itsweet, and bring it, if not fresh, at least pickled, into the presence of the ladyBelerma, whom, together with you, myself, Guadiana your squire, the duennaRuidera and her seven daughters and two nieces, and many more of your friendsand acquaintances, the sage Merlin has been keeping enchanted here these manyyears; and although more than five hundred have gone by, not one of us has died;Ruidera and her daughters and nieces alone are missing, and these, because of thetears they shed, Merlin, out of the compassion he seems to have felt for them, changed into so many lakes, which to this day in the world of the living, and inthe province of La Mancha, are called the Lakes of Ruidera. The seven daughters belong to the kings of Spain and the two nieces to theknights of a very holy order called the Order of St. John. Guadiana your squire, likewise bewailing your fate, was changed into a river of his own name, but whenhe came to the surface and beheld the sun of another heaven, so great was hisgrief at finding he was leaving you, that he plunged into the bowels of the earth;however, as he cannot help following his natural course, he from time to timecomes forth and shows himself to the sun and the world. The lakes aforesaid sendhim their waters, and with these, and others that come to him, he makes a grandand imposing entrance into Portugal; but for all that, go where he may, he showshis melancholy and sadness, and takes no pride in breeding dainty choice fish, only coarse and tasteless sorts, very different from those of the golden Tagus. Allthis that I tell you now, O cousin mine, I have told you many times before, and asyou make no answer, I fear that either you believe me not, or do not hear me, whereat I feel God knows what grief. I have now news to give you, which, if itserves not to alleviate your sufferings, will not in any wise increase them. Knowthat you have here before you (open your eyes and you will see) that great knightof whom the sage Merlin has prophesied such great things; that Don Quixote ofLa Mancha I mean, who has again, and to better purpose than in past times, revived in these days knight-errantry, long since forgotten, and by whoseintervention and aid it may be we shall be disenchanted; for great deeds arereserved for great men. '"'And if that may not be, ' said the wretched Durandarte in a low and feeblevoice, 'if that may not be, then, my cousin, I say "patience and shuffle;"' andturning over on his side, he relapsed into his former silence without utteringanother word. "And now there was heard a great outcry and lamentation, accompanied bydeep sighs and bitter sobs. I looked round, and through the crystal wall I sawpassing through another chamber a procession of two lines of fair damsels all cladin mourning, and with white turbans of Turkish fashion on their heads. Behind, inthe rear of these, there came a lady, for so from her dignity she seemed to be, alsoclad in black, with a white veil so long and ample that it swept the ground. Herturban was twice as large as the largest of any of the others; her eyebrows met, her nose was rather flat, her mouth was large but with ruddy lips, and her teeth, of which at times she allowed a glimpse, were seen to be sparse and ill-set, thoughas white as peeled almonds. She carried in her hands a fine cloth, and in it, aswell as I could make out, a heart that had been mummied, so parched and driedwas it. Montesinos told me that all those forming the procession were theattendants of Durandarte and Belerma, who were enchanted there with theirmaster and mistress, and that the last, she who carried the heart in the cloth, wasthe lady Belerma, who, with her damsels, four days in the week went inprocession singing, or rather weeping, dirges over the body and miserable heart ofhis cousin; and that if she appeared to me somewhat ill-favoured or not sobeautiful as fame reported her, it was because of the bad nights and worse daysthat she passed in that enchantment, as I could see by the great dark circles roundher eyes, and her sickly complexion; 'her sallowness, and the rings round hereyes, ' said he, 'are not caused by the periodical ailment usual with women, for it ismany months and even years since she has had any, but by the grief her ownheart suffers because of that which she holds in her hand perpetually, and whichrecalls and brings back to her memory the sad fate of her lost lover; were it notfor this, hardly would the great Dulcinea del Toboso, so celebrated in all theseparts, and even in the world, come up to her for beauty, grace, and gaiety. '"'Hold hard!' said I at this, 'tell your story as you ought, Senor Don Montesinos, for you know very well that all comparisons are odious, and there is no occasionto compare one person with another; the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso is what sheis, and the lady Dona Belerma is what she is and has been, and that's enough. ' Towhich he made answer, 'Forgive me, Senor Don Quixote; I own I was wrong andspoke unadvisedly in saying that the lady Dulcinea could scarcely come up to thelady Belerma; for it were enough for me to have learned, by what means I knownot, that you are her knight, to make me bite my tongue out before I comparedher to anything save heaven itself. ' After this apology which the great Montesinosmade me, my heart recovered itself from the shock I had received in hearing mylady compared with Belerma. ""Still I wonder, " said Sancho, "that your worship did not get upon the old fellowand bruise every bone of him with kicks, and pluck his beard until you didn'tleave a hair in it. ""Nay, Sancho, my friend, " said Don Quixote, "it would not have been right inme to do that, for we are all bound to pay respect to the aged, even though theybe not knights, but especially to those who are, and who are enchanted; I onlyknow I gave him as good as he brought in the many other questions and answerswe exchanged. ""I cannot understand, Senor Don Quixote, " remarked the cousin here, "how it isthat your worship, in such a short space of time as you have been below there, could have seen so many things, and said and answered so much. ""How long is it since I went down?" asked Don Quixote. "Little better than an hour, " replied Sancho. "That cannot be, " returned Don Quixote, "because night overtook me while Iwas there, and day came, and it was night again and day again three times; sothat, by my reckoning, I have been three days in those remote regions beyond ourken. ""My master must be right, " replied Sancho; "for as everything that has happenedto him is by enchantment, maybe what seems to us an hour would seem threedays and nights there. ""That's it, " said Don Quixote. "And did your worship eat anything all that time, senor?" asked the cousin. "I never touched a morsel, " answered Don Quixote, "nor did I feel hunger, orthink of it. ""And do the enchanted eat?" said the cousin. "They neither eat, " said Don Quixote; "nor are they subject to the greaterexcrements, though it is thought that their nails, beards, and hair grow. ""And do the enchanted sleep, now, senor?" asked Sancho. "Certainly not, " replied Don Quixote; "at least, during those three days I waswith them not one of them closed an eye, nor did I either. ""The proverb, 'Tell me what company thou keepest and I'll tell thee what thouart, ' is to the point here, " said Sancho; "your worship keeps company withenchanted people that are always fasting and watching; what wonder is it, then, that you neither eat nor sleep while you are with them? But forgive me, senor, if Isay that of all this you have told us now, may God take me--I was just going tosay the devil--if I believe a single particle. ""What!" said the cousin, "has Senor Don Quixote, then, been lying? Why, even ifhe wished it he has not had time to imagine and put together such a host of lies. ""I don't

believe my master lies, " said Sancho. "If not, what dost thou believe?" asked Don Quixote. "I believe, " replied Sancho, "that this Merlin, or those enchanters whoenchanted the whole crew your worship says you saw and discoursed with downthere, stuffed your imagination or your mind with all this rigmarole you have beentreating us to, and all that is still to come. ""All that might be, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote; "but it is not so, foreverything that I have told you I saw with my own eyes, and touched with myown hands. But what will you say when I tell you now how, among the countlessother marvellous things Montesinos showed me (of which at leisure and at theproper time I will give thee an account in the course of our journey, for theywould not be all in place here), he showed me three country girls who wentskipping and capering like goats over the pleasant fields there, and the instant Ibeheld them I knew one to be the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, and the other twothose same country girls that were with her and that we spoke to on the roadfrom El Toboso! I asked Montesinos if he knew them, and he told me he did not, but he thought they must be some enchanted ladies of distinction, for it was onlya few days before that they had made their appearance in those meadows; but Iwas not to be surprised at that, because there were a great many other ladiesthere of times past and present, enchanted in various strange shapes, and amongthem he had recognised Queen Guinevere and her dame Quintanona, she whopoured out the wine for Lancelot when he came from Britain. "When Sancho Panza heard his master say this he was ready to take leave of hissenses, or die with laughter; for, as he knew the real truth about the pretendedenchantment of Dulcinea, in which he himself had been the enchanter andconcocter of all the evidence, he made up his mind at last that, beyond all doubt, his master was out of his wits and stark mad, so he said to him, "It was an evilhour, a worse season, and a sorrowful day, when your worship, dear master mine, went down to the other world, and an unlucky moment when you met with SenorMontesinos, who has sent you back to us like this. You were well enough hereabove in your full senses, such as God had given you, delivering maxims andgiving advice at every turn, and not as you are now, talking the greatest nonsensethat can be imagined. ""As I know thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "I heed not thy words. ""Nor I your worship's, " said Sancho, "whether you beat me or kill me for those Ihave spoken, and will speak if you don't correct and mend your own. But tell me, while we are still at peace, how or by what did you recognise the lady ourmistress; and if you spoke to her, what did you say, and what did she answer?""I recognised her, " said Don Quixote, "by her wearing the same garments shewore when thou didst point her out to me. I spoke to her, but she did not utter aword in reply; on the contrary, she turned her back on me and took to flight, atsuch a pace that crossbow bolt could not have overtaken her. I wished to followher, and would have done so had not Montesinos recommended me not to takethe trouble as it would be useless, particularly as the time was drawing near whenit would be necessary for me to quit the cavern. He told me, moreover, that incourse of time he would let me know how he and Belerma, and Durandarte, andall who were there, were to be disenchanted. But of all I saw and observed downthere, what gave me most pain was, that while Montesinos was speaking to me, one of the two companions of the hapless Dulcinea approached me on onewithout my having seen her coming, and with tears in her eyes said to me, in alow, agitated voice, 'My lady Dulcinea del Toboso kisses your worship's hands, and entreats you to do her the favour of letting her know how you are; and, beingin great need, she also entreats your worship as earnestly as she can to be so goodas to lend her half a dozen reals, or as much as you may have about you, on thisnew dimity petticoat that I have here; and she promises to repay them veryspeedily. ' I was amazed and taken aback by such a message, and turning to SenorMontesinos I asked him, 'Is it possible, Senor Montesinos, that persons ofdistinction under enchantment can be in need?' To which he replied, 'Believe me, Senor Don Quixote, that which is called need is to be met with everywhere, andpenetrates all quarters and reaches everyone, and does not spare even theenchanted; and as the lady Dulcinea del Toboso sends to beg those six reals, andthe pledge is to all appearance a good one, there is nothing for it but to give themto her, for no doubt she must be in some great strait. ' 'I will take no pledge of her, 'I replied, 'nor yet can I give her what she asks, for all I have is four reals; which Igave (they were those which thou, Sancho, gavest me the other day to bestow inalms upon the poor I met along the road), and I said, 'Tell your mistress, my dear, that I am grieved to the heart because of her distresses, and wish I was a Fucar toremedy them, and that I would have her know that I cannot be, and ought not be, in health while deprived of the happiness of seeing her and enjoying her discreetconversation, and that I implore her as earnestly as I can, to allow herself to beseen and addressed by this her captive servant and forlorn knight. Tell her, too, that when she least expects it she will hear it announced that I have made an oathand vow after the fashion of that which the Marquis of Mantua made to avengehis nephew Baldwin, when he found him at the point of death in the heart of themountains, which was, not to eat bread off a tablecloth, and other trifling matterswhich he added, until he had avenged him; and I will make the same to take norest, and to roam the seven regions of the earth more thoroughly than the InfanteDon Pedro of Portugal ever roamed them, until I have disenchanted her. ' 'All thatand more, you owe my lady, ' the damsel's answer to me, and taking the four reals, instead of making me a curtsey she cut a caper, springing two full yards into theair. ""O blessed God!" exclaimed Sancho aloud at this, "is it possible that such thingscan be in the world, and that enchanters and enchantments can have such powerin it as to have changed my master's right senses into a craze so full of absurdity!O senor, senor, for God's sake, consider yourself, have a care for your honour, and give no credit to this silly stuff that has left you scant and short of wits. ""Thou talkest in this way because thou lovest me, Sancho, " said Don Quixote;"and not being experienced in the things of the world, everything that has somedifficulty about it seems to thee impossible; but time will pass, as I said before, and I will tell thee some of the things I saw down there which will make theebelieve what I have related now, the truth of which admits of neither reply norquestion. "CHAPTER XXIV. WHEREIN ARE RELATED A THOUSAND TRIFLING MATTERS, ASTRIVIAL AS THEY ARE NECESSARY TO THE RIGHTUNDERSTANDING OF THIS GREAT HISTORYHe who translated this great history from the original written by its first author, Cide Hamete Benengeli, says that on coming to the chapter giving the adventuresof the cave of Montesinos he found written on the margin of it, in Hamete's ownhand, these exact words:"I cannot convince or persuade myself that everything that is written in thepreceding chapter could have precisely happened to the valiant Don Quixote; andfor this reason, that all the adventures that have occurred up to the present havebeen possible and probable; but as for this one of the cave, I see no way ofaccepting it as true, as it passes all reasonable bounds. For me to believe that DonQuixote could lie, he being the most truthful gentleman and the noblest knight ofhis time, is impossible; he would not have told a lie though he were shot to deathwith arrows. On the other hand, I reflect that he related and told the story withall the circumstances detailed, and that he could not in so short a space havefabricated such a vast complication of absurdities; if, then, this adventure seemsapocryphal, it is no fault of mine; and so, without affirming its falsehood or itstruth, I write it down. Decide for thyself in thy wisdom, reader; for I am notbound, nor is it in my power, to do more; though certain it is they say that at thetime of his death he retracted, and said he had invented it, thinking it matchedand tallied with the adventures he had read of in his histories. " And then he goeson to say:The cousin was amazed as well at Sancho's boldness as at the patience of hismaster, and concluded that the good temper the latter displayed arose from thehappiness he felt at having seen his lady Dulcinea, even enchanted as she was;because otherwise the words and language Sancho had addressed to him deserveda thrashing; for indeed he seemed to him to have been rather impudent to hismaster, to whom he now observed, "I, Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, lookupon the time I have spent in travelling with your worship as very well employed, for I have gained four things in the course of it; the first is that I have made youracquaintance, which I consider great good fortune; the second, that I have learnedwhat the cave of Montesinos contains, together with the transformations ofGuadiana and of the lakes of Ruidera; which will be of use to me for the SpanishOvid that I have in hand; the third, to have discovered the antiquity of cards, thatthey were in use at least in the time of Charlemagne, as may be inferred from thewords you say Durandarte uttered when, at the end of that long spell whileMontesinos was talking to him, he woke up and said, 'Patience and shuffle. ' Thisphrase and expression he could not have learned while he was enchanted, butonly before he had become so, in France, and in the time of the aforesaid emperorCharlemagne. And this demonstration is just the thing for me for that other book Iam writing, the 'Supplement to Polydore Vergil on the Invention of Antiquities;'for I believe he never thought of inserting that of cards in his book, as I mean todo in mine, and it will be a matter of great importance, particularly when I cancite so grave and veracious an authority as Senor Durandarte. And the fourththing is, that I have ascertained the source of the river Guadiana, heretoforeunknown to mankind. ""You are right, " said Don Quixote; "but I should like to know, if by God's favourthey grant you a licence to print those books of yours--which I doubt--to whomdo you mean dedicate them?""There are lords and grandees in Spain to whom they can be dedicated, " said thecousin. "Not many, " said Don Quixote; "not that they are unworthy of it, but becausethey do not care to accept books and incur the obligation of making the returnthat seems due to the author's labour and courtesy. One prince I know who makesup for all the rest, and more--how much more, if I ventured to say, perhaps Ishould stir up envy in many a noble breast; but let this stand over for some moreconvenient time, and let us go and look for some place to shelter ourselves in to-night. ""Not far from this, " said the cousin, "there is a hermitage, where there lives ahermit, who they say was a soldier, and who has the reputation of being a goodChristian and a very intelligent and charitable man. Close to the hermitage he hasa small house which he built at his own cost, but though small it is large enoughfor the reception of guests. ""Has this hermit any hens, do you think?" asked Sancho. "Few hermits are without them, " said Don Quixote; "for those we see now-a-days are not like the hermits of the Egyptian deserts who were clad in palm-leaves, and lived on the roots of the earth. But do not think that by praising theseI am disparaging the others; all I mean to say is that the penances of those of thepresent day do not come up to the asceticism and austerity of former times; but itdoes not follow from this that they are not all worthy; at least I think them so;and at the worst the hypocrite who pretends to be good does less harm than theopen sinner. "At this point they saw approaching the spot where they stood a man on foot, proceeding at a rapid pace, and beating a mule loaded with lances and halberds. When he came up to them, he saluted them and passed on without stopping. DonQuixote called to him, "Stay, good fellow; you seem to be making more haste thansuits that mule. ""I cannot stop, senor, " answered the man; "for the arms you see I carry here areto be used tomorrow, so I must not delay; God be with you. But if you want toknow what I am carrying them for, I mean to lodge to-night at the inn that isbeyond the hermitage, and if you be going the same road you will find me there, and I will tell you some curious things; once more God be with you;" and he urgedon his mule at such a pace that Don Quixote had no time to ask him what thesecurious things were that he meant to tell them; and as he was somewhatinquisitive, and always tortured by his anxiety to learn something new, he decidedto set out at once, and go and pass the night at the inn instead of stopping at thehermitage, where the cousin would have had them halt. Accordingly they mountedand all three took the direct road for the inn, which they reached a little beforenightfall. On the road the cousin proposed they should go up to the hermitage todrink a sup. The instant Sancho heard this he steered his Dapple towards it, andDon Quixote and the cousin did the same; but it seems Sancho's bad luck soordered it that the hermit was not at home, for so a sub-hermit they found in thehermitage told them. They called for some of the best. She replied that her masterhad none, but that if they liked cheap water she would give it with great pleasure. "If I found any in water, " said Sancho, "there are wells along the road where Icould have had enough of it. Ah, Camacho's wedding, and plentiful house of DonDiego, how often do I miss you!"Leaving the hermitage, they pushed on towards the inn, and a little farther theycame upon a youth who was pacing along in front of them at no great speed, sothat they overtook him. He carried a sword over his shoulder, and slung on it abudget or bundle of his clothes apparently, probably his breeches or pantaloons, and his cloak and a shirt or two; for he had on a short jacket of velvet with agloss like satin on it in places, and had his shirt out; his stockings were of silk, and his shoes square-toed as they wear them at court. His age might have beeneighteen or nineteen; he was of a merry countenance, and to all appearance of anactive habit, and he went along singing seguidillas to beguile the wearisomeness ofthe road. As they came up with him he was just finishing one, which the cousingot by heart and they say ran thus--I'm off to the warsFor the want of pence, Oh, had I but moneyI'd show more sense. The first to address him was Don Quixote, who said, "You travel very airily, sirgallant; whither bound, may we ask, if it is your pleasure to tell us?"To which the youth replied, "The heat and my poverty are the reason of mytravelling so airily, and it is to the wars that I am bound. ""How poverty?" asked Don Quixote; "the heat one can understand. ""Senor, " replied the youth, "in this bundle I carry velvet pantaloons to matchthis jacket; if I wear them out on the road, I shall not be able to make a decentappearance in them in the city, and I have not the wherewithal to buy others; andso for this reason, as well as to keep myself cool, I am making my way in thisfashion to overtake some companies of infantry that are not twelve leagues off, inwhich I shall enlist, and there will be no want of baggage trains to travel withafter that to the place of embarkation, which they say will be Carthagena; I wouldrather have the King for a master, and serve him in the wars, than serve a courtpauper. ""And did you get any bounty, now?" asked the cousin. "If I had been in the service of some grandee of Spain or personage ofdistinction, " replied the youth, "I should have been safe to get it; for that is theadvantage of serving good masters, that out of the servants' hall men come to beancients or captains, or get a good pension. But I, to my misfortune, alwaysserved place-hunters and adventurers, whose keep and wages were so miserableand scanty that half went in paying for the starching of one's collars; it would be amiracle indeed if a page volunteer ever got anything like a reasonable bounty. ""And tell me, for heaven's sake, " asked Don Quixote, "is it possible, my friend, that all the time you served you never got any livery?""They gave me two, " replied the page; "but just as when one quits a religiouscommunity before making profession, they strip him of the dress of the order andgive him back his own clothes, so did my masters return me mine; for as soon asthe business on which they came to court was finished, they went home and tookback the liveries they had given merely for show. ""What spilorceria!--as an Italian would say, " said Don Quixote; "but for all that, consider yourself happy in having left court with as worthy an object as you have, for there is nothing on earth more honourable or profitable than serving, first ofall God, and then one's king and natural lord, particularly in the profession ofarms, by which, if not more wealth, at least more honour is to be won than byletters, as I have said many a time; for though letters may have founded moregreat houses than arms, still those founded by arms have I know not whatsuperiority over those founded by letters, and a certain splendour belonging tothem that distinguishes them above all. And bear in mind what I am now about tosay to you, for it will be of great use and comfort to you in time of trouble; it is, not to let your mind dwell on the adverse chances that may befall you; for theworst of all is death, and if it be a good death, the best of all is to die. They askedJulius Caesar, the valiant Roman emperor, what was the best death. He answered, that which is unexpected, which comes suddenly and unforeseen; and though heanswered like a pagan, and one without the knowledge of the true God, yet, as faras sparing our feelings is concerned, he was right; for suppose you are killed inthe first engagement or skirmish, whether by a cannon ball or blown up by mine, what matters it? It is only dying, and all is over; and according to Terence, asoldier shows better dead in battle, than alive and safe in flight; and the goodsoldier wins fame in proportion as he is obedient to his captains and those incommand over him. And remember, my son, that it is better for the soldier tosmell of gunpowder than of civet, and that if old age should come upon you inthis honourable calling, though you may be covered with wounds and crippledand lame, it will not come upon you without honour, and that such as povertycannot lessen; especially now that provisions are being made for supporting andrelieving old and disabled soldiers; for it is not right to deal with them after thefashion of those who set free and get rid of their black slaves when they are oldand useless, and, turning them out of their houses under the pretence of makingthem free, make them slaves to hunger, from which they cannot expect to bereleased except by death. But for the present I won't say more than get ye upbehind me on my horse as far as the inn, and sup with me there, and to-morrowyou shall pursue your journey, and God give you as good speed as your intentionsdeserve. "The page did not accept the invitation to mount, though he did that to supperat the inn; and here they say Sancho said to himself, "God be with you for amaster; is it possible that a man who can say things so many and so good as hehas said just now, can say that he saw the impossible absurdities he reports aboutthe cave of Montesinos? Well, well, we shall see. "And now, just as night was falling, they reached the inn, and it was not withoutsatisfaction that Sancho perceived his master took it for a real inn, and not for acastle as usual. The instant they entered Don Quixote asked the landlord after theman with the lances and halberds, and was told that he was in the stable seeingto his mule; which was what Sancho and the cousin proceeded to do for theirbeasts, giving the best manger and the best place in the stable to Rocinante. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXV. WHEREIN IS SET DOWN THE BRAYING ADVENTURE, AND THEDROLL ONE OF THE PUPPET-SHOWMAN, TOGETHER WITH THEMEMORABLE DIVINATIONS OF THE DIVINING APEDon Quixote's bread would not bake, as the common saying is, until he hadheard and learned the curious things promised by the man who carried the arms. He went to seek him where the innkeeper said he was and having found him, bade him say now at any rate what he had to say in answer to the question hehad asked him on the road. "The tale of my wonders must be taken more leisurelyand not standing, " said the man; "let me finish foddering my beast, good sir; andthen I'll tell you things that will astonish you. ""Don't wait for that, " said Don Quixote; "I'll help you in everything, " and so hedid, sifting the barley for him and cleaning out the manger; a degree of humilitywhich made the other feel bound to tell him with a good grace what he had asked;so seating himself on a bench, with Don Quixote beside him, and the cousin, thepage, Sancho Panza, and the landlord, for a senate and an audience, he began hisstory in this way:"You must know that in a village four leagues and a half from this inn, it sohappened that one of the regidors, by the tricks and roguery of a servant girl ofhis (it's too long a tale to tell), lost an ass; and though he did all he possibly couldto find it, it was all to no purpose. A fortnight might have gone by, so the storygoes, since the ass had been missing, when, as the regidor who had lost it wasstanding in the plaza, another regidor of the same town said to him, 'Pay me forgood news, gossip; your ass has turned up. ' 'That I will, and well, gossip, ' said theother; 'but tell us, where has he turned up?' 'In the forest, ' said the finder; 'I sawhim this morning without pack-saddle or harness of any sort, and so lean that itwent to one's heart to see him. I tried to drive him before me and bring him toyou, but he is already so wild and shy that when I went near him he made off intothe thickest part of the forest. If you have a mind that we two should go back andlook for him, let me put up this she-ass at my house and I'll be back at once. ' 'Youwill be doing me a great kindness, ' said the owner of the ass, 'and I'll try to pay itback in the same coin. ' It is with all these circumstances, and in the very sameway I am telling it now, that those who know all about the matter tell the story. Well then, the two regidors set off on foot, arm in arm, for the forest, and comingto the place where they hoped to find the ass they could not find him, nor was heto be seen anywhere about, search as they might. Seeing, then, that there was nosign of him, the regidor who had seen him said to the other, 'Look here, gossip; aplan has occurred to me, by which, beyond a doubt, we shall manage to discoverthe animal, even if he is stowed away in the bowels of the earth, not to say theforest. Here it is. I can bray to perfection, and if you can ever so little, the thing'sas good as done. ' 'Ever so little did you say, gossip?' said the other; 'by God, I'llnot give in to anybody, not even to the asses themselves. ' 'We'll soon see, ' said thesecond regidor, 'for my plan is that you should go one side of the forest, and I theother, so as to go all round about it; and every now and then you will bray and Iwill bray; and it cannot be but that the ass will hear us, and answer us if he is inthe forest. ' To which the owner of the ass replied, 'It's an excellent plan, I declare, gossip, and worthy of your great genius;' and the two separating as agreed, it sofell out that they brayed almost at the same moment, and each, deceived by thebraying of the other, ran to look, fancying the ass had turned up at last. Whenthey came in sight of one another, said the loser, 'Is it possible, gossip, that it wasnot my ass that brayed?' 'No, it was I, ' said the other. 'Well then, I can tell you, gossip, ' said the ass's owner, 'that between you and an ass there is not an atom ofdifference as far as braying goes, for I never in all my life saw or heard anythingmore natural. ' 'Those praises and compliments belong to you more justly than tome, gossip, ' said the inventor of the plan; 'for, by the God that made me, youmight give a couple of brays odds to the best and most finished brayer in theworld; the tone you have got is deep, your voice is well kept up as to time andpitch, and your finishing notes come thick and fast; in fact, I own myself beaten, and yield the palm to you, and give in to you in this rare accomplishment. ' 'Wellthen, ' said the owner, 'I'll set a higher value on myself for the future, and considerthat I know something, as I have an excellence of some sort; for though I alwaysthought I brayed well, I never supposed I came up to the pitch of perfection yousay. ' 'And I say too, ' said the second, 'that there are rare gifts going to loss in theworld, and that they are ill bestowed upon those who don't know how to makeuse of them. ' 'Ours, ' said the owner of the ass, 'unless it is in cases like this wehave now in hand, cannot be of any service to us, and even in this God grant theymay be of some use. ' So saying they separated, and took to their braying oncemore, but every instant they were deceiving one another, and coming to meet oneanother again, until they arranged by way of countersign, so as to know that itwas they and not the ass, to give two brays, one after the other. In this way, doubling the brays at every step, they made the complete circuit of the forest, butthe lost ass never gave them an answer or even the sign of one. How could thepoor ill-starred brute have answered, when, in the thickest part of the forest, theyfound him devoured by wolves? As soon as he saw him his owner said, 'I waswondering he did not answer, for if he wasn't dead he'd have brayed when heheard us, or he'd have been no ass; but for the sake of having heard you bray tosuch perfection, gossip, I count the trouble I have taken to look for him wellbestowed, even though I have found him dead. ' 'It's in a good hand, gossip, ' saidthe other; 'if the abbot sings well, the acolyte is not much behind him. ' So theyreturned disconsolate and hoarse to their village, where they told their friends, neighbours, and acquaintances what had befallen them in their search for the ass, each crying up the other's perfection in braying. The whole story came to beknown and spread abroad through the villages of the neighbourhood; and thedevil, who never sleeps, with his love for sowing dissensions and scatteringdiscord everywhere, blowing mischief about and making quarrels out of nothing, contrived to make the people of the other towns fall to braying whenever they sawanyone from our village, as if to throw the braying of our regidors in our teeth. Then the boys took to it, which was the same thing for it as getting into the handsand mouths of all the devils of hell; and braying spread from one town to anotherin such a way that the men of the braying town are as easy to be known as blacksare to be known from whites, and the unlucky joke has gone so far that severaltimes the scoffed have come out in arms and in a body to do battle with thescoffers, and neither king nor rook, fear nor shame, can mend matters. To-morrowor the day after, I believe, the men of my town, that is, of the braying town, aregoing to take the field against another village two leagues away from ours, one ofthose that persecute us most; and that we may turn out well prepared I havebought these lances and halberds you have seen. These are the curious things Itold you I had to tell, and if you don't think them so, I have got no others;" andwith this the worthy fellow brought his story to a close. Just at this moment there came in at the gate of the inn a man entirely clad inchamois leather, hose, breeches, and doublet, who said in a loud voice, "Senorhost, have you room? Here's the divining ape and the show of the Release ofMelisendra just coming. ""Ods body!" said the landlord, "why, it's Master Pedro! We're in for a grandnight!" I forgot to mention that the said Master Pedro had his left eye and nearlyhalf his cheek covered with a patch of green taffety, showing that something ailedall that side. "Your worship is welcome, Master Pedro, " continued the landlord;"but where are the ape and the show, for I don't see them?" "They are close athand, " said he in the chamois leather, "but I came on first to know if there wasany room. " "I'd make the Duke of Alva himself clear out to make room for MasterPedro, " said the landlord; "bring in the ape and the show; there's company in theinn to-night that will pay to see that and the cleverness of the ape. " "So be it by allmeans, " said the man with the patch; "I'll lower the price, and be well satisfied if Ionly pay my expenses; and now I'll go back and hurry on the cart with the apeand the show;" and with this he went out of the inn. Don Quixote at once asked the landlord what this Master Pedro was, and whatwas the show and what was the ape he had with him; which the landlord replied, "This is a famous puppet-showman, who for some time past has been going aboutthis Mancha de Aragon, exhibiting a show of the release of Melisendra by thefamous Don Gaiferos, one of the best and best-represented stories that have beenseen in this part of the kingdom for many a year; he has also with him an apewith the most extraordinary gift ever seen in an ape or imagined in a humanbeing; for if you ask him anything, he listens attentively to the question, and thenjumps on his master's shoulder, and pressing close to his ear tells him the answerwhich Master Pedro then delivers. He says a great deal more about things pastthan about things to come; and though he does not always hit the truth in everycase, most times he is not far wrong, so that he makes us fancy he has got thedevil in him. He gets two reals for every question if the ape answers; I mean if hismaster answers for him after he has whispered into his ear; and so it is believedthat this same Master Pedro is very rich. He is a 'gallant man' as they say in Italy, and good company, and leads the finest life in the world; talks more than six, drinks more than a dozen, and all by his tongue, and his ape, and his show. "Master Pedro now came back, and in a cart followed the show and the ape--abig one, without a tail and with buttocks as bare as felt, but not vicious-looking. As soon as Don Quixote saw him, he asked him, "Can you tell me, sir fortune-teller, what fish do we catch, and how will it be with us? See, here are my tworeals, " and he bade Sancho give them to Master Pedro; but he answered for theape and said, "Senor, this animal does not give any answer or informationtouching things that are to come; of things past he knows something, and more orless of things present. ""Gad, " said Sancho, "I would not give a farthing to be told what's past with me, for who knows that better than I do myself? And to pay for being told what Iknow would be mighty foolish. But as you know things present, here are my tworeals, and tell me, most excellent sir ape, what is my wife Teresa Panza doingnow, and what is she diverting herself with?"Master Pedro refused to take the money, saying, "I will not receive payment inadvance or until the service has been first rendered;" and then with his right handhe gave a couple of slaps on his left shoulder, and with one spring the apeperched himself upon it, and putting his mouth to his master's ear beganchattering his teeth rapidly; and having kept this up as long as one would besaying a credo, with another spring he brought himself to the ground, and thesame instant Master Pedro ran in great haste and fell upon his knees before DonQuixote, and embracing his legs exclaimed, "These legs do I embrace as I wouldembrace the two pillars of Hercules, O illustrious reviver of knight-errantry, solong consigned to oblivion! O never yet duly extolled knight, Don Quixote of LaMancha, courage of the faint-hearted, prop of the tottering, arm of the fallen, staffand counsel of all who are unfortunate!"Don Quixote was thunderstruck, Sancho astounded, the cousin staggered, thepage astonished, the man from the braying town agape, the landlord in perplexity, and, in short, everyone amazed at the words of the puppet-showman, who wenton to say, "And thou, worthy Sancho Panza, the best squire and squire to the bestknight in the world! Be of good cheer, for thy good wife Teresa is well, and she isat this moment hackling a pound of flax; and more by token she has at her lefthand a jug with a broken spout that holds a good drop of wine, with which shesolaces herself at her work. ""That I can well believe, " said Sancho. "She is a lucky one, and if it was not forher jealousy I would not change her for the giantess Andandona, who by mymaster's account was a very clever and worthy woman; my Teresa is one of thosethat won't let themselves want for anything, though their heirs may have to payfor it. ""Now I declare, " said Don Quixote, "he who reads much and travels much seesand knows a great deal. I say so because what amount of persuasion could havepersuaded me that there are apes in the world that can divine as I have seen nowwith my own eyes? For I am that very Don Quixote of La Mancha this worthyanimal refers to, though he has gone rather too far in my praise; but whatever Imay be, I thank heaven that it has endowed me with a tender and compassionateheart, always disposed to do good to all and harm to none. ""If I had money, " said the page, "I would ask senor ape what will happen me inthe peregrination I am making. "To this Master Pedro, who had by this time risen from Don Quixote's feet, replied, "I have already said that this little beast gives no answer as to the future;but if he did, not having money would be of no consequence, for to oblige SenorDon Quixote, here present, I would give up all the profits in the world. And now, because I have promised it, and to afford him pleasure, I will set up my show andoffer entertainment to all who are in the inn, without any charge whatever. " Assoon as he heard this, the landlord, delighted beyond measure, pointed out aplace where the show might be fixed, which was done at once. Don Quixote was not very well satisfied with the divinations of the ape, as hedid not think it proper that an ape should divine anything, either past or future;so while Master Pedro was arranging the show, he retired with Sancho into acorner of the stable, where, without being overheard by anyone, he said to him, "Look here, Sancho, I have been seriously thinking over this ape's extraordinarygift, and have come to the conclusion that beyond doubt this Master Pedro, hismaster, has a pact, tacit or express, with the devil. ""If the packet is express from the devil, " said Sancho, "it must be a very dirtypacket no doubt; but what good can it do Master Pedro to have such packets?""Thou dost not understand me, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "I only mean hemust have made some compact with the devil to infuse this power into the ape, that he may get his living, and after he has grown rich he will give him his soul, which is what the enemy of mankind wants; this I am led to believe by observingthat the ape only answers about things past or present, and the devil's knowledgeextends no further; for the future he knows only by guesswork, and that notalways; for it is reserved for God alone to know the times and the seasons, andfor him there is neither past nor future; all is present. This being as it is, it is clearthat this ape speaks by the spirit of the devil; and I am astonished they have notdenounced him to the Holy Office, and put him to the question, and forced it outof him by whose virtue it is that he divines; because it is certain this ape is not anastrologer; neither his master nor he sets up, or knows how to set up, thosefigures they call judiciary, which are now so common in Spain that there is not ajade, or page, or old cobbler, that will not undertake to set up a figure as readilyas pick up a knave of cards from the ground, bringing to nought the marvelloustruth of the science by their lies and ignorance. I know of a lady who asked one ofthese figure schemers whether her little lap-dog would be in pup and would breed, and how many and of what colour the little pups would be. To which senorastrologer, after having set up his figure, made answer that the bitch would be inpup, and would drop three pups, one green, another bright red, and the thirdparti-coloured, provided she conceived between eleven and twelve either of theday or night, and on a Monday or Saturday; but as things turned out, two daysafter this the bitch died of a surfeit, and senor planet-ruler had the credit all overthe place of being a most profound astrologer, as most of these planet-rulershave. ""Still, " said Sancho, "I would be glad if your worship would make Master Pedroask his ape whether what happened your worship in the cave of Montesinos istrue; for, begging your worship's pardon, I, for my part, take it to have been allflam and lies, or at any rate something you dreamt. ""That may be, " replied Don Quixote; "however, I will do what you suggest;though I have my own scruples about it. "At this point Master Pedro came up in quest of Don Quixote, to tell him theshow was now ready and to come and see it, for it was worth seeing. Don Quixoteexplained his wish, and begged him to ask his ape at once to tell him whethercertain things which had happened to him in the cave of Montesinos were dreamsor realities, for to him they appeared to partake of both. Upon this Master Pedro, without answering, went back to fetch the ape, and, having placed it in front ofDon Quixote and Sancho, said: "See here, senor ape, this gentleman wishes toknow whether certain things which happened to him in the cave called the cave ofMontesinos were false or true. " On his making the usual sign the ape mounted onhis left shoulder and seemed to whisper in his ear, and Master Pedro said at once, "The ape says that the things you saw or that happened to you in that cave are, part of them false, part true; and that he only knows this and no more as regardsthis question; but if your worship wishes to know more, on Friday next he willanswer all that may be asked him, for his virtue is at present exhausted, and willnot return to him till Friday, as he has said. ""Did I not say, senor, " said Sancho, "that I could not bring myself to believe thatall your worship said about the adventures in the cave was true, or even the halfof it?""The course of events will tell, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote; "time, thatdiscloses all things, leaves nothing that it does not drag into the light of day, though it be buried in the bosom of the earth. But enough of that for the present;let us go and see Master Pedro's show, for I am sure there must be somethingnovel in it. ""Something!" said Master Pedro; "this show of mine has sixty thousand novelthings in it; let me tell you, Senor Don Quixote, it is one of the best-worth-seeingthings in the world this day; but operibus credite et non verbis, and now let's getto work, for it is growing late, and we have a great deal to do and to say andshow. "Don Quixote and Sancho obeyed him and went to where the show was alreadyput up and uncovered, set all around with lighted wax tapers which made it looksplendid and bright. When they came to it Master Pedro ensconced himself insideit, for it was he who had to work the puppets, and a boy, a servant of his, postedhimself outside to act as showman and explain the mysteries of the exhibition, having a wand in his hand to point to the figures as they came out. And so, allwho were in the inn being arranged in front of the show, some of them standing, and Don Quixote, Sancho, the page, and cousin, accommodated with the bestplaces, the interpreter began to

say what he will hear or see who reads or hearsthe next chapter. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 27Chapters 26-28Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXVI. WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE DROLL ADVENTURE OF THEPUPPET-SHOWMAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGS IN TRUTHRIGHT GOODAll were silent, Tyrians and Trojans; I mean all who were watching the showwere hanging on the lips of the interpreter of its wonders, when drums andtrumpets were heard to sound inside it and cannon to go off. The noise was soonover, and then the boy lifted up his voice and said, "This true story which is hererepresented to your worships is taken word for word from the French chroniclesand from the Spanish ballads that are in everybody's mouth, and in the mouth ofthe boys about the streets. Its subject is the release by Senor Don Gaiferos of hiswife Melisendra, when a captive in Spain at the hands of the Moors in the city ofSansuena, for so they called then what is now called Saragossa; and there youmay see how Don Gaiferos is playing at the tables, just as they sing it-At tables playing Don Gaiferos sits, For Melisendra is forgotten now. And that personage who appears there with a crown on his head and a sceptrein his hand is the Emperor Charlemagne, the supposed father of Melisendra, who, angered to see his son-in-law's inaction and unconcern, comes in to chide him;and observe with what vehemence and energy he chides him, so that you wouldfancy he was going to give him half a dozen raps with his sceptre; and indeedthere are authors who say he did give them, and sound ones too; and after havingsaid a great deal to him about imperilling his honour by not effecting the releaseof his wife, he said, so the tale runs, Enough I've said, see to it now. Observe, too, how the emperor turns away, and leaves Don Gaiferos fuming;and you see now how in a burst of anger, he flings the table and the board farfrom him and calls in haste for his armour, and asks his cousin Don Roland forthe loan of his sword, Durindana, and how Don Roland refuses to lend it, offeringhim his company in the difficult enterprise he is undertaking; but he, in his valourand anger, will not accept it, and says that he alone will suffice to rescue his wife, even though she were imprisoned deep in the centre of the earth, and with this heretires to arm himself and set out on his journey at once. Now let your worshipsturn your eyes to that tower that appears there, which is supposed to be one ofthe towers of the alcazar of Saragossa, now called the Aljaferia; that lady whoappears on that balcony dressed in Moorish fashion is the peerless Melisendra, formany a time she used to gaze from thence upon the road to France, and seekconsolation in her captivity by thinking of Paris and her husband. Observe, too, anew incident which now occurs, such as, perhaps, never was seen. Do you not seethat Moor, who silently and stealthily, with his finger on his lip, approachesMelisendra from behind? Observe now how he prints a kiss upon her lips, andwhat a hurry she is in to spit, and wipe them with the white sleeve of her smock, and how she bewails herself, and tears her fair hair as though it were to blame forthe wrong. Observe, too, that the stately Moor who is in that corridor is KingMarsilio of Sansuena, who, having seen the Moor's insolence, at once orders him(though his kinsman and a great favourite of his) to be seized and given twohundred lashes, while carried through the streets of the city according to custom, with criers going before him and officers of justice behind; and here you see themcome out to execute the sentence, although the offence has been scarcelycommitted; for among the Moors there are no indictments nor remands as withus. "Here Don Quixote called out, "Child, child, go straight on with your story, anddon't run into curves and slants, for to establish a fact clearly there is need of agreat deal of proof and confirmation;" and said Master Pedro from within, "Boy, stick to your text and do as the gentleman bids you; it's the best plan; keep toyour plain song, and don't attempt harmonies, for they are apt to break downfrom being over fine. ""I will, " said the boy, and he went on to say, "This figure that you see here onhorseback, covered with a Gascon cloak, is Don Gaiferos himself, whom his wife, now avenged of the insult of the amorous Moor, and taking her stand on thebalcony of the tower with a calmer and more tranquil countenance, has perceivedwithout recognising him; and she addresses her husband, supposing him to besome traveller, and holds with him all that conversation and colloquy in the balladthat runs--If you, sir knight, to France are bound, Oh! for Gaiferos ask--which I do not repeat here because prolixity begets disgust; suffice it to observehow Don Gaiferos discovers himself, and that by her joyful gestures Melisendrashows us she has recognised him; and what is more, we now see she lowersherself from the balcony to place herself on the haunches of her good husband'shorse. But ah! unhappy lady, the edge of her petticoat has caught on one of thebars of the balcony and she is left hanging in the air, unable to reach the ground. But you see how compassionate heaven sends aid in our sorest need; DonGaiferos advances, and without minding whether the rich petticoat is torn or not, he seizes her and by force brings her to the ground, and then with one jerk placesher on the haunches of his horse, astraddle like a man, and bids her hold on tightand clasp her arms round his neck, crossing them on his breast so as not to fall, for the lady Melisendra was not used to that style of riding. You see, too, how theneighing of the horse shows his satisfaction with the gallant and beautiful burdenhe bears in his lord and lady. You see how they wheel round and quit the city, and in joy and gladness take the road to Paris. Go in peace, O peerless pair oftrue lovers! May you reach your longed-for fatherland in safety, and may fortuneinterpose no impediment to your prosperous journey; may the eyes of your friendsand kinsmen behold you enjoying in peace and tranquillity the remaining days ofyour life--and that they may be as many as those of Nestor!"Here Master Pedro called out again and said, "Simplicity, boy! None of yourhigh flights; all affectation is bad. "The interpreter made no answer, but went on to say, "There was no want of idleeyes, that see everything, to see Melisendra come down and mount, and word wasbrought to King Marsilio, who at once gave orders to sound the alarm; and seewhat a stir there is, and how the city is drowned with the sound of the bellspealing in the towers of all the mosques. ""Nay, nay, " said Don Quixote at this; "on that point of the bells Master Pedro isvery inaccurate, for bells are not in use among the Moors; only kettledrums, and akind of small trumpet somewhat like our clarion; to ring bells this way inSansuena is unquestionably a great absurdity. "On hearing this, Master Pedro stopped ringing, and said, "Don't look intotrifles, Senor Don Quixote, or want to have things up to a pitch of perfection thatis out of reach. Are there not almost every day a thousand comedies representedall round us full of thousands of inaccuracies and absurdities, and, for all that, they have a successful run, and are listened to not only with applause, but withadmiration and all the rest of it? Go on, boy, and don't mind; for so long as I fillmy pouch, no matter if I show as many inaccuracies as there are motes in asunbeam. ""True enough, " said Don Quixote; and the boy went on: "See what a numerousand glittering crowd of horsemen issues from the city in pursuit of the two faithfullovers, what a blowing of trumpets there is, what sounding of horns, what beatingof drums and tabors; I fear me they will overtake them and bring them back tiedto the tail of their own horse, which would be a dreadful sight. "Don Quixote, however, seeing such a swarm of Moors and hearing such a din, thought it would be right to aid the fugitives, and standing up he exclaimed in aloud voice, "Never, while I live, will I permit foul play to be practised in mypresence on such a famous knight and fearless lover as Don Gaiferos. Halt! ill-born rabble, follow him not nor pursue him, or ye will have to reckon with me inbattle!" and suiting the action to the word, he drew his sword, and with onebound placed himself close to the show, and with unexampled rapidity and furybegan to shower down blows on the puppet troop of Moors, knocking over some, decapitating others, maiming this one and demolishing that; and among manymore he delivered one down stroke which, if Master Pedro had not ducked, madehimself small, and got out of the way, would have sliced off his head as easily asif it had been made of almond-paste. Master Pedro kept shouting, "Hold hard!Senor Don Quixote! can't you see they're not real Moors you're knocking downand killing and destroying, but only little pasteboard figures! Look--sinner that Iam!--how you're wrecking and ruining all that I'm worth!" But in spite of this, Don Quixote did not leave off discharging a continuous rain of cuts, slashes, downstrokes, and backstrokes, and at length, in less than the space of two credos, he brought the whole show to the ground, with all its fittings and figures shiveredand knocked to pieces, King Marsilio badly wounded, and the EmperorCharlemagne with his crown and head split in two. The whole audience wasthrown into confusion, the ape fled to the roof of the inn, the cousin wasfrightened, and even Sancho Panza himself was in mighty fear, for, as he sworeafter the storm was over, he had never seen his master in such a furious passion. The complete destruction of the show being thus accomplished, Don Quixotebecame a little calmer, said, "I wish I had here before me now all those who donot or will not believe how useful knights-errant are in the world; just think, if Ihad not been here present, what would have become of the brave Don Gaiferosand the fair Melisendra! Depend upon it, by this time those dogs would haveovertaken them and inflicted some outrage upon them. So, then, long live knight-errantry beyond everything living on earth this day!""Let it live, and welcome, " said Master Pedro at this in a feeble voice, "and letme die, for I am so unfortunate that I can say with King Don Rodrigo--Yesterday was I lord of SpainTo-day I've not a turret leftThat I may call mine own. Not half an hour, nay, barely a minute ago, I saw myself lord of kings andemperors, with my stables filled with countless horses, and my trunks and bagswith gay dresses unnumbered; and now I find myself ruined and laid low, destitute and a beggar, and above all without my ape, for, by my faith, my teethwill have to sweat for it before I have him caught; and all through the recklessfury of sir knight here, who, they say, protects the fatherless, and rights wrongs, and does other charitable deeds; but whose generous intentions have been foundwanting in my case only, blessed and praised be the highest heavens! Verily, knight of the rueful figure he must be to have disfigured mine. "Sancho Panza was touched by Master Pedro's words, and said to him, "Don'tweep and lament, Master Pedro; you break my heart; let me tell you my master, Don Quixote, is so catholic and scrupulous a Christian that, if he can make outthat he has done you any wrong, he will own it, and be willing to pay for it andmake it good, and something over and above. ""Only let Senor Don Quixote pay me for some part of the work he hasdestroyed, " said Master Pedro, "and I would be content, and his worship wouldease his conscience, for he cannot be saved who keeps what is another's againstthe owner's will, and makes no restitution. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote; "but at present I am not aware that I have gotanything of yours, Master Pedro. ""What!" returned Master Pedro; "and these relics lying here on the bare hardground--what scattered and shattered them but the invincible strength of thatmighty arm? And whose were the bodies they belonged to but mine? And whatdid I get my living by but by them?""Now am I fully convinced, " said Don Quixote, "of what I had many a timebefore believed; that the enchanters who persecute me do nothing more than putfigures like these before my eyes, and then change and turn them into what theyplease. In truth and earnest, I assure you gentlemen who now hear me, that to meeverything that has taken place here seemed to take place literally, thatMelisendra was Melisendra, Don Gaiferos Don Gaiferos, Marsilio Marsilio, andCharlemagne Charlemagne. That was why my anger was roused; and to be faithfulto my calling as a knight-errant I sought to give aid and protection to those whofled, and with this good intention I did what you have seen. If the result has beenthe opposite of what I intended, it is no fault of mine, but of those wicked beingsthat persecute me; but, for all that, I am willing to condemn myself in costs forthis error of mine, though it did not proceed from malice; let Master Pedro seewhat he wants for the spoiled figures, for I agree to pay it at once in good andcurrent money of Castile. "Master Pedro made him a bow, saying, "I expected no less of the rareChristianity of the valiant Don Quixote of La Mancha, true helper and protector ofall destitute and needy vagabonds; master landlord here and the great SanchoPanza shall be the arbitrators and appraisers between your worship and me ofwhat these dilapidated figures are worth or may be worth. "The landlord and Sancho consented, and then Master Pedro picked up from theground King Marsilio of Saragossa with his head off, and said, "Here you see howimpossible it is to restore this king to his former state, so I think, saving yourbetter judgments, that for his death, decease, and demise, four reals and a halfmay be given me. ""Proceed, " said Don Quixote. "Well then, for this cleavage from top to bottom, " continued Master Pedro, taking up the split Emperor Charlemagne, "it would not be much if I were to askfive reals and a quarter. ""It's not little, " said Sancho. "Nor is it much, " said the landlord; "make it even, and say five reals. ""Let him have the whole five and a quarter, " said Don Quixote; "for the sumtotal of this notable disaster does not stand on a quarter more or less; and makean end of it quickly, Master Pedro, for it's getting on to supper-time, and I havesome hints of hunger. ""For this figure, " said Master Pedro, "that is without a nose, and wants an eye, and is the fair Melisendra, I ask, and I am reasonable in my charge, two reals andtwelve maravedis. ""The very devil must be in it, " said Don Quixote, "if Melisendra and herhusband are not by this time at least on the French border, for the horse theyrode on seemed to me to fly rather than gallop; so you needn't try to sell me thecat for the hare, showing me here a noseless Melisendra when she is now, maybe, enjoying herself at her ease with her husband in France. God help every one tohis own, Master Pedro, and let us all proceed fairly and honestly; and now go on. "Master Pedro, perceiving that Don Quixote was beginning to wander, andreturn to his original fancy, was not disposed to let him escape, so he said to him, "This cannot be Melisendra, but must be one of the damsels that waited on her; soif I'm given sixty maravedis for her, I'll be content and sufficiently paid. "And so he went on, putting values on ever so many more smashed figures, which, after the two arbitrators had adjusted them to the satisfaction of bothparties, came to forty reals and three-quarters; and over and above this sum, which Sancho at once disbursed, Master Pedro asked for two reals for his troublein catching the ape. "Let him have them, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "not to catch the ape, but toget drunk; and two hundred would I give this minute for the good news, toanyone who could tell me positively, that the lady Dona Melisandra and SenorDon Gaiferos were now in France and with their own people. ""No one could tell us that better than my ape, " said Master Pedro; "but there'sno devil that could catch him now; I suspect, however, that affection and hungerwill drive him to come looking for me to-night; but to-morrow will soon be hereand we shall see. "In short, the puppet-show storm passed off, and all supped in peace and goodfellowship at Don Quixote's expense, for he was the height of generosity. Before itwas daylight the man with the lances and halberds took his departure, and soonafter daybreak the cousin and the page came to bid Don Quixote farewell, theformer returning home, the latter resuming his journey, towards which, to helphim, Don Quixote gave him twelve reals. Master Pedro did not care to engage inany more palaver with Don Quixote, whom he knew right well; so he rose beforethe sun, and having got together the remains of his show and caught his ape, hetoo went off to seek his adventures. The landlord, who did not know DonQuixote, was as much astonished at his mad freaks as at his generosity. Toconclude, Sancho, by his master's orders, paid him very liberally, and taking leaveof him they quitted the inn at about eight in the morning and took to the road, where we will leave them to pursue their journey, for this is necessary in order toallow certain other matters to be set forth, which are required to clear up thisfamous history. CHAPTER XXVII. WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN WHO MASTER PEDRO AND HIS APEWERE, TOGETHER WITH THE MISHAP DON QUIXOTE HAD INTHE BRAYING ADVENTURE, WHICH HE DID NOT CONCLUDE ASHE WOULD HAVE LIKED OR AS HE HAD EXPECTEDCide Hamete, the chronicler of this great history, begins this chapter with thesewords, "I swear as a Catholic Christian;" with regard to which his translator saysthat Cide Hamete's swearing as a Catholic Christian, he being--as no doubt hewas--a Moor, only meant that, just as a Catholic Christian taking an oath swears, or ought to swear, what is true, and tell the truth in what he avers, so he wastelling the truth, as much as if he swore as a Catholic Christian, in all he chose towrite about Quixote, especially in declaring who Master Pedro was and what wasthe divining ape that astonished all the villages with his divinations. He says, then, that he who has read the First Part of this history will remember wellenough the Gines de Pasamonte whom, with other galley slaves, Don Quixote setfree in the Sierra Morena: a kindness for which he afterwards got poor thanks andworse payment from that evil-minded, ill-conditioned set. This Gines dePasamonte--Don Ginesillo de Parapilla, Don Quixote called him--it was that stoleDapple from Sancho Panza; which, because by the fault of the printers neither thehow nor the when was stated in the First Part, has been a puzzle to a good manypeople, who attribute to the bad memory of the author what was the error of thepress. In fact, however, Gines stole him while Sancho Panza was asleep on hisback, adopting the plan and device that Brunello had recourse to when he stoleSacripante's horse from between his legs at the siege of Albracca; and, as has beentold, Sancho afterwards recovered him. This Gines, then, afraid of being caughtby the officers of justice, who were looking for him to punish him for hisnumberless rascalities and offences (which were so many and so great that hehimself wrote a big book giving an account of them), resolved to shift his quartersinto the kingdom of Aragon, and cover up his left eye, and take up the trade of apuppet-showman; for this, as well as juggling, he knew how to practise toperfection. From some released Christians returning from Barbary, it so happened, he bought the ape, which he taught to mount upon his shoulder on his making acertain sign, and to whisper, or seem to do so, in his ear. Thus prepared, beforeentering any village whither he was bound with his show and his ape, he used toinform himself at the nearest village, or from the most likely person he could find, as to what particular things had happened there, and to whom; and bearing themwell in mind, the first thing he did was to exhibit his show, sometimes one story, sometimes another, but all lively, amusing, and familiar. As soon as the exhibitionwas over he brought forward the accomplishments of his ape, assuring the publicthat he divined all the past and the present, but as to the future he had no skill. For each question answered he asked two reals, and for some he made areduction, just as he happened to feel the pulse of the questioners; and when nowand then he came to houses where things that he knew of had happened to thepeople living there, even if they did not ask him a question, not caring to pay forit, he would make the sign to the ape and then declare that it had said so and so, which fitted the case exactly. In this way he acquired a prodigious name and allran after him; on other occasions, being very crafty, he would answer in such away that the answers suited the questions; and as no one cross-questioned him orpressed him to tell how his ape divined, he made fools of them all and filled hispouch. The instant he entered the inn he knew Don Quixote and Sancho, and withthat knowledge it was easy for him to astonish them and all who were there; butit would have cost him dear had Don Quixote brought down his hand a littlelower when he cut off King Marsilio's head and destroyed all his horsemen, asrelated in the preceeding chapter. So much for Master Pedro and his ape; and now to return to Don Quixote of LaMancha. After he had left the inn he determined to visit, first of all, the banks ofthe Ebro and that neighbourhood, before entering the city of Saragossa, for theample time there was still to spare before the jousts left him enough for all. Withthis object in view he followed the road and travelled along it for two days, without meeting any adventure worth committing to writing until on the thirdday, as he was ascending a hill, he heard a great noise of drums, trumpets, andmusket-shots. At first he imagined some regiment of soldiers was passing thatway, and to see them he spurred Rocinante and mounted the hill. On reaching thetop he saw at the foot of it over two hundred men, as it seemed to him, armedwith weapons of various sorts, lances, crossbows, partisans, halberds, and pikes, and a few muskets and a great many bucklers. He descended the slope andapproached the band near enough to see distinctly the flags, make out the coloursand distinguish the devices they bore, especially one on a standard or ensign ofwhite satin, on which there was painted in a very life-like style an ass like a littlesard, with its head up, its mouth open and its tongue out, as if it were in the actand attitude of braying; and round it were inscribed in large characters these twolines--They did not bray in vain, Our alcaldes twain. From this device Don Quixote concluded that these people must be from thebraying town, and he said so to Sancho, explaining to him what was written onthe standard. At the same time be observed that the man who had told themabout the matter was wrong in saying that the two who brayed were regidors, foraccording to the lines of the standard they were alcaldes. To which Sanchoreplied, "Senor, there's nothing to stick at in that, for maybe the regidors whobrayed then came to be alcaldes of their town afterwards, and so they may go byboth titles; moreover, it has nothing to do with the truth of the story whether thebrayers were alcaldes or regidors, provided at any rate they did bray; for analcalde is just as likely to bray as a regidor. " They perceived, in short, clearly thatthe town which had been twitted had turned out to do battle with some other thathad jeered it more than was fair or neighbourly. Don Quixote proceeded to join them, not a little to Sancho's uneasiness, for henever relished mixing himself up in expeditions of that sort. The members of thetroop received him into the midst of them, taking him to be some one who was ontheir side. Don Quixote, putting up his visor, advanced with an easy bearing anddemeanour to the standard with the ass, and all the chief men of the armygathered round him to look at him, staring at him with the usual amazement thateverybody felt on seeing him for the first time. Don Quixote, seeing themexamining him so attentively, and that none of them spoke to him or put anyquestion to him, determined to take advantage of their silence; so, breaking hisown, he lifted up his voice and said, "Worthy sirs, I entreat you as earnestly as Ican not to interrupt an argument I wish to address to you, until you find itdispleases or wearies you; and if that come to pass, on the slightest hint you giveme I will put a seal upon my lips and a gag upon my tongue. "They all bade him say what he liked, for they would listen to him willingly. With this permission Don Quixote went on to say, "I, sirs, am a knight-errantwhose calling is that of arms, and whose profession is to protect those whorequire protection, and give help to such as stand in need of it. Some days ago Ibecame acquainted with your misfortune and the cause which impels you to takeup arms again and again to revenge yourselves upon your enemies; and havingmany times thought over your business in my mind, I find that, according to thelaws of combat, you are mistaken in holding yourselves insulted; for a privateindividual cannot insult an entire community; unless it be by defying itcollectively as a traitor, because he cannot tell who in particular is guilty of thetreason for which he defies it. Of this we have an example in Don Diego Ordonezde Lara, who defied the whole town of Zamora, because he did not know thatVellido Dolfos alone had committed the treachery of slaying his king; andtherefore he defied them all, and the vengeance and the reply concerned all;though, to be sure, Senor Don Diego went rather too far, indeed very muchbeyond the limits of a defiance; for he had no occasion to defy the dead, or thewaters, or the fishes, or those yet unborn, and all the rest of it as set forth; but letthat pass, for when anger breaks out there's no father, governor, or bridle to checkthe tongue. The case being, then, that no one person can insult a kingdom, province, city, state, or entire community, it is clear there is no reason for goingout to avenge the defiance of such an insult, inasmuch as it is not one. A finething it would be if the people of the clock town were to be at loggerheads everymoment with everyone who called them by that name, --or the Cazoleros, Berengeneros, Ballenatos, Jaboneros, or the bearers of all the other names andtitles that are always in the mouth of the boys and common people! It would be anice business indeed if all these illustrious cities were to take huff and revengethemselves and go about perpetually making trombones of their swords in everypetty quarrel! No, no; God forbid! There are four things for which sensible menand well-ordered States ought to take up arms, draw their swords, and risk theirpersons, lives, and properties. The first is to defend the Catholic faith; the second, to defend one's life, which is in accordance with natural and divine law; the third, in defence of one's honour, family, and property; the fourth, in the service of one'sking in a just war; and if to these we choose to add a fifth (which may be includedin the second), in defence of one's country. To these five, as it were capital causes, there may be added some others that may be just and reasonable, and make it aduty to take up arms; but to take them up for trifles and things to laugh at and heamused by rather than offended, looks as though he who did so was altogetherwanting in common sense. Moreover, to take an unjust revenge (and there cannotbe any just one) is directly opposed to the sacred law that we acknowledge, wherein we are commanded to do good to our enemies and to love them that hateus; a command which, though it seems somewhat difficult to obey, is only so tothose who have in them less of God than of the world, and more of the flesh thanof the spirit; for Jesus Christ, God and true man, who never lied, and could notand cannot lie, said, as our law-giver, that his yoke was easy and his burden light;he would not, therefore, have laid any command upon us that it was impossible toobey. Thus, sirs, you are bound to keep quiet by human and divine law. ""The devil take me, " said Sancho to himself at this, "but this master of mine is atologian; or, if not, faith, he's as like one as one egg is like another. "Don Quixote stopped to take breath, and, observing that silence was stillpreserved, had a mind to continue his discourse, and would have done so had notSancho interposed with his smartness; for he, seeing his master pause, took thelead, saying, "My lord Don Quixote of La Mancha, who once was called theKnight of the Rueful Countenance, but now is called the Knight of the Lions, is agentleman of great discretion who knows Latin and his mother tongue like abachelor, and in everything that he deals with or advises proceeds like a goodsoldier, and has all the laws and ordinances of what they call combat at hisfingers' ends; so you have nothing to do but to let yourselves be guided by whathe says, and on my head be it if it is wrong. Besides which, you have been toldthat it is folly to take offence at merely hearing a bray. I remember when I was aboy I brayed as often as I had a fancy, without anyone hindering me, and soelegantly and naturally that when I brayed all the asses in the town would bray;but I was none the less for that the son of my parents who were greatly respected;and though I was envied because of the gift by more than one of the high andmighty ones of the town, I did not care two farthings for it; and that you may seeI am telling the truth, wait a bit and listen, for this art, like swimming, oncelearnt is never forgotten;" and then, taking hold of his nose, he began to bray sovigorously that all the valleys around rang again. One of those, however, that stood near him, fancying he was mocking them, lifted up a long staff he had in his hand and smote him such a blow with it thatSancho dropped helpless to the ground. Don Quixote, seeing him so roughlyhandled, attacked the man who had struck him lance in hand, but so many thrustthemselves between them that he could not avenge him. Far from it, finding ashower of stones rained upon him, and crossbows and muskets unnumberedlevelled at him, he wheeled Rocinante round and, as fast as his best gallop couldtake him, fled from the midst of them, commending himself to God with all hisheart to deliver him out of this peril, in dread every step of some ball coming in athis back and coming out at his breast, and every minute drawing his breath to seewhether it had gone from him. The members of the band, however, were satisfiedwith seeing him take to flight, and did not fire on him. They put up Sancho, scarcely restored to his senses, on his ass, and let him go after his master; notthat he was sufficiently in his wits to guide the beast, but Dapple followed thefootsteps of Rocinante, from whom he could not remain a moment separated. DonQuixote having got some way off looked back, and seeing Sancho coming, waitedfor him, as he perceived that no one followed him. The men of the troop stoodtheir ground till night, and as the enemy did not come out to battle, they returnedto their town exulting; and had they been aware of the ancient custom of theGreeks, they would have erected a trophy on the spot. CHAPTER XXVIII. OF MATTERS THAT BENENGELI SAYS HE WHO READS THEMWILL KNOW, IF HE READS THEM WITH ATTENTIONWhen the brave man flees, treachery is manifest and it is for wise men toreserve themselves for better occasions. This proved to be the case with DonQuixote, who, giving way before the fury of the townsfolk and the hostileintentions of the angry troop, took to flight and, without a thought of Sancho orthe danger in which he was leaving him, retreated to such a distance as hethought made him safe. Sancho, lying across his ass, followed him, as has beensaid, and at length came up, having by this time recovered his senses, and onjoining him let himself drop off Dapple at Rocinante's feet, sore, bruised, andbelaboured. Don Quixote dismounted to examine his wounds, but finding himwhole from head to foot, he said to him, angrily enough, "In an evil hour didstthou take to braying, Sancho! Where hast thou learned that it is well done tomention the rope in the house of the man that has been hanged? To the music ofbrays what harmonies couldst thou expect to get but cudgels? Give thanks to God, Sancho, that they signed the cross on thee just now with a stick, and did not markthee per signum crucis with a cutlass. ""I'm not equal to answering, " said Sancho, "for I feel as if I was speakingthrough my shoulders; let us mount and get away from this; I'll keep frombraying, but not from saying that knights-errant fly and leave their good squires tobe pounded like privet, or made meal of at the hands of their enemies. ""He does not fly who retires, " returned Don Quixote; "for I would have theeknow, Sancho, that the valour which is not based upon a foundation of prudenceis called rashness, and the exploits of the rash man are to be attributed rather togood fortune than to courage; and so I own that I retired, but not that I fled; andtherein I have followed the example of many valiant men who have reservedthemselves for better times; the histories are full of instances of this, but as itwould not be any good to thee or pleasure to me, I will not recount them to theenow. "Sancho was by this time mounted with the help of Don Quixote, who thenhimself mounted Rocinante, and at a leisurely pace they proceeded to take shelterin a grove which was in sight about a quarter of a league off. Every now and thenSancho gave vent to deep sighs and dismal groans, and on Don Quixote askinghim what caused such acute suffering, he replied that, from the end of his back-bone up to the nape of his neck, he was so sore that it nearly drove him out of hissenses. "The cause of that soreness, " said Don Quixote, "will be, no doubt, that the staffwherewith they smote thee being a very long one, it caught thee all down theback, where all the parts that are sore are situated, and had it reached any furtherthou wouldst be sorer still. ""By God, " said Sancho, "your worship has relieved me of a great doubt, andcleared up the point for me in elegant style! Body o' me! is the cause of mysoreness such a mystery that there's any need to tell me I am sore everywhere thestaff hit me? If it was my ankles that pained me there might be something ingoing divining why they did, but it is not much to divine that I'm sore where theythrashed me. By my faith, master mine, the ills of others hang by a hair; everyday I am discovering more and more how little I have to hope for from keepingcompany with your worship; for if this time you have allowed me to be drubbed, the next time, or a hundred times more, we'll have the blanketings of the otherday over again, and all the other pranks which, if they have fallen on myshoulders now, will be thrown in my teeth by-and-by. I would do a great dealbetter (if I was not an ignorant brute that will never do any good all my life), Iwould do a great deal better, I say, to go home to my wife and children andsupport them and bring them up on what God may please to give me, instead offollowing your worship along roads that lead nowhere and paths that are none atall, with little to drink and less to eat. And then when it comes to sleeping!Measure out seven feet on the earth, brother squire, and if that's not enough foryou, take as many more, for you may have it all your own way and stretchyourself to your heart's content. Oh that I could see burnt and turned to ashes thefirst man that meddled with knight-errantry or at any rate the first who chose tobe squire to such fools as all the knights-errant of past times must have been! Ofthose of the present day I say nothing, because, as your worship is one of them, Irespect them, and because I know your worship knows a point more than thedevil in all you say and think. ""I would lay a good wager with you, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that now thatyou are talking on without anyone to stop you, you don't feel a pain in your wholebody. Talk away, my son, say whatever comes into your head or mouth, for solong as you feel no pain, the irritation your impertinences give me will be apleasure to me; and if you are so anxious to go home to your wife and children, God forbid that I should prevent you; you have money of mine; see how long it issince we left our village this third time, and how much you can and ought to earnevery month, and pay yourself out of your own hand. ""When I worked for Tom Carrasco, the father of the bachelor Samson Carrascothat your worship knows, " replied Sancho, "I used to earn two ducats a monthbesides my food; I can't tell what I can earn with your worship, though I know aknight-errant's squire has harder times of it than he who works for a farmer; forafter all, we who work for farmers, however much we toil all day, at the worst, atnight, we have our olla supper and sleep in a bed, which I have not slept in sinceI have been in your worship's service, if it wasn't the short time we were in DonDiego de Miranda's house, and the feast I had with the skimmings I took offCamacho's pots, and what I ate, drank, and slept in Basilio's house; all the rest ofthe time I have been sleeping on the hard ground under the open sky, exposed towhat they call the inclemencies of heaven, keeping life in me with scraps ofcheese and crusts of bread, and drinking water either from the brooks or from thesprings we come to on these by-paths we travel. ""I own, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that all thou sayest is true; how much, thinkest thou, ought I to give thee over and above what Tom Carrasco gave thee?""I think, " said Sancho, "that if your worship was to add on two reals a month I'dconsider myself well paid; that is, as far as the wages of my labour go; but tomake up to me for your worship's pledge and promise to me to give me thegovernment of an island, it would be fair to add six reals more, making thirty inall. ""Very good, " said Don Quixote; "it is twenty-five days since we left our village, so reckon up, Sancho, according to the wages you have made out for yourself, andsee how much I owe you in proportion, and pay yourself, as I said before, out ofyour own hand. ""O body o' me!" said Sancho, "but your worship is very much out in thatreckoning; for when it comes to the promise of the island we must count from theday your worship promised it to me to this present hour we are at now. ""Well, how long is it, Sancho, since I promised it to you?" said Don Quixote. "If I remember rightly, " said Sancho, "it must be over twenty years, three daysmore or less. "Don Quixote gave himself a great slap on the forehead and began to laughheartily, and said he, "Why, I have not been wandering, either in the SierraMorena or in the whole course of our sallies, but barely two months, and thousayest, Sancho, that it is twenty years since I promised thee the island. I believenow thou wouldst have all the money thou hast of mine go in thy wages. If so, and if that be thy pleasure, I give it to thee now, once and for all, and much goodmay it do thee, for so long as I see myself rid of such a good-for-nothing squire I'llbe glad to be left a pauper without a rap. But tell me, thou perverter of thesquirely rules of knight-errantry, where hast thou ever seen or read that anyknight-errant's squire made terms with his lord, 'you must give me so much amonth for serving you'? Plunge, scoundrel, rogue, monster--for such I take thee tobe--plunge, I say, into the mare magnum of their histories; and if thou shalt findthat any squire ever said or thought what thou hast said now, I will let thee nail iton my forehead, and give me, over and above, four sound slaps in the face. Turnthe rein, or the halter, of thy Dapple, and begone home; for one single stepfurther thou shalt not make in my company. O bread thanklessly received! Opromises ill-bestowed! O man more beast than human being! Now, when I wasabout to raise thee to such a position, that, in spite of thy wife, they would callthee 'my lord, ' thou art leaving me? Thou art going now when I had a firm andfixed intention of making thee lord of the best island in the world? Well, as thouthyself hast said before now, honey is not for the mouth of the ass. Ass thou art, ass thou wilt be, and ass thou wilt end when the course of thy life is run; for Iknow it will come to its close before thou dost perceive or discern that thou art abeast. "Sancho


regarded Don Quixote earnestly while he was giving him this rating, andwas so touched by remorse that the tears came to his eyes, and in a piteous andbroken voice he said to him, "Master mine, I confess that, to be a complete ass, allI want is a tail; if your worship will only fix one on to me, I'll look on it as rightlyplaced, and I'll serve you as an ass all the remaining days of my life. Forgive meand have pity on my folly, and remember I know but little, and, if I talk much, it'smore from infirmity than malice; but he who sins and mends commends himselfto God. ""I should have been surprised, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "if thou hadst notintroduced some bit of a proverb into thy speech. Well, well, I forgive thee, provided thou dost mend and not show thyself in future so fond of thine owninterest, but try to be of good cheer and take heart, and encourage thyself to lookforward to the fulfillment of my promises, which, by being delayed, does notbecome impossible. "Sancho said he would do so, and keep up his heart as best he could. They thenentered the grove, and Don Quixote settled himself at the foot of an elm, andSancho at that of a beech, for trees of this kind and others like them always havefeet but no hands. Sancho passed the night in pain, for with the evening dews theblow of the staff made itself felt all the more. Don Quixote passed it in his never-failing meditations; but, for all that, they had some winks of sleep, and with theappearance of daylight they pursued their journey in quest of the banks of thefamous Ebro, where that befell them which will be told in the following chapter. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 28Chapters 29-31Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXIX. OF THE FAMOUS ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED BARKBy stages as already described or left undescribed, two days after quitting thegrove Don Quixote and Sancho reached the river Ebro, and the sight of it was agreat delight to Don Quixote as he contemplated and gazed upon the charms of itsbanks, the clearness of its stream, the gentleness of its current and the abundanceof its crystal waters; and the pleasant view revived a thousand tender thoughts inhis mind. Above all, he dwelt upon what he had seen in the cave of Montesinos;for though Master Pedro's ape had told him that of those things part was true, part false, he clung more to their truth than to their falsehood, the very reverse ofSancho, who held them all to be downright lies. As they were thus proceeding, then, they discovered a small boat, without oarsor any other gear, that lay at the water's edge tied to the stem of a tree growing onthe bank. Don Quixote looked all round, and seeing nobody, at once, withoutmore ado, dismounted from Rocinante and bade Sancho get down from Dappleand tie both beasts securely to the trunk of a poplar or willow that stood there. Sancho asked him the reason of this sudden dismounting and tying. Don Quixotemade answer, "Thou must know, Sancho, that this bark is plainly, and withoutthe possibility of any alternative, calling and inviting me to enter it, and in it go togive aid to some knight or other person of distinction in need of it, who is nodoubt in some sore strait; for this is the way of the books of chivalry and of theenchanters who figure and speak in them. When a knight is involved in somedifficulty from which he cannot be delivered save by the hand of another knight, though they may be at a distance of two or three thousand leagues or more onefrom the other, they either take him up on a cloud, or they provide a bark for himto get into, and in less than the twinkling of an eye they carry him where they willand where his help is required; and so, Sancho, this bark is placed here for thesame purpose; this is as true as that it is now day, and ere this one passes tieDapple and Rocinante together, and then in God's hand be it to guide us; for Iwould not hold back from embarking, though barefooted friars were to beg me. ""As that's the case, " said Sancho, "and your worship chooses to give in tothese--I don't know if I may call them absurdities--at every turn, there's nothingfor it but to obey and bow the head, bearing in mind the proverb, 'Do as thymaster bids thee, and sit down to table with him;' but for all that, for the sake ofeasing my conscience, I warn your worship that it is my opinion this bark is noenchanted one, but belongs to some of the fishermen of the river, for they catchthe best shad in the world here. "As Sancho said this, he tied the beasts, leaving them to the care and protectionof the enchanters with sorrow enough in his heart. Don Quixote bade him not beuneasy about deserting the animals, "for he who would carry themselves over suchlonginquous roads and regions would take care to feed them. ""I don't understand that logiquous, " said Sancho, "nor have I ever heard theword all the days of my life. ""Longinquous, " replied Don Quixote, "means far off; but it is no wonder thoudost not understand it, for thou art not bound to know Latin, like some whopretend to know it and don't. ""Now they are tied, " said Sancho; "what are we to do next?""What?" said Don Quixote, "cross ourselves and weigh anchor; I mean, embarkand cut the moorings by which the bark is held;" and the bark began to drift awayslowly from the bank. But when Sancho saw himself somewhere about two yardsout in the river, he began to tremble and give himself up for lost; but nothingdistressed him more than hearing Dapple bray and seeing Rocinante struggling toget loose, and said he to his master, "Dapple is braying in grief at our leaving him, and Rocinante is trying to escape and plunge in after us. O dear friends, peace bewith you, and may this madness that is taking us away from you, turned intosober sense, bring us back to you. " And with this he fell weeping so bitterly, thatDon Quixote said to him, sharply and angrily, "What art thou afraid of, cowardlycreature? What art thou weeping at, heart of butter-paste? Who pursues ormolests thee, thou soul of a tame mouse? What dost thou want, unsatisfied in thevery heart of abundance? Art thou, perchance, tramping barefoot over theRiphaean mountains, instead of being seated on a bench like an archduke on thetranquil stream of this pleasant river, from which in a short space we shall comeout upon the broad sea? But we must have already emerged and gone sevenhundred or eight hundred leagues; and if I had here an astrolabe to take thealtitude of the pole, I could tell thee how many we have travelled, though either Iknow little, or we have already crossed or shall shortly cross the equinoctial linewhich parts the two opposite poles midway. ""And when we come to that line your worship speaks of, " said Sancho, "how farshall we have gone?""Very far, " said Don Quixote, "for of the three hundred and sixty degrees thatthis terraqueous globe contains, as computed by Ptolemy, the greatestcosmographer known, we shall have travelled one-half when we come to the line Ispoke of. ""By God, " said Sancho, "your worship gives me a nice authority for what yousay, putrid Dolly something transmogrified, or whatever it is. "Don Quixote laughed at the interpretation Sancho put upon "computed, " andthe name of the cosmographer Ptolemy, and said he, "Thou must know, Sancho, that with the Spaniards and those who embark at Cadiz for the East Indies, one ofthe signs they have to show them when they have passed the equinoctial line Itold thee of, is, that the lice die upon everybody on board the ship, and not asingle one is left, or to be found in the whole vessel if they gave its weight in goldfor it; so, Sancho, thou mayest as well pass thy hand down thy thigh, and if thoucomest upon anything alive we shall be no longer in doubt; if not, then we havecrossed. ""I don't believe a bit of it, " said Sancho; "still, I'll do as your worship bids me;though I don't know what need there is for trying these experiments, for I can seewith my own eyes that we have not moved five yards away from the bank, orshifted two yards from where the animals stand, for there are Rocinante andDapple in the very same place where we left them; and watching a point, as I donow, I swear by all that's good, we are not stirring or moving at the pace of anant. ""Try the test I told thee of, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and don't mind anyother, for thou knowest nothing about colures, lines, parallels, zodiacs, ecliptics, poles, solstices, equinoxes, planets, signs, bearings, the measures of which thecelestial and terrestrial spheres are composed; if thou wert acquainted with allthese things, or any portion of them, thou wouldst see clearly how many parallelswe have cut, what signs we have seen, and what constellations we have leftbehind and are now leaving behind. But again I tell thee, feel and hunt, for I amcertain thou art cleaner than a sheet of smooth white paper. "Sancho felt, and passing his hand gently and carefully down to the hollow of hisleft knee, he looked up at his master and said, "Either the test is a false one, or wehave not come to where your worship says, nor within many leagues of it. ""Why, how so?" asked Don Quixote; "hast thou come upon aught?""Ay, and aughts, " replied Sancho; and shaking his fingers he washed his wholehand in the river along which the boat was quietly gliding in midstream, notmoved by any occult intelligence or invisible enchanter, but simply by the current, just there smooth and gentle. They now came in sight of some large water mills that stood in the middle ofthe river, and the instant Don Quixote saw them he cried out, "Seest thou there, my friend? there stands the castle or fortress, where there is, no doubt, someknight in durance, or ill-used queen, or infanta, or princess, in whose aid I ambrought hither. ""What the devil city, fortress, or castle is your worship talking about, senor?"said Sancho; "don't you see that those are mills that stand in the river to grindcorn?""Hold thy peace, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "though they look like mills theyare not so; I have already told thee that enchantments transform things andchange their proper shapes; I do not mean to say they really change them fromone form into another, but that it seems as though they did, as experience provedin the transformation of Dulcinea, sole refuge of my hopes. "By this time, the boat, having reached the middle of the stream, began to moveless slowly than hitherto. The millers belonging to the mills, when they saw theboat coming down the river, and on the point of being sucked in by the draught ofthe wheels, ran out in haste, several of them, with long poles to stop it, and beingall mealy, with faces and garments covered with flour, they presented a sinisterappearance. They raised loud shouts, crying, "Devils of men, where are you goingto? Are you mad? Do you want to drown yourselves, or dash yourselves to piecesamong these wheels?""Did I not tell thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote at this, "that we had reached theplace where I am to show what the might of my arm can do? See what ruffiansand villains come out against me; see what monsters oppose me; see what hideouscountenances come to frighten us! You shall soon see, scoundrels!" And thenstanding up in the boat he began in a loud voice to hurl threats at the millers, exclaiming, "Ill-conditioned and worse-counselled rabble, restore to liberty andfreedom the person ye hold in durance in this your fortress or prison, high or lowor of whatever rank or quality he be, for I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called the Knight of the Lions, for whom, by the disposition of heavenabove, it is reserved to give a happy issue to this adventure;" and so saying hedrew his sword and began making passes in the air at the millers, who, hearingbut not understanding all this nonsense, strove to stop the boat, which was nowgetting into the rushing channel of the wheels. Sancho fell upon his kneesdevoutly appealing to heaven to deliver him from such imminent peril; which itdid by the activity and quickness of the millers, who, pushing against the boatwith their poles, stopped it, not, however, without upsetting and throwing DonQuixote and Sancho into the water; and lucky it was for Don Quixote that hecould swim like a goose, though the weight of his armour carried him twice to thebottom; and had it not been for the millers, who plunged in and hoisted themboth out, it would have been Troy town with the pair of them. As soon as, moredrenched than thirsty, they were landed, Sancho went down on his knees andwith clasped hands and eyes raised to heaven, prayed a long and fervent prayer toGod to deliver him evermore from the rash projects and attempts of his master. The fishermen, the owners of the boat, which the mill-wheels had knocked topieces, now came up, and seeing it smashed they proceeded to strip Sancho andto demand payment for it from Don Quixote; but he with great calmness, just as ifnothing had happened him, told the millers and fishermen that he would pay forthe bark most cheerfully, on condition that they delivered up to him, free andunhurt, the person or persons that were in durance in that castle of theirs. "What persons or what castle art thou talking of, madman? Art thou for carryingoff the people who come to grind corn in these mills?""That's enough, " said Don Quixote to himself, "it would be preaching in thedesert to attempt by entreaties to induce this rabble to do any virtuous action. Inthis adventure two mighty enchanters must have encountered one another, andone frustrates what the other attempts; one provided the bark for me, and theother upset me; God help us, this world is all machinations and schemes at crosspurposes one with the other. I can do no more. " And then turning towards themills he said aloud, "Friends, whoe'er ye be that are immured in that prison, forgive me that, to my misfortune and yours, I cannot deliver you from yourmisery; this adventure is doubtless reserved and destined for some other knight. "So saying he settled with the fishermen, and paid fifty reals for the boat, whichSancho handed to them very much against the grain, saying, "With a couple morebark businesses like this we shall have sunk our whole capital. "The fishermen and the millers stood staring in amazement at the two figures, sovery different to all appearance from ordinary men, and were wholly unable tomake out the drift of the observations and questions Don Quixote addressed tothem; and coming to the conclusion that they were madmen, they left them andbetook themselves, the millers to their mills, and the fishermen to their huts. DonQuixote and Sancho returned to their beasts, and to their life of beasts, and soended the adventure of the enchanted bark. CHAPTER XXX. OF DON QUIXOTE'S ADVENTURE WITH A FAIR HUNTRESSThey reached their beasts in low spirits and bad humour enough, knight andsquire, Sancho particularly, for with him what touched the stock of moneytouched his heart, and when any was taken from him he felt as if he was robbedof the apples of his eyes. In fine, without exchanging a word, they mounted andquitted the famous river, Don Quixote absorbed in thoughts of his love, Sancho inthinking of his advancement, which just then, it seemed to him, he was very farfrom securing; for, fool as he was, he saw clearly enough that his master's actswere all or most of them utterly senseless; and he began to cast about for anopportunity of retiring from his service and going home some day, withoutentering into any explanations or taking any farewell of him. Fortune, however, ordered matters after a fashion very much the opposite of what he contemplated. It so happened that the next day towards sunset, on coming out of a wood, DonQuixote cast his eyes over a green meadow, and at the far end of it observed somepeople, and as he drew nearer saw that it was a hawking party. Coming closer, hedistinguished among them a lady of graceful mien, on a pure white palfrey orhackney caparisoned with green trappings and a silver-mounted side-saddle. Thelady was also in green, and so richly and splendidly dressed that splendour itselfseemed personified in her. On her left hand she bore a hawk, a proof to DonQuixote's mind that she must be some great lady and the mistress of the wholehunting party, which was the fact; so he said to Sancho, "Run Sancho, my son, and say to that lady on the palfrey with the hawk that I, the Knight of the Lions, kiss the hands of her exalted beauty, and if her excellence will grant me leave Iwill go and kiss them in person and place myself at her service for aught that maybe in my power and her highness may command; and mind, Sancho, how thouspeakest, and take care not to thrust in any of thy proverbs into thy message. ""You've got a likely one here to thrust any in!" said Sancho; "leave me alone forthat! Why, this is not the first time in my life I have carried messages to high andexalted ladies. ""Except that thou didst carry to the lady Dulcinea, " said Don Quixote, "I knownot that thou hast carried any other, at least in my service. ""That is true, " replied Sancho; "but pledges don't distress a good payer, and in ahouse where there's plenty supper is soon cooked; I mean there's no need oftelling or warning me about anything; for I'm ready for everything and know alittle of everything. ""That I believe, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "go and good luck to thee, and Godspeed thee. "Sancho went off at top speed, forcing Dapple out of his regular pace, and cameto where the fair huntress was standing, and dismounting knelt before her andsaid, "Fair lady, that knight that you see there, the Knight of the Lions by name, ismy master, and I am a squire of his, and at home they call me Sancho Panza. Thissame Knight of the Lions, who was called not long since the Knight of the RuefulCountenance, sends by me to say may it please your highness to give him leavethat, with your permission, approbation, and consent, he may come and carry outhis wishes, which are, as he says and I believe, to serve your exalted loftiness andbeauty; and if you give it, your ladyship will do a thing which will redound toyour honour, and he will receive a most distinguished favour and happiness. ""You have indeed, squire, " said the lady, "delivered your message with all theformalities such messages require; rise up, for it is not right that the squire of aknight so great as he of the Rueful Countenance, of whom we have heard a greatdeal here, should remain on his knees; rise, my friend, and bid your masterwelcome to the services of myself and the duke my husband, in a country housewe have here. "Sancho got up, charmed as much by the beauty of the good lady as by her high-bred air and her courtesy, but, above all, by what she had said about havingheard of his master, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance; for if she did not callhim Knight of the Lions it was no doubt because he had so lately taken the name. "Tell me, brother squire, " asked the duchess (whose title, however, is not known), "this master of yours, is he not one of whom there is a history extant in print, called 'The Ingenious Gentleman, Don Quixote of La Mancha, ' who has for thelady of his heart a certain Dulcinea del Toboso?""He is the same, senora, " replied Sancho; "and that squire of his who figures, orought to figure, in the said history under the name of Sancho Panza, is myself, unless they have changed me in the cradle, I mean in the press. ""I am rejoiced at all this, " said the duchess; "go, brother Panza, and tell yourmaster that he is welcome to my estate, and that nothing could happen me thatcould give me greater pleasure. "Sancho returned to his master mightily pleased with this gratifying answer, andtold him all the great lady had said to him, lauding to the skies, in his rusticphrase, her rare beauty, her graceful gaiety, and her courtesy. Don Quixote drewhimself up briskly in his saddle, fixed himself in his stirrups, settled his visor, gave Rocinante the spur, and with an easy bearing advanced to kiss the hands ofthe duchess, who, having sent to summon the duke her husband, told him whileDon Quixote was approaching all about the message; and as both of them hadread the First Part of this history, and from it were aware of Don Quixote's crazyturn, they awaited him with the greatest delight and anxiety to make hisacquaintance, meaning to fall in with his humour and agree with everything hesaid, and, so long as he stayed with them, to treat him as a knight-errant, with allthe ceremonies usual in the books of chivalry they had read, for they themselveswere very fond of them. Don Quixote now came up with his visor raised, and as he seemed about todismount Sancho made haste to go and hold his stirrup for him; but in gettingdown off Dapple he was so unlucky as to hitch his foot in one of the ropes of thepack-saddle in such a way that he was unable to free it, and was left hanging by itwith his face and breast on the ground. Don Quixote, who was not used todismount without having the stirrup held, fancying that Sancho had by this timecome to hold it for him, threw himself off with a lurch and brought Rocinante'ssaddle after him, which was no doubt badly girthed, and saddle and he both cameto the ground; not without discomfiture to him and abundant curses mutteredbetween his teeth against the unlucky Sancho, who had his foot still in theshackles. The duke ordered his huntsmen to go to the help of knight and squire, and they raised Don Quixote, sorely shaken by his fall; and he, limping, advancedas best he could to kneel before the noble pair. This, however, the duke would byno means permit; on the contrary, dismounting from his horse, he went andembraced Don Quixote, saying, "I am grieved, Sir Knight of the RuefulCountenance, that your first experience on my ground should have been such anunfortunate one as we have seen; but the carelessness of squires is often the causeof worse accidents. ""That which has happened me in meeting you, mighty prince, " replied DonQuixote, "cannot be unfortunate, even if my fall had not stopped short of thedepths of the bottomless pit, for the glory of having seen you would have liftedme up and delivered me from it. My squire, God's curse upon him, is better atunloosing his tongue in talking impertinence than in tightening the girths of asaddle to keep it steady; but however I may be, allen or raised up, on foot or onhorseback, I shall always be at your service and that of my lady the duchess, yourworthy consort, worthy queen of beauty and paramount princess of courtesy. ""Gently, Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, " said the duke; "where my ladyDona Dulcinea del Toboso is, it is not right that other beauties should be praised. "Sancho, by this time released from his entanglement, was standing by, andbefore his master could answer he said, "There is no denying, and it must bemaintained, that my lady Dulcinea del Toboso is very beautiful; but the harejumps up where one least expects it; and I have heard say that what we callnature is like a potter that makes vessels of clay, and he who makes one fairvessel can as well make two, or three, or a hundred; I say so because, by myfaith, my lady the duchess is in no way behind my mistress the lady Dulcinea delToboso. "Don Quixote turned to the duchess and said, "Your highness may conceive thatnever had knight-errant in this world a more talkative or a droller squire than Ihave, and he will prove the truth of what I say, if your highness is pleased toaccept of my services for a few days. "To which the duchess made answer, "that worthy Sancho is droll I consider avery good thing, because it is a sign that he is shrewd; for drollery andsprightliness, Senor Don Quixote, as you very well know, do not take up theirabode with dull wits; and as good Sancho is droll and sprightly I here set himdown as shrewd. ""And talkative, " added Don Quixote. "So much the better, " said the duke, "for many droll things cannot be said infew words; but not to lose time in talking, come, great Knight of the RuefulCountenance-""Of the Lions, your highness must say, " said Sancho, "for there is no RuefulCountenance nor any such character now. ""He of the Lions be it, " continued the duke; "I say, let Sir Knight of the Lionscome to a castle of mine close by, where he shall be given that reception which isdue to so exalted a personage, and which the duchess and I are wont to give to allknights-errant who come there. "By this time Sancho had fixed and girthed Rocinante's saddle, and Don Quixotehaving got on his back and the duke mounted a fine horse, they placed theduchess in the middle and set out for the castle. The duchess desired Sancho tocome to her side, for she found infinite enjoyment in listening to his shrewdremarks. Sancho required no pressing, but pushed himself in between them andthe duke, who thought it rare good fortune to receive such a knight-errant andsuch a homely squire in their castle. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComEbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXI. WHICH TREATS OF MANY AND GREAT MATTERSSupreme was the satisfaction that Sancho felt at seeing himself, as it seemed, anestablished favourite with the duchess, for he looked forward to finding in hercastle what he had found in Don Diego's house and in Basilio's; he was alwaysfond of good living, and always seized by the forelock any opportunity of feastinghimself whenever it presented itself. The history informs us, then, that beforethey reached the country house or castle, the duke went on in advance andinstructed all his servants how they were to treat Don Quixote; and so the instanthe came up to the castle gates with the duchess, two lackeys or equerries, clad inwhat they call morning gowns of fine crimson satin reaching to their feet, hastened out, and catching Don Quixote in their arms before he saw or heardthem, said to him, "Your highness should go and take my lady the duchess off herhorse. "Don Quixote obeyed, and great bandying of compliments followed between thetwo over the matter; but in the end the duchess's determination carried the day, and she refused to get down or dismount from her palfrey except in the arms ofthe duke, saying she did not consider herself worthy to impose so unnecessary aburden on so great a knight. At length the duke came out to take her down, andas they entered a spacious court two fair damsels came forward and threw overDon Quixote's shoulders a large mantle of the finest scarlet cloth, and at the sameinstant all the galleries of the court were lined with the men-servants and women-servants of the household, crying, "Welcome, flower and cream of knight-errantry!" while all or most of them flung pellets filled with scented water overDon Quixote and the duke and duchess; at all which Don Quixote was greatlyastonished, and this was the first time that he thoroughly felt and believed himselfto be a knight-errant in reality and not merely in fancy, now that he saw himselftreated in the same way as he had read of such knights being treated in days ofyore. Sancho, deserting Dapple, hung on to the duchess and entered the castle, butfeeling some twinges of conscience at having left the ass alone, he approached arespectable duenna who had come out with the rest to receive the duchess, and ina low voice he said to her, "Senora Gonzalez, or however your grace may becalled-""I am called Dona Rodriguez de Grijalba, " replied the duenna; "what is yourwill, brother?" To which Sancho made answer, "I should be glad if your worshipwould do me the favour to go out to the castle gate, where you will find a grey assof mine; make them, if you please, put him in the stable, or put him thereyourself, for the poor little beast is rather easily frightened, and cannot bear beingalone at all. ""If the master is as wise as the man, " said the duenna, "we have got a finebargain. Be off with you, brother, and bad luck to you and him who brought youhere; go, look after your ass, for we, the duennas of this house, are not used towork of that sort. ""Well then, in troth, " returned Sancho, "I have heard my master, who is the verytreasure-finder of stories, telling the story of Lancelot when he came from Britain, say that ladies waited upon him and duennas upon his hack; and, if it comes tomy ass, I wouldn't change him for Senor Lancelot's hack. ""If you are a jester, brother, " said the duenna, "keep your drolleries for someplace where they'll pass muster and be paid for; for you'll get nothing from me buta fig. ""At any rate, it will be a very ripe one, " said Sancho, "for you won't lose thetrick in years by a point too little. ""Son of a bitch, " said the duenna, all aglow with anger, "whether I'm old or not, it's with God I have to reckon, not with you, you garlic-stuffed scoundrel!" andshe said it so loud, that the duchess heard it, and turning round and seeing theduenna in such a state of excitement, and her eyes flaming so, asked whom shewas wrangling with. "With this good fellow here, " said the duenna, "who has particularly requestedme to go and put an ass of his that is at the castle gate into the stable, holding itup to me as an example that they did the same I don't know where--that someladies waited on one Lancelot, and duennas on his hack; and what is more, towind up with, he called me old. ""That, " said the duchess, "I should have considered the greatest affront thatcould be offered me;" and addressing Sancho, she said to him, "You must know, friend Sancho, that Dona Rodriguez is very youthful, and that she wears that hoodmore for authority and custom sake than because of her years. ""May all the rest of mine be unlucky, " said Sancho, "if I meant it that way; Ionly spoke because the affection I have for my ass is so great, and I thought Icould not commend him to a more kind-hearted person than the lady DonaRodriguez. "Don Quixote, who was listening, said to him, "Is this proper conversation forthe place, Sancho?""Senor, " replied Sancho, "every one must mention what he wants wherever hemay be; I thought of Dapple here, and I spoke of him here; if I had thought of himin the stable I would have spoken there. "On which the duke observed, "Sancho is quite right, and there is no reason atall to find fault with him; Dapple shall be fed to his heart's content, and Sanchomay rest easy, for he shall be treated like himself. "While this conversation, amusing to all except Don Quixote, was proceeding, they ascended the staircase and ushered Don Quixote into a chamber hung withrich cloth of gold and brocade; six damsels relieved him of his armour and waitedon him like pages, all of them prepared and instructed by the duke and duchess asto what they were to do, and how they were to treat Don Quixote, so that hemight see and believe they were treating him like a knight-errant. When hisarmour was removed, there stood Don Quixote in his tight-fitting breeches andchamois doublet, lean, lanky, and long, with cheeks that seemed to be kissingeach other inside; such a figure, that if the damsels waiting on him had not takencare to check their merriment (which was one of the particular directions theirmaster and mistress had given them), they would have burst with laughter. Theyasked him to let himself be stripped that they might put a shirt on him, but hewould not on any account, saying that modesty became knights-errant just asmuch as valour. However, he said they might give the shirt to Sancho; andshutting himself in with him in a room where there was a sumptuous bed, heundressed and put on the shirt; and then, finding himself alone with Sancho, hesaid to him, "Tell me, thou new-fledged buffoon and old booby, dost thou think itright to offend and insult a duenna so deserving of reverence and respect as thatone just now? Was that a time to bethink thee of thy Dapple, or are these noblepersonages likely to let the beasts fare badly when they treat their owners in suchelegant style? For God's sake, Sancho, restrain thyself, and don't show the threadso as to let them see what a coarse, boorish texture thou art of. Remember, sinnerthat thou art, the master is the more esteemed the more respectable and well-bredhis servants are; and that one of the greatest advantages that princes have overother men is that they have servants as good as themselves to wait on them. Dostthou not see--shortsighted being that thou art, and unlucky mortal that I am!--that if they perceive thee to be a coarse clown or a dull blockhead, they willsuspect me to be some impostor or swindler? Nay, nay, Sancho friend, keep clear, oh, keep clear of these stumbling-blocks; for he who falls into the way of being achatterbox and droll, drops into a wretched buffoon the first time he trips; bridlethy tongue, consider and weigh thy words before they escape thy mouth, and bearin mind we are now in quarters whence, by God's help, and the strength of myarm, we shall come forth mightily advanced in fame and fortune. "Sancho promised him with much earnestness to keep his mouth shut, and tobite off his tongue before he uttered a word that was not altogether to the purposeand well considered, and told him he might make his mind easy on that point, forit should never be discovered through him what they were. Don Quixote dressed himself, put on his baldric with his sword, threw thescarlet mantle over his shoulders, placed on his head a montera of green satin thatthe damsels had given him, and thus arrayed passed out into the large room, where he found the damsels drawn up in double file, the same number on eachside, all with the appliances for washing the hands, which they presented to himwith profuse obeisances and ceremonies. Then came twelve pages, together withthe seneschal, to lead him to dinner, as his hosts were already waiting for him. They placed him in the midst of them, and with much pomp and stateliness theyconducted him into another room, where there was a sumptuous table laid withbut four covers. The duchess and the duke came out to the door of the room toreceive him, and with them a grave ecclesiastic, one of those who rule noblemen'shouses; one of those who, not being born magnates themselves, never know howto teach those who are how to behave as such; one of those who would have thegreatness of great folk measured by their own narrowness of mind; one of thosewho, when they try to introduce economy into the household they rule, lead itinto meanness. One of this sort, I say, must have been the grave churchman whocame out with the duke and duchess to receive Don Quixote. A vast number of polite speeches were exchanged, and at length, taking DonQuixote between them, they proceeded to sit down to table. The duke pressedDon Quixote to take the head of the table, and, though he refused, the entreatiesof the duke were so urgent that he had to accept it. The ecclesiastic took his seat opposite to him, and the duke and duchess thoseat the sides. All this time Sancho stood by, gaping with amazement at the honourhe saw shown to his master by these illustrious persons; and observing all theceremonious pressing that had passed between the duke and Don Quixote toinduce him to take his seat at the head of the table, he said, "If your worship willgive me leave I will tell you a story of what happened in my village about thismatter of seats. "The moment Sancho said this Don Quixote trembled, making sure that he wasabout to say something foolish. Sancho glanced at him, and guessing his thoughts, said, "Don't be afraid of my going astray, senor, or saying anything that won't bepat to the purpose; I haven't forgotten the advice your worship gave me just nowabout talking much or little, well or ill. ""I have no recollection of anything, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "say what thouwilt, only say it quickly. ""Well then, " said Sancho, "what I am going to say is so true that my master DonQuixote, who is here present, will keep me from lying. ""Lie as much as thou wilt for all I care, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for I am notgoing to stop thee, but consider what thou art going to say. ""I have so considered and reconsidered, " said Sancho, "that the bell-ringer's in asafe berth; as will be seen by what follows. ""It would be well, " said Don Quixote, "if your highnesses would order them toturn out this idiot, for he will talk a heap of nonsense. ""By the life of the duke, Sancho shall not be taken away from me for amoment, " said the duchess; "I am very fond of him, for I know he is verydiscreet. ""Discreet be the days of your holiness, " said Sancho, "for the good opinion youhave of my wit, though there's none in me; but the story I want to tell is this. There was an invitation given by a gentleman of my town, a very rich one, andone of quality, for he was one of the Alamos of Medina del Campo, and marriedto Dona Mencia de Quinones, the daughter of Don Alonso de Maranon, Knight ofthe Order of Santiago, that was drowned at the Herradura--him there was thatquarrel about years ago in our village, that my master Don Quixote was mixed upin, to the best of my belief, that Tomasillo the scapegrace, the son of Balbastro thesmith, was wounded in. --Isn't all this true, master mine? As you live, say so, thatthese gentlefolk may not take me for some lying chatterer. ""So far, " said the ecclesiastic, "I take you to be more a chatterer than a liar; butI don't know what I shall take you for by-and-by. ""Thou citest so many witnesses and proofs, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that Ihave no choice but to say thou must be telling the truth; go on, and cut the storyshort, for thou art taking the way not to make an end for two days to come. ""He is not to cut it short, " said the duchess; "on the contrary, for mygratification, he is to tell it as he knows it, though he should not finish it these sixdays; and if he took so many they would be to me the pleasantest I ever spent. ""Well then, sirs, I say, " continued Sancho, "that this same gentleman, whom Iknow as well as I do my own hands, for it's not a bowshot from my house to his, invited a poor but respectable labourer-""Get on, brother, " said the churchman; "at the rate you are going you will notstop with your story short of the next world. ""I'll stop less than half-way, please God, " said Sancho; "and so I say thislabourer, coming to the house of the gentleman I spoke of that invited him--resthis soul, he is now dead; and more by token he died the death of an angel, sothey say; for I was not there, for just at that time I had gone to reap atTembleque-""As you live, my son, " said the churchman, "make haste back from Tembleque, and finish your story without burying the gentleman, unless you want to makemore funerals. ""Well then, it so happened, " said Sancho, "that as the pair of them were going tosit down to table--and I think I can see them now plainer than ever-"Great was the enjoyment the duke and duchess derived from the irritation theworthy churchman showed at the long-winded, halting way Sancho had of tellinghis story, while Don Quixote was chafing with rage and vexation. "So, as I was saying, " continued Sancho, "as the pair of them were going to sitdown to table, as I said, the labourer insisted upon the gentleman's taking thehead of the table, and the gentleman insisted upon the labourer's taking it, as hisorders should be obeyed in his house; but the labourer, who plumed himself onhis politeness and good breeding, would not on any account, until the gentleman, out of patience, putting his hands on his shoulders, compelled him by force to sitdown, saying, 'Sit down, you stupid lout, for wherever I sit will be the head toyou; and that's the story, and, troth, I think it hasn't been brought in amiss here. "Don Quixote turned all colours, which, on his sunburnt face, mottled it till itlooked like jasper. The duke and duchess suppressed their laughter so as notaltogether to mortify Don Quixote, for they saw through Sancho's impertinence;and to change the conversation, and keep Sancho from uttering more absurdities, the duchess asked Don Quixote what news he had of the lady Dulcinea, and if hehad sent her any presents of giants or miscreants

lately, for he could not but havevanquished a good many. To which Don Quixote replied, "Senora, my misfortunes, though they had abeginning, will never have an end. I have vanquished giants and I have sent hercaitiffs and miscreants; but where are they to find her if she is enchanted andturned into the most ill-favoured peasant wench that can be imagined?""I don't know, " said Sancho Panza; "to me she seems the fairest creature in theworld; at any rate, in nimbleness and jumping she won't give in to a tumbler; bymy faith, senora duchess, she leaps from the ground on to the back of an ass likea cat. ""Have you seen her enchanted, Sancho?" asked the duke. "What, seen her!" said Sancho; "why, who the devil was it but myself that firstthought of the enchantment business? She is as much enchanted as my father. "The ecclesiastic, when he heard them talking of giants and caitiffs andenchantments, began to suspect that this must be Don Quixote of La Mancha, whose story the duke was always reading; and he had himself often reproved himfor it, telling him it was foolish to read such fooleries; and becoming convincedthat his suspicion was correct, addressing the duke, he said very angrily to him, "Senor, your excellence will have to give account to God for what this good mandoes. This Don Quixote, or Don Simpleton, or whatever his name is, cannot, Iimagine, be such a blockhead as your excellence would have him, holding outencouragement to him to go on with his vagaries and follies. " Then turning toaddress Don Quixote he said, "And you, num-skull, who put it into your head thatyou are a knight-errant, and vanquish giants and capture miscreants? Go yourways in a good hour, and in a good hour be it said to you. Go home and bring upyour children if you have any, and attend to your business, and give over goingwandering about the world, gaping and making a laughing-stock of yourself to allwho know you and all who don't. Where, in heaven's name, have you discoveredthat there are or ever were knights-errant? Where are there giants in Spain ormiscreants in La Mancha, or enchanted Dulcineas, or all the rest of the sillythings they tell about you?"Don Quixote listened attentively to the reverend gentleman's words, and assoon as he perceived he had done speaking, regardless of the presence of the dukeand duchess, he sprang to his feet with angry looks and an agitated countenance, and said--But the reply deserves a chapter to itself. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 29Chapters 32-35Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXXII. OF THE REPLY DON QUIXOTE GAVE HIS CENSURER, WITHOTHER INCIDENTS, GRAVE AND DROLLDon Quixote, then, having risen to his feet, trembling from head to foot like aman dosed with mercury, said in a hurried, agitated voice, "The place I am in, thepresence in which I stand, and the respect I have and always have had for theprofession to which your worship belongs, hold and bind the hands of my justindignation; and as well for these reasons as because I know, as everyone knows, that a gownsman's weapon is the same as a woman's, the tongue, I will with mineengage in equal combat with your worship, from whom one might have expectedgood advice instead of foul abuse. Pious, well-meant reproof requires a differentdemeanour and arguments of another sort; at any rate, to have reproved me inpublic, and so roughly, exceeds the bounds of proper reproof, for that comesbetter with gentleness than with rudeness; and it is not seemly to call the sinnerroundly blockhead and booby, without knowing anything of the sin that isreproved. Come, tell me, for which of the stupidities you have observed in me doyou condemn and abuse me, and bid me go home and look after my house andwife and children, without knowing whether I have any? Is nothing more neededthan to get a footing, by hook or by crook, in other people's houses to rule overthe masters (and that, perhaps, after having been brought up in all the straitnessof some seminary, and without having ever seen more of the world than may liewithin twenty or thirty leagues round), to fit one to lay down the law rashly forchivalry, and pass judgment on knights-errant? Is it, haply, an idle occupation, oris the time ill-spent that is spent in roaming the world in quest, not of itsenjoyments, but of those arduous toils whereby the good mount upwards to theabodes of everlasting life? If gentlemen, great lords, nobles, men of high birth, were to rate me as a fool I should take it as an irreparable insult; but I care not afarthing if clerks who have never entered upon or trod the paths of chivalryshould think me foolish. Knight I am, and knight I will die, if such be the pleasureof the Most High. Some take the broad road of overweening ambition; others thatof mean and servile flattery; others that of deceitful hypocrisy, and some that oftrue religion; but I, led by my star, follow the narrow path of knight-errantry, andin pursuit of that calling I despise wealth, but not honour. I have redressedinjuries, righted wrongs, punished insolences, vanquished giants, and crushedmonsters; I am in love, for no other reason than that it is incumbent on knights-errant to be so; but though I am, I am no carnal-minded lover, but one of thechaste, platonic sort. My intentions are always directed to worthy ends, to dogood to all and evil to none; and if he who means this, does this, and makes thishis practice deserves to be called a fool, it is for your highnesses to say, O mostexcellent duke and duchess. ""Good, by God!" cried Sancho; "say no more in your own defence, master mine, for there's nothing more in the world to be said, thought, or insisted on; andbesides, when this gentleman denies, as he has, that there are or ever have beenany knights-errant in the world, is it any wonder if he knows nothing of what hehas been talking about?""Perhaps, brother, " said the ecclesiastic, "you are that Sancho Panza that ismentioned, to whom your master has promised an island?""Yes, I am, " said Sancho, "and what's more, I am one who deserves it as muchas anyone; I am one of the sort--'Attach thyself to the good, and thou wilt be oneof them, ' and of those, 'Not with whom thou art bred, but with whom thou artfed, ' and of those, 'Who leans against a good tree, a good shade covers him;' I haveleant upon a good master, and I have been for months going about with him, andplease God I shall be just such another; long life to him and long life to me, forneither will he be in any want of empires to rule, or I of islands to govern. ""No, Sancho my friend, certainly not, " said the duke, "for in the name of SenorDon Quixote I confer upon you the government of one of no small importance thatI have at my disposal. ""Go down on thy knees, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and kiss the feet of hisexcellence for the favour he has bestowed upon thee. "Sancho obeyed, and on seeing this the ecclesiastic stood up from tablecompletely out of temper, exclaiming, "By the gown I wear, I am almost inclinedto say that your excellence is as great a fool as these sinners. No wonder they aremad, when people who are in their senses sanction their madness! I leave yourexcellence with them, for so long as they are in the house, I will remain in myown, and spare myself the trouble of reproving what I cannot remedy;" andwithout uttering another word, or eating another morsel, he went off, theentreaties of the duke and duchess being entirely unavailing to stop him; not thatthe duke said much to him, for he could not, because of the laughter his uncalled-for anger provoked. When he had done laughing, he said to Don Quixote, "You have replied on yourown behalf so stoutly, Sir Knight of the Lions, that there is no occasion to seekfurther satisfaction for this, which, though it may look like an offence, is not so atall, for, as women can give no offence, no more can ecclesiastics, as you very wellknow. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote, "and the reason is, that he who is not liable tooffence cannot give offence to anyone. Women, children, and ecclesiastics, as theycannot defend themselves, though they may receive offence cannot be insulted, because between the offence and the insult there is, as your excellence very wellknows, this difference: the insult comes from one who is capable of offering it, and does so, and maintains it; the offence may come from any quarter withoutcarrying insult. To take an example: a man is standing unsuspectingly in the streetand ten others come up armed and beat him; he draws his sword and quitshimself like a man, but the number of his antagonists makes it impossible for himto effect his purpose and avenge himself; this man suffers an offence but not aninsult. Another example will make the same thing plain: a man is standing withhis back turned, another comes up and strikes him, and after striking him takes toflight, without waiting an instant, and the other pursues him but does notovertake him; he who received the blow received an offence, but not an insult, because an insult must be maintained. If he who struck him, though he did sosneakingly and treacherously, had drawn his sword and stood and faced him, thenhe who had been struck would have received offence and insult at the same time;offence because he was struck treacherously, insult because he who struck himmaintained what he had done, standing his ground without taking to flight. Andso, according to the laws of the accursed duel, I may have received offence, butnot insult, for neither women nor children can maintain it, nor can they wound, nor have they any way of standing their ground, and it is just the same with thoseconnected with religion; for these three sorts of persons are without armsoffensive or defensive, and so, though naturally they are bound to defendthemselves, they have no right to offend anybody; and though I said just now Imight have received offence, I say now certainly not, for he who cannot receive aninsult can still less give one; for which reasons I ought not to feel, nor do I feel, aggrieved at what that good man said to me; I only wish he had stayed a littlelonger, that I might have shown him the mistake he makes in supposing andmaintaining that there are not and never have been any knights-errant in theworld; had Amadis or any of his countless descendants heard him say as much, Iam sure it would not have gone well with his worship. ""I will take my oath of that, " said Sancho; "they would have given him a slashthat would have slit him down from top to toe like a pomegranate or a ripe melon;they were likely fellows to put up with jokes of that sort! By my faith, I'm certainif Reinaldos of Montalvan had heard the little man's words he would have givenhim such a spank on the mouth that he wouldn't have spoken for the next threeyears; ay, let him tackle them, and he'll see how he'll get out of their hands!"The duchess, as she listened to Sancho, was ready to die with laughter, and inher own mind she set him down as droller and madder than his master; and therewere a good many just then who were of the same opinion. Don Quixote finally grew calm, and dinner came to an end, and as the clothwas removed four damsels came in, one of them with a silver basin, another witha jug also of silver, a third with two fine white towels on her shoulder, and thefourth with her arms bared to the elbows, and in her white hands (for white theycertainly were) a round ball of Naples soap. The one with the basin approached, and with arch composure and impudence, thrust it under Don Quixote's chin, who, wondering at such a ceremony, said never a word, supposing it to be thecustom of that country to wash beards instead of hands; he therefore stretched hisout as far as he could, and at the same instant the jug began to pour and thedamsel with the soap rubbed his beard briskly, raising snow-flakes, for the soaplather was no less white, not only over the beard, but all over the face, and overthe eyes of the submissive knight, so that they were perforce obliged to keep shut. The duke and duchess, who had not known anything about this, waited to seewhat came of this strange washing. The barber damsel, when she had him ahand's breadth deep in lather, pretended that there was no more water, and badethe one with the jug go and fetch some, while Senor Don Quixote waited. She didso, and Don Quixote was left the strangest and most ludicrous figure that couldbe imagined. All those present, and there were a good many, were watching him, and as they saw him there with half a yard of neck, and that uncommonly brown, his eyes shut, and his beard full of soap, it was a great wonder, and only by greatdiscretion, that they were able to restrain their laughter. The damsels, theconcocters of the joke, kept their eyes down, not daring to look at their masterand mistress; and as for them, laughter and anger struggled within them, and theyknew not what to do, whether to punish the audacity of the girls, or to rewardthem for the amusement they had received from seeing Don Quixote in such aplight. At length the damsel with the jug returned and they made an end of washingDon Quixote, and the one who carried the towels very deliberately wiped him anddried him; and all four together making him a profound obeisance and curtsey, they were about to go, when the duke, lest Don Quixote should see through thejoke, called out to the one with the basin saying, "Come and wash me, and takecare that there is water enough. " The girl, sharp-witted and prompt, came andplaced the basin for the duke as she had done for Don Quixote, and they soon hadhim well soaped and washed, and having wiped him dry they made theirobeisance and retired. It appeared afterwards that the duke had sworn that if theyhad not washed him as they had Don Quixote he would have punished them fortheir impudence, which they adroitly atoned for by soaping him as well. Sancho observed the ceremony of the washing very attentively, and said tohimself, "God bless me, if it were only the custom in this country to wash squires'beards too as well as knights'. For by God and upon my soul I want it badly; andif they gave me a scrape of the razor besides I'd take it as a still greater kindness. ""What are you saying to yourself, Sancho?" asked the duchess. "I was saying, senora, " he replied, "that in the courts of other princes, when thecloth is taken away, I have always heard say they give water for the hands, butnot lye for the beard; and that shows it is good to live long that you may seemuch; to be sure, they say too that he who lives a long life must undergo muchevil, though to undergo a washing of that sort is pleasure rather than pain. ""Don't be uneasy, friend Sancho, " said the duchess; "I will take care that mydamsels wash you, and even put you in the tub if necessary. ""I'll be content with the beard, " said Sancho, "at any rate for the present; and asfor the future, God has decreed what is to be. ""Attend to worthy Sancho's request, seneschal, " said the duchess, "and doexactly what he wishes. "The seneschal replied that Senor Sancho should be obeyed in everything; andwith that he went away to dinner and took Sancho along with him, while the dukeand duchess and Don Quixote remained at table discussing a great variety ofthings, but all bearing on the calling of arms and knight-errantry. The duchess begged Don Quixote, as he seemed to have a retentive memory, todescribe and portray to her the beauty and features of the lady Dulcinea delToboso, for, judging by what fame trumpeted abroad of her beauty, she felt sureshe must be the fairest creature in the world, nay, in all La Mancha. Don Quixote sighed on hearing the duchess's request, and said, "If I could pluckout my heart, and lay it on a plate on this table here before your highness's eyes, it would spare my tongue the pain of telling what can hardly be thought of, for init your excellence would see her portrayed in full. But why should I attempt todepict and describe in detail, and feature by feature, the beauty of the peerlessDulcinea, the burden being one worthy of other shoulders than mine, anenterprise wherein the pencils of Parrhasius, Timantes, and Apelles, and thegraver of Lysippus ought to be employed, to paint it in pictures and carve it inmarble and bronze, and Ciceronian and Demosthenian eloquence to sound itspraises?""What does Demosthenian mean, Senor Don Quixote?" said the duchess; "it is aword I never heard in all my life. ""Demosthenian eloquence, " said Don Quixote, "means the eloquence ofDemosthenes, as Ciceronian means that of Cicero, who were the two mosteloquent orators in the world. ""True, " said the duke; "you must have lost your wits to ask such a question. Nevertheless, Senor Don Quixote would greatly gratify us if he would depict herto us; for never fear, even in an outline or sketch she will be something to makethe fairest envious. ""I would do so certainly, " said Don Quixote, "had she not been blurred to mymind's eye by the misfortune that fell upon her a short time since, one of such anature that I am more ready to weep over it than to describe it. For yourhighnesses must know that, going a few days back to kiss her hands and receiveher benediction, approbation, and permission for this third sally, I found heraltogether a different being from the one I sought; I found her enchanted andchanged from a princess into a peasant, from fair to foul, from an angel into adevil, from fragrant to pestiferous, from refined to clownish, from a dignified ladyinto a jumping tomboy, and, in a word, from Dulcinea del Toboso into a coarseSayago wench. ""God bless me!" said the duke aloud at this, "who can have done the world suchan injury? Who can have robbed it of the beauty that gladdened it, of the graceand gaiety that charmed it, of the modesty that shed a lustre upon it?""Who?" replied Don Quixote; "who could it be but some malignant enchanter ofthe many that persecute me out of envy--that accursed race born into the worldto obscure and bring to naught the achievements of the good, and glorify and exaltthe deeds of the wicked? Enchanters have persecuted me, enchanters persecuteme still, and enchanters will continue to persecute me until they have sunk meand my lofty chivalry in the deep abyss of oblivion; and they injure and woundme where they know I feel it most. For to deprive a knight-errant of his lady is todeprive him of the eyes he sees with, of the sun that gives him light, of the foodwhereby he lives. Many a time before have I said it, and I say it now once more, aknight-errant without a lady is like a tree without leaves, a building without afoundation, or a shadow without the body that causes it. ""There is no denying it, " said the duchess; "but still, if we are to believe thehistory of Don Quixote that has come out here lately with general applause, it isto be inferred from it, if I mistake not, that you never saw the lady Dulcinea, andthat the said lady is nothing in the world but an imaginary lady, one that youyourself begot and gave birth to in your brain, and adorned with whatever charmsand perfections you chose. ""There is a good deal to be said on that point, " said Don Quixote; "God knowswhether there be any Dulcinea or not in the world, or whether she is imaginary ornot imaginary; these are things the proof of which must not be pushed to extremelengths. I have not begotten nor given birth to my lady, though I behold her asshe needs must be, a lady who contains in herself all the qualities to make herfamous throughout the world, beautiful without blemish, dignified withouthaughtiness, tender and yet modest, gracious from courtesy and courteous fromgood breeding, and lastly, of exalted lineage, because beauty shines forth andexcels with a higher degree of perfection upon good blood than in the fair of lowlybirth. ""That is true, " said the duke; "but Senor Don Quixote will give me leave to saywhat I am constrained to say by the story of his exploits that I have read, fromwhich it is to be inferred that, granting there is a Dulcinea in El Toboso, or out ofit, and that she is in the highest degree beautiful as you have described her to us, as regards the loftiness of her lineage she is not on a par with the Orianas, Alastrajareas, Madasimas, or others of that sort, with whom, as you well know, the histories abound. ""To that I may reply, " said Don Quixote, "that Dulcinea is the daughter of herown works, and that virtues rectify blood, and that lowly virtue is more to beregarded and esteemed than exalted vice. Dulcinea, besides, has that within herthat may raise her to be a crowned and sceptred queen; for the merit of a fair andvirtuous woman is capable of performing greater miracles; and virtually, thoughnot formally, she has in herself higher fortunes. ""I protest, Senor Don Quixote, " said the duchess, "that in all you say, you gomost cautiously and lead in hand, as the saying is; henceforth I will believemyself, and I will take care that everyone in my house believes, even my lord theduke if needs be, that there is a Dulcinea in El Toboso, and that she is living to-day, and that she is beautiful and nobly born and deserves to have such a knightas Senor Don Quixote in her service, and that is the highest praise that it is in mypower to give her or that I can think of. But I cannot help entertaining a doubt, and having a certain grudge against Sancho Panza; the doubt is this, that theaforesaid history declares that the said Sancho Panza, when he carried a letter onyour worship's behalf to the said lady Dulcinea, found her sifting a sack of wheat;and more by token it says it was red wheat; a thing which makes me doubt theloftiness of her lineage. "To this Don Quixote made answer, "Senora, your highness must know thateverything or almost everything that happens me transcends the ordinary limits ofwhat happens to other knights-errant; whether it be that it is directed by theinscrutable will of destiny, or by the malice of some jealous enchanter. Now it isan established fact that all or most famous knights-errant have some special gift, one that of being proof against enchantment, another that of being made of suchinvulnerable flesh that he cannot be wounded, as was the famous Roland, one ofthe twelve peers of France, of whom it is related that he could not be woundedexcept in the sole of his left foot, and that it must be with the point of a stout pinand not with any other sort of weapon whatever; and so, when Bernardo delCarpio slew him at Roncesvalles, finding that he could not wound him with steel, he lifted him up from the ground in his arms and strangled him, calling to mindseasonably the death which Hercules inflicted on Antaeus, the fierce giant thatthey say was the son of Terra. I would infer from what I have mentioned thatperhaps I may have some gift of this kind, not that of being invulnerable, becauseexperience has many times proved to me that I am of tender flesh and not at allimpenetrable; nor that of being proof against enchantment, for I have already seenmyself thrust into a cage, in which all the world would not have been able toconfine me except by force of enchantments. But as I delivered myself from thatone, I am inclined to believe that there is no other that can hurt me; and so, theseenchanters, seeing that they cannot exert their vile craft against my person, revenge themselves on what I love most, and seek to rob me of life by maltreatingthat of Dulcinea in whom I live; and therefore I am convinced that when mysquire carried my message to her, they changed her into a common peasant girl, engaged in such a mean occupation as sifting wheat; I have already said, however, that that wheat was not red wheat, nor wheat at all, but grains of orient pearl. And as a proof of all this, I must tell your highnesses that, coming to El Toboso ashort time back, I was altogether unable to discover the palace of Dulcinea; andthat the next day, though Sancho, my squire, saw her in her own proper shape, which is the fairest in the world, to me she appeared to be a coarse, ill-favouredfarm-wench, and by no means a well-spoken one, she who is propriety itself. Andso, as I am not and, so far as one can judge, cannot be enchanted, she it is that isenchanted, that is smitten, that is altered, changed, and transformed; in her havemy enemies revenged themselves upon me, and for her shall I live in ceaselesstears, until I see her in her pristine state. I have mentioned this lest anybodyshould mind what Sancho said about Dulcinea's winnowing or sifting; for, as theychanged her to me, it is no wonder if they changed her to him. Dulcinea isillustrious and well-born, and of one of the gentle families of El Toboso, which aremany, ancient, and good. Therein, most assuredly, not small is the share of thepeerless Dulcinea, through whom her town will be famous and celebrated in agesto come, as Troy was through Helen, and Spain through La Cava, though with abetter title and tradition. For another thing; I would have your graces understandthat Sancho Panza is one of the drollest squires that ever served knight-errant;sometimes there is a simplicity about him so acute that it is an amusement to tryand make out whether he is simple or sharp; he has mischievous tricks that stamphim rogue, and blundering ways that prove him a booby; he doubts everythingand believes everything; when I fancy he is on the point of coming down headlongfrom sheer stupidity, he comes out with something shrewd that sends him up tothe skies. After all, I would not exchange him for another squire, though I weregiven a city to boot, and therefore I am in doubt whether it will be well to sendhim to the government your highness has bestowed upon him; though I perceivein him a certain aptitude for the work of governing, so that, with a little trimmingof his understanding, he would manage any government as easily as the king doeshis taxes; and moreover, we know already ample experience that it does notrequire much cleverness or much learning to be a governor, for there are ahundred round about us that scarcely know how to read, and govern likegerfalcons. The main point is that they should have good intentions and bedesirous of doing right in all things, for they will never be at a loss for persons toadvise and direct them in what they have to do, like those knight-governors who, being no lawyers, pronounce sentences with the aid of an assessor. My advice tohim will be to take no bribe and surrender no right, and I have some other littlematters in reserve, that shall be produced in due season for Sancho's benefit andthe advantage of the island he is to govern. "The duke, duchess, and Don Quixote had reached this point in theirconversation, when they heard voices and a great hubbub in the palace, andSancho burst abruptly into the room all glowing with anger, with a straining-clothby way of a bib, and followed by several servants, or, more properly speaking, kitchen-boys and other underlings, one of whom carried a small trough full ofwater, that from its colour and impurity was plainly dishwater. The one with thetrough pursued him and followed him everywhere he went, endeavouring with theutmost persistence to thrust it under his chin, while another kitchen-boy seemedanxious to wash his beard. "What is all this, brothers?" asked the duchess. "What is it? What do you wantto do to this good man? Do you forget he is a governor-elect?"To which the barber kitchen-boy replied, "The gentleman will not let himself bewashed as is customary, and as my lord and the senor his master have been. ""Yes, I will, " said Sancho, in a great rage; "but I'd like it to be with cleanertowels, clearer lye, and not such dirty hands; for there's not so much differencebetween me and my master that he should be washed with angels' water and Iwith devil's lye. The customs of countries and princes' palaces are only good solong as they give no annoyance; but the way of washing they have here is worsethan doing penance. I have a clean beard, and I don't require to be refreshed inthat fashion, and whoever comes to wash me or touch a hair of my head, I meanto say my beard, with all due respect be it said, I'll give him a punch that willleave my fist sunk in his skull; for cirimonies and soapings of this sort are morelike jokes than the polite attentions of one's host. "The duchess was ready to die with laughter when she saw Sancho's rage andheard his words; but it was no pleasure to Don Quixote to see him in such a sorrytrim, with the dingy towel about him, and the hangers-on of the kitchen all roundhim; so making a low bow to the duke and duchess, as if to ask their permissionto speak, he addressed the rout in a dignified tone: "Holloa, gentlemen! you letthat youth alone, and go back to where you came from, or anywhere else if youlike; my squire is as clean as any other person, and those troughs are as bad asnarrow thin-necked jars to him; take my advice and leave him alone, for neitherhe nor I understand joking. "Sancho took the word out of his mouth and went on, "Nay, let them come andtry their jokes on the country bumpkin, for it's about as likely I'll stand them asthat it's now midnight! Let them bring me a comb here, or what they please, andcurry this beard of mine, and if they get anything out of it that offends againstcleanliness, let them clip me to the skin. "Upon this, the duchess, laughing all the while, said, "Sancho Panza is right, andalways will be in all he says; he is clean, and, as he says himself, he does notrequire to be washed; and if our ways do not please him, he is free to choose. Besides, you promoters of cleanliness have been excessively careless andthoughtless, I don't know if I ought not to say audacious, to bring troughs andwooden utensils and kitchen dishclouts, instead of basins and jugs of pure goldand towels of holland, to such a person and such a beard; but, after all, you areill-conditioned and ill-bred, and spiteful as you are, you cannot help showing thegrudge you have against the squires of knights-errant. "The impudent servitors, and even the seneschal who came with them, took theduchess to be speaking in earnest, so they removed the straining-cloth fromSancho's neck, and with something like shame and confusion of face went off allof them and left him; whereupon he, seeing himself safe out of that extremedanger, as it seemed to him, ran and fell on his knees before the duchess, saying, "From great ladies great favours may be looked for; this which your grace hasdone me today cannot be requited with less than wishing I was dubbed a knight-errant, to devote myself all the days of my life to the service of so exalted a lady. Iam a labouring man, my name is Sancho Panza, I am married, I have children, and I am serving as a squire; if in any one of these ways I can serve yourhighness, I will not be longer in obeying than your grace in commanding. ""It is easy to see, Sancho, " replied the duchess, "that you have learned to bepolite in the school of politeness itself; I mean to say it is easy to see that youhave been nursed in the bosom of Senor Don Quixote, who is, of course, thecream of good breeding and flower of ceremony--or cirimony, as you would sayyourself. Fair be the fortunes of such a master and such a servant, the one thecynosure of knight-errantry, the other the star of squirely fidelity! Rise, Sancho, my friend; I will repay your courtesy by taking care that my lord the duke makesgood to you the promised gift of the government as soon as possible. "With this, the conversation came to an end, and Don Quixote retired to take hismidday sleep; but the duchess begged Sancho, unless he had a very great desire togo to sleep, to come and spend the afternoon with her and her damsels in a verycool chamber. Sancho replied that, though he certainly had the habit of sleepingfour or five hours in the heat of the day in summer, to serve her excellence hewould try with all his might not to sleep even one that day, and that he wouldcome in obedience to her command, and with that he went off. The duke gavefresh orders with respect to treating Don Quixote as a knight-errant, withoutdeparting even in smallest particular from the style in which, as the stories tell us, they used to treat the knights of old. CHAPTER XXXIII. OF THE DELECTABLE DISCOURSE WHICH THE DUCHESS ANDHER DAMSELS HELD WITH SANCHO PANZA, WELL WORTHREADING AND NOTINGThe history records that Sancho did not sleep that afternoon, but in order tokeep his word came, before he had well done dinner, to visit the duchess, who, finding enjoyment in listening to him, made him sit down beside her on a lowseat, though Sancho, out of pure good breeding, wanted not to sit down; theduchess, however, told him he was to sit down as governor and talk as squire, asin both respects he was worthy of even the chair of the Cid Ruy Diaz theCampeador. Sancho shrugged his shoulders, obeyed, and sat down, and all theduchess's damsels and duennas gathered round him, waiting in profound silenceto hear what he would say. It was the duchess, however, who spoke first, saying:"Now that we are alone, and that there is nobody here to overhear us, I shouldbe glad if the senor governor would relieve me of certain doubts I have, rising outof the history of the great Don Quixote that is now in print. One is: inasmuch asworthy Sancho never saw Dulcinea, I mean the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, nortook Don Quixote's letter to her, for it was left in the memorandum book in theSierra Morena, how did he dare to invent the answer and all that about findingher sifting wheat, the whole story being a deception and falsehood, and so muchto the prejudice of the peerless Dulcinea's good name, a thing that is not at allbecoming the character and fidelity of a good squire?"At these words, Sancho, without uttering one in reply, got up from his chair, and with noiseless steps, with his body bent and his finger on his lips, went allround the room lifting up the hangings; and this done, he came back to his seatand said, "Now, senora, that I have seen that there is no one except thebystanders listening to us on the sly, I will answer what you have asked me, andall you may ask me, without fear or dread. And the first thing I have got to say is, that for my own part I hold my master Don Quixote to be stark mad, thoughsometimes he says things that, to my mind, and indeed everybody's that listens tohim, are so wise, and run in such a straight furrow, that Satan himself could nothave said them better; but for all that, really, and beyond all question, it's myfirm belief he is cracked. Well, then, as this is clear to my mind, I can venture tomake him believe things that have neither head nor tail, like that affair of theanswer to the letter, and that other of six or eight days ago, which is not yet inhistory, that is to say, the affair of the enchantment of my lady Dulcinea; for Imade him believe she is enchanted, though there's no more truth in it than overthe hills of Ubeda. "The duchess begged him to tell her about the enchantment or deception, soSancho told the whole story exactly as it had happened, and his hearers were nota little amused by it; and then resuming, the duchess said, "In consequence ofwhat worthy Sancho has told me, a doubt starts up in my mind, and there comesa kind of whisper to my ear that says, 'If Don Quixote be mad, crazy, andcracked, and Sancho Panza his squire knows it, and, notwithstanding, serves andfollows him, and goes trusting to his empty promises, there can be no doubt hemust be still madder and sillier than his master; and that being so, it will be castin your teeth, senora duchess, if you give the said Sancho an island to govern; forhow will he who does not know how to govern himself know how to governothers?'""By God, senora, " said Sancho, "but that doubt comes timely; but your gracemay say it out, and speak plainly, or as you like; for I know what you say is true, and if I were wise I should have left my master long ago; but this was my fate, this was my bad luck; I can't help it, I must follow him; we're from the samevillage, I've eaten his bread, I'm fond of him, I'm grateful, he gave me his ass-colts, and above all I'm faithful; so it's quite impossible for anything to separate us, except the pickaxe and shovel. And if your highness does not like to give me thegovernment you promised, God made me without it, and maybe your not giving itto me will be all the better for my conscience, for fool as I am I know the proverb'to her hurt the ant got wings, ' and it may be that Sancho the squire will get toheaven sooner than Sancho the governor. 'They make as good bread here as inFrance, ' and 'by night all cats are grey, ' and 'a hard case enough his, who hasn'tbroken his fast at two in the afternoon, ' and 'there's no stomach a hand's breadthbigger than another, ' and the same can be filled 'with straw or hay, ' as the sayingis, and 'the little birds of the field have God for their purveyor and caterer, ' and'four yards of Cuenca frieze keep one warmer than four of Segovia broad-cloth, 'and 'when we quit this world and are put underground the prince travels by asnarrow a path as the journeyman, ' and 'the Pope's body does not take up morefeet of earth than the sacristan's, ' for all that the one is higher than the other; forwhen we go to our graves we all pack ourselves up and make ourselves small, orrather they pack us up and make us small in spite of us, and then--good night tous. And I say once more, if your ladyship does not like to give me the islandbecause I'm a fool, like a wise man I will take care to give myself no trouble aboutit; I have heard say that 'behind the cross there's the devil, ' and that 'all thatglitters is not gold, ' and that from among the oxen, and the ploughs, and theyokes, Wamba the husbandman was taken to be made King of Spain, and fromamong brocades, and pleasures, and riches, Roderick was taken to be devoured byadders, if the verses of the old ballads don't lie. ""To be sure they don't lie!" exclaimed Dona Rodriguez, the duenna, who was oneof the listeners. "Why, there's a ballad that says they put King Rodrigo alive into atomb full of toads, and adders, and lizards, and that two days afterwards theking, in a plaintive, feeble voice, cried out from within the tomb-They gnaw me now, they gnaw me now, There where I most did sin. And according to that the gentleman has good reason to say he would rather bea labouring man than a king, if vermin are to eat him. "The duchess could not help laughing at the simplicity of her duenna, orwondering at the language and proverbs of Sancho, to whom she said, "WorthySancho knows very well that when once a knight has made a promise he strives tokeep it, though it should cost him his life. My lord and husband the duke, thoughnot one of the errant sort, is none the less a knight for that reason, and will keephis word about the promised island, in spite of the envy and malice of the world. Let Sancho he of good cheer; for when he least expects it he will find himselfseated on the throne of his island and seat of dignity, and will take possession ofhis government that he may discard it for another of three-bordered brocade. Thecharge I give him is to be careful how he governs his vassals, bearing in mind thatthey are all loyal and well-born. ""As to governing them well, " said Sancho, "there's no need of charging me to dothat, for I'm kind-hearted by nature, and full of compassion for the poor; there'sno stealing the loaf from him who kneads and bakes;' and by my faith it won't doto throw false dice with me; I am an old dog, and I know all about 'tus, tus;' I canbe wide-awake if need be, and I don't let clouds come before my eyes, for I knowwhere the shoe pinches me; I say so, because with me the good will have supportand protection, and the bad neither footing nor access. And it seems to me that, in governments, to make a beginning is everything; and maybe, after having beengovernor a fortnight, I'll take kindly to the work and know more about it than thefield labour I have been brought up to. ""You are right, Sancho, " said the duchess, "for no one is born ready taught, andthe bishops are made out of men and not out of stones. But to return to thesubject we were discussing just now, the enchantment of the lady Dulcinea, I lookupon it as certain, and something more than evident, that Sancho's idea ofpractising a deception upon his master, making him believe that the peasant

girlwas Dulcinea and that if he did not recognise her it must be because she wasenchanted, was all a device of one of the enchanters that persecute Don Quixote. For in truth and earnest, I know from good authority that the coarse countrywench who jumped up on the ass was and is Dulcinea del Toboso, and thatworthy Sancho, though he fancies himself the deceiver, is the one that is deceived;and that there is no more reason to doubt the truth of this, than of anything elsewe never saw. Senor Sancho Panza must know that we too have enchanters herethat are well disposed to us, and tell us what goes on in the world, plainly anddistinctly, without subterfuge or deception; and believe me, Sancho, that agilecountry lass was and is Dulcinea del Toboso, who is as much enchanted as themother that bore her; and when we least expect it, we shall see her in her ownproper form, and then Sancho will be disabused of the error he is under atpresent. ""All that's very possible, " said Sancho Panza; "and now I'm willing to believewhat my master says about what he saw in the cave of Montesinos, where he sayshe saw the lady Dulcinea del Toboso in the very same dress and apparel that Isaid I had seen her in when I enchanted her all to please myself. It must be allexactly the other way, as your ladyship says; because it is impossible to supposethat out of my poor wit such a cunning trick could be concocted in a moment, nordo I think my master is so mad that by my weak and feeble persuasion he couldbe made to believe a thing so out of all reason. But, senora, your excellence mustnot therefore think me ill-disposed, for a dolt like me is not bound to see into thethoughts and plots of those vile enchanters. I invented all that to escape mymaster's scolding, and not with any intention of hurting him; and if it has turnedout differently, there is a God in heaven who judges our hearts. ""That is true, " said the duchess; "but tell me, Sancho, what is this you say aboutthe cave of Montesinos, for I should like to know. "Sancho upon this related to her, word for word, what has been said alreadytouching that adventure, and having heard it the duchess said, "From thisoccurrence it may be inferred that, as the great Don Quixote says he saw there thesame country wench Sancho saw on the way from El Toboso, it is, no doubt, Dulcinea, and that there are some very active and exceedingly busy enchantersabout. ""So I say, " said Sancho, "and if my lady Dulcinea is enchanted, so much theworse for her, and I'm not going to pick a quarrel with my master's enemies, whoseem to be many and spiteful. The truth is that the one I saw was a countrywench, and I set her down to be a country wench; and if that was Dulcinea itmust not be laid at my door, nor should I be called to answer for it or take theconsequences. But they must go nagging at me at every step--'Sancho said it, Sancho did it, Sancho here, Sancho there, ' as if Sancho was nobody at all, and notthat same Sancho Panza that's now going all over the world in books, so SamsonCarrasco told me, and he's at any rate one that's a bachelor of Salamanca; andpeople of that sort can't lie, except when the whim seizes them or they have somevery good reason for it. So there's no occasion for anybody to quarrel with me;and then I have a good character, and, as I have heard my master say, 'a goodname is better than great riches;' let them only stick me into this government andthey'll see wonders, for one who has been a good squire will be a good governor. ""All worthy Sancho's observations, " said the duchess, "are Catonian sentences, or at any rate out of the very heart of Michael Verino himself, who florentibusoccidit annis. In fact, to speak in his own style, 'under a bad cloak there's often agood drinker. '""Indeed, senora, " said Sancho, "I never yet drank out of wickedness; from thirstI have very likely, for I have nothing of the hypocrite in me; I drink when I'minclined, or, if I'm not inclined, when they offer it to me, so as not to look eitherstrait-laced or ill-bred; for when a friend drinks one's health what heart can be sohard as not to return it? But if I put on my shoes I don't dirty them; besides, squires to knights-errant mostly drink water, for they are always wanderingamong woods, forests and meadows, mountains and crags, without a drop of wineto be had if they gave their eyes for it. ""So I believe, " said the duchess; "and now let Sancho go and take his sleep, andwe will talk by-and-by at greater length, and settle how he may soon go and stickhimself into the government, as he says. "Sancho once more kissed the duchess's hand, and entreated her to let good carebe taken of his Dapple, for he was the light of his eyes. "What is Dapple?" said the duchess. "My ass, " said Sancho, "which, not to mention him by that name, I'maccustomed to call Dapple; I begged this lady duenna here to take care of himwhen I came into the castle, and she got as angry as if I had said she was ugly orold, though it ought to be more natural and proper for duennas to feed asses thanto ornament chambers. God bless me! what a spite a gentleman of my village hadagainst these ladies!""He must have been some clown, " said Dona Rodriguez the duenna; "for if hehad been a gentleman and well-born he would have exalted them higher than thehorns of the moon. ""That will do, " said the duchess; "no more of this; hush, Dona Rodriguez, andlet Senor Panza rest easy and leave the treatment of Dapple in my charge, for ashe is a treasure of Sancho's, I'll put him on the apple of my eye. ""It will be enough for him to be in the stable, " said Sancho, "for neither he nor Iare worthy to rest a moment in the apple of your highness's eye, and I'd as soonstab myself as consent to it; for though my master says that in civilities it is betterto lose by a card too many than a card too few, when it comes to civilities to asseswe must mind what we are about and keep within due bounds. ""Take him to your government, Sancho, " said the duchess, "and there you willbe able to make as much of him as you like, and even release him from work andpension him off. ""Don't think, senora duchess, that you have said anything absurd, " said Sancho;"I have seen more than two asses go to governments, and for me to take mine withme would be nothing new. "Sancho's words made the duchess laugh again and gave her fresh amusement, and dismissing him to sleep she went away to tell the duke the conversation shehad had with him, and between them they plotted and arranged to play a jokeupon Don Quixote that was to be a rare one and entirely in knight-errantry style, and in that same style they practised several upon him, so much in keeping andso clever that they form the best adventures this great history contains. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXIV. WHICH RELATES HOW THEY LEARNED THE WAY IN WHICH THEYWERE TO DISENCHANT THE PEERLESS DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO, WHICH IS ONE OF THE RAREST ADVENTURES IN THIS BOOKGreat was the pleasure the duke and duchess took in the conversation of DonQuixote and Sancho Panza; and, more bent than ever upon the plan they had ofpractising some jokes upon them that should have the look and appearance ofadventures, they took as their basis of action what Don Quixote had already toldthem about the cave of Montesinos, in order to play him a famous one. But whatthe duchess marvelled at above all was that Sancho's simplicity could be so greatas to make him believe as absolute truth that Dulcinea had been enchanted, whenit was he himself who had been the enchanter and trickster in the business. Having, therefore, instructed their servants in everything they were to do, six daysafterwards they took him out to hunt, with as great a retinue of huntsmen andbeaters as a crowned king. They presented Don Quixote with a hunting suit, and Sancho with another ofthe finest green cloth; but Don Quixote declined to put his on, saying that hemust soon return to the hard pursuit of arms, and could not carry wardrobes orstores with him. Sancho, however, took what they gave him, meaning to sell it thefirst opportunity. The appointed day having arrived, Don Quixote armed himself, and Sanchoarrayed himself, and mounted on his Dapple (for he would not give him upthough they offered him a horse), he placed himself in the midst of the troop ofhuntsmen. The duchess came out splendidly attired, and Don Quixote, in purecourtesy and politeness, held the rein of her palfrey, though the duke wanted notto allow him; and at last they reached a wood that lay between two highmountains, where, after occupying various posts, ambushes, and paths, anddistributing the party in different positions, the hunt began with great noise, shouting, and hallooing, so that, between the baying of the hounds and theblowing of the horns, they could not hear one another. The duchess dismounted, and with a sharp boar-spear in her hand posted herself where she knew the wildboars were in the habit of passing. The duke and Don Quixote likewisedismounted and placed themselves one at each side of her. Sancho took up aposition in the rear of all without dismounting from Dapple, whom he dared notdesert lest some mischief should befall him. Scarcely had they taken their stand ina line with several of their servants, when they saw a huge boar, closely pressedby the hounds and followed by the huntsmen, making towards them, grinding histeeth and tusks, and scattering foam from his mouth. As soon as he saw him DonQuixote, bracing his shield on his arm, and drawing his sword, advanced to meethim; the duke with boar-spear did the same; but the duchess would have gone infront of them all had not the duke prevented her. Sancho alone, deserting Dappleat the sight of the mighty beast, took to his heels as hard as he could and strovein vain to mount a tall oak. As he was clinging to a branch, however, half-way upin his struggle to reach the top, the bough, such was his ill-luck and hard fate, gave way, and caught in his fall by a broken limb of the oak, he hung suspendedin the air unable to reach the ground. Finding himself in this position, and thatthe green coat was beginning to tear, and reflecting that if the fierce animal camethat way he might be able to get at him, he began to utter such cries, and call forhelp so earnestly, that all who heard him and did not see him felt sure he must bein the teeth of some wild beast. In the end the tusked boar fell pierced by theblades of the many spears they held in front of him; and Don Quixote, turninground at the cries of Sancho, for he knew by them that it was he, saw himhanging from the oak head downwards, with Dapple, who did not forsake him inhis distress, close beside him; and Cide Hamete observes that he seldom sawSancho Panza without seeing Dapple, or Dapple without seeing Sancho Panza;such was their attachment and loyalty one to the other. Don Quixote went overand unhooked Sancho, who, as soon as he found himself on the ground, looked atthe rent in his huntingcoat and was grieved to the heart, for he thought he had gota patrimonial estate in that suit. Meanwhile they had slung the mighty boar across the back of a mule, andhaving covered it with sprigs of rosemary and branches of myrtle, they bore itaway as the spoils of victory to some large field-tents which had been pitched inthe middle of the wood, where they found the tables laid and dinner served, insuch grand and sumptuous style that it was easy to see the rank and magnificenceof those who had provided it. Sancho, as he showed the rents in his torn suit tothe duchess, observed, "If we had been hunting hares, or after small birds, mycoat would have been safe from being in the plight it's in; I don't know whatpleasure one can find in lying in wait for an animal that may take your life withhis tusk if he gets at you. I recollect having heard an old ballad sung that says, By bears be thou devoured, as erstWas famous Favila. ""That, " said Don Quixote, "was a Gothic king, who, going a-hunting, wasdevoured by a bear. ""Just so, " said Sancho; "and I would not have kings and princes exposethemselves to such dangers for the sake of a pleasure which, to my mind, oughtnot to be one, as it consists in killing an animal that has done no harm whatever. ""Quite the contrary, Sancho; you are wrong there, " said the duke; "for hunting ismore suitable and requisite for kings and princes than for anybody else. The chaseis the emblem of war; it has stratagems, wiles, and crafty devices for overcomingthe enemy in safety; in it extreme cold and intolerable heat have to be borne, indolence and sleep are despised, the bodily powers are invigorated, the limbs ofhim who engages in it are made supple, and, in a word, it is a pursuit which maybe followed without injury to anyone and with enjoyment to many; and the bestof it is, it is not for everybody, as field-sports of other sorts are, except hawking, which also is only for kings and great lords. Reconsider your opinion therefore, Sancho, and when you are governor take to hunting, and you will find the good ofit. ""Nay, " said Sancho, "the good governor should have a broken leg and keep athome;" it would be a nice thing if, after people had been at the trouble of comingto look for him on business, the governor were to be away in the forest enjoyinghimself; the government would go on badly in that fashion. By my faith, senor, hunting and amusements are more fit for idlers than for governors; what I intendto amuse myself with is playing all fours at Eastertime, and bowls on Sundays andholidays; for these huntings don't suit my condition or agree with my conscience. ""God grant it may turn out so, " said the duke; "because it's a long step fromsaying to doing. ""Be that as it may, " said Sancho, "'pledges don't distress a good payer, ' and 'hewhom God helps does better than he who gets up early, ' and 'it's the tripes thatcarry the feet and not the feet the tripes;' I mean to say that if God gives me helpand I do my duty honestly, no doubt I'll govern better than a gerfalcon. Nay, letthem only put a finger in my mouth, and they'll see whether I can bite or not. ""The curse of God and all his saints upon thee, thou accursed Sancho!"exclaimed Don Quixote; "when will the day come--as I have often said to thee--when I shall hear thee make one single coherent, rational remark withoutproverbs? Pray, your highnesses, leave this fool alone, for he will grind your soulsbetween, not to say two, but two thousand proverbs, dragged in as much inseason, and as much to the purpose as--may God grant as much health to him, orto me if I want to listen to them!""Sancho Panza's proverbs, " said the duchess, "though more in number than theGreek Commander's, are not therefore less to be esteemed for the conciseness ofthe maxims. For my own part, I can say they give me more pleasure than othersthat may be better brought in and more seasonably introduced. "In pleasant conversation of this sort they passed out of the tent into the wood, and the day was spent in visiting some of the posts and hiding-places, and thennight closed in, not, however, as brilliantly or tranquilly as might have beenexpected at the season, for it was then midsummer; but bringing with it a kind ofhaze that greatly aided the project of the duke and duchess; and thus, as nightbegan to fall, and a little after twilight set in, suddenly the whole wood on all foursides seemed to be on fire, and shortly after, here, there, on all sides, a vastnumber of trumpets and other military instruments were heard, as if severaltroops of cavalry were passing through the wood. The blaze of the fire and thenoise of the warlike instruments almost blinded the eyes and deafened the ears ofthose that stood by, and indeed of all who were in the wood. Then there wereheard repeated lelilies after the fashion of the Moors when they rush to battle;trumpets and clarions brayed, drums beat, fifes played, so unceasingly and so fastthat he could not have had any senses who did not lose them with the confuseddin of so many instruments. The duke was astounded, the duchess amazed, DonQuixote wondering, Sancho Panza trembling, and indeed, even they who wereaware of the cause were frightened. In their fear, silence fell upon them, and apostillion, in the guise of a demon, passed in front of them, blowing, in lieu of abugle, a huge hollow horn that gave out a horrible hoarse note. "Ho there! brother courier, " cried the duke, "who are you? Where are you going?What troops are these that seem to be passing through the wood?"To which the courier replied in a harsh, discordant voice, "I am the devil; I amin search of Don Quixote of La Mancha; those who are coming this way are sixtroops of enchanters, who are bringing on a triumphal car the peerless Dulcineadel Toboso; she comes under enchantment, together with the gallant FrenchmanMontesinos, to give instructions to Don Quixote as to how, she the said lady, maybe disenchanted. ""If you were the devil, as you say and as your appearance indicates, " said theduke, "you would have known the said knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, for youhave him here before you. ""By God and upon my conscience, " said the devil, "I never observed it, for mymind is occupied with so many different things that I was forgetting the mainthing I came about. ""This demon must be an honest fellow and a good Christian, " said Sancho; "forif he wasn't he wouldn't swear by God and his conscience; I feel sure now theremust be good souls even in hell itself. "Without dismounting, the demon then turned to Don Quixote and said, "Theunfortunate but valiant knight Montesinos sends me to thee, the Knight of theLions (would that I saw thee in their claws), bidding me tell thee to wait for himwherever I may find thee, as he brings with him her whom they call Dulcinea delToboso, that he may show thee what is needful in order to disenchant her; and asI came for no more I need stay no longer; demons of my sort be with thee, andgood angels with these gentles;" and so saying he blew his huge horn, turnedabout and went off without waiting for a reply from anyone. They all felt fresh wonder, but particularly Sancho and Don Quixote; Sancho tosee how, in defiance of the truth, they would have it that Dulcinea wasenchanted; Don Quixote because he could not feel sure whether what hadhappened to him in the cave of Montesinos was true or not; and as he was deepin these cogitations the duke said to him, "Do you mean to wait, Senor DonQuixote?""Why not?" replied he; "here will I wait, fearless and firm, though all hell shouldcome to attack me. ""Well then, if I see another devil or hear another horn like the last, I'll wait hereas much as in Flanders, " said Sancho. Night now closed in more completely, and many lights began to flit through thewood, just as those fiery exhalations from the earth, that look like shooting-starsto our eyes, flit through the heavens; a frightful noise, too, was heard, like thatmade by the solid wheels the ox-carts usually have, by the harsh, ceaselesscreaking of which, they say, the bears and wolves are put to flight, if therehappen to be any where they are passing. In addition to all this commotion, therecame a further disturbance to increase the tumult, for now it seemed as if intruth, on all four sides of the wood, four encounters or battles were going on atthe same time; in one quarter resounded the dull noise of a terrible cannonade, inanother numberless muskets were being discharged, the shouts of the combatantssounded almost close at hand, and farther away the Moorish lelilies were raisedagain and again. In a word, the bugles, the horns, the clarions, the trumpets, thedrums, the cannon, the musketry, and above all the tremendous noise of thecarts, all made up together a din so confused and terrific that Don Quixote hadneed to summon up all his courage to brave it; but Sancho's gave way, and he fellfainting on the skirt of the duchess's robe, who let him lie there and promptlybade them throw water in his face. This was done, and he came to himself by thetime that one of the carts with the creaking wheels reached the spot. It was drawnby four plodding oxen all covered with black housings; on each horn they hadfixed a large lighted wax taper, and on the top of the cart was constructed a raisedseat, on which sat a venerable old man with a beard whiter than the very snow, and so long that it fell below his waist; he was dressed in a long robe of blackbuckram; for as the cart was thickly set with a multitude of candles it was easy tomake out everything that was on it. Leading it were two hideous demons, alsoclad in buckram, with countenances so frightful that Sancho, having once seenthem, shut his eyes so as not to see them again. As soon as the cart came oppositethe spot the old man rose from his lofty seat, and standing up said in a loudvoice, "I am the sage Lirgandeo, " and without another word the cart then passedon. Behind it came another of the same form, with another aged man enthroned, who, stopping the cart, said in a voice no less solemn than that of the first, "I amthe sage Alquife, the great friend of Urganda the Unknown, " and passed on. Thenanother cart came by at the same pace, but the occupant of the throne was notold like the others, but a man stalwart and robust, and of a forbiddingcountenance, who as he came up said in a voice far hoarser and more devilish, "Iam the enchanter Archelaus, the mortal enemy of Amadis of Gaul and all hiskindred, " and then passed on. Having gone a short distance the three carts haltedand the monotonous noise of their wheels ceased, and soon after they heardanother, not noise, but sound of sweet, harmonious music, of which Sancho wasvery glad, taking it to be a good sign; and said he to the duchess, from whom hedid not stir a step, or for a single instant, "Senora, where there's music there can'tbe mischief. ""Nor where there are lights and it is bright, " said the duchess; to which Sanchoreplied, "Fire gives light, and it's bright where there are bonfires, as we see bythose that are all round us and perhaps may burn us; but music is a sign of mirthand merrymaking. ""That remains to be seen, " said Don Quixote, who was listening to all thatpassed; and he was right, as is shown in the following chapter. CHAPTER XXXV. WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE INSTRUCTION GIVEN TO DONQUIXOTE TOUCHING THE DISENCHANTMENT OF DULCINEA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MARVELLOUS INCIDENTSThey saw advancing towards them, to the sound of this pleasing music, whatthey call a triumphal car, drawn by six grey mules with white linen housings, oneach of which was mounted a penitent, robed also in white, with a large lightedwax taper in his hand. The car was twice or, perhaps, three times as large as theformer ones, and in front and on the sides stood twelve more penitents, all aswhite as snow and all with lighted tapers, a spectacle to excite fear as well aswonder; and on a raised throne was seated a nymph draped in a multitude ofsilver-tissue veils with an embroidery of countless gold spangles glittering all overthem, that made her appear, if not richly, at least brilliantly, apparelled. She hadher face covered with thin transparent sendal, the texture of which did notprevent the fair features of a maiden from being distinguished, while thenumerous lights made it possible to judge of her beauty and of her years, whichseemed to be not less than seventeen but not to have yet reached twenty. Besideher was a figure in a robe of state, as they call it, reaching to the feet, while thehead was covered with a black veil. But the instant the car was opposite the dukeand duchess and Don Quixote the music of the clarions ceased, and then that ofthe lutes and harps on the car, and the figure in the robe rose up, and flinging itapart and removing the veil from its face, disclosed to their eyes the shape ofDeath itself, fleshless and hideous, at which sight Don Quixote felt uneasy, Sancho frightened, and the duke and duchess displayed a certain trepidation. Having risen to its feet, this living death, in a sleepy voice and with a tonguehardly awake, held forth as follows:I am that Merlin who the legends sayThe devil had for father, and the lieHath gathered credence with the lapse of time. Of magic prince, of Zoroastric loreMonarch and treasurer, with jealous eyeI view the efforts of the age to hideThe gallant deeds of doughty errant knights, Who are, and ever have been, dear to me. Enchanters and magicians and their kindAre mostly hard of heart; not so am I;For mine is tender, soft, compassionate, And its delight is doing good to all. In the dim caverns of the gloomy Dis, Where, tracing mystic lines and characters, My soul abideth now, there came to meThe sorrow-laden plaint of her, the fair, The peerless Dulcinea del Toboso. I knew of her enchantment and her fate, From high-born dame to peasant wench transformedAnd touched with pity, first I turned the leavesOf countless volumes of my devilish craft, And then, in this grim grisly skeletonMyself encasing, hither have I comeTo show where lies the fitting remedyTo give relief in such a piteous case. O thou, the pride and pink of all that wearThe adamantine steel! O shining light, O beacon, polestar, path and guide of allWho, scorning slumber and the lazy down, Adopt the toilsome life of bloodstained arms!To thee, great hero who all praise transcends, La Mancha's lustre and Iberia's star, Don Quixote, wise as brave, to thee I say--For peerless Dulcinea del TobosoHer pristine form and beauty to regain, 'T is needful that thy esquire Sancho shall, On his own sturdy buttocks bared to heaven, Three thousand and three hundred lashes lay, And that they smart and sting and hurt him well. Thus have the authors of her woe resolved. And this is, gentles, wherefore I have come. "By all that's good, " exclaimed Sancho at this, "I'll just as soon give myself threestabs with a dagger as three, not to say three thousand, lashes. The devil takesuch a way of disenchanting! I don't see what my backside has got to do withenchantments. By God, if Senor Merlin has not found out some other way ofdisenchanting the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, she may go to her grave enchanted. ""But I'll take you, Don Clown stuffed with garlic, " said Don Quixote, "and tieyou to a tree as naked as when your mother brought you forth, and give you, notto say three thousand three hundred, but six thousand six hundred lashes, and sowell laid on that they won't be got rid of if you try three thousand three hundredtimes; don't answer me a word or I'll tear your soul out. "On hearing this Merlin said, "That will not do, for the lashes worthy Sancho hasto receive must be given of his own free will and not by force, and at whatevertime he pleases, for there is no fixed limit assigned to him; but it is permittedhim, if he likes to commute by half the pain of this whipping, to let them be givenby the hand of another, though it may be somewhat weighty. ""Not a hand, my own or anybody else's, weighty or weighable, shall touch me, "said Sancho. "Was it I that gave birth to the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, that mybackside is to pay for the sins of her eyes? My master, indeed, that's a part ofher--for, he's always calling her 'my life' and 'my soul, ' and his stay and prop--may and ought to whip himself for her and take all the trouble required for herdisenchantment. But for me to whip myself! Abernuncio!"As soon as Sancho had done speaking the nymph in silver that was at the sideof Merlin's ghost stood up, and removing the thin veil from her face disclosed onethat seemed to all something more than exceedingly beautiful; and with amasculine freedom from embarrassment and in a voice not very like a lady's, addressing Sancho directly, said, "Thou wretched squire, soul of a pitcher, heartof a cork tree, with bowels of flint and pebbles; if, thou impudent thief, they badethee throw thyself down from some lofty tower; if, enemy of mankind, they askedthee to swallow a dozen of toads, two of lizards, and three of adders; if theywanted thee to slay thy wife and children with a sharp murderous scimitar, itwould be no wonder for thee to show thyself stubborn and squeamish. But tomake a piece of work about three thousand three hundred lashes, what every poorlittle charity-boy gets every month--it is enough to amaze, astonish, astound thecompassionate bowels of all who hear it, nay, all who come to hear it in thecourse of time. Turn, O miserable, hard-hearted animal, turn, I say, thosetimorous owl's eyes upon these of mine that are compared to radiant stars, andthou wilt see them weeping trickling streams and rills, and tracing furrows, tracks, and paths over the fair fields of my cheeks. Let it move thee, crafty, ill-conditioned monster, to see my blooming youth--still in its teens, for I am not yettwenty--wasting and withering away beneath the husk of a rude peasant wench;and if I do not appear in that shape now, it is a special favour Senor Merlin herehas granted me, to the sole end that my beauty may soften thee; for the tears ofbeauty in distress turn rocks into cotton and tigers into ewes. Lay on to that hideof thine, thou great untamed brute, rouse up thy lusty vigour that only urges theeto eat and eat, and set free the softness of my flesh, the gentleness of my nature, and the fairness of my face. And if thou wilt not relent or come to reason for me, do so for the sake of that poor knight thou hast beside thee; thy master I mean, whose soul I can this moment see, how he has it stuck in his throat not tenfingers from his lips, and only waiting for thy inflexible or yielding reply to makeits escape by his mouth or go back again into his stomach. "Don Quixote on hearing this felt his throat, and turning to the duke he said, "ByGod, senor, Dulcinea says true, I have my soul stuck here in my throat like thenut of a crossbow. ""What say you to this, Sancho?" said the duchess. "I say, senora, " returned Sancho, "what I said before; as for the lashes, abernuncio!""Abrenuncio, you should say, Sancho, and not as you do, " said the duke. "Let me alone, your highness, " said Sancho. "I'm not in a humour now to lookinto niceties or a letter more or less, for these lashes that are to be given me, orI'm to give myself, have so upset me, that I don't know what I'm saying or doing. But I'd like to know of this lady, my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, where she learnedthis way she has of asking favours. She comes to ask me to score my flesh withlashes, and she calls me soul of a pitcher, and great untamed brute, and a stringof foul names that the devil is welcome to. Is my flesh brass? or is it anything tome whether she is enchanted or not? Does she bring with her a basket of fairlinen, shirts, kerchiefs, socks--not that wear any--to coax me? No, nothing butone piece of abuse after another, though she knows the proverb they have herethat 'an ass loaded with gold goes lightly up a mountain, ' and that 'gifts breakrocks, ' and 'praying to God and plying the hammer, ' and that 'one "take" is betterthan two "I'll give thee's. "' Then there's my master, who ought to stroke me downand pet me to make me turn wool and carded cotton; he says if he gets hold of mehe'll tie me naked to a tree and double the tale of lashes on me. These tender-hearted gentry should consider that it's not merely a squire, but a governor theyare asking to whip himself; just as if it was 'drink with cherries. ' Let them learn, plague take them, the right way to ask, and beg, and behave themselves; for alltimes are not alike, nor are people always in good humour. I'm now ready to burstwith grief at seeing my green coat torn, and they come to ask me to whip myselfof my own free will, I having as little fancy for it as for turning cacique. ""Well then, the fact is, friend Sancho, " said the duke, "that unless you becomesofter than a ripe fig, you shall not get hold of the government. It would be a nicething for me to send my islanders a cruel governor with flinty bowels, who won'tyield to the tears of afflicted damsels or to the prayers of wise, magisterial, ancient enchanters and sages. In short, Sancho, either you must be whipped byyourself, or they must whip you, or you shan't be governor. ""Senor, " said Sancho, "won't two days' grace be given me in which to considerwhat is best for me?""No, certainly not, " said Merlin; "here, this minute, and on the spot, the mattermust be settled; either Dulcinea will return to the cave of Montesinos and to herformer condition of peasant wench, or else in her present form shall be carried tothe Elysian fields, where she will remain waiting until the number of stripes iscompleted. ""Now then, Sancho!" said the duchess, "show courage, and gratitude for yourmaster Don Quixote's bread that you have eaten; we are all bound to oblige andplease him for his benevolent disposition and lofty chivalry. Consent to thiswhipping, my son; to the devil with the devil, and leave fear to milksops, for 'astout heart breaks bad luck, ' as you very well know. "To this Sancho replied with an irrelevant remark, which, addressing Merlin, hemade to him, "Will your worship tell me, Senor Merlin--when that courier devilcame up he gave my master a message from Senor Montesinos, charging him towait for him here, as he was coming to arrange how the lady Dona Dulcinea delToboso was to be disenchanted; but up to the present we have not seenMontesinos, nor anything like him. "To which Merlin made answer, "The devil, Sancho, is a blockhead and a greatscoundrel; I sent him to look for your master, but not with a message fromMontesinos but from myself; for Montesinos is in his cave expecting, or moreproperly speaking, waiting for his disenchantment; for there's the tail to beskinned yet for him; if he owes you anything, or you have any business to transactwith him, I'll bring him to you and put him where you choose; but for the presentmake up your mind to consent to this penance, and believe me it will be verygood for you, for soul as well for body--for your soul because of the charity withwhich you perform it, for your body because I know that you are of a sanguinehabit and it will do you no harm to draw a little blood. ""There are a great many doctors in the world; even the enchanters are doctors, "said Sancho; "however, as everybody tells me the same thing--though I can't see itmyself--I say I am willing to give myself the three thousand three hundred lashes, provided I am to lay them on whenever I like, without any fixing of days or times;and I'll try and get out of debt as quickly as I can, that the world may enjoy thebeauty of the lady Dulcinea del Toboso; as it seems, contrary to what I thought, that she is beautiful after all. It must be a condition, too, that I am not to bebound to draw blood with the scourge, and that if any of the lashes happen to befly-flappers they are to count. Item, that, in case I should make any mistake in thereckoning, Senor Merlin, as he knows everything, is to keep count, and let meknow how many are still wanting or over the number. ""There will be no need to let you know of any over, " said Merlin, "because, when you reach the full number, the lady Dulcinea will at once, and that veryinstant, be disenchanted, and will come in her gratitude to seek out the worthySancho, and thank him, and even reward him for the good work. So you have nocause to be uneasy about stripes too many or too few; heaven forbid I shouldcheat anyone of even a hair of his head. ""Well then, in God's hands be it, " said Sancho; "in the hard case I'm in I give in;I say I accept the penance on the conditions laid down. "The instant Sancho uttered these last words the music of the clarions struck uponce more, and again a host of muskets were discharged, and Don Quixote hungon Sancho's neck kissing him again and again on the forehead and cheeks. Theduchess and the duke expressed the greatest satisfaction, the car began to moveon, and as it passed the fair Dulcinea bowed to the duke and duchess and made alow curtsey to Sancho. And now bright smiling dawn came on apace; the flowers of the field, revived, raised up their heads, and the crystal waters of the brooks, murmuring over thegrey and white pebbles, hastened to pay their tribute to the expectant rivers; theglad earth, the unclouded sky, the fresh breeze, the clear light, each and allshowed that the day that came treading on the skirts of morning would be calmand bright. The duke and duchess, pleased with their hunt and at having carriedout their plans so cleverly and successfully, returned to their castle resolved tofollow up their joke; for to them there was no reality that could afford them moreamusement. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 30Chapters 36-43Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XXXVI. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE AND UNDREAMT-OFADVENTURE OF THE DISTRESSED DUENNA, ALIAS THECOUNTESS TRIFALDI, TOGETHER WITH A LETTER WHICHSANCHO PANZA WROTE TO HIS WIFE, TERESA PANZAThe duke had a majordomo of a very facetious and sportive turn, and he it wasthat played the part of Merlin, made all the arrangements for the late adventure, composed the verses, and got a page to represent Dulcinea; and now, with theassistance of his master and mistress, he got up another of the drollest andstrangest contrivances that can be imagined. The duchess asked Sancho the next day if he had made a beginning with hispenance task which he had to perform for the disenchantment of Dulcinea. Hesaid he had, and had given himself five lashes overnight. The duchess asked him what he had given them with. He said with his hand. "That, " said the duchess, "is more like giving oneself slaps than lashes; I am surethe sage Merlin will not be satisfied with such tenderness; worthy Sancho mustmake a scourge with claws, or a cat-o'-nine tails, that will make itself felt; for it'swith blood that letters enter, and the release of so great a lady as Dulcinea willnot be granted so cheaply, or at such a paltry price; and remember, Sancho, thatworks of charity done in a lukewarm and half-hearted way are without merit andof no avail. "To which Sancho replied, "If your ladyship will give me a proper scourge orcord, I'll lay on with it, provided it does not hurt too much; for you must know, boor as I am, my flesh is more cotton than hemp, and it won't do for me todestroy myself for the good of anybody else. ""So be it by all means, " said the duchess; "tomorrow I'll give you a scourge thatwill be just the thing for you, and will accommodate itself to the tenderness ofyour flesh, as if it was its own sister. "Then said Sancho, "Your highness must know, dear lady of my soul, that I havea letter written to my wife, Teresa Panza, giving her an account of all that hashappened me since I left her; I have it here in my bosom, and there's nothingwanting but to put the address to it; I'd be glad if your discretion would read it, for I think it runs in the governor style; I mean the way governors ought to write. ""And who dictated it?" asked the duchess. "Who should have dictated but myself, sinner as I am?" said Sancho. "And did you write it yourself?" said the duchess. "That I didn't, " said Sancho; "for I can neither read nor write, though I can signmy name. ""Let us see it, " said the duchess, "for never fear but you display in it the qualityand quantity of your wit. "Sancho drew out an open letter from his bosom, and the duchess, taking it, found it ran in this fashion:SANCHO PANZA'S LETTER TO HIS WIFE, TERESAPANZAIf I was well whipped I went mounted like a gentleman; ifI have got a good government it is at the cost of a goodwhipping. Thou wilt not understand this just now, myTeresa; by-and-by thou wilt know what it means. I may tellthee, Teresa, I mean thee to go in a coach, for that is amatter of importance, because every other way of going isgoing on all-fours. Thou art a governor's wife; take care thatnobody speaks evil of thee behind thy back. I send thee herea green hunting suit that my lady the duchess gave me; alterit so as to make a petticoat and bodice for our daughter. DonQuixote, my master, if I am to believe

what I hear in theseparts, is a madman of some sense, and a droll blockhead, and I am no way behind him. We have been in the cave ofMontesinos, and the sage Merlin has laid hold of me for thedisenchantment of Dulcinea del Toboso, her that is calledAldonza Lorenzo over there. With three thousand threehundred lashes, less five, that I'm to give myself, she will beleft as entirely disenchanted as the mother that bore her. Saynothing of this to anyone; for, make thy affairs public, andsome will say they are white and others will say they areblack. I shall leave this in a few days for my government, towhich I am going with a mighty great desire to make money, for they tell me all new governors set out with the samedesire; I will feel the pulse of it and will let thee know ifthou art to come and live with me or not. Dapple is well andsends many remembrances to thee; I am not going to leavehim behind though they took me away to be Grand Turk. Mylady the duchess kisses thy hands a thousand times; do thoumake a return with two thousand, for as my master says, nothing costs less or is cheaper than civility. God has notbeen pleased to provide another valise for me with anotherhundred crowns, like the one the other day; but never mind, my Teresa, the bell-ringer is in safe quarters, and all willcome out in the scouring of the government; only it troublesme greatly what they tell me--that once I have tasted it Iwill eat my hands off after it; and if that is so it will notcome very cheap to me; though to be sure the maimed havea benefice of their own in the alms they beg for; so that oneway or another thou wilt be rich and in luck. God give it tothee as he can, and keep me to serve thee. From this castle, the 20th of July, 1614. Thy husband, the governor. SANCHO PANZAWhen she had done reading the letter the duchess said to Sancho, "On twopoints the worthy governor goes rather astray; one is in saying or hinting that thisgovernment has been bestowed upon him for the lashes that he is to give himself, when he knows (and he cannot deny it) that when my lord the duke promised itto him nobody ever dreamt of such a thing as lashes; the other is that he showshimself here to be very covetous; and I would not have him a money-seeker, for'covetousness bursts the bag, ' and the covetous governor does ungoverned justice. ""I don't mean it that way, senora, " said Sancho; "and if you think the letterdoesn't run as it ought to do, it's only to tear it up and make another; and maybeit will be a worse one if it is left to my gumption. ""No, no, " said the duchess, "this one will do, and I wish the duke to see it. "With this they betook themselves to a garden where they were to dine, and theduchess showed Sancho's letter to the duke, who was highly delighted with it. They dined, and after the cloth had been removed and they had amusedthemselves for a while with Sancho's rich conversation, the melancholy sound of afife and harsh discordant drum made itself heard. All seemed somewhat put outby this dull, confused, martial harmony, especially Don Quixote, who could notkeep his seat from pure disquietude; as to Sancho, it is needless to say that feardrove him to his usual refuge, the side or the skirts of the duchess; and indeedand in truth the sound they heard was a most doleful and melancholy one. Whilethey were still in uncertainty they saw advancing towards them through thegarden two men clad in mourning robes so long and flowing that they trailed uponthe ground. As they marched they beat two great drums which were likewisedraped in black, and beside them came the fife player, black and sombre like theothers. Following these came a personage of gigantic stature enveloped rather thanclad in a gown of the deepest black, the skirt of which was of prodigiousdimensions. Over the gown, girdling or crossing his figure, he had a broad baldricwhich was also black, and from which hung a huge scimitar with a black scabbardand furniture. He had his face covered with a transparent black veil, throughwhich might be descried a very long beard as white as snow. He came on keepingstep to the sound of the drums with great gravity and dignity; and, in short, hisstature, his gait, the sombreness of his appearance and his following might wellhave struck with astonishment, as they did, all who beheld him without knowingwho he was. With this measured pace and in this guise he advanced to kneelbefore the duke, who, with the others, awaited him standing. The duke, however, would not on any account allow him to speak until he had risen. The prodigiousscarecrow obeyed, and standing up, removed the veil from his face and disclosedthe most enormous, the longest, the whitest and the thickest beard that humaneyes had ever beheld until that moment, and then fetching up a grave, sonorousvoice from the depths of his broad, capacious chest, and fixing his eyes on theduke, he said:"Most high and mighty senor, my name is Trifaldin of the White Beard; I amsquire to the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise called the Distressed Duenna, on whosebehalf I bear a message to your highness, which is that your magnificence will bepleased to grant her leave and permission to come and tell you her trouble, whichis one of the strangest and most wonderful that the mind most familiar withtrouble in the world could have imagined; but first she desires to know if thevaliant and never vanquished knight, Don Quixote of La Mancha, is in this yourcastle, for she has come in quest of him on foot and without breaking her fastfrom the kingdom of Kandy to your realms here; a thing which may and ought tobe regarded as a miracle or set down to enchantment; she is even now at the gateof this fortress or plaisance, and only waits for your permission to enter. I havespoken. " And with that he coughed, and stroked down his beard with both hishands, and stood very tranquilly waiting for the response of the duke, which wasto this effect: "Many days ago, worthy squire Trifaldin of the White Beard, weheard of the misfortune of my lady the Countess Trifaldi, whom the enchantershave caused to be called the Distressed Duenna. Bid her enter, O stupendoussquire, and tell her that the valiant knight Don Quixote of La Mancha is here, andfrom his generous disposition she may safely promise herself every protection andassistance; and you may tell her, too, that if my aid be necessary it will not bewithheld, for I am bound to give it to her by my quality of knight, which involvesthe protection of women of all sorts, especially widowed, wronged, and distresseddames, such as her ladyship seems to be. "On hearing this Trifaldin bent the knee to the ground, and making a sign to thefifer and drummers to strike up, he turned and marched out of the garden to thesame notes and at the same pace as when he entered, leaving them all amazed athis bearing and solemnity. Turning to Don Quixote, the duke said, "After all, renowned knight, the mists of malice and ignorance are unable to hide or obscurethe light of valour and virtue. I say so, because your excellence has been barely sixdays in this castle, and already the unhappy and the afflicted come in quest ofyou from lands far distant and remote, and not in coaches or on dromedaries, buton foot and fasting, confident that in that mighty arm they will find a cure fortheir sorrows and troubles; thanks to your great achievements, which arecirculated all over the known earth. ""I wish, senor duke, " replied Don Quixote, "that blessed ecclesiastic, who attable the other day showed such ill-will and bitter spite against knights-errant, were here now to see with his own eyes whether knights of the sort are needed inthe world; he would at any rate learn by experience that those suffering anyextraordinary affliction or sorrow, in extreme cases and unusual misfortunes donot go to look for a remedy to the houses of jurists or village sacristans, or to theknight who has never attempted to pass the bounds of his own town, or to theindolent courtier who only seeks for news to repeat and talk of, instead of strivingto do deeds and exploits for others to relate and record. Relief in distress, help inneed, protection for damsels, consolation for widows, are to be found in no sort ofpersons better than in knights-errant; and I give unceasing thanks to heaven that Iam one, and regard any misfortune or suffering that may befall me in the pursuitof so honourable a calling as endured to good purpose. Let this duenna come andask what she will, for I will effect her relief by the might of my arm and thedauntless resolution of my bold heart. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXVII. WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE NOTABLE ADVENTURE OF THEDISTRESSED DUENNAThe duke and duchess were extremely glad to see how readily Don Quixote fellin with their scheme; but at this moment Sancho observed, "I hope this senoraduenna won't be putting any difficulties in the way of the promise of mygovernment; for I have heard a Toledo apothecary, who talked like a goldfinch, say that where duennas were mixed up nothing good could happen. God bless me, how he hated them, that same apothecary! And so what I'm thinking is, if allduennas, of whatever sort or condition they may be, are plagues and busybodies, what must they be that are distressed, like this Countess Three-skirts or Three-tails!--for in my country skirts or tails, tails or skirts, it's all one. ""Hush, friend Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "since this lady duenna comes inquest of me from such a distant land she cannot be one of those the apothecarymeant; moreover this is a countess, and when countesses serve as duennas it is inthe service of queens and empresses, for in their own houses they are mistressesparamount and have other duennas to wait on them. "To this Dona Rodriguez, who was present, made answer, "My lady the duchesshas duennas in her service that might be countesses if it was the will of fortune;'but laws go as kings like;' let nobody speak ill of duennas, above all of ancientmaiden ones; for though I am not one myself, I know and am aware of theadvantage a maiden duenna has over one that is a widow; but 'he who clipped ushas kept the scissors. '""For all that, " said Sancho, "there's so much to be clipped about duennas, so mybarber said, that 'it will be better not to stir the rice even though it sticks. '""These squires, " returned Dona Rodriguez, "are always our enemies; and as theyare the haunting spirits of the antechambers and watch us at every step, wheneverthey are not saying their prayers (and that's often enough) they spend their time intattling about us, digging up our bones and burying our good name. But I can tellthese walking blocks that we will live in spite of them, and in great houses too, though we die of hunger and cover our flesh, be it delicate or not, with widow'sweeds, as one covers or hides a dunghill on a procession day. By my faith, if itwere permitted me and time allowed, I could prove, not only to those herepresent, but to all the world, that there is no virtue that is not to be found in aduenna. ""I have no doubt, " said the duchess, "that my good Dona Rodriguez is right, andvery much so; but she had better bide her time for fighting her own battle andthat of the rest of the duennas, so as to crush the calumny of that vile apothecary, and root out the prejudice in the great Sancho Panza's mind. "To which Sancho replied, "Ever since I have sniffed the governorship I have gotrid of the humours of a squire, and I don't care a wild fig for all the duennas inthe world. "They would have carried on this duenna dispute further had they not heard thenotes of the fife and drums once more, from which they concluded that theDistressed Duenna was making her entrance. The duchess asked the duke if itwould be proper to go out to receive her, as she was a countess and a person ofrank. "In respect of her being a countess, " said Sancho, before the duke could reply, "Iam for your highnesses going out to receive her; but in respect of her being aduenna, it is my opinion you should not stir a step. ""Who bade thee meddle in this, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Who, senor?" said Sancho; "I meddle for I have a right to meddle, as a squirewho has learned the rules of courtesy in the school of your worship, the mostcourteous and best-bred knight in the whole world of courtliness; and in thesethings, as I have heard your worship say, as much is lost by a card too many asby a card too few, and to one who has his ears open, few words. ""Sancho is right, " said the duke; "we'll see what the countess is like, and by thatmeasure the courtesy that is due to her. "And now the drums and fife made their entrance as before; and here the authorbrought this short chapter to an end and began the next, following up the sameadventure, which is one of the most notable in the history. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XXXVIII. WHEREIN IS TOLD THE DISTRESSED DUENNA'S TALE OF HERMISFORTUNESFollowing the melancholy musicians there filed into the garden as many astwelve duennas, in two lines, all dressed in ample mourning robes apparently ofmilled serge, with hoods of fine white gauze so long that they allowed only theborder of the robe to be seen. Behind them came the Countess Trifaldi, the squireTrifaldin of the White Beard leading her by the hand, clad in the finest unnappedblack baize, such that, had it a nap, every tuft would have shown as big as aMartos chickpea; the tail, or skirt, or whatever it might be called, ended in threepoints which were borne up by the hands of three pages, likewise dressed inmourning, forming an elegant geometrical figure with the three acute angles madeby the three points, from which all who saw the peaked skirt concluded that itmust be because of it the countess was called Trifaldi, as though it were Countessof the Three Skirts; and Benengeli says it was so, and that by her right name shewas called the Countess Lobuna, because wolves bred in great numbers in hercountry; and if, instead of wolves, they had been foxes, she would have beencalled the Countess Zorruna, as it was the custom in those parts for lords to takedistinctive titles from the thing or things most abundant in their dominions; thiscountess, however, in honour of the new fashion of her skirt, dropped Lobuna andtook up Trifaldi. The twelve duennas and the lady came on at procession pace, their faces beingcovered with black veils, not transparent ones like Trifaldin's, but so close thatthey allowed nothing to be seen through them. As soon as the band of duennaswas fully in sight, the duke, the duchess, and Don Quixote stood up, as well as allwho were watching the slow-moving procession. The twelve duennas halted andformed a lane, along which the Distressed One advanced, Trifaldin still holdingher hand. On seeing this the duke, the duchess, and Don Quixote went sometwelve paces forward to meet her. She then, kneeling on the ground, said in avoice hoarse and rough, rather than fine and delicate, "May it please yourhighnesses not to offer such courtesies to this your servant, I should say to thisyour handmaid, for I am in such distress that I shall never be able to make aproper return, because my strange and unparalleled misfortune has carried off mywits, and I know not whither; but it must be a long way off, for the more I lookfor them the less I find them. ""He would be wanting in wits, senora countess, " said the duke, "who did notperceive your worth by your person, for at a glance it may be seen it deserves allthe cream of courtesy and flower of polite usage;" and raising her up by the handhe led her to a seat beside the duchess, who likewise received her with greaturbanity. Don Quixote remained silent, while Sancho was dying to see thefeatures of Trifaldi and one or two of her many duennas; but there was nopossibility of it until they themselves displayed them of their own accord and freewill. All kept still, waiting to see who would break silence, which the DistressedDuenna did in these words: "I am confident, most mighty lord, most fair lady, andmost discreet company, that my most miserable misery will be accorded areception no less dispassionate than generous and condolent in your most valiantbosoms, for it is one that is enough to melt marble, soften diamonds, and mollifythe steel of the most hardened hearts in the world; but ere it is proclaimed to yourhearing, not to say your ears, I would fain be enlightened whether there bepresent in this society, circle, or company, that knight immaculatissimus, DonQuixote de la Manchissima, and his squirissimus Panza. ""The Panza is here, " said Sancho, before anyone could reply, "and DonQuixotissimus too; and so, most distressedest Duenissima, you may say what youwillissimus, for we are all readissimus to do you any servissimus. "On this Don Quixote rose, and addressing the Distressed Duenna, said, "If yoursorrows, afflicted lady, can indulge in any hope of relief from the valour or mightof any knight-errant, here are mine, which, feeble and limited though they be, shall be entirely devoted to your service. I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, whosecalling it is to give aid to the needy of all sorts; and that being so, it is notnecessary for you, senora, to make any appeal to benevolence, or deal inpreambles, only to tell your woes plainly and straightforwardly: for you havehearers that will know how, if not to remedy them, to sympathise with them. "On hearing this, the Distressed Duenna made as though she would throwherself at Don Quixote's feet, and actually did fall before them and said, as shestrove to embrace them, "Before these feet and legs I cast myself, O unconqueredknight, as before, what they are, the foundations and pillars of knight-errantry;these feet I desire to kiss, for upon their steps hangs and depends the sole remedyfor my misfortune, O valorous errant, whose veritable achievements leave behindand eclipse the fabulous ones of the Amadises, Esplandians, and Belianises!" Thenturning from Don Quixote to Sancho Panza, and grasping his hands, she said, "Othou, most loyal squire that ever served knight-errant in this present age or agespast, whose goodness is more extensive than the beard of Trifaldin my companionhere of present, well mayest thou boast thyself that, in serving the great DonQuixote, thou art serving, summed up in one, the whole host of knights that haveever borne arms in the world. I conjure thee, by what thou owest to thy mostloyal goodness, that thou wilt become my kind intercessor with thy master, thathe speedily give aid to this most humble and most unfortunate countess. "To this Sancho made answer, "As to my goodness, senora, being as long and asgreat as your squire's beard, it matters very little to me; may I have my soul wellbearded and moustached when it comes to quit this life, that's the point; aboutbeards here below I care little or nothing; but without all these blandishments andprayers, I will beg my master (for I know he loves me, and, besides, he has needof me just now for a certain business) to help and aid your worship as far as hecan; unpack your woes and lay them before us, and leave us to deal with them, for we'll be all of one mind. "The duke and duchess, as it was they who had made the experiment of thisadventure, were ready to burst with laughter at all this, and between themselvesthey commended the clever acting of the Trifaldi, who, returning to her seat, said, "Queen Dona Maguncia reigned over the famous kingdom of Kandy, which liesbetween the great Trapobana and the Southern Sea, two leagues beyond CapeComorin. She was the widow of King Archipiela, her lord and husband, and oftheir marriage they had issue the Princess Antonomasia, heiress of the kingdom;which Princess Antonomasia was reared and brought up under my care anddirection, I being the oldest and highest in rank of her mother's duennas. Timepassed, and the young Antonomasia reached the age of fourteen, and such aperfection of beauty, that nature could not raise it higher. Then, it must not besupposed her intelligence was childish; she was as intelligent as she was fair, andshe was fairer than all the world; and is so still, unless the envious fates and hard-hearted sisters three have cut for her the thread of life. But that they have not, forHeaven will not suffer so great a wrong to Earth, as it would be to pluck unripethe grapes of the fairest vineyard on its surface. Of this beauty, to which my poorfeeble tongue has failed to do justice, countless princes, not only of that country, but of others, were enamoured, and among them a private gentleman, who was atthe court, dared to raise his thoughts to the heaven of so great beauty, trusting tohis youth, his gallant bearing, his numerous accomplishments and graces, and hisquickness and readiness of wit; for I may tell your highnesses, if I am notwearying you, that he played the guitar so as to make it speak, and he was, besides, a poet and a great dancer, and he could make birdcages so well, that bymaking them alone he might have gained a livelihood, had he found himselfreduced to utter poverty; and gifts and graces of this kind are enough to bringdown a mountain, not to say a tender young girl. But all his gallantry, wit, andgaiety, all his graces and accomplishments, would have been of little or no availtowards gaining the fortress of my pupil, had not the impudent thief taken theprecaution of gaining me over first. First, the villain and heartless vagabondsought to win my good-will and purchase my compliance, so as to get me, like atreacherous warder, to deliver up to him the keys of the fortress I had in charge. In a word, he gained an influence over my mind, and overcame my resolutionswith I know not what trinkets and jewels he gave me; but it was some verses Iheard him singing one night from a grating that opened on the street where helived, that, more than anything else, made me give way and led to my fall; and if Iremember rightly they ran thus:From that sweet enemy of mineMy bleeding heart hath had its wound;And to increase the pain I'm boundTo suffer and to make no sign. The lines seemed pearls to me and his voice sweet as syrup; and afterwards, Imay say ever since then, looking at the misfortune into which I have fallen, I havethought that poets, as Plato advised, ought to be banished from all well-orderedStates; at least the amatory ones, for they write verses, not like those of 'TheMarquis of Mantua, ' that delight and draw tears from the women and children, but sharp-pointed conceits that pierce the heart like soft thorns, and like thelightning strike it, leaving the raiment uninjured. Another time he sang:Come Death, so subtly veiled that IThy coming know not, how or when, Lest it should give me life againTo find how sweet it is to die. -and other verses and burdens of the same sort, such as enchant when sung andfascinate when written. And then, when they condescend to compose a sort ofverse that was at that time in vogue in Kandy, which they call seguidillas! Then itis that hearts leap and laughter breaks forth, and the body grows restless and allthe senses turn quicksilver. And so I say, sirs, that these troubadours richlydeserve to be banished to the isles of the lizards. Though it is not they that are infault, but the simpletons that extol them, and the fools that believe in them; andhad I been the faithful duenna I should have been, his stale conceits would havenever moved me, nor should I have been taken in by such phrases as 'in death Ilive, ' 'in ice I burn, ' 'in flames I shiver, ' 'hopeless I hope, ' 'I go and stay, ' andparadoxes of that sort which their writings are full of. And then when theypromise the Phoenix of Arabia, the crown of Ariadne, the horses of the Sun, thepearls of the South, the gold of Tibar, and the balsam of Panchaia! Then it is theygive a loose to their pens, for it costs them little to make promises they have nointention or power of fulfilling. But where am I wandering to? Woe is me, unfortunate being! What madness or folly leads me to speak of the faults ofothers, when there is so much to be said about my own? Again, woe is me, hapless that I am! it was not verses that conquered me, but my own simplicity; itwas not music made me yield, but my own imprudence; my own great ignoranceand little caution opened the way and cleared the path for Don Clavijo's advances, for that was the name of the gentleman I have referred to; and so, with my helpas go-between, he found his way many a time into the chamber of the deceivedAntonomasia (deceived not by him but by me) under the title of a lawful husband;for, sinner though I was, would not have allowed him to approach the edge of hershoe-sole without being her husband. No, no, not that; marriage must come firstin any business of this sort that I take in hand. But there was one hitch in thiscase, which was that of inequality of rank, Don Clavijo being a private gentleman, and the Princess Antonomasia, as I said, heiress to the kingdom. Theentanglement remained for some time a secret, kept hidden by my cunningprecautions, until I perceived that a certain expansion of waist in Antonomasiamust before long disclose it, the dread of which made us all there take counseltogether, and it was agreed that before the mischief came to light, Don Clavijoshould demand Antonomasia as his wife before the Vicar, in virtue of anagreement to marry him made by the princess, and drafted by my wit in suchbinding terms that the might of Samson could not have broken it. The necessarysteps were taken; the Vicar saw the agreement, and took the lady's confession; sheconfessed everything in full, and he ordered her into the custody of a very worthyalguacil of the court. ""Are there alguacils of the court in Kandy, too, " said Sancho at this, "and poets, and seguidillas? I swear I think the world is the same all over! But make haste, Senora Trifaldi; for it is late, and I am dying to know the end of this long story. ""I will, " replied the countess. CHAPTER XXXIX. IN WHICH THE TRIFALDI CONTINUES HER MARVELLOUS ANDMEMORABLE STORYBy every word that Sancho uttered, the duchess was as much delighted as DonQuixote was driven to desperation. He bade him hold his tongue, and theDistressed One went on to say: "At length, after much questioning and answering, as the princess held to her story, without changing or varying her previousdeclaration, the Vicar gave his decision in favour of Don Clavijo, and she wasdelivered over to him as his lawful wife; which the Queen Dona Maguncia, thePrincess Antonomasia's mother, so took to heart, that within the space of threedays we buried her. ""She died, no doubt, " said Sancho. "Of course, " said Trifaldin; "they don't bury living people in Kandy, only thedead. ""Senor Squire, " said Sancho, "a man in a swoon has been known to be buriedbefore now, in the belief that he was dead; and it struck me that Queen Magunciaought to have swooned rather than died; because with life a great many thingscome right, and the princess's folly was not so great that she need feel it sokeenly. If the lady had married some page of hers, or some other servant of thehouse, as many another has done, so I have heard say, then the mischief wouldhave been past curing. But to marry such an elegant accomplished gentleman ashas been just now described to us--indeed, indeed, though it was a folly, it wasnot such a great one as you think; for according to the rules of my master here--and he won't allow me to lie--as of men of letters bishops are made, so ofgentlemen knights, specially if they be errant, kings and emperors may be made. ""Thou art right, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for with a knight-errant, if he hasbut two fingers' breadth of good fortune, it is on the cards to become themightiest lord on earth. But let senora the Distressed One proceed; for I suspectshe has got yet to tell us the bitter part of this so far sweet story. ""The bitter is indeed to come, " said the countess; "and such bitter that colocynthis sweet and oleander toothsome in comparison. The queen, then, being dead, andnot in a swoon, we buried her; and hardly had we covered her with earth, hardlyhad we said our last farewells, when, quis talia fando temperet a lachrymis? overthe queen's grave there appeared, mounted upon a wooden horse, the giantMalambruno, Maguncia's first cousin, who besides being cruel is an enchanter;and he, to revenge the death of his cousin, punish the audacity of Don Clavijo, and in wrath at the contumacy of Antonomasia, left them both enchanted by hisart on the grave itself; she being changed into an ape of brass, and he into ahorrible crocodile of some unknown metal; while between the two there stands apillar, also of metal, with certain characters in the Syriac language inscribed uponit, which, being translated into Kandian, and now into Castilian, contain thefollowing sentence: 'These two rash lovers shall not recover their former shapeuntil the valiant Manchegan comes to do battle with me in single combat; for theFates reserve this unexampled adventure for his mighty valour alone. ' This done, he drew from its sheath a huge broad scimitar, and seizing me by the hair hemade as though he meant to cut my throat and shear my head clean off. I wasterror-stricken, my voice stuck in my throat, and I was in the deepest distress;nevertheless I summoned up my strength as well as I could, and in a tremblingand piteous voice I addressed such words to him as induced him to stay theinfliction of a punishment so severe. He then caused all the duennas of the palace, those that are here present, to be brought before him; and after having dweltupon the enormity of our offence, and denounced duennas, their characters, theirevil ways and worse intrigues, laying to the charge of all what I alone was guiltyof, he said he would not visit us with capital punishment, but with others of aslow nature which would be in effect civil death for ever; and the very instant heceased speaking we all felt the pores of our faces opening, and pricking us, as ifwith the points of needles. We at once put our hands up to our faces and foundourselves in the state you now see. "Here the Distressed One and the other duennas raised the veils with which theywere covered, and disclosed countenances all bristling with beards, some red, some black, some white, and some grizzled, at which spectacle the duke andduchess made a show of being filled with wonder. Don Quixote and Sancho wereoverwhelmed with amazement, and the bystanders lost in astonishment, while theTrifaldi went on to say: "Thus did that malevolent villain Malambruno punish us, covering the tenderness and softness of our faces with these rough bristles! Wouldto heaven that he had swept off our heads with his enormous scimitar instead ofobscuring the light of our countenances with these wool-combings that cover us!For if we look into the matter, sirs (and what I am now going to say I would saywith eyes flowing like fountains, only that the thought of our misfortune and theoceans they have already wept, keep them as dry as barley spears, and so I say itwithout tears), where, I ask, can a duenna with a beard to to? What father ormother will feel pity for her? Who will help her? For, if even when she has asmooth skin, and a face tortured by a thousand kinds of washes and cosmetics, she can hardly get anybody to love her, what will she do when she shows acountenace turned into a thicket? Oh duennas, companions mine! it was anunlucky moment when we were born and an ill-starred hour when our fathersbegot us!" And as she said this she showed signs of being about to faint. CHAPTER XL. OF MATTERS RELATING AND BELONGING TO THIS ADVENTUREAND TO THIS MEMORABLE HISTORYVerily and truly all those who find pleasure in histories like this ought showtheir gratitude to Cide Hamete, its original author, for the scrupulous care he hastaken to set before us all its minute particulars, not leaving anything, howevertrifling it may be, that he does not make clear and plain. He portrays thethoughts, he reveals the fancies, he answers implied questions, clears up doubts, sets objections at rest, and, in a word, makes plain the smallest points the mostinquisitive can desire to know. O renowned author! O happy Don Quixote! Ofamous famous droll Sancho! All and each, may ye live countless ages for thedelight and amusement of the dwellers on earth!The history goes on to say that when Sancho saw the Distressed One faint heexclaimed: "I swear by the faith of an honest man and the shades of all myancestors the Panzas, that never I did see or hear of, nor has my master related orconceived in his mind, such an adventure as this. A thousand devils--not to cursethee--take thee, Malambruno, for an enchanter and a giant! Couldst thou find noother sort of punishment for these sinners but bearding them? Would it not havebeen better--it would have been better for them--to have taken off half theirnoses from the middle upwards, even though they'd have snuffled when theyspoke, than to have put beards on them? I'll bet they have not the means ofpaying anybody to shave them. ""That is the truth, senor, " said one of the twelve; "we have not the money to getourselves shaved, and so we have, some of us, taken to using sticking-plasters byway of an economical remedy, for by applying them to our faces and pluckingthem off with a jerk we are left as bare and smooth as the bottom of a stonemortar. There are, to be sure, women in Kandy that go about from house to houseto remove down, and trim eyebrows, and make cosmetics for the use of thewomen, but we, the duennas of my lady, would never let them in, for most ofthem have a flavour of agents that have ceased to be principals; and if we are notrelieved by Senor Don Quixote we shall be carried to our graves with beards. ""I will pluck out my own in the land of the Moors, " said Don Quixote, "if I don'tcure yours. "At this instant the Trifaldi recovered from her swoon and said, "The chink ofthat promise, valiant knight, reached my ears in the midst of my swoon, and hasbeen the means of reviving me and bringing back my senses; and so once more Iimplore you, illustrious errant, indomitable sir, to let your gracious promises beturned into deeds. ""There shall be no delay on my part, " said Don Quixote. "Bethink you, senora, of what I must do, for my heart is most eager to serve you. ""The fact is, " replied the Distressed One, "it is five thousand leagues, a couplemore or less, from this to the kingdom of Kandy, if you go by land; but if you gothrough the air and in a straight line, it is three thousand two hundred andtwenty-seven. You must know, too, that Malambruno told me that, whenever fateprovided the knight our deliverer, he himself would send him a steed far betterand with less tricks than a post-horse; for he will be that same wooden horse onwhich the valiant Pierres carried off the fair Magalona; which said horse is guidedby a peg he has in his forehead that serves for a bridle, and flies through the airwith such rapidity that you would fancy the very devils were carrying him. Thishorse, according to ancient tradition, was made by Merlin. He lent him to Pierres, who was a friend of his, and who made long journeys with him, and, as has beensaid, carried off the fair Magalona, bearing her through the air on its haunchesand making all who beheld them from the earth gape with astonishment; and henever lent him save to those whom he loved or those who paid him well; andsince the great Pierres we know of no one having mounted him until now. Fromhim Malambruno stole him by his magic art, and he has him now in hispossession, and makes use of him in his journeys which he constantly makesthrough different parts of the world; he is here to-day, to-morrow in France, andthe next day in Potosi; and the best of it is the said horse neither eats nor sleepsnor wears out shoes, and goes at an ambling pace through the air without wings, so that he whom he has mounted upon him can carry a cup full of water in hishand without spilling a drop, so smoothly and easily does he go, for which reasonthe fair Magalona enjoyed riding him greatly. ""For going smoothly and easily, " said Sancho at this, "give me my Dapple, though he can't go through the air; but on the ground I'll back him against all theamblers in the world. "They all laughed, and the Distressed One continued: "And this same horse, if sobe that Malambruno is disposed to put an end to our sufferings, will be herebefore us ere the night shall have advanced half an hour; for he announced to methat the sign he would give me whereby I might know that I had found the knightI was in quest of, would be to send me the horse wherever he might be, speedilyand promptly. ""And how many is there room for on this horse?" asked Sancho. "Two, " said the Distressed One, "one in the saddle, and the other on the croup;and generally these two are knight and squire, when there is no damsel that'sbeing carried off. ""I'd like to know, Senora Distressed One, " said Sancho, "what is the name ofthis horse?""His name, " said the Distressed One, "is not the same as Bellerophon's horsethat was called Pegasus, or Alexander the Great's, called Bucephalus, or OrlandoFurioso's, the name of which was Brigliador, nor yet Bayard, the horse ofReinaldos of Montalvan, nor Frontino like Ruggiero's, nor Bootes or Peritoa, asthey say the horses of the sun were called, nor is he called Orelia, like the horseon which the unfortunate Rodrigo, the last king of the Goths, rode to the battlewhere he lost his life and his kingdom. ""I'll bet, " said Sancho, "that as they have given him none of these famous namesof well-known horses, no more have they given him the name of my master'sRocinante, which for being apt surpasses all that have been mentioned. ""That is true, " said the bearded countess, "still it fits him very well, for he iscalled Clavileno the Swift, which name is in accordance with his being made ofwood, with the peg he has in his forehead, and with the swift pace at which hetravels; and so, as far as name goes, he may compare with the famous Rocinante. ""I have nothing to say against his name, " said Sancho; "but with what sort ofbridle or halter is he managed?""I have said already, " said the Trifaldi, "that it is with a peg, by turning which toone side or the other the knight who rides him makes him go as he pleases, eitherthrough the upper air, or skimming and almost sweeping the earth, or else in thatmiddle course that is sought and followed in all well-regulated proceedings. ""I'd like to see him, " said Sancho; "but to fancy I'm going to mount him, either inthe saddle or on the croup, is to ask pears of the elm tree. A good joke indeed! Ican hardly keep my seat upon Dapple, and on a pack-saddle softer than silk itself, and here they'd have me hold on upon haunches of plank without pad or cushionof any sort! Gad, I have no notion of bruising myself to get rid of anyone's beard;let each one shave himself as best he can; I'm not going to accompany my masteron any such long journey; besides, I can't give any help to the shaving of thesebeards as I can to the disenchantment of my lady Dulcinea. ""Yes, you can, my friend, " replied the Trifaldi; "and so much, that without you, so I understand, we shall be able to do nothing. ""In the king's name!" exclaimed Sancho, "what have squires got to do with theadventures of their masters? Are they to have the fame of such as they gothrough, and we the labour? Body o' me! if the historians would only say, 'Suchand such a knight finished such and such an adventure, but with the help of soand so, his squire, without which it would have been impossible for him toaccomplish it;' but they write curtly, "Don Paralipomenon of the Three Starsaccomplished the adventure of the six monsters;' without mentioning such aperson as his squire, who was there all the time, just as if there was no suchbeing. Once more, sirs, I say my master may go alone, and much good may it dohim; and I'll stay here in the company of my lady the duchess; and maybe whenhe comes back, he will find the lady Dulcinea's affair ever so much advanced; for Imean in leisure hours, and at idle moments, to give myself a spell of whippingwithout so much as a hair to cover me. ""For all that you must go if it be necessary, my good Sancho, " said the duchess, "for they are worthy folk who ask you; and the faces of these ladies must notremain overgrown in this way because of your idle fears; that would be a hardcase indeed. ""In the king's name, once more!" said Sancho; "If this charitable work were to bedone

for the sake of damsels in confinement or charity-girls, a man might exposehimself to some hardships; but to bear it for the sake of stripping beards offduennas! Devil take it! I'd sooner see them all bearded, from the highest to thelowest, and from the most prudish to the most affected. ""You are very hard on duennas, Sancho my friend, " said the duchess; "youincline very much to the opinion of the Toledo apothecary. But indeed you arewrong; there are duennas in my house that may serve as patterns of duennas; andhere is my Dona Rodriguez, who will not allow me to say otherwise. ""Your excellence may say it if you like, " said the Rodriguez; "for God knows thetruth of everything; and whether we duennas are good or bad, bearded or smooth, we are our mothers' daughters like other women; and as God sent us into theworld, he knows why he did, and on his mercy I rely, and not on anybody'sbeard. ""Well, Senora Rodriguez, Senora Trifaldi, and present company, " said DonQuixote, "I trust in Heaven that it will look with kindly eyes upon your troubles, for Sancho will do as I bid him. Only let Clavileno come and let me find myselfface to face with Malambruno, and I am certain no razor will shave you moreeasily than my sword shall shave Malambruno's head off his shoulders; for 'Godbears with the wicked, but not for ever. ""Ah!" exclaimed the Distressed One at this, "may all the stars of the celestialregions look down upon your greatness with benign eyes, valiant knight, and shedevery prosperity and valour upon your heart, that it may be the shield andsafeguard of the abused and downtrodden race of duennas, detested byapothecaries, sneered at by squires, and made game of by pages. Ill betide thejade that in the flower of her youth would not sooner become a nun than aduenna! Unfortunate beings that we are, we duennas! Though we may bedescended in the direct male line from Hector of Troy himself, our mistressesnever fail to address us as 'you' if they think it makes queens of them. O giantMalambruno, though thou art an enchanter, thou art true to thy promises. Sendus now the peerless Clavileno, that our misfortune may be brought to an end; forif the hot weather sets in and these beards of ours are still there, alas for our lot!"The Trifaldi said this in such a pathetic way that she drew tears from the eyesof all and even Sancho's filled up; and he resolved in his heart to accompany hismaster to the uttermost ends of the earth, if so be the removal of the wool fromthose venerable countenances depended upon it. CHAPTER XLI. OF THE ARRIVAL OF CLAVILENO AND THE END OF THISPROTRACTED ADVENTUREAnd now night came, and with it the appointed time for the arrival of thefamous horse Clavileno, the non-appearance of which was already beginning tomake Don Quixote uneasy, for it struck him that, as Malambruno was so longabout sending it, either he himself was not the knight for whom the adventurewas reserved, or else Malambruno did not dare to meet him in single combat. Butlo! suddenly there came into the garden four wild-men all clad in green ivybearing on their shoulders a great wooden horse. They placed it on its feet on theground, and one of the wild-men said, "Let the knight who has heart for it mountthis machine. "Here Sancho exclaimed, "I don't mount, for neither have I the heart nor am I aknight. ""And let the squire, if he has one, " continued the wild-man, "take his seat on thecroup, and let him trust the valiant Malambruno; for by no sword save his, nor bythe malice of any other, shall he be assailed. It is but to turn this peg the horsehas in his neck, and he will bear them through the air to where Malambrunoawaits them; but lest the vast elevation of their course should make them giddy, their eyes must be covered until the horse neighs, which will be the sign of theirhaving completed their journey. "With these words, leaving Clavileno behind them, they retired with easy dignitythe way they came. As soon as the Distressed One saw the horse, almost in tearsshe exclaimed to Don Quixote, "Valiant knight, the promise of Malambruno hasproved trustworthy; the horse has come, our beards are growing, and by everyhair in them all of us implore thee to shave and shear us, as it is only mountinghim with thy squire and making a happy beginning with your new journey. ""That I will, Senora Countess Trifaldi, " said Don Quixote, "most gladly and withright goodwill, without stopping to take a cushion or put on my spurs, so as notto lose time, such is my desire to see you and all these duennas shaved clean. ""That I won't, " said Sancho, "with good-will or bad-will, or any way at all; and ifthis shaving can't be done without my mounting on the croup, my master hadbetter look out for another squire to go with him, and these ladies for some otherway of making their faces smooth; I'm no witch to have a taste for travellingthrough the air. What would my islanders say when they heard their governor wasgoing, strolling about on the winds? And another thing, as it is three thousandand odd leagues from this to Kandy, if the horse tires, or the giant takes huff, we'll be half a dozen years getting back, and there won't be isle or island in theworld that will know me: and so, as it is a common saying 'in delay there'sdanger, ' and 'when they offer thee a heifer run with a halter, ' these ladies' beardsmust excuse me; 'Saint Peter is very well in Rome;' I mean I am very well in thishouse where so much is made of me, and I hope for such a good thing from themaster as to see myself a governor. ""Friend Sancho, " said the duke at this, "the island that I have promised you isnot a moving one, or one that will run away; it has roots so deeply buried in thebowels of the earth that it will be no easy matter to pluck it up or shift it fromwhere it is; you know as well as I do that there is no sort of office of anyimportance that is not obtained by a bribe of some kind, great or small; well then, that which I look to receive for this government is that you go with your masterDon Quixote, and bring this memorable adventure to a conclusion; and whetheryou return on Clavileno as quickly as his speed seems to promise, or adversefortune brings you back on foot travelling as a pilgrim from hostel to hostel andfrom inn to inn, you will always find your island on your return where you left it, and your islanders with the same eagerness they have always had to receive youas their governor, and my good-will will remain the same; doubt not the truth ofthis, Senor Sancho, for that would be grievously wronging my disposition to serveyou. ""Say no more, senor, " said Sancho; "I am a poor squire and not equal to carryingso much courtesy; let my master mount; bandage my eyes and commit me toGod's care, and tell me if I may commend myself to our Lord or call upon theangels to protect me when we go towering up there. "To this the Trifaldi made answer, "Sancho, you may freely commend yourself toGod or whom you will; for Malambruno though an enchanter is a Christian, andworks his enchantments with great circumspection, taking very good care not tofall out with anyone. ""Well then, " said Sancho, "God and the most holy Trinity of Gaeta give mehelp!""Since the memorable adventure of the fulling mills, " said Don Quixote, "I havenever seen Sancho in such a fright as now; were I as superstitious as others hisabject fear would cause me some little trepidation of spirit. But come here, Sancho, for with the leave of these gentles I would say a word or two to thee inprivate;" and drawing Sancho aside among the trees of the garden and seizing bothhis hands he said, "Thou seest, brother Sancho, the long journey we have beforeus, and God knows when we shall return, or what leisure or opportunities thisbusiness will allow us; I wish thee therefore to retire now to thy chamber, asthough thou wert going to fetch something required for the road, and in a tricegive thyself if it be only five hundred lashes on account of the three thousandthree hundred to which thou art bound; it will be all to the good, and to make abeginning with a thing is to have it half finished. ""By God, " said Sancho, "but your worship must be out of your senses! This islike the common saying, 'You see me with child, and you want me a virgin. ' Justas I'm about to go sitting on a bare board, your worship would have me score mybackside! Indeed, your worship is not reasonable. Let us be off to shave theseduennas; and on our return I promise on my word to make such haste to wipe offall that's due as will satisfy your worship; I can't say more. ""Well, I will comfort myself with that promise, my good Sancho, " replied DonQuixote, "and I believe thou wilt keep it; for indeed though stupid thou artveracious. ""I'm not voracious, " said Sancho, "only peckish; but even if I was a little, still I'dkeep my word. "With this they went back to mount Clavileno, and as they were about to do soDon Quixote said, "Cover thine eyes, Sancho, and mount; for one who sends forus from lands so far distant cannot mean to deceive us for the sake of the paltryglory to be derived from deceiving persons who trust in him; though all shouldturn out the contrary of what I hope, no malice will be able to dim the glory ofhaving undertaken this exploit. ""Let us be off, senor, " said Sancho, "for I have taken the beards and tears ofthese ladies deeply to heart, and I shan't eat a bit to relish it until I have seenthem restored to their former smoothness. Mount, your worship, and blindfoldyourself, for if I am to go on the croup, it is plain the rider in the saddle mustmount first. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote, and, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he begged the Distressed One to bandage his eyes very carefully; but after havingthem bandaged he uncovered them again, saying, "If my memory does not deceiveme, I have read in Virgil of the Palladium of Troy, a wooden horse the Greeksoffered to the goddess Pallas, which was big with armed knights, who wereafterwards the destruction of Troy; so it would be as well to see, first of all, whatClavileno has in his stomach. ""There is no occasion, " said the Distressed One; "I will be bail for him, and Iknow that Malambruno has nothing tricky or treacherous about him; you maymount without any fear, Senor Don Quixote; on my head be it if any harm befallsyou. "Don Quixote thought that to say anything further with regard to his safetywould be putting his courage in an unfavourable light; and so, without morewords, he mounted Clavileno, and tried the peg, which turned easily; and as hehad no stirrups and his legs hung down, he looked like nothing so much as afigure in some Roman triumph painted or embroidered on a Flemish tapestry. Much against the grain, and very slowly, Sancho proceeded to mount, and, aftersettling himself as well as he could on the croup, found it rather hard, and not atall soft, and asked the duke if it would be possible to oblige him with a pad ofsome kind, or a cushion; even if it were off the couch of his lady the duchess, orthe bed of one of the pages; as the haunches of that horse were more like marblethan wood. On this the Trifaldi observed that Clavileno would not bear any kindof harness or trappings, and that his best plan would be to sit sideways like awoman, as in that way he would not feel the hardness so much. Sancho did so, and, bidding them farewell, allowed his eyes to be bandaged, but immediately afterwards uncovered them again, and looking tenderly andtearfully on those in the garden, bade them help him in his present strait withplenty of Paternosters and Ave Marias, that God might provide some one to say asmany for them, whenever they found themselves in a similar emergency. At this Don Quixote exclaimed, "Art thou on the gallows, thief, or at thy lastmoment, to use pitiful entreaties of that sort? Cowardly, spiritless creature, artthou not in the very place the fair Magalona occupied, and from which shedescended, not into the grave, but to become Queen of France; unless thehistories lie? And I who am here beside thee, may I not put myself on a par withthe valiant Pierres, who pressed this very spot that I now press? Cover thine eyes, cover thine eyes, abject animal, and let not thy fear escape thy lips, at least in mypresence. ""Blindfold me, " said Sancho; "as you won't let me commend myself or becommended to God, is it any wonder if I am afraid there is a region of devilsabout here that will carry us off to Peralvillo?"They were then blindfolded, and Don Quixote, finding himself settled to hissatisfaction, felt for the peg, and the instant he placed his fingers on it, all theduennas and all who stood by lifted up their voices exclaiming, "God guide thee, valiant knight! God be with thee, intrepid squire! Now, now ye go cleaving the airmore swiftly than an arrow! Now ye begin to amaze and astonish all who aregazing at you from the earth! Take care not to wobble about, valiant Sancho!Mind thou fall not, for thy fall will be worse than that rash youth's who tried tosteer the chariot of his father the Sun!"As Sancho heard the voices, clinging tightly to his master and winding his armsround him, he said, "Senor, how do they make out we are going up so high, iftheir voices reach us here and they seem to be speaking quite close to us?""Don't mind that, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "for as affairs of this sort, andflights like this are out of the common course of things, you can see and hear asmuch as you like a thousand leagues off; but don't squeeze me so tight or thouwilt upset me; and really I know not what thou hast to be uneasy or frightened at, for I can safely swear I never mounted a smoother-going steed all the days of mylife; one would fancy we never stirred from one place. Banish fear, my friend, forindeed everything is going as it ought, and we have the wind astern. ""That's true, " said Sancho, "for such a strong wind comes against me on thisside, that it seems as if people were blowing on me with a thousand pair ofbellows;" which was the case; they were puffing at him with a great pair ofbellows; for the whole adventure was so well planned by the duke, the duchess, and their majordomo, that nothing was omitted to make it perfectly successful. Don Quixote now, feeling the blast, said, "Beyond a doubt, Sancho, we musthave already reached the second region of the air, where the hail and snow aregenerated; the thunder, the lightning, and the thunderbolts are engendered in thethird region, and if we go on ascending at this rate, we shall shortly plunge intothe region of fire, and I know not how to regulate this peg, so as not to mount upwhere we shall be burned. "And now they began to warm their faces, from a distance, with tow that couldbe easily set on fire and extinguished again, fixed on the end of a cane. On feelingthe heat Sancho said, "May I die if we are not already in that fire place, or verynear it, for a good part of my beard has been singed, and I have a mind, senor, touncover and see whereabouts we are. ""Do nothing of the kind, " said Don Quixote; "remember the true story of thelicentiate Torralva that the devils carried flying through the air riding on a stickwith his eyes shut; who in twelve hours reached Rome and dismounted at Torre diNona, which is a street of the city, and saw the whole sack and storming and thedeath of Bourbon, and was back in Madrid the next morning, where he gave anaccount of all he had seen; and he said moreover that as he was going through theair, the devil bade him open his eyes, and he did so, and saw himself so near thebody of the moon, so it seemed to him, that he could have laid hold of it with hishand, and that he did not dare to look at the earth lest he should be seized withgiddiness. So that, Sancho, it will not do for us to uncover ourselves, for he whohas us in charge will be responsible for us; and perhaps we are gaining an altitudeand mounting up to enable us to descend at one swoop on the kingdom of Kandy, as the saker or falcon does on the heron, so as to seize it however high it maysoar; and though it seems to us not half an hour since we left the garden, believeme we must have travelled a great distance. ""I don't know how that may be, " said Sancho; "all I know is that if the SenoraMagallanes or Magalona was satisfied with this croup, she could not have beenvery tender of flesh. "The duke, the duchess, and all in the garden were listening to the conversationof the two heroes, and were beyond measure amused by it; and now, desirous ofputting a finishing touch to this rare and well-contrived adventure, they applied alight to Clavileno's tail with some tow, and the horse, being full of squibs andcrackers, immediately blew up with a prodigious noise, and brought Don Quixoteand Sancho Panza to the ground half singed. By this time the bearded band ofduennas, the Trifaldi and all, had vanished from the garden, and those thatremained lay stretched on the ground as if in a swoon. Don Quixote and Sanchogot up rather shaken, and, looking about them, were filled with amazement atfinding themselves in the same garden from which they had started, and seeingsuch a number of people stretched on the ground; and their astonishment wasincreased when at one side of the garden they perceived a tall lance planted in theground, and hanging from it by two cords of green silk a smooth white parchmenton which there was the following inscription in large gold letters: "The illustriousknight Don Quixote of La Mancha has, by merely attempting it, finished andconcluded the adventure of the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise called the DistressedDuenna; Malambruno is now satisfied on every point, the chins of the duennasare now smooth and clean, and King Don Clavijo and Queen Antonomasia in theiroriginal form; and when the squirely flagellation shall have been completed, thewhite dove shall find herself delivered from the pestiferous gerfalcons thatpersecute her, and in the arms of her beloved mate; for such is the decree of thesage Merlin, arch-enchanter of enchanters. "As soon as Don Quixote had read the inscription on the parchment he perceivedclearly that it referred to the disenchantment of Dulcinea, and returning heartythanks to heaven that he had with so little danger achieved so grand an exploit asto restore to their former complexion the countenances of those venerableduennas, he advanced towards the duke and duchess, who had not yet come tothemselves, and taking the duke by the hand he said, "Be of good cheer, worthysir, be of good cheer; it's nothing at all; the adventure is now over and withoutany harm done, as the inscription fixed on this post shows plainly. "The duke came to himself slowly and like one recovering consciousness after aheavy sleep, and the duchess and all who had fallen prostrate about the gardendid the same, with such demonstrations of wonder and amazement that theywould have almost persuaded one that what they pretended so adroitly in jest hadhappened to them in reality. The duke read the placard with half-shut eyes, andthen ran to embrace Don Quixote with-open arms, declaring him to be the bestknight that had ever been seen in any age. Sancho kept looking about for theDistressed One, to see what her face was like without the beard, and if she was asfair as her elegant person promised; but they told him that, the instant Clavilenodescended flaming through the air and came to the ground, the whole band ofduennas with the Trifaldi vanished, and that they were already shaved andwithout a stump left. The duchess asked Sancho how he had fared on that long journey, to whichSancho replied, "I felt, senora, that we were flying through the region of fire, asmy master told me, and I wanted to uncover my eyes for a bit; but my master, when I asked leave to uncover myself, would not let me; but as I have a little bitof curiosity about me, and a desire to know what is forbidden and kept from me, quietly and without anyone seeing me I drew aside the handkerchief covering myeyes ever so little, close to my nose, and from underneath looked towards theearth, and it seemed to me that it was altogether no bigger than a grain ofmustard seed, and that the men walking on it were little bigger than hazel nuts; soyou may see how high we must have got to then. "To this the duchess said, "Sancho, my friend, mind what you are saying; itseems you could not have seen the earth, but only the men walking on it; for ifthe earth looked to you like a grain of mustard seed, and each man like a hazelnut, one man alone would have covered the whole earth. ""That is true, " said Sancho, "but for all that I got a glimpse of a bit of one sideof it, and saw it all. ""Take care, Sancho, " said the duchess, "with a bit of one side one does not seethe whole of what one looks at. ""I don't understand that way of looking at things, " said Sancho; "I only knowthat your ladyship will do well to bear in mind that as we were flying byenchantment so I might have seen the whole earth and all the men byenchantment whatever way I looked; and if you won't believe this, no more willyou believe that, uncovering myself nearly to the eyebrows, I saw myself so closeto the sky that there was not a palm and a half between me and it; and byeverything that I can swear by, senora, it is mighty great! And it so happened wecame by where the seven goats are, and by God and upon my soul, as in myyouth I was a goatherd in my own country, as soon as I saw them I felt a longingto be among them for a little, and if I had not given way to it I think I'd haveburst. So I come and take, and what do I do? without saying anything to anybody, not even to my master, softly and quietly I got down from Clavileno and amusedmyself with the goats--which are like violets, like flowers--for nigh three-quartersof an hour; and Clavileno never stirred or moved from one spot. ""And while the good Sancho was amusing himself with the goats, " said theduke, "how did Senor Don Quixote amuse himself?"To which Don Quixote replied, "As all these things and such like occurrencesare out of the ordinary course of nature, it is no wonder that Sancho says what hedoes; for my own part I can only say that I did not uncover my eyes either aboveor below, nor did I see sky or earth or sea or shore. It is true I felt that I waspassing through the region of the air, and even that I touched that of fire; but thatwe passed farther I cannot believe; for the region of fire being between the heavenof the moon and the last region of the air, we could not have reached that heavenwhere the seven goats Sancho speaks of are without being burned; and as we werenot burned, either Sancho is lying or Sancho is dreaming. ""I am neither lying nor dreaming, " said Sancho; "only ask me the tokens of thosesame goats, and you'll see by that whether I'm telling the truth or not. ""Tell us them then, Sancho, " said the duchess. "Two of them, " said Sancho, "are green, two blood-red, two blue, and one amixture of all colours. ""An odd sort of goat, that, " said the duke; "in this earthly region of ours we haveno such colours; I mean goats of such colours. ""That's very plain, " said Sancho; "of course there must be a difference betweenthe goats of heaven and the goats of the earth. ""Tell me, Sancho, " said the duke, "did you see any he-goat among those goats?""No, senor, " said Sancho; "but I have heard say that none ever passed the hornsof the moon. "They did not care to ask him anything more about his journey, for they saw hewas in the vein to go rambling all over the heavens giving an account ofeverything that went on there, without having ever stirred from the garden. Such, in short, was the end of the adventure of the Distressed Duenna, which gave theduke and duchess laughing matter not only for the time being, but for all theirlives, and Sancho something to talk about for ages, if he lived so long; but DonQuixote, coming close to his ear, said to him, "Sancho, as you would have usbelieve what you saw in heaven, I require you to believe me as to what I saw inthe cave of Montesinos; I say no more. "CHAPTER XLII. OF THE COUNSELS WHICH DON QUIXOTE GAVE SANCHO PANZABEFORE HE SET OUT TO GOVERN THE ISLAND, TOGETHER WITHOTHER WELL-CONSIDERED MATTERSThe duke and duchess were so well pleased with the successful and droll resultof the adventure of the Distressed One, that they resolved to carry on the joke, seeing what a fit subject they had to deal with for making it all pass for reality. Sohaving laid their plans and given instructions to their servants and vassals how tobehave to Sancho in his government of the promised island, the next day, thatfollowing Clavileno's flight, the duke told Sancho to prepare and get ready to goand be governor, for his islanders were already looking out for him as for theshowers of May. Sancho made him an obeisance, and said, "Ever since I came down from heaven, and from the top of it beheld the earth, and saw how little it is, the great desire Ihad to be a governor has been partly cooled in me; for what is there grand inbeing ruler on a grain of mustard seed, or what dignity or authority in governinghalf a dozen men about as big as hazel nuts; for, so far as I could see, there wereno more on the whole earth? If your lordship would be so good as to give me everso small a bit of heaven, were it no more than half a league, I'd rather have it thanthe best island in the world. ""Recollect, Sancho, " said the duke, "I cannot give a bit of heaven, no not somuch as the breadth of my nail, to anyone; rewards and favours of that sort arereserved for God alone. What I can give I give you, and that is a real, genuineisland, compact, well proportioned, and uncommonly fertile and fruitful, where, ifyou know how to use your opportunities, you may, with the help of the world'sriches, gain those of heaven. ""Well then, " said Sancho, "let the island come; and I'll try and be such agovernor, that in spite of scoundrels I'll go to heaven; and it's not from anycraving to quit my own humble condition or better myself, but from the desire Ihave to try what it tastes like to be a governor. ""If you once make trial of it, Sancho, " said the duke, "you'll eat your fingers offafter the government, so sweet a thing is it to command and be obeyed. Dependupon it when your master comes to be emperor (as he will beyond a doubt fromthe course his affairs are taking), it will be no easy matter to wrest the dignityfrom him, and he will be sore and sorry at heart to have been so long withoutbecoming one. ""Senor, " said Sancho, "it is my belief it's a good thing to be in command, if it'sonly over a drove of cattle. ""May I be buried with you, Sancho, " said the duke, "but you know everything; Ihope you will make as good a governor as your sagacity promises; and that is all Ihave to say; and now remember to-morrow is the day you must set out for thegovernment of the island, and this evening they will provide you with the properattire for you to wear, and all things requisite for your departure. ""Let them dress me as they like, " said Sancho; "however I'm dressed I'll beSancho Panza. ""That's true, " said the duke; "but one's dress must be suited to the office or rankone holds; for it would not do for a jurist to dress like a soldier, or a soldier like apriest. You, Sancho, shall go partly as a lawyer, partly as a captain, for, in theisland I am giving you, arms are needed as much as letters, and letters as much asarms. ""Of letters I know but little, " said Sancho, "for I don't even know the A B C; butit is enough for me to have the Christus in my memory to be a good governor. Asfor arms, I'll handle those they give me till I drop, and then, God be my help!""With so good a memory, " said the duke, "Sancho cannot go wrong in anything. "Here Don Quixote joined them; and learning what passed, and how soonSancho was to go to his government, he with the duke's permission took him bythe hand, and retired to his room with him for the purpose of giving him advice asto how he was to demean himself in his office. As soon as they had entered thechamber he closed the door after him, and almost by force made Sancho sit downbeside him, and in a quiet tone thus addressed him: "I give infinite thanks toheaven, friend Sancho, that, before I have met with any good luck, fortune hascome forward to meet thee. I who counted upon my good fortune to discharge therecompense of thy services, find myself still waiting for advancement, while thou, before the time, and contrary to all reasonable expectation, seest thyself blessed inthe fulfillment of thy desires. Some will bribe, beg, solicit, rise early, entreat, persist, without attaining the object of their suit; while another comes, andwithout knowing why or wherefore, finds himself invested with the place or officeso many have sued for; and here it is that the common saying, 'There is good luckas well as bad luck in suits, ' applies. Thou, who, to my thinking, art beyond alldoubt a dullard, without early rising or night watching or taking any trouble, withthe mere breath of knight-errantry that has breathed upon thee, seest thyselfwithout more ado governor of an island, as though it were a mere matter ofcourse. This I say, Sancho, that thou attribute not the favour thou hast received tothine own merits, but give thanks to heaven that disposes matters beneficently, and secondly thanks to the great power the profession of knight-errantry containsin itself. With a heart, then, inclined to believe what I have said to thee, attend, my son, to thy Cato here who would counsel thee and be thy polestar and guide todirect and pilot thee to a safe haven out of this stormy sea wherein thou art aboutto ingulf thyself; for offices and great trusts are nothing else but a mighty gulf oftroubles. "First of all, my son, thou must fear God, for in the fear of him is wisdom, andbeing wise thou canst not err in aught. "Secondly, thou must keep in view what thou art, striving to know thyself, themost difficult thing to know that the mind can imagine. If thou knowest thyself, itwill follow thou wilt not puff thyself up like the frog that strove to make himselfas large as the ox; if thou dost, the recollection of having kept pigs in thine owncountry will serve as the ugly feet for the wheel of thy folly. ""That's the truth, " said Sancho; "but that was when I was a boy; afterwardswhen I was something more of a man it was geese I kept, not pigs. But to mythinking that has nothing to do with it; for all who are governors don't come of akingly stock. ""True, " said Don Quixote, "and for that reason those who are not of noble originshould take care that the dignity of the office they hold he accompanied by agentle suavity, which wisely managed will save them from the sneers of malicethat no station escapes. "Glory in thy humble birth, Sancho, and be not ashamed of saying thou artpeasant-born; for when it is seen thou art not ashamed no one will set himself toput thee to the blush; and pride thyself rather upon being one of lowly virtue thana lofty sinner. Countless are they who, born of mean parentage, have risen to thehighest dignities, pontifical and imperial, and of the truth of this I could give theeinstances enough to weary thee. "Remember, Sancho, if thou make virtue thy aim, and take a pride in doingvirtuous actions, thou wilt have no cause to envy those who have princely andlordly ones, for blood is an inheritance, but virtue an acquisition, and virtue hasin itself alone a worth that blood does not possess. "This being so, if perchance anyone of thy kinsfolk should come to see theewhen thou art in thine island, thou art not to repel or slight him, but on thecontrary to welcome him, entertain him, and make much of him; for in so doingthou wilt be approved of heaven (which is not pleased that any should despisewhat it hath made), and wilt comply with the laws of well-ordered nature. "If thou carriest thy wife with thee (and it is not well for those that administergovernments to be long without their wives), teach and instruct her, and strive tosmooth down her natural roughness; for all that may be gained by a wise governormay be lost and wasted by a boorish stupid wife. "If perchance thou art left a widower--a thing which may happen--and in virtueof thy office seekest a consort of higher degree, choose not one to serve thee for ahook, or for a fishing-rod, or for the hood of thy 'won't have it;' for verily, I tellthee, for all the judge's wife receives, the husband will be held accountable at thegeneral calling to account; where he will have repay in death fourfold, items thatin life he regarded as naught. "Never go by arbitrary law, which is so much favoured by ignorant men whoplume themselves on cleverness. "Let the tears of the poor man find with thee more compassion, but not morejustice, than the pleadings of the rich. "Strive to lay bare the truth, as well amid the promises and presents of the richman, as amid the sobs and entreaties of the poor. "When equity may and should be brought into play, press not the utmost rigourof the law against the guilty; for the reputation of the stern judge stands nothigher than that of the compassionate. "If perchance thou permittest the staff of justice to swerve, let it be not by theweight of a gift, but by that of mercy. "If it should happen thee to give judgment in the cause of one who is thineenemy, turn thy thoughts away from thy injury and fix them on the justice of thecase. "Let not thine own passion blind thee in another man's cause; for the errorsthou wilt thus commit will be most frequently irremediable; or if not, only to beremedied at the expense of thy good name and even of thy fortune. "If any handsome woman come to seek justice of thee, turn away thine eyesfrom her tears and thine ears from her lamentations, and consider deliberately themerits of her demand, if thou wouldst not have thy reason swept away by herweeping, and thy rectitude by her sighs. "Abuse not by word him whom thou hast to punish in deed, for the pain ofpunishment is enough for the unfortunate without the addition of thineobjurgations. "Bear in mind that the culprit who comes under thy jurisdiction is but amiserable man subject to all the propensities of our depraved nature, and so far asmay be in thy power show thyself lenient and forbearing; for though the attributesof God are all equal, to our eyes that of mercy is brighter and loftier than that ofjustice. "If thou followest these precepts and rules, Sancho, thy days will be long, thyfame eternal, thy reward abundant, thy felicity unutterable; thou wilt marry thychildren as thou wouldst; they and thy grandchildren will bear titles; thou wiltlive in peace and concord with all men; and, when life draws to a close, death willcome to thee in calm and ripe old age, and the light and loving hands of thy great-grandchildren will close thine eyes. "What I have thus far addressed to thee are instructions for the adornment ofthy mind; listen now to those which tend to that of the body. "CHAPTER XLIII. OF THE SECOND SET OF COUNSELS DON QUIXOTE GAVESANCHO PANZAWho, hearing the foregoing discourse of Don Quixote, would not have set himdown for a person of great good sense and greater rectitude of purpose? But, ashas been frequently observed in the course of this great history, he only talkednonsense when he touched on chivalry, and in discussing all other subjectsshowed that he had a clear and unbiassed understanding; so that at every turn hisacts gave the lie to his intellect, and his intellect to his acts; but in the case ofthese second counsels that he gave Sancho he showed himself to have a lively turnof humour, and displayed conspicuously his wisdom, and also his folly. Sancho listened to him with the deepest attention, and endeavoured to fix hiscounsels in his memory, like one who meant to follow them and by their meansbring the full promise of his government to a happy issue. Don Quixote, then, went on to say:"With regard to the mode in which thou shouldst govern thy person and thyhouse, Sancho, the first charge I have to give thee is to be clean, and to cut thynails, not letting them grow as some do, whose ignorance makes them fancy thatlong nails are an ornament to their hands, as if those excrescences they neglect tocut were nails, and not the talons of a lizard-catching kestrel--a filthy andunnatural abuse. "Go not ungirt and loose, Sancho; for disordered attire is a sign of an unstablemind, unless indeed the slovenliness and slackness is to be set down to craft, aswas the common opinion in the case of Julius Caesar. "Ascertain cautiously what thy office may be worth; and if it will allow thee togive liveries to thy servants, give them respectable and serviceable, rather thanshowy and gay ones, and divide them between thy servants and the poor; that isto say, if thou canst clothe six pages, clothe three and three poor men, and thusthou wilt have pages for heaven and pages for earth; the vainglorious never thinkof this new mode of giving liveries. "Eat not garlic nor onions, lest they find out thy boorish origin by the smell;walk slowly and speak deliberately, but not in such a way as to make it seem thouart listening to thyself, for all affectation is bad. "Dine sparingly and sup more sparingly still; for the health of the whole body isforged in the workshop of the stomach. "Be temperate in drinking, bearing in mind that wine in excess keeps neithersecrets nor promises. "Take care, Sancho, not to chew on both sides, and not to eruct in anybody'spresence. ""Eruct!" said Sancho; "I don't know what that means. ""To eruct, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "means to belch, and that is one of thefilthiest words in the Spanish language, though a very expressive one; andtherefore nice folk have had recourse to the Latin, and instead of belch say eruct, and instead of belches say eructations; and if some do not understand these termsit matters little, for custom will bring them into use in the course of time, so thatthey will be readily understood; this is the way a language is enriched; customand the public are all-powerful there. ""In truth, senor, " said Sancho, "one of the counsels and cautions I mean to bearin mind shall be this, not to belch, for I'm constantly doing it. ""Eruct, Sancho, not belch, " said Don Quixote. "Eruct, I shall say henceforth, and I swear not to forget it, " said Sancho. "Likewise, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "thou must not mingle such a quantity ofproverbs in thy discourse as thou dost; for though proverbs are short maxims, thou dost drag them in so often by the head and shoulders that they savour moreof nonsense than of maxims. ""God alone can cure that, " said Sancho; "for I have more proverbs in me than abook, and when I speak they come so thick together into my mouth that they fallto fighting among themselves to get out; that's why my tongue lets fly the firstthat come, though they may not be pat to the purpose. But I'll take carehenceforward to use such as befit the dignity of my office; for 'in a house wherethere's plenty, supper is soon cooked, ' and 'he who binds does not wrangle, ' and'the bell-ringer's in a safe berth, ' and 'giving and keeping require brains. '""That's it, Sancho!" said Don Quixote; "pack, tack, string proverbs together;nobody is hindering thee! 'My mother beats me, and I go on with my tricks. ' I ambidding thee avoid proverbs, and here in a second thou hast shot out a wholelitany of them, which have as much to do with what we are talking about as 'overthe hills of Ubeda. ' Mind, Sancho, I do not say that a proverb aptly brought in isobjectionable; but to pile up and string together proverbs at random makesconversation dull and vulgar. "When thou ridest on horseback, do not go lolling with thy body on the back ofthe saddle, nor carry thy legs stiff or sticking out from the horse's belly, nor yet sitso loosely that one would suppose thou wert on Dapple; for the seat on a horsemakes gentlemen of some and grooms of others. "Be moderate in thy sleep; for he who does not rise early does not get thebenefit of the day; and remember, Sancho,

diligence is the mother of goodfortune, and indolence, its opposite, never yet attained the object of an honestambition. "The last counsel I will give thee now, though it does not tend to bodilyimprovement, I would have thee carry carefully in thy memory, for I believe it willbe no less useful to thee than those I have given thee already, and it is this--neverengage in a dispute about families, at least in the way of comparing them one withanother; for necessarily one of those compared will be better than the other, andthou wilt be hated by the one thou hast disparaged, and get nothing in any shapefrom the one thou hast exalted. "Thy attire shall be hose of full length, a long jerkin, and a cloak a trifle longer;loose breeches by no means, for they are becoming neither for gentlemen nor forgovernors. "For the present, Sancho, this is all that has occurred to me to advise thee; astime goes by and occasions arise my instructions shall follow, if thou take care tolet me know how thou art circumstanced. ""Senor, " said Sancho, "I see well enough that all these things your worship hassaid to me are good, holy, and profitable; but what use will they be to me if Idon't remember one of them? To be sure that about not letting my nails grow, andmarrying again if I have the chance, will not slip out of my head; but all thatother hash, muddle, and jumble--I don't and can't recollect any more of it than oflast year's clouds; so it must be given me in writing; for though I can't either reador write, I'll give it to my confessor, to drive it into me and remind me of itwhenever it is necessary. ""Ah, sinner that I am!" said Don Quixote, "how bad it looks in governors not toknow how to read or write; for let me tell thee, Sancho, when a man knows nothow to read, or is left-handed, it argues one of two things; either that he was theson of exceedingly mean and lowly parents, or that he himself was so incorrigibleand ill-conditioned that neither good company nor good teaching could make anyimpression on him. It is a great defect that thou labourest under, and therefore Iwould have thee learn at any rate to sign thy name. " "I can sign my name wellenough, " said Sancho, "for when I was steward of the brotherhood in my village Ilearned to make certain letters, like the marks on bales of goods, which they toldme made out my name. Besides I can pretend my right hand is disabled and makesome one else sign for me, for 'there's a remedy for everything except death;' andas I shall be in command and hold the staff, I can do as I like; moreover, 'he whohas the alcalde for his father-, ' and I'll be governor, and that's higher than alcalde. Only come and see! Let them make light of me and abuse me; 'they'll come forwool and go back shorn;' 'whom God loves, his house is known to Him;' 'the sillysayings of the rich pass for saws in the world;' and as I'll be rich, being agovernor, and at the same time generous, as I mean to be, no fault will be seen inme. 'Only make yourself honey and the flies will suck you;' 'as much as thou hastso much art thou worth, ' as my grandmother used to say; and 'thou canst have norevenge of a man of substance. '""Oh, God's curse upon thee, Sancho!" here exclaimed Don Quixote; "sixtythousand devils fly away with thee and thy proverbs! For the last hour thou hastbeen stringing them together and inflicting the pangs of torture on me with everyone of them. Those proverbs will bring thee to the gallows one day, I promisethee; thy subjects will take the government from thee, or there will be revoltsamong them. Tell me, where dost thou pick them up, thou booby? How dost thouapply them, thou blockhead? For with me, to utter one and make it applyproperly, I have to sweat and labour as if I were digging. ""By God, master mine, " said Sancho, "your worship is making a fuss about verylittle. Why the devil should you be vexed if I make use of what is my own? And Ihave got nothing else, nor any other stock in trade except proverbs and moreproverbs; and here are three just this instant come into my head, pat to thepurpose and like pears in a basket; but I won't repeat them, for 'sage silence iscalled Sancho. '""That, Sancho, thou art not, " said Don Quixote; "for not only art thou not sagesilence, but thou art pestilent prate and perversity; still I would like to know whatthree proverbs have just now come into thy memory, for I have been turning overmine own--and it is a good one--and none occurs to me. ""What can be better, " said Sancho, "than 'never put thy thumbs between twoback teeth;' and 'to "get out of my house" and "what do you want with my wife?"there is no answer;' and 'whether the pitcher hits the stove, or the stove thepitcher, it's a bad business for the pitcher;' all which fit to a hair? For no oneshould quarrel with his governor, or him in authority over him, because he willcome off the worst, as he does who puts his finger between two back and if theyare not back teeth it makes no difference, so long as they are teeth; and towhatever the governor may say there's no answer, any more than to 'get out of myhouse' and 'what do you want with my wife?' and then, as for that about the stoneand the pitcher, a blind man could see that. So that he 'who sees the mote inanother's eye had need to see the beam in his own, ' that it be not said of himself, 'the dead woman was frightened at the one with her throat cut;' and your worshipknows well that 'the fool knows more in his own house than the wise man inanother's. '""Nay, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "the fool knows nothing, either in his ownhouse or in anybody else's, for no wise structure of any sort can stand on afoundation of folly; but let us say no more about it, Sancho, for if thou governestbadly, thine will be the fault and mine the shame; but I comfort myself withhaving done my duty in advising thee as earnestly and as wisely as I could; andthus I am released from my obligations and my promise. God guide thee, Sancho, and govern thee in thy government, and deliver me from the misgiving I have thatthou wilt turn the whole island upside down, a thing I might easily prevent byexplaining to the duke what thou art and telling him that all that fat little personof thine is nothing else but a sack full of proverbs and sauciness. ""Senor, " said Sancho, "if your worship thinks I'm not fit for this government, Igive it up on the spot; for the mere black of the nail of my soul is dearer to methan my whole body; and I can live just as well, simple Sancho, on bread andonions, as governor, on partridges and capons; and what's more, while we'reasleep we're all equal, great and small, rich and poor. But if your worship looksinto it, you will see it was your worship alone that put me on to this business ofgoverning; for I know no more about the government of islands than a buzzard;and if there's any reason to think that because of my being a governor the devilwill get hold of me, I'd rather go Sancho to heaven than governor to hell. ""By God, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for those last words thou hast utteredalone, I consider thou deservest to be governor of a thousand islands. Thou hastgood natural instincts, without which no knowledge is worth anything; commendthyself to God, and try not to swerve in the pursuit of thy main object; I mean, always make it thy aim and fixed purpose to do right in all matters that comebefore thee, for heaven always helps good intentions; and now let us go to dinner, for I think my lord and lady are waiting for us. "EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 31Chapters 44-45Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XLIV. HOW SANCHO PANZA WAS CONDUCTED TO HIS GOVERNMENT, AND OF THE STRANGE ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTEIN THE CASTLEIt is stated, they say, in the true original of this history, that when Cide Hametecame to write this chapter, his interpreter did not translate it as he wrote it--thatis, as a kind of complaint the Moor made against himself for having taken in handa story so dry and of so little variety as this of Don Quixote, for he found himselfforced to speak perpetually of him and Sancho, without venturing to indulge indigressions and episodes more serious and more interesting. He said, too, that togo on, mind, hand, pen always restricted to writing upon one single subject, andspeaking through the mouths of a few characters, was intolerable drudgery, theresult of which was never equal to the author's labour, and that to avoid this hehad in the First Part availed himself of the device of novels, like "The Ill-advisedCuriosity, " and "The Captive Captain, " which stand, as it were, apart from thestory; the others are given there being incidents which occurred to Don Quixotehimself and could not be omitted. He also thought, he says, that many, engrossedby the interest attaching to the exploits of Don Quixote, would take none in thenovels, and pass them over hastily or impatiently without noticing the eleganceand art of their composition, which would be very manifest were they publishedby themselves and not as mere adjuncts to the crazes of Don Quixote or thesimplicities of Sancho. Therefore in this Second Part he thought it best not toinsert novels, either separate or interwoven, but only episodes, something likethem, arising out of the circumstances the facts present; and even these sparingly, and with no more words than suffice to make them plain; and as he confines andrestricts himself to the narrow limits of the narrative, though he has ability;capacity, and brains enough to deal with the whole universe, he requests that hislabours may not be despised, and that credit be given him, not alone for what hewrites, but for what he has refrained from writing. And so he goes on with his story, saying that the day Don Quixote gave thecounsels to Sancho, the same afternoon after dinner he handed them to him inwriting so that he might get some one to read them to him. They had scarcely, however, been given to him when he let them drop, and they fell into the hands ofthe duke, who showed them to the duchess and they were both amazed afresh atthe madness and wit of Don Quixote. To carry on the joke, then, the sameevening they despatched Sancho with a large following to the village that was toserve him for an island. It happened that the person who had him in charge was amajordomo of the duke's, a man of great discretion and humour--and there can beno humour without discretion--and the same who played the part of the CountessTrifaldi in the comical way that has been already described; and thus qualified, and instructed by his master and mistress as to how to deal with Sancho, hecarried out their scheme admirably. Now it came to pass that as soon as Sanchosaw this majordomo he seemed in his features to recognise those of the Trifaldi, and turning to his master, he said to him, "Senor, either the devil will carry meoff, here on this spot, righteous and believing, or your worship will own to methat the face of this majordomo of the duke's here is the very face of theDistressed One. "Don Quixote regarded the majordomo attentively, and having done so, said toSancho, "There is no reason why the devil should carry thee off, Sancho, eitherrighteous or believing--and what thou meanest by that I know not; the face of theDistressed One is that of the majordomo, but for all that the majordomo is not theDistressed One; for his being so would involve a mighty contradiction; but this isnot the time for going into questions of the sort, which would be involvingourselves in an inextricable labyrinth. Believe me, my friend, we must prayearnestly to our Lord that he deliver us both from wicked wizards andenchanters. ""It is no joke, senor, " said Sancho, "for before this I heard him speak, and itseemed exactly as if the voice of the Trifaldi was sounding in my ears. Well, I'llhold my peace; but I'll take care to be on the look-out henceforth for any sign thatmay be seen to confirm or do away with this suspicion. ""Thou wilt do well, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and thou wilt let me know allthou discoverest, and all that befalls thee in thy government. "Sancho at last set out attended by a great number of people. He was dressed inthe garb of a lawyer, with a gaban of tawny watered camlet over all and amontera cap of the same material, and mounted a la gineta upon a mule. Behindhim, in accordance with the duke's orders, followed Dapple with brand new ass-trappings and ornaments of silk, and from time to time Sancho turned round tolook at his ass, so well pleased to have him with him that he would not havechanged places with the emperor of Germany. On taking leave he kissed thehands of the duke and duchess and got his master's blessing, which Don Quixotegave him with tears, and he received blubbering. Let worthy Sancho go in peace, and good luck to him, Gentle Reader; and lookout for two bushels of laughter, which the account of how he behaved himself inoffice will give thee. In the meantime turn thy attention to what happened hismaster the same night, and if thou dost not laugh thereat, at any rate thou wiltstretch thy mouth with a grin; for Don Quixote's adventures must be honouredeither with wonder or with laughter. It is recorded, then, that as soon as Sancho had gone, Don Quixote felt hisloneliness, and had it been possible for him to revoke the mandate and take awaythe government from him he would have done so. The duchess observed hisdejection and asked him why he was melancholy; because, she said, if it was forthe loss of Sancho, there were squires, duennas, and damsels in her house whowould wait upon him to his full satisfaction. "The truth is, senora, " replied Don Quixote, "that I do feel the loss of Sancho;but that is not the main cause of my looking sad; and of all the offers yourexcellence makes me, I accept only the good-will with which they are made, andas to the remainder I entreat of your excellence to permit and allow me alone towait upon myself in my chamber. ""Indeed, Senor Don Quixote, " said the duchess, "that must not be; four of mydamsels, as beautiful as flowers, shall wait upon you. ""To me, " said Don Quixote, "they will not be flowers, but thorns to pierce myheart. They, or anything like them, shall as soon enter my chamber as fly. If yourhighness wishes to gratify me still further, though I deserve it not, permit me toplease myself, and wait upon myself in my own room; for I place a barrierbetween my inclinations and my virtue, and I do not wish to break this rulethrough the generosity your highness is disposed to display towards me; and, inshort, I will sleep in my clothes, sooner than allow anyone to undress me. ""Say no more, Senor Don Quixote, say no more, " said the duchess; "I assure youI will give orders that not even a fly, not to say a damsel, shall enter your room. Iam not the one to undermine the propriety of Senor Don Quixote, for it strikes methat among his many virtues the one that is pre-eminent is that of modesty. Yourworship may undress and dress in private and in your own way, as you pleaseand when you please, for there will be no one to hinder you; and in your chamberyou will find all the utensils requisite to supply the wants of one who sleeps withhis door locked, to the end that no natural needs compel you to open it. May thegreat Dulcinea del Toboso live a thousand years, and may her fame extend all overthe surface of the globe, for she deserves to be loved by a knight so valiant and sovirtuous; and may kind heaven infuse zeal into the heart of our governor SanchoPanza to finish off his discipline speedily, so that the world may once more enjoythe beauty of so grand a lady. "To which Don Quixote replied, "Your highness has spoken like what you are;from the mouth of a noble lady nothing bad can come; and Dulcinea will be morefortunate, and better known to the world by the praise of your highness than byall the eulogies the greatest orators on earth could bestow upon her. ""Well, well, Senor Don Quixote, " said the duchess, is nearly supper-time, andthe duke is is probably waiting; come let us go to supper, and retire to rest early, for the journey you made yesterday from Kandy was not such a short one but thatit must have caused you some fatigue. ""I feel none, senora, " said Don Quixote, "for I would go so far as to swear toyour excellence that in all my life I never mounted a quieter beast, or a pleasanterpaced one, than Clavileno; and I don't know what could have inducedMalambruno to discard a steed so swift and so gentle, and burn it so recklessly ashe did. ""Probably, " said the duchess, "repenting of the evil he had done to the Trifaldiand company, and others, and the crimes he must have committed as a wizardand enchanter, he resolved to make away with all the instruments of his craft;and so burned Clavileno as the chief one, and that which mainly kept himrestless, wandering from land to land; and by its ashes and the trophy of theplacard the valour of the great Don Quixote of La Mancha is established for ever. "Don Quixote renewed his thanks to the duchess; and having supped, retired tohis chamber alone, refusing to allow anyone to enter with him to wait on him, such was his fear of encountering temptations that might lead or drive him toforget his chaste fidelity to his lady Dulcinea; for he had always present to hismind the virtue of Amadis, that flower and mirror of knights-errant. He locked thedoor behind him, and by the light of two wax candles undressed himself, but ashe was taking off his stockings--O disaster unworthy of such a personage!--therecame a burst, not of sighs, or anything belying his delicacy or good breeding, butof some two dozen stitches in one of his stockings, that made it look like awindow-lattice. The worthy gentleman was beyond measure distressed, and atthat moment he would have given an ounce of silver to have had half a drachm ofgreen silk there; I say green silk, because the stockings were green. Here Cide Hamete exclaimed as he was writing, "O poverty, poverty! I know notwhat could have possessed the great Cordovan poet to call thee 'holy giftungratefully received. ' Although a Moor, I know well enough from the intercourseI have had with Christians that holiness consists in charity, humility, faith, obedience, and poverty; but for all that, I say he must have a great deal ofgodliness who can find any satisfaction in being poor; unless, indeed, it be thekind of poverty one of their greatest saints refers to, saying, 'possess all things asthough ye possessed them not;' which is what they call poverty in spirit. But thou, that other poverty--for it is of thee I am speaking now--why dost thou love to fallout with gentlemen and men of good birth more than with other people? Why dostthou compel them to smear the cracks in their shoes, and to have the buttons oftheir coats, one silk, another hair, and another glass? Why must their ruffs bealways crinkled like endive leaves, and not crimped with a crimping iron?" (Fromthis we may perceive the antiquity of starch and crimped ruffs. ) Then he goes on:"Poor gentleman of good family! always cockering up his honour, dining miserablyand in secret, and making a hypocrite of the toothpick with which he sallies outinto the street after eating nothing to oblige him to use it! Poor fellow, I say, withhis nervous honour, fancying they perceive a league off the patch on his shoe, thesweat-stains on his hat, the shabbiness of his cloak, and the hunger of hisstomach!"All this was brought home to Don Quixote by the bursting of his stitches;however, he comforted himself on perceiving that Sancho had left behind a pair oftravelling boots, which he resolved to wear the next day. At last he went to bed, out of spirits and heavy at heart, as much because he missed Sancho as because ofthe irreparable disaster to his stockings, the stitches of which he would have eventaken up with silk of another colour, which is one of the greatest signs of povertya gentleman can show in the course of his never-failing embarrassments. He putout the candles; but the night was warm and he could not sleep; he rose from hisbed and opened slightly a grated window that looked out on a beautiful garden, and as he did so he perceived and heard people walking and talking in the garden. He set himself to listen attentively, and those below raised their voices so that hecould hear these words:"Urge me not to sing, Emerencia, for thou knowest that ever since this strangerentered the castle and my eyes beheld him, I cannot sing but only weep; besidesmy lady is a light rather than a heavy sleeper, and I would not for all the wealthof the world that she found us here; and even if she were asleep and did notwaken, my singing would be in vain, if this strange AEneas, who has come intomy neighbourhood to flout me, sleeps on and wakens not to hear it. ""Heed not that, dear Altisidora, " replied a voice; "the duchess is no doubtasleep, and everybody in the house save the lord of thy heart and disturber of thysoul; for just now I perceived him open the grated window of his chamber, so hemust be awake; sing, my poor sufferer, in a low sweet tone to the accompanimentof thy harp; and even if the duchess hears us we can lay the blame on the heat ofthe night. ""That is not the point, Emerencia, " replied Altisidora, "it is that I would not thatmy singing should lay bare my heart, and that I should be thought a light andwanton maiden by those who know not the mighty power of love; but come whatmay; better a blush on the cheeks than a sore in the heart;" and here a harp softlytouched made itself heard. As he listened to all this Don Quixote was in a state ofbreathless amazement, for immediately the countless adventures like this, withwindows, gratings, gardens, serenades, lovemakings, and languishings, that hehad read of in his trashy books of chivalry, came to his mind. He at onceconcluded that some damsel of the duchess's was in love with him, and that hermodesty forced her to keep her passion secret. He trembled lest he should fall, and made an inward resolution not to yield; and commending himself with all hismight and soul to his lady Dulcinea he made up his mind to listen to the music;and to let them know he was there he gave a pretended sneeze, at which thedamsels were not a little delighted, for all they wanted was that Don Quixoteshould hear them. So having tuned the harp, Altisidora, running her hand acrossthe strings, began this ballad:O thou that art above in bed, Between the holland sheets, A-lying there from night till morn, With outstretched legs asleep;O thou, most valiant knight of allThe famed Manchegan breed, Of purity and virtue moreThan gold of Araby;Give ear unto a suffering maid, Well-grown but evil-starr'd, For those two suns of thine have litA fire within her heart. Adventures seeking thou dost rove, To others bringing woe;Thou scatterest wounds, but, ah, the balmTo heal them dost withhold!Say, valiant youth, and so may GodThy enterprises speed, Didst thou the light mid Libya's sandsOr Jaca's rocks first see?Did scaly serpents give thee suck?Who nursed thee when a babe?Wert cradled in the forest rude, Or gloomy mountain cave?O Dulcinea may be proud, That plump and lusty maid;For she alone hath had the powerA tiger fierce to tame. And she for this shall famous beFrom Tagus to Jarama, From Manzanares to Genil, From Duero to Arlanza. Fain would I change with her, and giveA petticoat to boot, The best and bravest that I have, All trimmed with gold galloon. O for to be the happy fairThy mighty arms enfold, Or even sit beside thy bedAnd scratch thy dusty poll!I rave, --to favours such as theseUnworthy to aspire;Thy feet to tickle were enoughFor one so mean as I. What caps, what slippers silver-laced, Would I on thee bestow!What damask breeches make for thee;What fine long holland cloaks!And I would give thee pearls that shouldAs big as oak-galls show;So matchless big that each might wellBe called the great "Alone. "Manchegan Nero, look not downFrom thy Tarpeian RockUpon this burning heart, nor addThe fuel of thy wrath. A virgin soft and young am I, Not yet fifteen years old;(I'm only three months past fourteen, I swear upon my soul). I hobble not nor do I limp, All blemish I'm without, And as I walk my lily locksAre trailing on the ground. And though my nose be rather flat, And though my mouth be wide, My teeth like topazes exaltMy beauty to the sky. Thou knowest that my voice is sweet, That is if thou dost hear;And I am moulded in a formSomewhat below the mean. These charms, and many more, are thine, Spoils to thy spear and bow all;A damsel of this house am I, By name Altisidora. Here the lay of the heart-stricken Altisidora came to an end, while the warmlywooed Don Quixote began to feel alarm; and with a deep sigh he said to himself, "O that I should be such an unlucky knight that no damsel can set eyes on me butfalls in love with me! O that the peerless Dulcinea should be so unfortunate thatthey cannot let her enjoy my incomparable constancy in peace! What would yewith her, ye queens? Why do ye persecute her, ye empresses? Why ye pursue her, ye virgins of from fourteen to fifteen? Leave the unhappy being to triumph, rejoiceand glory in the lot love has been pleased to bestow upon her in surrendering myheart and yielding up my soul to her. Ye love-smitten host, know that to Dulcineaonly I am dough and sugar-paste, flint to all others; for her I am honey, for youaloes. For me Dulcinea alone is beautiful, wise, virtuous, graceful, and high-bred, and all others are ill-favoured, foolish, light, and low-born. Nature sent me intothe world to be hers and no other's; Altisidora may weep or sing, the lady forwhose sake they belaboured me in the castle of the enchanted Moor may give wayto despair, but I must be Dulcinea's, boiled or roast, pure, courteous, and chaste, in spite of all the magic-working powers on earth. " And with that he shut thewindow with a bang, and, as much out of temper and out of sorts as if some greatmisfortune had befallen him, stretched himself on his bed, where we will leavehim for the present, as the great Sancho Panza, who is about to set up his famousgovernment, now demands our attention. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER XLV. OF HOW THE GREAT SANCHO PANZA TOOK POSSESSION OF HISISLAND, AND OF HOW HE MADE A BEGINNING IN GOVERNINGO perpetual discoverer of the antipodes, torch of the world, eye of heaven, sweet stimulator of the water-coolers! Thimbraeus here, Phoebus there, nowarcher, now physician, father of poetry, inventor of music; thou that always risestand, notwithstanding appearances, never settest! To thee, O Sun, by whose aidman begetteth man, to thee I appeal to help me and lighten the darkness of mywit that I may be able to proceed with scrupulous exactitude in giving an accountof the great Sancho Panza's government; for without thee I feel myself weak, feeble, and uncertain. To come to the point, then--Sancho with all his attendants arrived at a villageof some thousand inhabitants, and one of the largest the duke possessed. Theyinformed him that it was called the island of Barataria, either because the name ofthe village was Baratario, or because of the joke by way of which the governmenthad been conferred upon him. On reaching the gates of the town, which was awalled one, the municipality came forth to meet him, the bells rang out a peal, and the inhabitants showed every sign of general satisfaction; and with greatpomp they conducted him to the principal church to give thanks to God, and thenwith burlesque ceremonies they presented him with the keys of the town, andacknowledged him as perpetual governor of the island of Barataria. The costume, the beard, and the fat squat figure of the new governor astonished all those whowere not in the secret, and even all who were, and they were not a few. Finally, leading him out of the church they carried him to the judgment seat and seatedhim on it, and the duke's majordomo said to him, "It is an ancient custom in thisisland, senor governor, that he who comes to take possession of this famousisland is bound to answer a question which shall be put to him, and which mustbe a somewhat knotty and difficult one; and by his answer the people take themeasure of their new governor's wit, and hail with joy or deplore his arrivalaccordingly. "While the majordomo was making this speech Sancho was gazing at severallarge letters inscribed on the wall opposite his seat, and as he could not read heasked what that was that was painted on the wall. The answer was, "Senor, thereis written and recorded the day on which your lordship took possession of thisisland, and the inscription says, 'This day, the so-and-so of such-and-such a monthand year, Senor Don Sancho Panza took possession of this island; many years mayhe enjoy it. '""And whom do they call Don Sancho Panza?" asked Sancho. "Your lordship, " replied the majordomo; "for no other Panza but the one who isnow seated in that chair has ever entered this island. ""Well then, let me tell you, brother, " said Sancho, "I haven't got the 'Don, ' norhas any one of my family ever had it; my name is plain Sancho Panza, and Sanchowas my father's name, and Sancho was my grandfather's and they were all Panzas, without any Dons or Donas tacked on; I suspect that in this island there are moreDons than stones; but never mind; God knows what I mean, and maybe if mygovernment lasts four days I'll weed out these Dons that no doubt are as great anuisance as the midges, they're so plenty. Let the majordomo go on with hisquestion, and I'll give the best answer I can, whether the people deplore or not. "At this instant there came into court two old men, one carrying a cane by wayof a walking-stick, and the one who had no stick said, "Senor, some time ago Ilent this good man ten gold-crowns in gold to gratify him and do him a service, onthe condition that he was to return them to me whenever I should ask for them. Along time passed before I asked for them, for I would not put him to any greaterstraits to return them than he was in when I lent them to him; but thinking hewas growing careless about payment I asked for them once and several times; andnot only will he not give them back, but he denies that he owes them, and says Inever lent him any such crowns; or if I did, that he repaid them; and I have nowitnesses either of the loan, or the payment, for he never paid me; I want yourworship to put him to his oath, and if he swears he returned them to me I forgivehim the debt here and before God. ""What say you to this, good old man, you with the stick?" said Sancho. To which the old man replied, "I admit, senor, that he lent them to me; but letyour worship lower your staff, and as he leaves it to my oath, I'll swear that I gavethem back, and paid him really and truly. "The governor lowered the staff, and as he did so the old man who had the stickhanded it to the other old man to hold for him while he swore, as if he found it inhis way; and then laid his hand on the cross of the staff, saying that it was truethe ten crowns that were demanded of him had been lent him; but that he hadwith his own hand given them back into the hand of the other, and that he, notrecollecting it, was always asking for them. Seeing this the great governor asked the creditor what answer he had to maketo what his opponent said. He said that no doubt his debtor had told the truth, for he believed him to be an honest man and a good Christian, and he himselfmust have forgotten when and how he had given him back the crowns; and thatfrom that time forth he would make no further demand upon him. The debtor took his stick again, and bowing his head left the court. Observingthis, and how, without another word, he made off, and observing too theresignation of the plaintiff, Sancho buried his head in his bosom and remained fora short space in deep thought, with the forefinger of his right hand on his browand nose; then he raised his head and bade them call back the old man with thestick, for he had already taken his departure. They brought him back, and as soonas Sancho saw him he said, "Honest man, give me that stick, for I want it. ""Willingly, " said the old man; "here it is senor, " and he put it into his hand. Sancho took it and, handing it to the other old man, said to him, "Go, and Godbe with you; for now you are paid. ""I, senor!" returned the old man; "why, is this cane worth ten gold-crowns?""Yes, " said the governor, "or if not I am the greatest dolt in the world; now youwill see whether I have got the headpiece to govern a whole kingdom;" and heordered the cane to be broken in two, there, in the presence of all. It was done, and in the middle of it they found ten gold-crowns. All were filled withamazement, and looked upon their governor as another Solomon. They asked himhow he had come to the conclusion that the ten crowns were in the cane; hereplied, that observing how the old man who swore gave the stick to his opponentwhile he was taking the oath, and swore that he had really and truly given himthe crowns, and how as soon as he had done swearing he asked for the stickagain, it came into his head that the sum demanded must be inside it; and fromthis he said it might be seen that God sometimes guides those who govern in theirjudgments, even though they may be fools; besides he had himself heard thecurate of his village mention just such another case, and he had so good amemory, that if it was not that he forgot everything he wished to remember, therewould not be such a memory in all the island. To conclude, the old men went off, one crestfallen, and the other in high contentment, all who were present wereastonished, and he who was recording the words, deeds, and movements ofSancho could not make up his mind whether he was to look upon him and set himdown as a fool or as a man of sense. As soon as this case was disposed of, there came into court a woman holding onwith a tight grip to a man dressed like a well-to-do cattle dealer, and she cameforward making a great outcry and exclaiming, "Justice, senor governor, justice!and if I don't get it on earth I'll go look for it in heaven. Senor governor of mysoul, this wicked man caught me in the middle of the fields here and used mybody as if it was an ill-washed rag, and, woe is me! got from me what I had keptthese three-and-twenty years and more, defending it against Moors andChristians, natives and strangers; and I always as hard as an oak, and keepingmyself as pure as a salamander in the fire, or wool among the brambles, for thisgood fellow to come now with clean hands to handle me!""It remains to be proved whether this gallant has clean hands or not, " saidSancho; and turning to the man he asked him what he had to say in answer to thewoman's charge. He all in confusion made answer, "Sirs, I am a poor pig dealer, and this morningI left the village to sell (saving your presence) four pigs, and between dues andcribbings they got out of me little less than the worth of them. As I was returningto my village I fell in on the road with this good dame, and the devil who makes acoil and a mess out of everything, yoked us together. I paid her fairly, but she notcontented laid hold of me and never let go until she brought me here; she says Iforced her, but she lies by the oath I swear or am ready to swear; and this is thewhole truth and every particle of it. "The governor on this asked him if he had any money in silver about him; hesaid he had about twenty ducats in a leather purse in his bosom. The governorbade him take it out and hand it to the complainant; he obeyed trembling; thewoman took it, and making a thousand salaams to all and praying to God for thelong life and health of the senor governor who had such regard for distressedorphans and virgins, she hurried out of court with the purse grasped in both herhands, first looking, however, to see if the money it contained was silver. As soon as she was gone Sancho said to the cattle dealer, whose tears werealready starting and whose eyes and heart were following his purse, "Good fellow, go after that woman and take the purse from her, by force even, and come backwith it here;" and he did not say it to one who was a fool or deaf, for the man wasoff like a flash of lightning, and ran to do as he was bid. All the bystanders waited anxiously to see the end of the case, and presentlyboth man and woman came back at even closer grips than before, she with herpetticoat up and the purse in the lap of it, and he struggling hard to take it fromher, but all to no purpose, so stout was the woman's defence, she all the whilecrying out, "Justice from God and the world! see here, senor governor, theshamelessness and boldness of this villain, who in the middle of the town, in themiddle of the street, wanted to take from me the purse your worship bade himgive me. ""And did he take it?" asked the governor. "Take it!" said the woman; "I'd let my life be taken from me sooner than thepurse. A pretty child I'd be! It's another sort of cat they must throw in my face, and not that poor scurvy knave. Pincers and hammers, mallets and chisels wouldnot get it out of my grip; no, nor lions' claws; the soul from out of my body first!""She is right, " said the man; "I own myself beaten and powerless; I confess Ihaven't the strength to take it from her;" and he let go his hold of her. Upon this the governor said to the woman, "Let me see that purse, my worthyand sturdy friend. " She handed it to him at once, and the governor returned it tothe man, and said to the unforced mistress of force, "Sister, if you had shown asmuch, or only half as much, spirit and vigour in defending your body as you haveshown in defending that purse, the strength of Hercules could not have forcedyou. Be off, and God speed you, and bad luck to you, and don't show your face inall this island, or within six leagues of it on any side, under pain of two hundredlashes; be off at once, I say, you shameless, cheating shrew. "The woman was cowed and went off disconsolately, hanging her head; and thegovernor said to the man, "Honest man, go home with your money, and Godspeed you; and for the future, if you don't want to lose it, see that you don't takeit into your head to yoke with anybody. " The man thanked him as clumsily as hecould and went his way, and the bystanders were again filled with admiration attheir new governor's judgments and sentences. Next, two men, one apparently a farm labourer, and the other a tailor, for hehad a pair of shears in his hand, presented themselves before him, and the tailorsaid, "Senor governor, this labourer and I come before your worship by reason ofthis honest man coming to my shop yesterday (for saving everybody's presence I'ma passed tailor, God be thanked), and putting a piece of cloth into my hands andasking me, 'Senor, will there be enough in this cloth to make me a cap?'Measuring the cloth I said there would. He probably suspected--as I supposed, and I supposed right--that I wanted to steal some of the cloth, led to think so byhis own roguery and the bad opinion people have of tailors; and he told me to seeif there would be enough for two. I guessed what he would be at, and I said 'yes. 'He, still following up his original unworthy notion, went on adding cap after cap, and I 'yes' after 'yes, ' until we got as far as five. He has just this moment come forthem; I gave them to him, but he won't pay me for the making; on the contrary, he calls upon me to pay him, or else return his cloth. ""Is all this true, brother?" said Sancho. "Yes, " replied the man; "but will your worship make him show the five caps hehas made me?""With all my heart, " said the tailor; and drawing his hand from under his cloakhe showed five caps stuck upon the five fingers of it, and said, "there are the capsthis good man asks for; and by God and upon my conscience I haven't a scrap ofcloth left, and I'll let the work be examined by the inspectors of the trade. "All present laughed at the number of caps and the novelty of the suit; Sanchoset himself to think for a moment, and then said, "It seems to me that in this caseit is not necessary to deliver long-winded arguments, but only to give off-hand thejudgment of an honest man; and so my decision is that the tailor lose

the makingand the labourer the cloth, and that the caps go to the prisoners in the gaol, andlet there be no more about it. "If the previous decision about the cattle dealer's purse excited the admiration ofthe bystanders, this provoked their laughter; however, the governor's orders wereafter all executed. All this, having been taken down by his chronicler, was at oncedespatched to the duke, who was looking out for it with great eagerness; and herelet us leave the good Sancho; for his master, sorely troubled in mind byAltisidora's music, has pressing claims upon us now. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 32Chapters 46-48Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XLVI. OF THE TERRIBLE BELL AND CAT FRIGHT THAT DON QUIXOTEGOT IN THE COURSE OF THE ENAMOURED ALTISIDORA'SWOOINGWe left Don Quixote wrapped up in the reflections which the music of theenamourned maid Altisidora had given rise to. He went to bed with them, andjust like fleas they would not let him sleep or get a moment's rest, and the brokenstitches of his stockings helped them. But as Time is fleet and no obstacle can stayhis course, he came riding on the hours, and morning very soon arrived. Seeingwhich Don Quixote quitted the soft down, and, nowise slothful, dressed himselfin his chamois suit and put on his travelling boots to hide the disaster to hisstockings. He threw over him his scarlet mantle, put on his head a montera ofgreen velvet trimmed with silver edging, flung across his shoulder the baldric withhis good trenchant sword, took up a large rosary that he always carried with him, and with great solemnity and precision of gait proceeded to the antechamberwhere the duke and duchess were already dressed and waiting for him. But as hepassed through a gallery, Altisidora and the other damsel, her friend, were lyingin wait for him, and the instant Altisidora saw him she pretended to faint, whileher friend caught her in her lap, and began hastily unlacing the bosom of herdress. Don Quixote observed it, and approaching them said, "I know very well whatthis seizure arises from. ""I know not from what, " replied the friend, "for Altisidora is the healthiestdamsel in all this house, and I have never heard her complain all the time I haveknown her. A plague on all the knights-errant in the world, if they be allungrateful! Go away, Senor Don Quixote; for this poor child will not come toherself again so long as you are here. "To which Don Quixote returned, "Do me the favour, senora, to let a lute beplaced in my chamber to-night; and I will comfort this poor maiden to the best ofmy power; for in the early stages of love a prompt disillusion is an approvedremedy;" and with this he retired, so as not to be remarked by any who might seehim there. He had scarcely withdrawn when Altisidora, recovering from her swoon, said toher companion, "The lute must be left, for no doubt Don Quixote intends to giveus some music; and being his it will not be bad. "They went at once to inform the duchess of what was going on, and of the luteDon Quixote asked for, and she, delighted beyond measure, plotted with the dukeand her two damsels to play him a trick that should be amusing but harmless; andin high glee they waited for night, which came quickly as the day had come; andas for the day, the duke and duchess spent it in charming conversation with DonQuixote. When eleven o'clock came, Don Quixote found a guitar in his chamber; he triedit, opened the window, and perceived that some persons were walking in thegarden; and having passed his fingers over the frets of the guitar and tuned it aswell as he could, he spat and cleared his chest, and then with a voice a littlehoarse but full-toned, he sang the following ballad, which he had himself that daycomposed:Mighty Love the hearts of maidensDoth unsettle and perplex, And the instrument he usesMost of all is idleness. Sewing, stitching, any labour, Having always work to do, To the poison Love instillethIs the antidote most sure. And to proper-minded maidensWho desire the matron's nameModesty's a marriage portion, Modesty their highest praise. Men of prudence and discretion, Courtiers gay and gallant knights, With the wanton damsels dally, But the modest take to wife. There are passions, transient, fleeting, Loves in hostelries declar'd, Sunrise loves, with sunset ended, When the guest hath gone his way. Love that springs up swift and sudden, Here to-day, to-morrow flown, Passes, leaves no trace behind it, Leaves no image on the soul. Painting that is laid on paintingMaketh no display or show;Where one beauty's in possessionThere no other can take hold. Dulcinea del TobosoPainted on my heart I wear;Never from its tablets, never, Can her image be eras'd. The quality of all in loversMost esteemed is constancy;'T is by this that love works wonders, This exalts them to the skies. Don Quixote had got so far with his song, to which the duke, the duchess, Altisidora, and nearly the whole household of the castle were listening, when allof a sudden from a gallery above that was exactly over his window they let downa cord with more than a hundred bells attached to it, and immediately after thatdischarged a great sack full of cats, which also had bells of smaller size tied totheir tails. Such was the din of the bells and the squalling of the cats, that thoughthe duke and duchess were the contrivers of the joke they were startled by it, while Don Quixote stood paralysed with fear; and as luck would have it, two orthree of the cats made their way in through the grating of his chamber, and flyingfrom one side to the other, made it seem as if there was a legion of devils at largein it. They extinguished the candles that were burning in the room, and rushedabout seeking some way of escape; the cord with the large bells never ceasedrising and falling; and most of the people of the castle, not knowing what wasreally the matter, were at their wits' end with astonishment. Don Quixote sprangto his feet, and drawing his sword, began making passes at the grating, shoutingout, "Avaunt, malignant enchanters! avaunt, ye witchcraft-working rabble! I amDon Quixote of La Mancha, against whom your evil machinations avail not norhave any power. " And turning upon the cats that were running about the room, hemade several cuts at them. They dashed at the grating and escaped by it, save onethat, finding itself hard pressed by the slashes of Don Quixote's sword, flew at hisface and held on to his nose tooth and nail, with the pain of which he began toshout his loudest. The duke and duchess hearing this, and guessing what it was, ran with all haste to his room, and as the poor gentleman was striving with all hismight to detach the cat from his face, they opened the door with a master-key andwent in with lights and witnessed the unequal combat. The duke ran forward topart the combatants, but Don Quixote cried out aloud, "Let no one take him fromme; leave me hand to hand with this demon, this wizard, this enchanter; I willteach him, I myself, who Don Quixote of La Mancha is. " The cat, however, neverminding these threats, snarled and held on; but at last the duke pulled it off andflung it out of the window. Don Quixote was left with a face as full of holes as asieve and a nose not in very good condition, and greatly vexed that they did notlet him finish the battle he had been so stoutly fighting with that villain of anenchanter. They sent for some oil of John's wort, and Altisidora herself with herown fair hands bandaged all the wounded parts; and as she did so she said to himin a low voice. "All these mishaps have befallen thee, hardhearted knight, for thesin of thy insensibility and obstinacy; and God grant thy squire Sancho may forgetto whip himself, so that that dearly beloved Dulcinea of thine may never bereleased from her enchantment, that thou mayest never come to her bed, at leastwhile I who adore thee am alive. "To all this Don Quixote made no answer except to heave deep sighs, and thenstretched himself on his bed, thanking the duke and duchess for their kindness, not because he stood in any fear of that bell-ringing rabble of enchanters in catshape, but because he recognised their good intentions in coming to his rescue. The duke and duchess left him to repose and withdrew greatly grieved at theunfortunate result of the joke; as they never thought the adventure would havefallen so heavy on Don Quixote or cost him so dear, for it cost him five days ofconfinement to his bed, during which he had another adventure, pleasanter thanthe late one, which his chronicler will not relate just now in order that he mayturn his attention to Sancho Panza, who was proceeding with great diligence anddrollery in his government. CHAPTER XLVII. WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE ACCOUNT OF HOW SANCHOPANZA CONDUCTED HIMSELF IN HIS GOVERNMENTThe history says that from the justice court they carried Sancho to a sumptuouspalace, where in a spacious chamber there was a table laid out with royalmagnificence. The clarions sounded as Sancho entered the room, and four pagescame forward to present him with water for his hands, which Sancho receivedwith great dignity. The music ceased, and Sancho seated himself at the head ofthe table, for there was only that seat placed, and no more than one cover laid. Apersonage, who it appeared afterwards was a physician, placed himself standingby his side with a whalebone wand in his hand. They then lifted up a fine whitecloth covering fruit and a great variety of dishes of different sorts; one who lookedlike a student said grace, and a page put a laced bib on Sancho, while anotherwho played the part of head carver placed a dish of fruit before him. But hardlyhad he tasted a morsel when the man with the wand touched the plate with it, and they took it away from before him with the utmost celerity. The carver, however, brought him another dish, and Sancho proceeded to try it; but before hecould get at it, not to say taste it, already the wand had touched it and a page hadcarried it off with the same promptitude as the fruit. Sancho seeing this waspuzzled, and looking from one to another asked if this dinner was to be eatenafter the fashion of a jugglery trick. To this he with the wand replied, "It is not to be eaten, senor governor, exceptas is usual and customary in other islands where there are governors. I, senor, ama physician, and I am paid a salary in this island to serve its governors as such, and I have a much greater regard for their health than for my own, studying dayand night and making myself acquainted with the governor's constitution, in orderto be able to cure him when he falls sick. The chief thing I have to do is to attendat his dinners and suppers and allow him to eat what appears to me to be fit forhim, and keep from him what I think will do him harm and be injurious to hisstomach; and therefore I ordered that plate of fruit to be removed as being toomoist, and that other dish I ordered to be removed as being too hot andcontaining many spices that stimulate thirst; for he who drinks much kills andconsumes the radical moisture wherein life consists. ""Well then, " said Sancho, "that dish of roast partridges there that seems sosavoury will not do me any harm. "To this the physician replied, "Of those my lord the governor shall not eat solong as I live. ""Why so?" said Sancho. "Because, " replied the doctor, "our master Hippocrates, the polestar and beaconof medicine, says in one of his aphorisms omnis saturatio mala, perdicis autempessima, which means 'all repletion is bad, but that of partridge is the worst ofall. ""In that case, " said Sancho, "let senor doctor see among the dishes that are onthe table what will do me most good and least harm, and let me eat it, withouttapping it with his stick; for by the life of the governor, and so may God suffer meto enjoy it, but I'm dying of hunger; and in spite of the doctor and all he may say, to deny me food is the way to take my life instead of prolonging it. ""Your worship is right, senor governor, " said the physician; "and therefore yourworship, I consider, should not eat of those stewed rabbits there, because it is afurry kind of food; if that veal were not roasted and served with pickles, youmight try it; but it is out of the question. ""That big dish that is smoking farther off, " said Sancho, "seems to me to be anolla podrida, and out of the diversity of things in such ollas, I can't fail to lightupon something tasty and good for me. ""Absit, " said the doctor; "far from us be any such base thought! There is nothingin the world less nourishing than an olla podrida; to canons, or rectors of colleges, or peasants' weddings with your ollas podridas, but let us have none of them onthe tables of governors, where everything that is present should be delicate andrefined; and the reason is, that always, everywhere and by everybody, simplemedicines are more esteemed than compound ones, for we cannot go wrong inthose that are simple, while in the compound we may, by merely altering thequantity of the things composing them. But what I am of opinion the governorshould cat now in order to preserve and fortify his health is a hundred or so ofwafer cakes and a few thin slices of conserve of quinces, which will settle hisstomach and help his digestion. "Sancho on hearing this threw himself back in his chair and surveyed the doctorsteadily, and in a solemn tone asked him what his name was and where he hadstudied. He replied, "My name, senor governor, is Doctor Pedro Recio de Aguero I am anative of a place called Tirteafuera which lies between Caracuel and Almodovardel Campo, on the right-hand side, and I have the degree of doctor from theuniversity of Osuna. "To which Sancho, glowing all over with rage, returned, "Then let Doctor PedroRecio de Malaguero, native of Tirteafuera, a place that's on the right-hand side aswe go from Caracuel to Almodovar del Campo, graduate of Osuna, get out of mypresence at once; or I swear by the sun I'll take a cudgel, and by dint of blows, beginning with him, I'll not leave a doctor in the whole island; at least of those Iknow to be ignorant; for as to learned, wise, sensible physicians, them I willreverence and honour as divine persons. Once more I say let Pedro Recio get outof this or I'll take this chair I am sitting on and break it over his head. And if theycall me to account for it, I'll clear myself by saying I served God in killing a baddoctor--a general executioner. And now give me something to eat, or else takeyour government; for a trade that does not feed its master is not worth twobeans. "The doctor was dismayed when he saw the governor in such a passion, and hewould have made a Tirteafuera out of the room but that the same instant a post-horn sounded in the street; and the carver putting his head out of the windowturned round and said, "It's a courier from my lord the duke, no doubt with somedespatch of importance. "The courier came in all sweating and flurried, and taking a paper from hisbosom, placed it in the governor's hands. Sancho handed it to the majordomo andbade him read the superscription, which ran thus: To Don Sancho Panza, Governor of the Island of Barataria, into his own hands or those of his secretary. Sancho when he heard this said, "Which of you is my secretary?" "I am, senor, "said one of those present, "for I can read and write, and am a Biscayan. " "Withthat addition, " said Sancho, "you might be secretary to the emperor himself; openthis paper and see what it says. " The new-born secretary obeyed, and having readthe contents said the matter was one to be discussed in private. Sancho orderedthe chamber to be cleared, the majordomo and the carver only remaining; so thedoctor and the others withdrew, and then the secretary read the letter, which wasas follows:It has come to my knowledge, Senor Don Sancho Panza, that certain enemies of mine and of the island are about tomake a furious attack upon it some night, I know not when. It behoves you to be on the alert and keep watch, that theysurprise you not. I also know by trustworthy spies that fourpersons have entered the town in disguise in order to takeyour life, because they stand in dread of your great capacity;keep your eyes open and take heed who approaches you toaddress you, and eat nothing that is presented to you. I willtake care to send you aid if you find yourself in difficulty, but in all things you will act as may be expected of yourjudgment. From this place, the Sixteenth of August, at fourin the morning. Your friend, THE DUKESancho was astonished, and those who stood by made believe to be so too, andturning to the majordomo he said to him, "What we have got to do first, and itmust be done at once, is to put Doctor Recio in the lock-up; for if anyone wants tokill me it is he, and by a slow death and the worst of all, which is hunger. ""Likewise, " said the carver, "it is my opinion your worship should not eatanything that is on this table, for the whole was a present from some nuns; and asthey say, 'behind the cross there's the devil. '""I don't deny it, " said Sancho; "so for the present give me a piece of bread andfour pounds or so of grapes; no poison can come in them; for the fact is I can't goon without eating; and if we are to be prepared for these battles that arethreatening us we must be well provisioned; for it is the tripes that carry the heartand not the heart the tripes. And you, secretary, answer my lord the duke and tellhim that all his commands shall be obeyed to the letter, as he directs; and sayfrom me to my lady the duchess that I kiss her hands, and that I beg of her not toforget to send my letter and bundle to my wife Teresa Panza by a messenger; andI will take it as a great favour and will not fail to serve her in all that may liewithin my power; and as you are about it you may enclose a kiss of the hand tomy master Don Quixote that he may see I am grateful bread; and as a goodsecretary and a good Biscayan you may add whatever you like and whatever willcome in best; and now take away this cloth and give me something to eat, and I'llbe ready to meet all the spies and assassins and enchanters that may come againstme or my island. "At this instant a page entered saying, "Here is a farmer on business, who wantsto speak to your lordship on a matter of great importance, he says. ""It's very odd, " said Sancho, "the ways of these men on business; is it possiblethey can be such fools as not to see that an hour like this is no hour for coming onbusiness? We who govern and we who are judges--are we not men of flesh andblood, and are we not to be allowed the time required for taking rest, unlessthey'd have us made of marble? By God and on my conscience, if the governmentremains in my hands (which I have a notion it won't), I'll bring more than oneman on business to order. However, tell this good man to come in; but take carefirst of all that he is not some spy or one of my assassins. ""No, my lord, " said the page, "for he looks like a simple fellow, and either Iknow very little or he is as good as good bread. ""There is nothing to be afraid of, " said the majordomo, "for we are all here. ""Would it be possible, carver, " said Sancho, "now that Doctor Pedro Recio is nothere, to let me eat something solid and substantial, if it were even a piece ofbread and an onion?""To-night at supper, " said the carver, "the shortcomings of the dinner shall bemade good, and your lordship shall be fully contented. ""God grant it, " said Sancho. The farmer now came in, a well-favoured man that one might see a thousandleagues off was an honest fellow and a good soul. The first thing he said was, "Which is the lord governor here?""Which should it be, " said the secretary, "but he who is seated in the chair?""Then I humble myself before him, " said the farmer; and going on his knees heasked for his hand, to kiss it. Sancho refused it, and bade him stand up and saywhat he wanted. The farmer obeyed, and then said, "I am a farmer, senor, anative of Miguelturra, a village two leagues from Ciudad Real. ""Another Tirteafuera!" said Sancho; "say on, brother; I know Miguelturra verywell I can tell you, for it's not very far from my own town. ""The case is this, senor, " continued the farmer, "that by God's mercy I ammarried with the leave and licence of the holy Roman Catholic Church; I have twosons, students, and the younger is studying to become bachelor, and the elder tobe licentiate; I am a widower, for my wife died, or more properly speaking, a baddoctor killed her on my hands, giving her a purge when she was with child; and ifit had pleased God that the child had been born, and was a boy, I would have puthim to study for doctor, that he might not envy his brothers the bachelor and thelicentiate. ""So that if your wife had not died, or had not been killed, you would not nowbe a widower, " said Sancho. "No, senor, certainly not, " said the farmer. "We've got that much settled, " said Sancho; "get on, brother, for it's more bed-time than business-time. ""Well then, " said the farmer, "this son of mine who is going to be a bachelor, fellin love in the said town with a damsel called Clara Perlerina, daughter of AndresPerlerino, a very rich farmer; and this name of Perlerines does not come to themby ancestry or descent, but because all the family are paralytics, and for a bettername they call them Perlerines; though to tell the truth the damsel is as fair as anOriental pearl, and like a flower of the field, if you look at her on the right side;on the left not so much, for on that side she wants an eye that she lost by small-pox; and though her face is thickly and deeply pitted, those who love her say theyare not pits that are there, but the graves where the hearts of her lovers areburied. She is so cleanly that not to soil her face she carries her nose turned up, as they say, so that one would fancy it was running away from her mouth; andwith all this she looks extremely well, for she has a wide mouth; and but forwanting ten or a dozen teeth and grinders she might compare and compete withthe comeliest. Of her lips I say nothing, for they are so fine and thin that, if lipsmight be reeled, one might make a skein of them; but being of a different colourfrom ordinary lips they are wonderful, for they are mottled, blue, green, andpurple--let my lord the governor pardon me for painting so minutely the charmsof her who some time or other will be my daughter; for I love her, and I don't findher amiss. ""Paint what you will, " said Sancho; "I enjoy your painting, and if I had dinedthere could be no dessert more to my taste than your portrait. ""That I have still to furnish, " said the farmer; "but a time will come when wemay be able if we are not now; and I can tell you, senor, if I could paint hergracefulness and her tall figure, it would astonish you; but that is impossiblebecause she is bent double with her knees up to her mouth; but for all that it iseasy to see that if she could stand up she'd knock her head against the ceiling;and she would have given her hand to my bachelor ere this, only that she can'tstretch it out, for it's contracted; but still one can see its elegance and fine makeby its long furrowed nails. ""That will do, brother, " said Sancho; "consider you have painted her from headto foot; what is it you want now? Come to the point without all this beating aboutthe bush, and all these scraps and additions. ""I want your worship, senor, " said the farmer, "to do me the favour of giving mea letter of recommendation to the girl's father, begging him to be so good as to letthis marriage take place, as we are not ill-matched either in the gifts of fortune orof nature; for to tell the truth, senor governor, my son is possessed of a devil, andthere is not a day but the evil spirits torment him three or four times; and fromhaving once fallen into the fire, he has his face puckered up like a piece ofparchment, and his eyes watery and always running; but he has the disposition ofan angel, and if it was not for belabouring and pummelling himself he'd be asaint. ""Is there anything else you want, good man?" said Sancho. "There's another thing I'd like, " said the farmer, "but I'm afraid to mention it;however, out it must; for after all I can't let it be rotting in my breast, come whatmay. I mean, senor, that I'd like your worship to give me three hundred or sixhundred ducats as a help to my bachelor's portion, to help him in setting uphouse; for they must, in short, live by themselves, without being subject to theinterferences of their fathers-in-law. ""Just see if there's anything else you'd like, " said Sancho, "and don't hold backfrom mentioning it out of bashfulness or modesty. ""No, indeed there is not, " said the farmer. The moment he said this the governor started to his feet, and seizing the chairhe had been sitting on exclaimed, "By all that's good, you ill-bred, boorish DonBumpkin, if you don't get out of this at once and hide yourself from my sight, I'lllay your head open with this chair. You whoreson rascal, you devil's own painter, and is it at this hour you come to ask me for six hundred ducats! How should Ihave them, you stinking brute? And why should I give them to you if I had them, you knave and blockhead? What have I to do with Miguelturra or the wholefamily of the Perlerines? Get out I say, or by the life of my lord the duke I'll do asI said. You're not from Miguelturra, but some knave sent here from hell to temptme. Why, you villain, I have not yet had the government half a day, and you wantme to have six hundred ducats already!"The carver made signs to the farmer to leave the room, which he did with hishead down, and to all appearance in terror lest the governor should carry histhreats into effect, for the rogue knew very well how to play his part. But let us leave Sancho in his wrath, and peace be with them all; and let usreturn to Don Quixote, whom we left with his face bandaged and doctored afterthe cat wounds, of which he was not cured for eight days; and on one of thesethere befell him what Cide Hamete promises to relate with that exactitude andtruth with which he is wont to set forth everything connected with this greathistory, however minute it may be. CHAPTER XLVIII. OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH DONA RODRIGUEZ, THEDUCHESS'S DUENNA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER OCCURRENCESWORTHY OF RECORD AND ETERNAL REMEMBRANCEExceedingly moody and dejected was the sorely wounded Don Quixote, with hisface bandaged and marked, not by the hand of God, but by the claws of a cat, mishaps incidental to knight-errantry. Six days he remained without appearing in public, and one night as he layawake thinking of his misfortunes and of Altisidora's pursuit of him, he perceivedthat some one was opening the door of his room with a key, and he at once madeup his mind that the enamoured damsel was coming to make an assault upon hischastity and put him in danger of failing in the fidelity he owed to his ladyDulcinea del Toboso. "No, " said he, firmly persuaded of the truth of his idea (andhe said it loud enough to be heard), "the greatest beauty upon earth shall not availto make me renounce my adoration of her whom I bear stamped and graved in thecore of my heart and the secret depths of my bowels; be thou, lady mine, transformed into a clumsy country wench, or into a nymph of golden Tagusweaving a web of silk and gold, let Merlin or Montesinos hold thee captive wherethey will; whereer thou art, thou art mine, and where'er I am, must be thine. " Thevery instant he had uttered these words, the door opened. He stood up on the bedwrapped from head to foot in a yellow satin coverlet, with a cap on his head, andhis face and his moustaches tied up, his face because of the scratches, and hismoustaches to keep them from drooping and falling down, in which trim helooked the most extraordinary scarecrow that could be conceived. He kept hiseyes fixed on the door, and just as he was expecting to see the love-smitten andunhappy Altisidora make her appearance, he saw coming in a most venerableduenna, in a long white-bordered veil that covered and enveloped her from headto foot. Between the fingers of her left hand she held a short lighted candle, whilewith her right she shaded it to keep the light from her eyes, which were coveredby spectacles of great size, and she advanced with noiseless steps, treading verysoftly. Don Quixote kept an eye upon her from his watchtower, and observing hercostume and noting her silence, he concluded that it must be some witch orsorceress that was coming in such a guise to work him some mischief, and hebegan crossing himself at a great rate. The spectre still advanced, and on reachingthe middle of the room, looked up and saw the energy with which Don Quixotewas crossing himself; and if he was scared by seeing such a figure as hers, shewas terrified at the sight of his; for the moment she saw his tall yellow form withthe coverlet and the bandages that disfigured him, she gave a loud scream, andexclaiming, "Jesus! what's this I see?" let fall the candle in her fright, and thenfinding herself in the dark, turned about to make off, but stumbling on her skirtsin her consternation, she measured her length with a mighty fall. Don Quixote in his trepidation began saying, "I conjure thee, phantom, orwhatever thou art, tell me what thou art and what thou wouldst with me. If thouart a soul in torment, say so, and all that my powers can do I will do for thee; forI am a Catholic Christian and love to do good to all the world, and to this end Ihave embraced the order of knight-errantry to which I belong, the province ofwhich extends to doing good even to souls in purgatory. "The unfortunate duenna hearing herself thus conjured, by her own fear guessedDon Quixote's and in a low plaintive voice answered, "Senor Don Quixote--if sobe you are indeed Don Quixote--I am no phantom or spectre or soul in purgatory, as you seem to think, but Dona Rodriguez, duenna of honour to my lady theduchess, and I come to you with one of those grievances your worship is wont toredress. ""Tell me, Senora Dona Rodriguez, " said Don Quixote, "do you perchance cometo transact any go-between business? Because I must tell you I am not availablefor anybody's purpose, thanks to the peerless beauty of my lady Dulcinea delToboso. In short, Senora Dona Rodriguez, if you will leave out and put aside alllove messages, you may go and light your candle and come back, and we willdiscuss all the commands you have for me and whatever you wish, saving only, asI said, all seductive communications. ""I carry nobody's messages, senor, " said the duenna; "little you know me. Nay, I'm not far enough advanced in years to take to any such childish tricks. God bepraised I have a soul in my body still, and all my teeth and grinders in my mouth, except one or two that the colds, so common in this Aragon country, have robbedme of. But wait a little, while I go and light my candle, and I will returnimmediately and lay my sorrows before you as before one who relieves those of allthe world;" and without staying for an answer she quitted the room and left DonQuixote tranquilly meditating while he waited for her. A thousand thoughts atonce suggested themselves to him on the subject of this new adventure, and itstruck him as being ill done and worse advised in him to expose himself to thedanger of breaking his plighted faith to his lady; and said he to himself, "Whoknows but that the devil, being wily and cunning, may be trying now to entrap mewith a duenna, having failed with empresses, queens, duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses? Many a time have I heard it said by many a man of sense that hewill sooner offer you a flat-nosed wench than a roman-nosed one; and who knowsbut this privacy, this opportunity, this silence, may awaken my sleeping desires, and lead me in these my latter years to fall where I have never tripped? In casesof this sort it is better to flee than to await the battle. But I must be out of mysenses to think and utter such nonsense; for it is impossible that a long, white-hooded spectacled duenna could stir up or excite a wanton thought in the mostgraceless bosom in the world. Is there a duenna on earth that has fair flesh? Isthere a duenna in the world that escapes being ill-tempered, wrinkled, andprudish? Avaunt, then, ye duenna crew, undelightful to all mankind. Oh, but thatlady did well who, they say, had at the end of her reception room a couple offigures of duennas with spectacles and lace-cushions, as if at work, and thosestatues served quite as well to give an air of propriety to the room as if they hadbeen real duennas. "So saying he leaped off the bed, intending to close the door and not allowSenora Rodriguez to enter; but as he went to shut it Senora Rodriguez returnedwith a wax candle lighted, and having a closer view of Don Quixote, with thecoverlet round him, and his bandages and night-cap, she was alarmed afresh, andretreating a couple of paces, exclaimed, "Am I safe, sir knight? for I don't lookupon it as a sign of very great virtue that your worship should have got up out ofbed. ""I may well ask the same, senora, " said Don Quixote; "and I do ask whether Ishall be safe from being assailed and forced?""Of whom and against whom do you demand that security, sir knight?" said theduenna. "Of you and against you I ask it, " said Don Quixote; "for I am not marble, norare you brass, nor is it now ten o'clock in the morning, but midnight, or a triflepast it I fancy, and we are in a room more secluded and retired than the cavecould have been where the treacherous and daring AEneas enjoyed the fair soft-hearted Dido. But give me your hand, senora; I require no better protection thanmy own continence, and my own sense of propriety; as well as that which isinspired by that venerable head-dress;" and so saying he kissed her right hand andtook it in his own, she yielding it to him with equal ceremoniousness. And hereCide Hamete inserts a parenthesis in which he says that to have seen the pairmarching from the door to the bed, linked hand in hand in this way, he wouldhave given the best of the two tunics he had. Don Quixote finally got into bed, and Dona Rodriguez took her seat on a chairat some little distance from his couch, without taking off her spectacles or puttingaside the candle. Don Quixote wrapped the bedclothes round him and coveredhimself up completely, leaving nothing but his face visible, and as soon as theyhad both regained their composure he broke silence, saying, "Now, Senora DonaRodriguez, you may unbosom yourself and out with everything you have in yoursorrowful heart and afflicted bowels; and by me you shall be listened to withchaste ears, and aided by compassionate exertions. ""I believe it, " replied the duenna; "from your worship's gentle and winningpresence only such a Christian answer could be expected. The fact is, then, SenorDon Quixote, that though you see me seated in this chair, here in the middle ofthe kingdom of Aragon, and in the attire of a despised outcast duenna, I am fromthe Asturias of Oviedo, and of a family with which many of the best of theprovince are connected by blood; but my untoward fate and the improvidence ofmy parents, who, I know not how, were unseasonably reduced to poverty, brought me to the court of Madrid, where as a provision and to avoid greatermisfortunes, my parents placed me as seamstress in the service of a lady ofquality, and I would have you know that for hemming and sewing I have neverbeen surpassed by any all my life. My parents left me in service and returned totheir own country, and a few years later went, no doubt, to heaven, for they wereexcellent good Catholic Christians. I was left an orphan with nothing but themiserable wages and trifling presents that are given to servants of my sort inpalaces; but about this time, without any encouragement on my part, one of theesquires of the household fell in love with me, a man somewhat advanced inyears, full-bearded and personable, and above all as good a gentleman as the kinghimself, for he came of a mountain stock. We did not carry on our loves with suchsecrecy but that they came to the knowledge of my lady, and she, not to have anyfuss about it, had us married with the full sanction of the holy mother RomanCatholic Church, of which marriage a daughter was born to put an end to mygood fortune, if I had any; not that I died in childbirth, for I passed through itsafely and in due season, but because shortly afterwards my husband died of acertain shock he received, and had I time to tell you of it I know your worshipwould be surprised;" and here she began to weep bitterly and said, "Pardon me, Senor Don Quixote, if I am unable to control myself, for every time I think of myunfortunate husband my eyes fill up with tears. God bless me, with what an air ofdignity he used to carry my lady behind him on a stout mule as black as jet! for inthose days they did not use coaches or chairs, as they say they do now, and ladiesrode behind their squires. This much at least I cannot help telling you, that youmay observe the good breeding and punctiliousness of my worthy husband. As hewas turning into the Calle de Santiago in Madrid, which is rather narrow, one ofthe alcaldes of the Court, with two alguacils before him, was coming out of it, andas soon as my good squire saw him he wheeled his mule about and made as if hewould turn and accompany him. My lady, who was riding behind him, said to himin a low voice, 'What are you about, you sneak, don't you see that I am here?' Thealcalde like a polite man pulled up his horse and said to him, 'Proceed, senor, forit is I, rather, who ought to accompany my lady Dona Casilda'--for that was mymistress's name. Still my husband, cap in hand, persisted in trying to accompanythe alcalde, and seeing this my lady, filled with rage and vexation, pulled out abig pin, or, I rather think, a bodkin, out of her needle-case and drove it into hisback with such force that my husband gave a loud yell, and writhing fell to theground with his lady. Her two lacqueys ran to rise her up, and the alcalde and thealguacils did the same; the Guadalajara gate was all in commotion--I mean theidlers congregated there; my mistress came back on foot, and my husband hurriedaway to a barber's shop protesting that he was run right through the guts. Thecourtesy of my husband was noised abroad to such an extent, that the boys gavehim no peace in the street; and on this account, and because he was somewhatshortsighted, my lady dismissed him; and it was chagrin at this I am convincedbeyond a doubt that brought on his death. I was left a helpless widow, with adaughter on my hands growing up in beauty like the sea-foam; at length, however, as I had the character of being an excellent needlewoman, my lady the duchess, then lately married to my lord the duke, offered to take me with her to thiskingdom of Aragon, and my daughter also, and here as time went by my daughtergrew up and with her all the graces in the world; she sings like a lark, dancesquick as thought, foots it like a gipsy, reads and writes like a schoolmaster, anddoes sums like a miser; of her neatness I say nothing, for the running water is notpurer, and her age is now, if my memory serves me, sixteen years five months andthree days, one more or less. To come to the point, the son of a very rich farmer, living in a village of my lord the duke's not very far from here, fell in love withthis girl of mine; and in short, how I know not, they came together, and under thepromise of marrying her he made a fool of my daughter, and will not keep hisword. And though my lord the duke is aware of it (for I have complained to him, not once but many and many a time, and entreated him to order the farmer tomarry my daughter), he turns a deaf ear and will scarcely listen to me; the reasonbeing that as the deceiver's father is so rich, and lends him money, and isconstantly going security for his debts, he does not like to offend or annoy him inany way. Now, senor, I want your worship to take it upon yourself to redress thiswrong either by entreaty or by arms; for by what all the world says you came intoit to redress grievances and right wrongs and help the unfortunate. Let yourworship put before you the unprotected condition of my daughter, her youth, andall the perfections I have said she possesses; and before God

and on myconscience, out of all the damsels my lady has, there is not one that comes up tothe sole of her shoe, and the one they call Altisidora, and look upon as the boldestand gayest of them, put in comparison with my daughter, does not come withintwo leagues of her. For I would have you know, senor, all is not gold that glitters, and that same little Altisidora has more forwardness than good looks, and moreimpudence than modesty; besides being not very sound, for she has such adisagreeable breath that one cannot bear to be near her for a moment; and evenmy lady the duchess--but I'll hold my tongue, for they say that walls have ears. ""For heaven's sake, Dona Rodriguez, what ails my lady the duchess?" asked DonQuixote. "Adjured in that way, " replied the duenna, "I cannot help answering thequestion and telling the whole truth. Senor Don Quixote, have you observed thecomeliness of my lady the duchess, that smooth complexion of hers like aburnished polished sword, those two cheeks of milk and carmine, that gay livelystep with which she treads or rather seems to spurn the earth, so that one wouldfancy she went radiating health wherever she passed? Well then, let me tell youshe may thank, first of all God, for this, and next, two issues that she has, one ineach leg, by which all the evil humours, of which the doctors say she is full, aredischarged. ""Blessed Virgin!" exclaimed Don Quixote; "and is it possible that my lady theduchess has drains of that sort? I would not have believed it if the barefoot friarshad told it me; but as the lady Dona Rodriguez says so, it must be so. But surelysuch issues, and in such places, do not discharge humours, but liquid amber. Verily, I do believe now that this practice of opening issues is a very importantmatter for the health. "Don Quixote had hardly said this, when the chamber door flew open with aloud bang, and with the start the noise gave her Dona Rodriguez let the candle fallfrom her hand, and the room was left as dark as a wolf's mouth, as the saying is. Suddenly the poor duenna felt two hands seize her by the throat, so tightly thatshe could not croak, while some one else, without uttering a word, very brisklyhoisted up her petticoats, and with what seemed to be a slipper began to lay on soheartily that anyone would have felt pity for her; but although Don Quixote felt ithe never stirred from his bed, but lay quiet and silent, nay apprehensive that histurn for a drubbing might be coming. Nor was the apprehension an idle one; one;for leaving the duenna (who did not dare to cry out) well basted, the silentexecutioners fell upon Don Quixote, and stripping him of the sheet and thecoverlet, they pinched him so fast and so hard that he was driven to defendhimself with his fists, and all this in marvellous silence. The battle lasted nearlyhalf an hour, and then the phantoms fled; Dona Rodriguez gathered up her skirts, and bemoaning her fate went out without saying a word to Don Quixote, and he, sorely pinched, puzzled, and dejected, remained alone, and there we will leavehim, wondering who could have been the perverse enchanter who had reducedhim to such a state; but that shall be told in due season, for Sancho claims ourattention, and the methodical arrangement of the story demands it. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 33Chapters 49-53Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER XLIX. OF WHAT HAPPENED SANCHO IN MAKING THE ROUND OF HISISLANDWe left the great governor angered and irritated by that portrait-painting rogueof a farmer who, instructed the majordomo, as the majordomo was by the duke, tried to practise upon him; he however, fool, boor, and clown as he was, held hisown against them all, saying to those round him and to Doctor Pedro Recio, whoas soon as the private business of the duke's letter was disposed of had returnedto the room, "Now I see plainly enough that judges and governors ought to be andmust be made of brass not to feel the importunities of the applicants that at alltimes and all seasons insist on being heard, and having their business despatched, and their own affairs and no others attended to, come what may; and if the poorjudge does not hear them and settle the matter--either because he cannot orbecause that is not the time set apart for hearing them--forthwith they abuse him, and run him down, and gnaw at his bones, and even pick holes in his pedigree. You silly, stupid applicant, don't be in a hurry; wait for the proper time andseason for doing business; don't come at dinner-hour, or at bed-time; for judgesare only flesh and blood, and must give to Nature what she naturally demands ofthem; all except myself, for in my case I give her nothing to eat, thanks to SenorDoctor Pedro Recio Tirteafuera here, who would have me die of hunger, anddeclares that death to be life; and the same sort of life may God give him and allhis kind--I mean the bad doctors; for the good ones deserve palms and laurels. "All who knew Sancho Panza were astonished to hear him speak so elegantly, and did not know what to attribute it to unless it were that office and graveresponsibility either smarten or stupefy men's wits. At last Doctor Pedro RecioAgilers of Tirteafuera promised to let him have supper that night though it mightbe in contravention of all the aphorisms of Hippocrates. With this the governorwas satisfied and looked forward to the approach of night and supper-time withgreat anxiety; and though time, to his mind, stood still and made no progress, nevertheless the hour he so longed for came, and they gave him a beef salad withonions and some boiled calves' feet rather far gone. At this he fell to with greaterrelish than if they had given him francolins from Milan, pheasants from Rome, veal from Sorrento, partridges from Moron, or geese from Lavajos, and turning tothe doctor at supper he said to him, "Look here, senor doctor, for the future don'ttrouble yourself about giving me dainty things or choice dishes to eat, for it willbe only taking my stomach off its hinges; it is accustomed to goat, cow, bacon, hung beef, turnips and onions; and if by any chance it is given these palacedishes, it receives them squeamishly, and sometimes with loathing. What thehead-carver had best do is to serve me with what they call ollas podridas (and therottener they are the better they smell); and he can put whatever he likes intothem, so long as it is good to eat, and I'll be obliged to him, and will requite himsome day. But let nobody play pranks on me, for either we are or we are not; letus live and eat in peace and good-fellowship, for when God sends the dawn, hesends it for all. I mean to govern this island without giving up a right or taking abribe; let everyone keep his eye open, and look out for the arrow; for I can tellthem 'the devil's in Cantillana, ' and if they drive me to it they'll see something thatwill astonish them. Nay! make yourself honey and the flies eat you. ""Of a truth, senor governor, " said the carver, "your worship is in the right of itin everything you have said; and I promise you in the name of all the inhabitantsof this island that they will serve your worship with all zeal, affection, and good-will, for the mild kind of government you have given a sample of to begin with, leaves them no ground for doing or thinking anything to your worship'sdisadvantage. ""That I believe, " said Sancho; "and they would be great fools if they did orthought otherwise; once more I say, see to my feeding and my Dapple's for that isthe great point and what is most to the purpose; and when the hour comes let usgo the rounds, for it is my intention to purge this island of all manner ofuncleanness and of all idle good-for-nothing vagabonds; for I would have youknow that lazy idlers are the same thing in a State as the drones in a hive, that eatup the honey the industrious bees make. I mean to protect the husbandman, topreserve to the gentleman his privileges, to reward the virtuous, and above all torespect religion and honour its ministers. What say you to that, my friends? Isthere anything in what I say, or am I talking to no purpose?""There is so much in what your worship says, senor governor, " said themajordomo, "that I am filled with wonder when I see a man like your worship, entirely without learning (for I believe you have none at all), say such things, andso full of sound maxims and sage remarks, very different from what was expectedof your worship's intelligence by those who sent us or by us who came here. Everyday we see something new in this world; jokes become realities, and the jokersfind the tables turned upon them. "Night came, and with the permission of Doctor Pedro Recio, the governor hadsupper. They then got ready to go the rounds, and he started with the majordomo, the secretary, the head-carver, the chronicler charged with recording his deeds, and alguacils and notaries enough to form a fair-sized squadron. In the midstmarched Sancho with his staff, as fine a sight as one could wish to see, and but afew streets of the town had been traversed when they heard a noise as of aclashing of swords. They hastened to the spot, and found that the combatantswere but two, who seeing the authorities approaching stood still, and one of themexclaimed, "Help, in the name of God and the king! Are men to be allowed to robin the middle of this town, and rush out and attack people in the very streets?""Be calm, my good man, " said Sancho, "and tell me what the cause of thisquarrel is; for I am the governor. "Said the other combatant, "Senor governor, I will tell you in a very few words. Your worship must know that this gentleman has just now won more than athousand reals in that gambling house opposite, and God knows how. I was there, and gave more than one doubtful point in his favour, very much against what myconscience told me. He made off with his winnings, and when I made sure he wasgoing to give me a crown or so at least by way of a present, as it is usual andcustomary to give men of quality of my sort who stand by to see fair or foul play, and back up swindles, and prevent quarrels, he pocketed his money and left thehouse. Indignant at this I followed him, and speaking him fairly and civilly askedhim to give me if it were only eight reals, for he knows I am an honest man andthat I have neither profession nor property, for my parents never brought me upto any or left me any; but the rogue, who is a greater thief than Cacus and agreater sharper than Andradilla, would not give me more than four reals; so yourworship may see how little shame and conscience he has. But by my faith if youhad not come up I'd have made him disgorge his winnings, and he'd have learnedwhat the range of the steel-yard was. ""What say you to this?" asked Sancho. The other replied that all his antagonistsaid was true, and that he did not choose to give him more than four realsbecause he very often gave him money; and that those who expected presentsought to be civil and take what is given them with a cheerful countenance, andnot make any claim against winners unless they know them for certain to besharpers and their winnings to be unfairly won; and that there could be no betterproof that he himself was an honest man than his having refused to give anything;for sharpers always pay tribute to lookers-on who know them. "That is true, " said the majordomo; "let your worship consider what is to bedone with these men. ""What is to be done, " said Sancho, "is this; you, the winner, be you good, bad, or indifferent, give this assailant of yours a hundred reals at once, and you mustdisburse thirty more for the poor prisoners; and you who have neither professionnor property, and hang about the island in idleness, take these hundred realsnow, and some time of the day to-morrow quit the island under sentence ofbanishment for ten years, and under pain of completing it in another life if youviolate the sentence, for I'll hang you on a gibbet, or at least the hangman will bymy orders; not a word from either of you, or I'll make him feel my hand. "The one paid down the money and the other took it, and the latter quitted theisland, while the other went home; and then the governor said, "Either I am notgood for much, or I'll get rid of these gambling houses, for it strikes me they arevery mischievous. ""This one at least, " said one of the notaries, "your worship will not be able to getrid of, for a great man owns it, and what he loses every year is beyond allcomparison more than what he makes by the cards. On the minor gamblinghouses your worship may exercise your power, and it is they that do most harmand shelter the most barefaced practices; for in the houses of lords and gentlemenof quality the notorious sharpers dare not attempt to play their tricks; and as thevice of gambling has become common, it is better that men should play in housesof repute than in some tradesman's, where they catch an unlucky fellow in thesmall hours of the morning and skin him alive. ""I know already, notary, that there is a good deal to be said on that point, " saidSancho. And now a tipstaff came up with a young man in his grasp, and said, "Senorgovernor, this youth was coming towards us, and as soon as he saw the officers ofjustice he turned about and ran like a deer, a sure proof that he must be someevil-doer; I ran after him, and had it not been that he stumbled and fell, I shouldnever have caught him. ""What did you run for, fellow?" said Sancho. To which the young man replied, "Senor, it was to avoid answering all thequestions officers of justice put. ""What are you by trade?""A weaver. ""And what do you weave?""Lance heads, with your worship's good leave. ""You're facetious with me! You plume yourself on being a wag? Very good; andwhere were you going just now?""To take the air, senor. ""And where does one take the air in this island?""Where it blows. ""Good! your answers are very much to the point; you are a smart youth; buttake notice that I am the air, and that I blow upon you a-stern, and send you togaol. Ho there! lay hold of him and take him off; I'll make him sleep there to-nightwithout air. ""By God, " said the young man, "your worship will make me sleep in gaol just assoon as make me king. ""Why shan't I make thee sleep in gaol?" said Sancho. "Have I not the power toarrest thee and release thee whenever I like?""All the power your worship has, " said the young man, "won't be able to makeme sleep in gaol. ""How? not able!" said Sancho; "take him away at once where he'll see hismistake with his own eyes, even if the gaoler is willing to exert his interestedgenerosity on his behalf; for I'll lay a penalty of two thousand ducats on him if heallows him to stir a step from the prison. ""That's ridiculous, " said the young man; "the fact is, all the men on earth willnot make me sleep in prison. ""Tell me, you devil, " said Sancho, "have you got any angel that will deliver you, and take off the irons I am going to order them to put upon you?""Now, senor governor, " said the young man in a sprightly manner, "let us bereasonable and come to the point. Granted your worship may order me to betaken to prison, and to have irons and chains put on me, and to be shut up in acell, and may lay heavy penalties on the gaoler if he lets me out, and that heobeys your orders; still, if I don't choose to sleep, and choose to remain awake allnight without closing an eye, will your worship with all your power be able tomake me sleep if I don't choose?""No, truly, " said the secretary, "and the fellow has made his point. ""So then, " said Sancho, "it would be entirely of your own choice you would keepfrom sleeping; not in opposition to my will?""No, senor, " said the youth, "certainly not. ""Well then, go, and God be with you, " said Sancho; "be off home to sleep, andGod give you sound sleep, for I don't want to rob you of it; but for the future, letme advise you don't joke with the authorities, because you may come across someone who will bring down the joke on your own skull. "The young man went his way, and the governor continued his round, andshortly afterwards two tipstaffs came up with a man in custody, and said, "Senorgovernor, this person, who seems to be a man, is not so, but a woman, and not anill-favoured one, in man's clothes. " They raised two or three lanterns to her face, and by their light they distinguished the features of a woman to all appearance ofthe age of sixteen or a little more, with her hair gathered into a gold and greensilk net, and fair as a thousand pearls. They scanned her from head to foot, andobserved that she had on red silk stockings with garters of white taffety borderedwith gold and pearl; her breeches were of green and gold stuff, and under an openjacket or jerkin of the same she wore a doublet of the finest white and gold cloth;her shoes were white and such as men wear; she carried no sword at her belt, butonly a richly ornamented dagger, and on her fingers she had several handsomerings. In short, the girl seemed fair to look at in the eyes of all, and none of thosewho beheld her knew her, the people of the town said they could not imagine whoshe was, and those who were in the secret of the jokes that were to be practisedupon Sancho were the ones who were most surprised, for this incident ordiscovery had not been arranged by them; and they watched anxiously to see howthe affair would end. Sancho was fascinated by the girl's beauty, and he asked her who she was, where she was going, and what had induced her to dress herself in that garb. Shewith her eyes fixed on the ground answered in modest confusion, "I cannot tellyou, senor, before so many people what it is of such consequence to me to havekept secret; one thing I wish to be known, that I am no thief or evildoer, but onlyan unhappy maiden whom the power of jealousy has led to break through therespect that is due to modesty. "Hearing this the majordomo said to Sancho, "Make the people stand back, senorgovernor, that this lady may say what she wishes with less embarrassment. "Sancho gave the order, and all except the majordomo, the head-carver, and thesecretary fell back. Finding herself then in the presence of no more, the damselwent on to say, "I am the daughter, sirs, of Pedro Perez Mazorca, the wool-farmerof this town, who is in the habit of coming very often to my father's house. ""That won't do, senora, " said the majordomo; "for I know Pedro Perez very well, and I know he has no child at all, either son or daughter; and besides, though yousay he is your father, you add then that he comes very often to your father'shouse. ""I had already noticed that, " said Sancho. "I am confused just now, sirs, " said the damsel, "and I don't know what I amsaying; but the truth is that I am the daughter of Diego de la Llana, whom youmust all know. ""Ay, that will do, " said the majordomo; "for I know Diego de la Llana, and knowthat he is a gentleman of position and a rich man, and that he has a son and adaughter, and that since he was left a widower nobody in all this town can speakof having seen his daughter's face; for he keeps her so closely shut up that he doesnot give even the sun a chance of seeing her; and for all that report says she isextremely beautiful. ""It is true, " said the damsel, "and I am that daughter; whether report lies or notas to my beauty, you, sirs, will have decided by this time, as you have seen me;"and with this she began to weep bitterly. On seeing this the secretary leant over to the head-carver's ear, and said to himin a low voice, "Something serious has no doubt happened this poor maiden, thatshe goes wandering from home in such a dress and at such an hour, and one ofher rank too. " "There can be no doubt about it, " returned the carver, "andmoreover her tears confirm your suspicion. " Sancho gave her the best comfort hecould, and entreated her to tell them without any fear what had happened her, asthey would all earnestly and by every means in their power endeavour to relieveher. "The fact is, sirs, " said she, "that my father has kept me shut up these ten years, for so long is it since the earth received my mother. Mass is said at home in asumptuous chapel, and all this time I have seen but the sun in the heaven by day, and the moon and the stars by night; nor do I know what streets are like, orplazas, or churches, or even men, except my father and a brother I have, andPedro Perez the wool-farmer; whom, because he came frequently to our house, Itook it into my head to call my father, to avoid naming my own. This seclusionand the restrictions laid upon my going out, were it only to church, have beenkeeping me unhappy for many a day and month past; I longed to see the world, orat least the town where I was born, and it did not seem to me that this wish wasinconsistent with the respect maidens of good quality should have for themselves. When I heard them talking of bull-fights taking place, and of javelin games, and ofacting plays, I asked my brother, who is a year younger than myself, to tell mewhat sort of things these were, and many more that I had never seen; heexplained them to me as well as he could, but the only effect was to kindle in mea still stronger desire to see them. At last, to cut short the story of my ruin, Ibegged and entreated my brother--O that I had never made such an entreaty-"And once more she gave way to a burst of weeping. "Proceed, senora, " said the majordomo, "and finish your story of what hashappened to you, for your words and tears are keeping us all in suspense. ""I have but little more to say, though many a tear to shed, " said the damsel; "forill-placed desires can only be paid for in some such way. "The maiden's beauty had made a deep impression on the head-carver's heart, and he again raised his lantern for another look at her, and thought they were nottears she was shedding, but seed-pearl or dew of the meadow, nay, he exaltedthem still higher, and made Oriental pearls of them, and fervently hoped hermisfortune might not be so great a one as her tears and sobs seemed to indicate. The governor was losing patience at the length of time the girl was taking to tellher story, and told her not to keep them waiting any longer; for it was late, andthere still remained a good deal of the town to be gone over. She, with broken sobs and half-suppressed sighs, went on to say, "Mymisfortune, my misadventure, is simply this, that I entreated my brother to dressme up as a man in a suit of his clothes, and take me some night, when our fatherwas asleep, to see the whole town; he, overcome by my entreaties, consented, anddressing me in this suit and himself in clothes of mine that fitted him as if madefor him (for he has not a hair on his chin, and might pass for a very beautifulyoung girl), to-night, about an hour ago, more or less, we left the house, andguided by our youthful and foolish impulse we made the circuit of the wholetown, and then, as we were about to return home, we saw a great troop of peoplecoming, and my brother said to me, 'Sister, this must be the round, stir your feetand put wings to them, and follow me as fast as you can, lest they recognise us, for that would be a bad business for us;' and so saying he turned about andbegan, I cannot say to run but to fly; in less than six paces I fell from fright, andthen the officer of justice came up and carried me before your worships, where Ifind myself put to shame before all these people as whimsical and vicious. ""So then, senora, " said Sancho, "no other mishap has befallen you, nor was itjealousy that made you leave home, as you said at the beginning of your story?""Nothing has happened me, " said she, "nor was it jealousy that brought me out, but merely a longing to see the world, which did not go beyond seeing the streetsof this town. "The appearance of the tipstaffs with her brother in custody, whom one of themhad overtaken as he ran away from his sister, now fully confirmed the truth ofwhat the damsel said. He had nothing on but a rich petticoat and a short bluedamask cloak with fine gold lace, and his head was uncovered and adorned onlywith its own hair, which looked like rings of gold, so bright and curly was it. Thegovernor, the majordomo, and the carver went aside with him, and, unheard byhis sister, asked him how he came to be in that dress, and he with no less shameand embarrassment told exactly the same story as his sister, to the great delight ofthe enamoured carver; the governor, however, said to them, "In truth, young ladyand gentleman, this has been a very childish affair, and to explain your folly andrashness there was no necessity for all this delay and all these tears and sighs; forif you had said we are so-and-so, and we escaped from our father's house in thisway in order to ramble about, out of mere curiosity and with no other object, there would have been an end of the matter, and none of these little sobs andtears and all the rest of it. ""That is true, " said the damsel, "but you see the confusion I was in was so greatit did not let me behave as I ought. ""No harm has been done, " said Sancho; "come, we will leave you at your father'shouse; perhaps they will not have missed you; and another time don't be sochildish or eager to see the world; for a respectable damsel should have a brokenleg and keep at home; and the woman and the hen by gadding about are soonlost; and she who is eager to see is also eager to be seen; I say no more. "The youth thanked the governor for his kind offer to take them home, and theydirected their steps towards the house, which was not far off. On reaching it theyouth threw a pebble up at a grating, and immediately a woman-servant who waswaiting for them came down and opened the door to them, and they went in, leaving the party marvelling as much at their grace and beauty as at the fancythey had for seeing the world by night and without quitting the village; which, however, they set down to their youth. The head-carver was left with a heart pierced through and through, and hemade up his mind on the spot to demand the damsel in marriage of her father onthe morrow, making sure she would not be refused him as he was a servant of theduke's; and even to Sancho ideas and schemes of marrying the youth to hisdaughter Sanchica suggested themselves, and he resolved to open the negotiationat the proper season, persuading himself that no husband could be refused to agovernor's daughter. And so the night's round came to an end, and a couple ofdays later the government, whereby all his plans were overthrown and sweptaway, as will be seen farther on. CHAPTER L. WHEREIN IS SET FORTH WHO THE ENCHANTERS ANDEXECUTIONERS WERE WHO FLOGGED THE DUENNA ANDPINCHED DON QUIXOTE, AND ALSO WHAT BEFELL THE PAGEWHO CARRIED THE LETTER TO TERESA PANZA, SANCHO PANZA'SWIFECide Hamete, the painstaking investigator of the minute points of this veracioushistory, says that when Dona Rodriguez left her own room to go to Don Quixote's, another duenna who slept with her observed her, and as all duennas are fond ofprying, listening, and sniffing, she followed her so silently that the good Rodrigueznever perceived it; and as soon as the duenna saw her enter Don Quixote's room, not to fail in a duenna's invariable practice of tattling, she hurried off that instantto report to the duchess how Dona Rodriguez was closeted with Don Quixote. Theduchess told the duke, and asked him to let her and Altisidora go and see whatthe said duenna wanted with Don Quixote. The duke gave them leave, and thepair cautiously and quietly crept to the door of the room and posted themselves soclose to it that they could hear all that was said inside. But when the duchessheard how the Rodriguez had made public the Aranjuez of her issues she couldnot restrain herself, nor Altisidora either; and so, filled with rage and thirsting forvengeance, they burst into the room and tormented Don Quixote and flogged theduenna in the manner already described; for indignities offered to their charmsand self-esteem mightily provoke the anger of women and make them eager forrevenge. The duchess told the duke what had happened, and he was muchamused by it; and she, in pursuance of her design of making merry and divertingherself with Don Quixote, despatched the page who had played the part ofDulcinea in the negotiations for her disenchantment (which Sancho Panza in thecares of government had forgotten all about) to Teresa Panza his wife with herhusband's letter and another from herself, and also a great string of fine coralbeads as a present. Now the history says this page was very sharp and quick-witted; and eager toserve his lord and lady he set off very willingly for Sancho's village. Before heentered it he observed a number of women washing in a brook, and asked them ifthey could tell him whether there lived there a woman of the name of TeresaPanza, wife of one Sancho Panza, squire to a knight called Don Quixote of LaMancha. At the question a young girl who was washing stood up and said, "TeresaPanza is my mother, and that Sancho is my father, and that knight is our master. ""Well then, miss, " said the page, "come and show me where your mother is, for Ibring her a letter and a present from your father. ""That I will with all my heart, senor, " said the girl, who seemed to be aboutfourteen, more or less; and leaving the clothes she was washing to one of hercompanions, and without putting anything on her head or feet, for she was bare-legged and had her hair hanging about her, away she skipped in front of thepage's horse, saying, "Come, your worship, our house is at the entrance of thetown, and my mother is there, sorrowful enough at not having had any news ofmy father this ever so long. ""Well, " said the page, "I am bringing her such good news that she will havereason to thank God. "And then, skipping, running, and capering, the girl reached the town, butbefore going into the house she called out at the door, "Come out, mother Teresa, come out, come out; here's a gentleman with letters and other things from mygood father. " At these words her mother Teresa Panza came out spinning a bundleof flax, in a grey petticoat (so short was it one would have fancied "they to hershame had cut it short"), a grey bodice of the same stuff, and a smock. She wasnot very old, though plainly past forty, strong, healthy, vigorous, and sun-dried;and seeing her daughter and the page on horseback, she exclaimed, "What's this, child? What gentleman is this?""A servant of my lady, Dona Teresa Panza, " replied the page; and suiting theaction to the word he flung himself off his horse, and with great humilityadvanced to kneel before the lady Teresa, saying, "Let me kiss your hand, SenoraDona Teresa, as the lawful and only wife of Senor Don Sancho Panza, rightfulgovernor of the island of Barataria. ""Ah, senor, get up, do that, " said Teresa; "for I'm not a bit of a court lady, butonly a poor country woman, the daughter of a clodcrusher, and the wife of asquire-errant and not of any governor at all. ""You are, " said the page, "the most worthy wife of a most arch-worthy governor;and as a proof of what I say accept this letter and this present;" and at the sametime he took out of his pocket a string of coral beads with gold clasps, and placedit on her neck, and said, "This letter is from his lordship the governor, and theother as well as these coral beads from my lady the duchess, who sends me toyour worship. "Teresa stood lost in astonishment, and her daughter just as much, and the girlsaid, "May I die but our master Don Quixote's at the bottom of this; he must havegiven father the government or county he so often promised him. ""That is the truth, " said the page; "for it is through Senor Don Quixote thatSenor Sancho is now governor of the island of Barataria, as will be seen by thisletter. ""Will your worship read it to me, noble sir?" said Teresa; "for though I can spin Ican't read, not a scrap. ""Nor I either, " said Sanchica; "but wait a bit, and I'll go and fetch some one whocan read it, either the curate himself or the bachelor Samson Carrasco, and they'llcome gladly to hear any news of my father. ""There is no need to fetch anybody, " said the page; "for though I can't spin I canread, and I'll read it;" and so he read it through, but as it has been already given itis not inserted here; and then he took out the other one from the duchess, whichran as follows:Friend Teresa, --Your husband Sancho's good qualities, ofheart as well as of head, induced and compelled me torequest my husband the duke to give him the government ofone of his many islands. I am told he governs like agerfalcon, of which I am very glad, and my lord the duke, ofcourse, also; and I am very thankful to heaven that I havenot made a mistake in choosing him for that samegovernment; for I would have Senora Teresa know that agood governor is hard to find in this world and may Godmake me as good as Sancho's way of governing. Herewith Isend you, my dear, a string of coral beads with gold clasps; Iwish they were Oriental pearls; but "he who gives thee abone does not wish to see thee dead;" a time will come whenwe shall become acquainted and meet one another, but Godknows the future. Commend me to your daughter Sanchica, and tell her from me to hold herself in readiness, for I meanto make a high match for her when she least expects it. Theytell me there are big acorns in your village; send me a coupleof dozen or so, and I shall value them greatly as coming fromyour hand; and write to me at length to assure me of yourhealth and well-being; and if there be anything you stand inneed of, it is but to open your mouth, and that shall be themeasure; and so God keep you. From this place. Your loving friend, THE DUCHESS. "Ah, what a good, plain, lowly lady!" said Teresa when she heard the letter;"that I may be buried with ladies of that sort, and not the gentlewomen we havein this town, that fancy because they are gentlewomen the wind must not touchthem, and go to church with as much airs as if they were queens, no less, andseem to think they are disgraced if they look at a farmer's wife! And see here howthis good lady, for all she's a duchess, calls me 'friend, ' and treats me as if I washer equal--and equal may I see her with the tallest church-tower in La Mancha!And as for the acorns, senor, I'll send her ladyship a peck and such big ones thatone might come to see them as a show and a wonder. And now, Sanchica, see thatthe gentleman is comfortable; put up his horse, and get some eggs out of thestable, and cut plenty of bacon, and let's give him his dinner like a prince; for thegood news he has brought, and his own bonny face deserve it all; and meanwhileI'll run out and give the neighbours the news of our good luck, and father curate, and Master Nicholas the barber, who are and always have been such friends ofthy father's. ""That I will, mother, " said Sanchica; "but mind, you must give me half of thatstring; for I don't think my lady the duchess could have been so stupid as to sendit all to you. ""It is all for thee, my child, " said Teresa; "but let me wear it round my neck fora few days; for verily it seems to make my heart glad. ""You will be glad too, " said the page, "when you see the bundle there is in thisportmanteau, for it is a suit of the finest cloth, that the governor only wore oneday out hunting and now sends, all for Senora Sanchica. ""May he live a thousand years, " said Sanchica, "and the bearer as many, naytwo thousand, if needful. "With this Teresa hurried out of the house with the letters, and with the string ofbeads round her neck, and went along thrumming the letters as if they were atambourine, and by chance coming across the curate and Samson Carrasco shebegan capering and saying, "None of us poor now, faith! We've got a littlegovernment! Ay, let the finest fine lady tackle me, and I'll give her a settingdown!""What's all this, Teresa Panza, " said they; "what madness is this, and whatpapers are those?""The madness is only this, " said she, "that these are the letters of duchesses andgovernors, and these I have on my neck are fine coral beads, with ave-marias andpaternosters of beaten gold, and I am a governess. ""God help us, " said the curate, "we don't understand you, Teresa, or know whatyou are talking about. ""There, you may see it yourselves, " said Teresa, and she handed them theletters. The curate read them out for Samson Carrasco to hear, and Samson and heregarded one another with looks of astonishment at what they had read, and thebachelor asked who had brought the letters. Teresa in reply bade them come withher to her house and they would see the messenger, a most elegant youth, whohad brought another present which was worth as much more. The curate took thecoral beads from her neck and examined them again and again, and havingsatisfied himself as to their fineness he fell to wondering afresh, and said, "By thegown I wear I don't know what to say or think of these letters and presents; onthe one hand I can see and feel the fineness of these coral beads, and on the otherI read how a duchess sends to beg for a couple of dozen of acorns. ""Square that if you can, " said Carrasco; "well, let's go and see the messenger, and from him we'll learn something about this mystery that has turned up. "They did so, and Teresa returned with them. They found the page sifting a littlebarley for his horse, and Sanchica cutting a rasher of bacon to be paved with eggsfor his dinner. His looks and his handsome apparel pleased them both greatly;and after they had saluted him courteously, and he them, Samson begged him togive them his news, as well of Don Quixote as of Sancho Panza, for, he said, though they had read the letters from Sancho and her ladyship the duchess, theywere still puzzled and could not make out what was meant by Sancho'sgovernment, and above all of an island, when all or most of those in theMediterranean belonged to his Majesty. To this the page replied, "As to Senor Sancho Panza's being a governor there isno doubt whatever; but whether it is an island or not that he governs, with that Ihave nothing to do; suffice it that it is a town of more than a thousandinhabitants; with regard to the acorns I may tell you my lady the duchess is sounpretending and unassuming that, not to speak of sending to beg for acorns froma peasant woman, she has been known to send to ask for the loan of a comb fromone of her neighbours; for I would have your worships know that the ladies ofAragon, though they are just as illustrious, are not so punctilious and haughty asthe Castilian ladies; they treat people with greater familiarity. "In the middle of this conversation Sanchica came in with her skirt full of eggs, and said she to the page, "Tell me, senor, does my father wear trunk-hose since hehas been governor?""I have not noticed, " said the page; "but no doubt he wears them. ""Ah! my God!" said Sanchica, "what a sight it must be to see my father in tights!Isn't it odd that ever since I was born I have had a longing to see my father intrunk-hose?""As things go you will see that if you live, " said the page; "by God he is in theway to take the road with a sunshade if the government only lasts him twomonths more. "The curate and the bachelor could see plainly enough that the page spoke in awaggish vein; but the fineness of the coral beads, and the hunting suit thatSancho sent (for Teresa had already shown it to them) did away with theimpression; and they could not help laughing at Sanchica's wish, and still morewhen Teresa said, "Senor curate, look about if there's anybody here going toMadrid or Toledo, to buy me a hooped petticoat, a proper fashionable one of thebest quality; for indeed and indeed I must do honour to my husband's governmentas well as I can; nay, if I am put to it and have to, I'll

go to Court and set a coachlike all the world; for she who has a governor for her husband may very well haveone and keep one. ""And why not, mother!" said Sanchica; "would to God it were to-day instead ofto-morrow, even though they were to say when they saw me seated in the coachwith my mother, 'See that rubbish, that garlic-stuffed fellow's daughter, how shegoes stretched at her ease in a coach as if she was a she-pope!' But let them trampthrough the mud, and let me go in my coach with my feet off the ground. Badluck to backbiters all over the world; 'let me go warm and the people may laugh. 'Do I say right, mother?""To be sure you do, my child, " said Teresa; "and all this good luck, and evenmore, my good Sancho foretold me; and thou wilt see, my daughter, he won't stoptill he has made me a countess; for to make a beginning is everything in luck; andas I have heard thy good father say many a time (for besides being thy father he'sthe father of proverbs too), 'When they offer thee a heifer, run with a halter; whenthey offer thee a government, take it; when they would give thee a county, seizeit; when they say, "Here, here!" to thee with something good, swallow it. ' Oh no!go to sleep, and don't answer the strokes of good fortune and the lucky chancesthat are knocking at the door of your house!""And what do I care, " added Sanchica, "whether anybody says when he sees meholding my head up, 'The dog saw himself in hempen breeches, ' and the rest ofit?"Hearing this the curate said, "I do believe that all this family of the Panzas areborn with a sackful of proverbs in their insides, every one of them; I never sawone of them that does not pour them out at all times and on all occasions. ""That is true, " said the page, "for Senor Governor Sancho utters them at everyturn; and though a great many of them are not to the purpose, still they amuseone, and my lady the duchess and the duke praise them highly. ""Then you still maintain that all this about Sancho's government is true, senor, "said the bachelor, "and that there actually is a duchess who sends him presentsand writes to him? Because we, although we have handled the present and readthe letters, don't believe it and suspect it to be something in the line of our fellow-townsman Don Quixote, who fancies that everything is done by enchantment; andfor this reason I am almost ready to say that I'd like to touch and feel yourworship to see whether you are a mere ambassador of the imagination or a man offlesh and blood. ""All I know, sirs, " replied the page, "is that I am a real ambassador, and thatSenor Sancho Panza is governor as a matter of fact, and that my lord and lady theduke and duchess can give, and have given him this same government, and that Ihave heard the said Sancho Panza bears himself very stoutly therein; whetherthere be any enchantment in all this or not, it is for your worships to settlebetween you; for that's all I know by the oath I swear, and that is by the life ofmy parents whom I have still alive, and love dearly. ""It may be so, " said the bachelor; "but dubitat Augustinus. ""Doubt who will, " said the page; "what I have told you is the truth, and that willalways rise above falsehood as oil above water; if not operibus credite, et nonverbis. Let one of you come with me, and he will see with his eyes what he doesnot believe with his ears. ""It's for me to make that trip, " said Sanchica; "take me with you, senor, behindyou on your horse; for I'll go with all my heart to see my father. ""Governors' daughters, " said the page, "must not travel along the roads alone, but accompanied by coaches and litters and a great number of attendants. ""By God, " said Sanchica, "I can go just as well mounted on a she-ass as in acoach; what a dainty lass you must take me for!""Hush, girl, " said Teresa; "you don't know what you're talking about; thegentleman is quite right, for 'as the time so the behaviour;' when it was Sancho itwas 'Sancha;' when it is governor it's 'senora;' I don't know if I'm right. ""Senora Teresa says more than she is aware of, " said the page; "and now give mesomething to eat and let me go at once, for I mean to return this evening. ""Come and do penance with me, " said the curate at this; "for Senora Teresa hasmore will than means to serve so worthy a guest. "The page refused, but had to consent at last for his own sake; and the curatetook him home with him very gladly, in order to have an opportunity ofquestioning him at leisure about Don Quixote and his doings. The bacheloroffered to write the letters in reply for Teresa; but she did not care to let him mixhimself up in her affairs, for she thought him somewhat given to joking; and soshe gave a cake and a couple of eggs to a young acolyte who was a penman, andhe wrote for her two letters, one for her husband and the other for the duchess, dictated out of her own head, which are not the worst inserted in this greathistory, as will be seen farther on. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LI. OF THE PROGRESS OF SANCHO'S GOVERNMENT, AND OTHERSUCH ENTERTAINING MATTERSDay came after the night of the governor's round; a night which the head-carverpassed without sleeping, so were his thoughts of the face and air and beauty ofthe disguised damsel, while the majordomo spent what was left of it in writing anaccount to his lord and lady of all Sancho said and did, being as much amazed athis sayings as at his doings, for there was a mixture of shrewdness and simplicityin all his words and deeds. The senor governor got up, and by Doctor PedroRecio's directions they made him break his fast on a little conserve and four supsof cold water, which Sancho would have readily exchanged for a piece of breadand a bunch of grapes; but seeing there was no help for it, he submitted with nolittle sorrow of heart and discomfort of stomach; Pedro Recio having persuadedhim that light and delicate diet enlivened the wits, and that was what was mostessential for persons placed in command and in responsible situations, where theyhave to employ not only the bodily powers but those of the mind also. By means of this sophistry Sancho was made to endure hunger, and hunger sokeen that in his heart he cursed the government, and even him who had given itto him; however, with his hunger and his conserve he undertook to deliverjudgments that day, and the first thing that came before him was a question thatwas submitted to him by a stranger, in the presence of the majordomo and theother attendants, and it was in these words: "Senor, a large river separated twodistricts of one and the same lordship--will your worship please to pay attention, for the case is an important and a rather knotty one? Well then, on this river therewas a bridge, and at one end of it a gallows, and a sort of tribunal, where fourjudges commonly sat to administer the law which the lord of river, bridge and thelordship had enacted, and which was to this effect, 'If anyone crosses by thisbridge from one side to the other he shall declare on oath where he is going to andwith what object; and if he swears truly, he shall be allowed to pass, but iffalsely, he shall be put to death for it by hanging on the gallows erected there, without any remission. ' Though the law and its severe penalty were known, manypersons crossed, but in their declarations it was easy to see at once they weretelling the truth, and the judges let them pass free. It happened, however, thatone man, when they came to take his declaration, swore and said that by the oathhe took he was going to die upon that gallows that stood there, and nothing else. The judges held a consultation over the oath, and they said, 'If we let this manpass free he has sworn falsely, and by the law he ought to die; but if we hanghim, as he swore he was going to die on that gallows, and therefore swore thetruth, by the same law he ought to go free. ' It is asked of your worship, senorgovernor, what are the judges to do with this man? For they are still in doubt andperplexity; and having heard of your worship's acute and exalted intellect, theyhave sent me to entreat your worship on their behalf to give your opinion on thisvery intricate and puzzling case. "To this Sancho made answer, "Indeed those gentlemen the judges that send youto me might have spared themselves the trouble, for I have more of the obtusethan the acute in me; but repeat the case over again, so that I may understand it, and then perhaps I may be able to hit the point. "The querist repeated again and again what he had said before, and then Sanchosaid, "It seems to me I can set the matter right in a moment, and in this way; theman swears that he is going to die upon the gallows; but if he dies upon it, he hassworn the truth, and by the law enacted deserves to go free and pass over thebridge; but if they don't hang him, then he has sworn falsely, and by the same lawdeserves to be hanged. ""It is as the senor governor says, " said the messenger; "and as regards acomplete comprehension of the case, there is nothing left to desire or hesitateabout. ""Well then I say, " said Sancho, "that of this man they should let pass the partthat has sworn truly, and hang the part that has lied; and in this way theconditions of the passage will be fully complied with. ""But then, senor governor, " replied the querist, "the man will have to be dividedinto two parts; and if he is divided of course he will die; and so none of therequirements of the law will be carried out, and it is absolutely necessary tocomply with it. ""Look here, my good sir, " said Sancho; "either I'm a numskull or else there is thesame reason for this passenger dying as for his living and passing over the bridge;for if the truth saves him the falsehood equally condemns him; and that being thecase it is my opinion you should say to the gentlemen who sent you to me that asthe arguments for condemning him and for absolving him are exactly balanced, they should let him pass freely, as it is always more praiseworthy to do good thanto do evil; this I would give signed with my name if I knew how to sign; and whatI have said in this case is not out of my own head, but one of the many preceptsmy master Don Quixote gave me the night before I left to become governor of thisisland, that came into my mind, and it was this, that when there was any doubtabout the justice of a case I should lean to mercy; and it is God's will that I shouldrecollect it now, for it fits this case as if it was made for it. ""That is true, " said the majordomo; "and I maintain that Lycurgus himself, whogave laws to the Lacedemonians, could not have pronounced a better decisionthan the great Panza has given; let the morning's audience close with this, and Iwill see that the senor governor has dinner entirely to his liking. ""That's all I ask for--fair play, " said Sancho; "give me my dinner, and then let itrain cases and questions on me, and I'll despatch them in a twinkling. "The majordomo kept his word, for he felt it against his conscience to kill sowise a governor by hunger; particularly as he intended to have done with him thatsame night, playing off the last joke he was commissioned to practise upon him. It came to pass, then, that after he had dined that day, in opposition to therules and aphorisms of Doctor Tirteafuera, as they were taking away the cloththere came a courier with a letter from Don Quixote for the governor. Sanchoordered the secretary to read it to himself, and if there was nothing in it thatdemanded secrecy to read it aloud. The secretary did so, and after he hadskimmed the contents he said, "It may well be read aloud, for what Senor DonQuixote writes to your worship deserves to be printed or written in letters of gold, and it is as follows. "DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA'S LETTER TO SANCHOPANZA, GOVERNOR OF THE ISLAND OF BARATARIA. When I was expecting to hear of thy stupidities andblunders, friend Sancho, I have received intelligence of thydisplays of good sense, for which I give special thanks toheaven that can raise the poor from the dunghill and of foolsto make wise men. They tell me thou dost govern as if thouwert a man, and art a man as if thou wert a beast, so great isthe humility wherewith thou dost comport thyself. But Iwould have thee bear in mind, Sancho, that very often it isfitting and necessary for the authority of office to resist thehumility of the heart; for the seemly array of one who isinvested with grave duties should be such as they requireand not measured by what his own humble tastes may leadhim to prefer. Dress well; a stick dressed up does not looklike a stick; I do not say thou shouldst wear trinkets or fineraiment, or that being a judge thou shouldst dress like asoldier, but that thou shouldst array thyself in the apparelthy office requires, and that at the same time it be neat andhandsome. To win the good-will of the people thou governestthere are two things, among others, that thou must do; oneis to be civil to all (this, however, I told thee before), and theother to take care that food be abundant, for there is nothingthat vexes the heart of the poor more than hunger and highprices. Make not many proclamations; but those thoumakest take care that they be good ones, and above all thatthey be observed and carried out; for proclamations that arenot observed are the same as if they did not exist; nay, theyencourage the idea that the prince who had the wisdom andauthority to make them had not the power to enforce them;and laws that threaten and are not enforced come to be likethe log, the king of the frogs, that frightened them at first, but that in time they despised and mounted upon. Be afather to virtue and a stepfather to vice. Be not always strict, nor yet always lenient, but observe a mean between thesetwo extremes, for in that is the aim of wisdom. Visit thegaols, the slaughter-houses, and the market-places; for thepresence of the governor is of great importance in suchplaces; it comforts the prisoners who are in hopes of aspeedy release, it is the bugbear of the butchers who havethen to give just weight, and it is the terror of the market-women for the same reason. Let it not be seen that thou art(even if perchance thou art, which I do not believe) covetous, a follower of women, or a glutton; for when the people andthose that have dealings with thee become aware of thyspecial weakness they will bring their batteries to bear uponthee in that quarter, till they have brought thee down to thedepths of perdition. Consider and reconsider, con and conover again the advices and the instructions I gave thee beforethy departure hence to thy government, and thou wilt seethat in them, if thou dost follow them, thou hast a help athand that will lighten for thee the troubles and difficultiesthat beset governors at every step. Write to thy lord and ladyand show thyself grateful to them, for ingratitude is thedaughter of pride, and one of the greatest sins we know of;and he who is grateful to those who have been good to himshows that he will be so to God also who has bestowed andstill bestows so many blessings upon him. My lady the duchess sent off a messenger with thy suitand another present to thy wife Teresa Panza; we expect theanswer every moment. I have been a little indisposedthrough a certain scratching I came in for, not very much tothe benefit of my nose; but it was nothing; for if there areenchanters who maltreat me, there are also some who defendme. Let me know if the majordomo who is with thee had anyshare in the Trifaldi performance, as thou didst suspect; andkeep me informed of everything that happens thee, as thedistance is so short; all the more as I am thinking of givingover very shortly this idle life I am now leading, for I wasnot born for it. A thing has occurred to me which I aminclined to think will put me out of favour with the duke andduchess; but though I am sorry for it I do not care, for afterall I must obey my calling rather than their pleasure, inaccordance with the common saying, amicus Plato, sedmagis amica veritas. I quote this Latin to thee because Iconclude that since thou hast been a governor thou wilt havelearned it. Adieu; God keep thee from being an object of pityto anyone. Thy friend, DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA. Sancho listened to the letter with great attention, and it was praised andconsidered wise by all who heard it; he then rose up from table, and calling hissecretary shut himself in with him in his own room, and without putting it off anylonger set about answering his master Don Quixote at once; and he bade thesecretary write down what he told him without adding or suppressing anything, which he did, and the answer was to the following effect. SANCHO PANZA'S LETTER TO DON QUIXOTE OF LAMANCHA. The pressure of business is so great upon me that I haveno time to scratch my head or even to cut my nails; and Ihave them so long--God send a remedy for it. I say this, master of my soul, that you may not be surprised if I havenot until now sent you word of how I fare, well or ill, in thisgovernment, in which I am suffering more hunger than whenwe two were wandering through the woods and wastes. My lord the duke wrote to me the other day to warn methat certain spies had got into this island to kill me; but upto the present I have not found out any except a certaindoctor who receives a salary in this town for killing all thegovernors that come here; he is called Doctor Pedro Recio, and is from Tirteafuera; so you see what a name he has tomake me dread dying under his hands. This doctor says ofhimself that he does not cure diseases when there are any, but prevents them coming, and the medicines he uses arediet and more diet until he brings one down to bare bones;as if leanness was not worse than fever. In short he is killing me with hunger, and I am dyingmyself of vexation; for when I thought I was coming to thisgovernment to get my meat hot and my drink cool, and takemy ease between holland sheets on feather beds, I find Ihave come to do penance as if I was a hermit; and as I don'tdo it willingly I suspect that in the end the devil will carryme off. So far I have not handled any dues or taken any bribes, and I don't know what to think of it; for here they tell methat the governors that come to this island, before entering ithave plenty of money either given to them or lent to them bythe people of the town, and that this is the usual custom notonly here but with all who enter upon governments. Last night going the rounds I came upon a fair damsel inman's clothes, and a brother of hers dressed as a woman; myhead-carver has fallen in love with the girl, and has in hisown mind chosen her for a wife, so he says, and I havechosen youth for a son-in-law; to-day we are going to explainour intentions to the father of the pair, who is one Diego dela Llana, a gentleman and an old Christian as much as youplease. I have visited the market-places, as your worship advisesme, and yesterday I found a stall-keeper selling new hazelnuts and proved her to have mixed a bushel of old emptyrotten nuts with a bushel of new; I confiscated the whole forthe children of the charity-school, who will know how todistinguish them well enough, and I sentenced her not tocome into the market-place for a fortnight; they told me I didbravely. I can tell your worship it is commonly said in thistown that there are no people worse than the market-women, for they are all barefaced, unconscionable, and impudent, and I can well believe it from what I have seen of them inother towns. I am very glad my lady the duchess has written to my wifeTeresa Panza and sent her the present your worship speaksof; and I will strive to show myself grateful when the timecomes; kiss her hands for me, and tell her I say she has notthrown it into a sack with a hole in it, as she will see in theend. I should not like your worship to have any differencewith my lord and lady; for if you fall out with them it isplain it must do me harm; and as you give me advice to begrateful it will not do for your worship not to be so yourselfto those who have shown you such kindness, and by whomyou have been treated so hospitably in their castle. That about the scratching I don't understand; but Isuppose it must be one of the ill-turns the wicked enchantersare always doing your worship; when we meet I shall knowall about it. I wish I could send your worship something; butI don't know what to send, unless it be some very curiousclyster pipes, to work with bladders, that they make in thisisland; but if the office remains with me I'll find outsomething to send, one way or another. If my wife TeresaPanza writes to me, pay the postage and send me the letter, for I have a very great desire to hear how my house and wifeand children are going on. And so, may God deliver yourworship from evil-minded enchanters, and bring me well andpeacefully out of this government, which I doubt, for Iexpect to take leave of it and my life together, from the wayDoctor Pedro Recio treats me. Your worship's servant SANCHO PANZA THEGOVERNOR. The secretary sealed the letter, and immediately dismissed the courier; andthose who were carrying on the joke against Sancho putting their heads togetherarranged how he was to be dismissed from the government. Sancho spent theafternoon in drawing up certain ordinances relating to the good government ofwhat he fancied the island; and he ordained that there were to be no provisionhucksters in the State, and that men might import wine into it from any placethey pleased, provided they declared the quarter it came from, so that a pricemight be put upon it according to its quality, reputation, and the estimation itwas held in; and he that watered his wine, or changed the name, was to forfeit hislife for it. He reduced the prices of all manner of shoes, boots, and stockings, butof shoes in particular, as they seemed to him to run extravagantly high. Heestablished a fixed rate for servants' wages, which were becoming recklesslyexorbitant. He laid extremely heavy penalties upon those who sang lewd or loosesongs either by day or night. He decreed that no blind man should sing of anymiracle in verse, unless he could produce authentic evidence that it was true, forit was his opinion that most of those the blind men sing are trumped up, to thedetriment of the true ones. He established and created an alguacil of the poor, notto harass them, but to examine them and see whether they really were so; formany a sturdy thief or drunkard goes about under cover of a make-believecrippled limb or a sham sore. In a word, he made so many good rules that to thisday they are preserved there, and are called The constitutions of the greatgovernor Sancho Panza. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LII. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECONDDISTRESSED OR AFFLICTED DUENNA, OTHERWISE CALLEDDONA RODRIGUEZCide Hamete relates that Don Quixote being now cured of his scratches felt thatthe life he was leading in the castle was entirely inconsistent with the order ofchivalry he professed, so he determined to ask the duke and duchess to permithim to take his departure for Saragossa, as the time of the festival was nowdrawing near, and he hoped to win there the suit of armour which is the prize atfestivals of the sort. But one day at table with the duke and duchess, just as hewas about to carry his resolution into effect and ask for their permission, lo andbehold suddenly there came in through the door of the great hall two women, asthey afterwards proved to be, draped in mourning from head to foot, one of whomapproaching Don Quixote flung herself at full length at his feet, pressing her lipsto them, and uttering moans so sad, so deep, and so doleful that she put all whoheard and saw her into a state of perplexity; and though the duke and duchesssupposed it must be some joke their servants were playing off upon Don Quixote, still the earnest way the woman sighed and moaned and wept puzzled them andmade them feel uncertain, until Don Quixote, touched with compassion, raisedher up and made her unveil herself and remove the mantle from her tearful face. She complied and disclosed what no one could have ever anticipated, for shedisclosed the countenance of Dona Rodriguez, the duenna of the house; the otherfemale in mourning being her daughter, who had been made a fool of by the richfarmer's son. All who knew her were filled with astonishment, and the duke andduchess more than any; for though they thought her a simpleton and a weakcreature, they did not think her capable of crazy pranks. Dona Rodriguez, atlength, turning to her master and mistress said to them, "Will your excellences bepleased to permit me to speak to this gentleman for a moment, for it is requisite Ishould do so in order to get successfully out of the business in which the boldnessof an evil-minded clown has involved me?"The duke said that for his part he gave her leave, and that she might speak withSenor Don Quixote as much as she liked. She then, turning to Don Quixote and addressing herself to him said, "Somedays since, valiant knight, I gave you an account of the injustice and treachery ofa wicked farmer to my dearly beloved daughter, the unhappy damsel here beforeyou, and you promised me to take her part and right the wrong that has beendone her; but now it has come to my hearing that you are about to depart fromthis castle in quest of such fair adventures as God may vouchsafe to you;therefore, before you take the road, I would that you challenge this frowardrustic, and compel him to marry my daughter in fulfillment of the promise he gaveher to become her husband before he seduced her; for to expect that my lord theduke will do me justice is to ask pears from the elm tree, for the reason I statedprivately to your worship; and so may our Lord grant you good health and forsakeus not. "To these words Don Quixote replied very gravely and solemnly, "Worthyduenna, check your tears, or rather dry them, and spare your sighs, for I take itupon myself to obtain redress for your daughter, for whom it would have beenbetter not to have been so ready to believe lovers' promises, which are for themost part quickly made and very slowly performed; and so, with my lord theduke's leave, I will at once go in quest of this inhuman youth, and will find himout and challenge him and slay him, if so be he refuses to keep his promisedword; for the chief object of my profession is to spare the humble and chastise theproud; I mean, to help the distressed and destroy the oppressors. ""There is no necessity, " said the duke, "for your worship to take the trouble ofseeking out the rustic of whom this worthy duenna complains, nor is there anynecessity, either, for asking my leave to challenge him; for I admit him dulychallenged, and will take care that he is informed of the challenge, and accepts it, and comes to answer it in person to this castle of mine, where I shall afford toboth a fair field, observing all the conditions which are usually and properlyobserved in such trials, and observing too justice to both sides, as all princes whooffer a free field to combatants within the limits of their lordships are bound todo. ""Then with that assurance and your highness's good leave, " said Don Quixote, "Ihereby for this once waive my privilege of gentle blood, and come down and putmyself on a level with the lowly birth of the wrong-doer, making myself equalwith him and enabling him to enter into combat with me; and so, I challenge anddefy him, though absent, on the plea of his malfeasance in breaking faith with thispoor damsel, who was a maiden and now by his misdeed is none; and say that heshall fulfill the promise he gave her to become her lawful husband, or else stakehis life upon the question. "And then plucking off a glove he threw it down in the middle of the hall, andthe duke picked it up, saying, as he had said before, that he accepted thechallenge in the name of his vassal, and fixed six days thence as the time, thecourtyard of the castle as the place, and for arms the customary ones of knights, lance and shield and full armour, with all the other accessories, without trickery, guile, or charms of any sort, and examined and passed by the judges of the field. "But first of all, " he said, "it is requisite that this worthy duenna and unworthydamsel should place their claim for justice in the hands of Don Quixote; forotherwise nothing can be done, nor can the said challenge be brought to a lawfulissue. ""I do so place it, " replied the duenna. "And I too, " added her daughter, all in tears and covered with shame andconfusion. This declaration having been made, and the duke having settled in his ownmind what he would do in the matter, the ladies in black withdrew, and theduchess gave orders that for the future they were not to be treated as servants ofhers, but as lady adventurers who came to her house to demand justice; so theygave them a room to themselves and waited on them as they would on strangers, to the consternation of the other women-servants, who did not know where thefolly and imprudence of Dona Rodriguez and her unlucky daughter would stop. And now, to complete the enjoyment of the feast and bring the dinner to asatisfactory end, lo and behold the page who had carried the letters and presentsto Teresa Panza, the wife of the governor Sancho, entered the hall; and the dukeand duchess were very well pleased to see him, being anxious to know the resultof his journey; but when they asked him the page said in reply that he could notgive it before so many people or in a few words, and begged their excellences tobe pleased to let it wait for a private opportunity, and in the meantime amusethemselves with these letters; and taking out the letters he placed them in theduchess's hand. One bore by way of address, Letter for my lady the Duchess So-and-so, of I don't know where; and the other To my husband Sancho Panza, governor of the island of Barataria, whom God prosper longer than me. Theduchess's bread would not bake, as the saying is, until she had read her letter;and having looked over it herself and seen that it might be read aloud for theduke and all present to hear, she read out as follows. TERESA PANZA'S LETTER TO THE DUCHESS. The letter your highness wrote me, my lady, gave me greatpleasure, for indeed I found it very welcome. The string ofcoral beads is very fine, and my husband's hunting suit doesnot fall short of it. All this village is very much pleased thatyour ladyship has made a governor of my good man Sancho;though nobody will believe it, particularly the curate, andMaster Nicholas the barber, and the bachelor SamsonCarrasco; but I don't care for that, for so long as it is true, asit is, they may all say what they like; though, to tell thetruth, if the coral beads and the suit had not come I wouldnot have believed it either; for in this village everybodythinks my husband a numskull, and except for governing aflock of goats, they cannot fancy what sort of government hecan be fit for. God grant it, and direct him according as hesees his children stand in need of it. I am resolved with yourworship's leave, lady of my soul, to make the most of thisfair day, and go to Court to stretch myself at ease in a coach, and make all those I have envying me already burst theireyes out; so I beg your excellence to order my husband tosend me a small trifle of money, and to let it be something tospeak of, because one's expenses are heavy at the Court; fora loaf costs a real, and meat thirty maravedis a pound, which is beyond everything; and if he does not want me togo let him tell me in time, for my feet are on the fidgets tobe off; and my friends and neighbours tell me that if mydaughter and I make a figure and a brave show at Court, myhusband will come to be known far more by me than I byhim, for of course plenty of people will ask, "Who are thoseladies in that coach?" and some servant of mine will answer, "The wife and daughter of Sancho Panza, governor of theisland of Barataria;" and in this way Sancho will becomeknown, and I'll be thought well of, and "to Rome foreverything. " I am as vexed as vexed can be that they havegathered no acorns this year in our village; for all that I sendyour highness about half a peck that I went to the wood togather and pick out one by one myself, and I could find nobigger ones; I wish they were as big as ostrich eggs. Let not your high mightiness forget to write to me; and Iwill take care to answer, and let you know how I am, andwhatever news there may be in this place, where I remain, praying our Lord to have your highness in his keeping andnot to forget me. Sancha my daughter, and my son, kiss your worship'shands. She who would rather see your ladyship than write to you, Your servant, TERESA PANZA. All were greatly amused by Teresa Panza's letter, but particularly the duke andduchess; and the duchess asked Don Quixote's opinion whether they might openthe letter that had come for the governor, which she suspected must be very good. Don Quixote said that to gratify them he would open it, and did so, and foundthat it ran as follows. TERESA PANZA'S LETTER TO HER HUSBAND SANCHOPANZA. I got thy letter, Sancho of my soul, and I promise thee andswear as a Catholic Christian that I was within two fingers'breadth of going mad I was so happy. I can tell thee, brother, when I came to hear that thou wert a governor Ithought I should have dropped dead with pure joy; and thouknowest they say sudden joy kills as well as great sorrow;and as for Sanchica thy daughter, she leaked from sheerhappiness. I had before me the suit thou didst send me, andthe coral beads my lady the duchess sent me round my neck, and the letters in my hands, and there was the bearer ofthem standing by, and in spite of all this I verily believedand thought that what I saw and handled was all a dream;for who could have thought that a goatherd would come tobe a governor of islands? Thou knowest, my friend, what mymother used to say, that one must live long to see much; Isay it because I expect to see more if I live longer; for I don'texpect to stop until I see thee a farmer of taxes or a collectorof revenue, which are offices where, though the devil carriesoff those who make a bad use of them, still they make andhandle money. My lady the duchess will tell thee the desire Ihave to go to the Court; consider the matter and let me knowthy pleasure; I will try to do honour to thee by going in acoach. Neither the curate, nor the barber, nor the bachelor, noreven the sacristan, can believe that thou art a governor, andthey say the whole thing is a delusion or an enchantmentaffair, like everything belonging to thy master Don Quixote;and Samson says he must go in search of thee and drive thegovernment out of thy head and the madness out of DonQuixote's skull; I only laugh, and look at my string of beads, and plan out the dress I am going to make for our daughterout of thy suit. I sent some acorns to my lady the duchess; Iwish they had been gold. Send me some strings of pearls ifthey are in fashion in that island. Here is the news of thevillage; La Berrueca has married her daughter to a good-for-nothing painter, who came here to paint anything that mightturn up. The council gave him an order to paint his Majesty'sarms over the door of the town-hall; he asked two ducats, which they paid him in advance; he worked for eight days, and at the end of them had nothing painted, and then saidhe had no turn for painting such trifling things; he returnedthe money, and for all that has married on the pretence ofbeing a good workman; to be sure he has now laid aside hispaint-brush and taken a spade in hand, and goes to the fieldlike a gentleman. Pedro Lobo's son has received the firstorders and tonsure, with the intention of becoming a priest. Minguilla, Mingo Silvato's granddaughter, found it out, andhas gone to law with him on the score of having given herpromise of marriage. Evil tongues say she is with child byhim, but he denies it stoutly. There are no olives this year, and there is not a drop of vinegar to be had in the wholevillage. A company of soldiers passed through here; whenthey left they took away with them three of the girls of thevillage; I will not tell thee who they are; perhaps they willcome back, and they will be sure to find those who will takethem for wives with all their blemishes, good or bad. Sanchica is making bonelace; she earns eight maravedis aday clear, which she puts into a moneybox as a help towardshouse furnishing; but now that she is a governor's daughterthou wilt give her a portion without her working for it. Thefountain in the plaza has run dry. A flash of lightning struckthe gibbet, and I wish they all lit there. I look for an answerto this, and to know thy mind about my going to the Court;and so, God keep thee longer than me, or as long, for Iwould not leave thee in this world without me. Thy wife, TERESA PANZA. The letters were applauded, laughed over, relished, and admired; and then, as ifto put the seal to the business, the courier arrived, bringing the one Sancho sentto Don Quixote, and this, too, was read out, and it raised some doubts as to thegovernor's simplicity. The duchess withdrew to hear from the page about hisadventures in Sancho's village, which he narrated at full length without leaving asingle circumstance unmentioned. He gave her the acorns, and also a cheesewhich Teresa had given him as being particularly good and superior to those ofTronchon. The duchess received it with greatest delight, in which we will leaveher, to describe the end of the government of the great Sancho Panza, flower andmirror of all governors of islands. CHAPTER LIII. OF THE TROUBLOUS END AND TERMINATION SANCHO PANZA'SGOVERNMENT CAME TOTo fancy that in this life anything belonging to it will remain for ever in thesame state is an idle fancy; on the contrary, in it everything seems to go in acircle, I mean round and round. The spring succeeds the summer, the summer thefall, the fall the autumn, the autumn the winter, and the winter the spring, and sotime rolls with never-ceasing wheel. Man's life alone, swifter than time, speedsonward to its end without any hope of renewal, save it be in that other life whichis endless and boundless. Thus saith Cide Hamete the Mahometan philosopher;for there are many that by the light of nature alone, without the light of faith, have a comprehension of the fleeting nature and instability of this present life andthe endless duration of that eternal life we hope for; but our author is herespeaking of the rapidity with which Sancho's government came to an end, meltedaway, disappeared, vanished as it were in smoke and shadow. For as he lay in bedon the night of the seventh day of his government, sated, not with bread andwine, but with delivering judgments and giving opinions and making laws andproclamations, just as sleep, in spite of hunger, was beginning to close his eyelids, he heard such a noise of bell-ringing and shouting that one would have fancied thewhole island was going to the bottom. He sat up in bed and remained listeningintently to try if he could make out what could be the cause of so great an uproar;not only, however, was he unable to discover what it was, but as countless drumsand trumpets now helped to swell the din of the bells and shouts, he was morepuzzled than ever, and filled with fear and terror; and getting up he put on a pairof slippers because of the dampness of the floor, and without throwing a dressinggown or anything of the kind over him he rushed out of the door of his room, justin time to see approaching along a corridor a band of more than twenty personswith lighted torches and naked swords in their hands, all shouting out, "To arms, to arms, senor governor, to arms! The enemy is in the island in countlessnumbers, and we are lost unless your skill and valour come to our support. "Keeping up this noise, tumult, and uproar, they came to where Sancho stooddazed and bewildered by what he saw and heard, and as they approached one ofthem called out to him, "Arm at once, your lordship, if you would not haveyourself destroyed and the whole island lost. ""What have I to do with arming?" said Sancho. "What do I know about arms orsupports? Better leave all that to my master Don Quixote, who will settle it andmake all safe in a trice; for I, sinner that I am, God help me, don't understandthese scuffles. ""Ah, senor governor, " said another, "what slackness of mettle this is! Armyourself; here are arms for you, offensive and defensive; come out to the plazaand be our leader and captain; it falls upon you by right, for you are ourgovernor. ""Arm me then, in God's name, " said Sancho, and they at once produced twolarge shields they had come provided with, and placed them upon him over

hisshirt, without letting him put on anything else, one shield in front and the otherbehind, and passing his arms through openings they had made, they bound himtight with ropes, so that there he was walled and boarded up as straight as aspindle and unable to bend his knees or stir a single step. In his hand they placeda lance, on which he leant to keep himself from falling, and as soon as they hadhim thus fixed they bade him march forward and lead them on and give them allcourage; for with him for their guide and lamp and morning star, they were sureto bring their business to a successful issue. "How am I to march, unlucky being that I am?" said Sancho, "when I can't stirmy knee-caps, for these boards I have bound so tight to my body won't let me. What you must do is carry me in your arms, and lay me across or set me uprightin some postern, and I'll hold it either with this lance or with my body. ""On, senor governor!" cried another, "it is fear more than the boards that keepsyou from moving; make haste, stir yourself, for there is no time to lose; the enemyis increasing in numbers, the shouts grow louder, and the danger is pressing. "Urged by these exhortations and reproaches the poor governor made an attemptto advance, but fell to the ground with such a crash that he fancied he had brokenhimself all to pieces. There he lay like a tortoise enclosed in its shell, or a side ofbacon between two kneading-troughs, or a boat bottom up on the beach; nor didthe gang of jokers feel any compassion for him when they saw him down; so farfrom that, extinguishing their torches they began to shout afresh and to renew thecalls to arms with such energy, trampling on poor Sancho, and slashing at himover the shield with their swords in such a way that, if he had not gatheredhimself together and made himself small and drawn in his head between theshields, it would have fared badly with the poor governor, as, squeezed into thatnarrow compass, he lay, sweating and sweating again, and commending himselfwith all his heart to God to deliver him from his present peril. Some stumbledover him, others fell upon him, and one there was who took up a position on topof him for some time, and from thence as if from a watchtower issued orders tothe troops, shouting out, "Here, our side! Here the enemy is thickest! Hold thebreach there! Shut that gate! Barricade those ladders! Here with your stink-pots ofpitch and resin, and kettles of boiling oil! Block the streets with feather beds!" Inshort, in his ardour he mentioned every little thing, and every implement andengine of war by means of which an assault upon a city is warded off, while thebruised and battered Sancho, who heard and suffered all, was saying to himself, "O if it would only please the Lord to let the island be lost at once, and I could seemyself either dead or out of this torture!" Heaven heard his prayer, and when heleast expected it he heard voices exclaiming, "Victory, victory! The enemy retreatsbeaten! Come, senor governor, get up, and come and enjoy the victory, and dividethe spoils that have been won from the foe by the might of that invincible arm. ""Lift me up, " said the wretched Sancho in a woebegone voice. They helped himto rise, and as soon as he was on his feet said, "The enemy I have beaten you maynail to my forehead; I don't want to divide the spoils of the foe, I only beg andentreat some friend, if I have one, to give me a sup of wine, for I'm parched withthirst, and wipe me dry, for I'm turning to water. "They rubbed him down, fetched him wine and unbound the shields, and heseated himself upon his bed, and with fear, agitation, and fatigue he fainted away. Those who had been concerned in the joke were now sorry they had pushed it sofar; however, the anxiety his fainting away had caused them was relieved by hisreturning to himself. He asked what o'clock it was; they told him it was justdaybreak. He said no more, and in silence began to dress himself, while allwatched him, waiting to see what the haste with which he was putting on hisclothes meant. He got himself dressed at last, and then, slowly, for he was sorely bruised andcould not go fast, he proceeded to the stable, followed by all who were present, and going up to Dapple embraced him and gave him a loving kiss on the forehead, and said to him, not without tears in his eyes, "Come along, comrade and friendand partner of my toils and sorrows; when I was with you and had no cares totrouble me except mending your harness and feeding your little carcass, happywere my hours, my days, and my years; but since I left you, and mounted thetowers of ambition and pride, a thousand miseries, a thousand troubles, and fourthousand anxieties have entered into my soul;" and all the while he was speakingin this strain he was fixing the pack-saddle on the ass, without a word fromanyone. Then having Dapple saddled, he, with great pain and difficulty, got up onhim, and addressing himself to the majordomo, the secretary, the head-carver, and Pedro Recio the doctor and several others who stood by, he said, "Make way, gentlemen, and let me go back to my old freedom; let me go look for my past life, and raise myself up from this present death. I was not born to be a governor orprotect islands or cities from the enemies that choose to attack them. Ploughingand digging, vinedressing and pruning, are more in my way than defendingprovinces or kingdoms. 'Saint Peter is very well at Rome; I mean each of us is bestfollowing the trade he was born to. A reaping-hook fits my hand better than agovernor's sceptre; I'd rather have my fill of gazpacho' than be subject to themisery of a meddling doctor who me with hunger, and I'd rather lie in summerunder the shade of an oak, and in winter wrap myself in a double sheepskinjacket in freedom, than go to bed between holland sheets and dress in sablesunder the restraint of a government. God be with your worships, and tell my lordthe duke that 'naked I was born, naked I find myself, I neither lose nor gain;' Imean that without a farthing I came into this government, and without a farthingI go out of it, very different from the way governors commonly leave otherislands. Stand aside and let me go; I have to plaster myself, for I believe every oneof my ribs is crushed, thanks to the enemies that have been trampling over me to-night. ""That is unnecessary, senor governor, " said Doctor Recio, "for I will give yourworship a draught against falls and bruises that will soon make you as sound andstrong as ever; and as for your diet I promise your worship to behave better, andlet you eat plentifully of whatever you like. ""You spoke late, " said Sancho. "I'd as soon turn Turk as stay any longer. Thosejokes won't pass a second time. By God I'd as soon remain in this government, ortake another, even if it was offered me between two plates, as fly to heavenwithout wings. I am of the breed of the Panzas, and they are every one of themobstinate, and if they once say 'odds, ' odds it must be, no matter if it is evens, inspite of all the world. Here in this stable I leave the ant's wings that lifted me upinto the air for the swifts and other birds to eat me, and let's take to level groundand our feet once more; and if they're not shod in pinked shoes of cordovan, theywon't want for rough sandals of hemp; 'every ewe to her like, ' 'and let no onestretch his leg beyond the length of the sheet;' and now let me pass, for it'sgrowing late with me. "To this the majordomo said, "Senor governor, we would let your worship gowith all our hearts, though it sorely grieves us to lose you, for your wit andChristian conduct naturally make us regret you; but it is well known that everygovernor, before he leaves the place where he has been governing, is bound firstof all to render an account. Let your worship do so for the ten days you have heldthe government, and then you may go and the peace of God go with you. ""No one can demand it of me, " said Sancho, "but he whom my lord the dukeshall appoint; I am going to meet him, and to him I will render an exact one;besides, when I go forth naked as I do, there is no other proof needed to showthat I have governed like an angel. ""By God the great Sancho is right, " said Doctor Recio, "and we should let himgo, for the duke will be beyond measure glad to see him. "They all agreed to this, and allowed him to go, first offering to bear himcompany and furnish him with all he wanted for his own comfort or for thejourney. Sancho said he did not want anything more than a little barley forDapple, and half a cheese and half a loaf for himself; for the distance being soshort there was no occasion for any better or bulkier provant. They all embracedhim, and he with tears embraced all of them, and left them filled with admirationnot only at his remarks but at his firm and sensible resolution. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 34Chapters 54-57Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LIV. WHICH DEALS WITH MATTERS RELATING TO THIS HISTORY ANDNO OTHERThe duke and duchess resolved that the challenge Don Quixote had, for thereason already mentioned, given their vassal, should be proceeded with; and asthe young man was in Flanders, whither he had fled to escape having DonaRodriguez for a mother-in-law, they arranged to substitute for him a Gasconlacquey, named Tosilos, first of all carefully instructing him in all he had to do. Two days later the duke told Don Quixote that in four days from that time hisopponent would present himself on the field of battle armed as a knight, andwould maintain that the damsel lied by half a beard, nay a whole beard, if sheaffirmed that he had given her a promise of marriage. Don Quixote was greatlypleased at the news, and promised himself to do wonders in the lists, andreckoned it rare good fortune that an opportunity should have offered for lettinghis noble hosts see what the might of his strong arm was capable of; and so inhigh spirits and satisfaction he awaited the expiration of the four days, whichmeasured by his impatience seemed spinning themselves out into four hundredages. Let us leave them to pass as we do other things, and go and bear Sanchocompany, as mounted on Dapple, half glad, half sad, he paced along on his roadto join his master, in whose society he was happier than in being governor of allthe islands in the world. Well then, it so happened that before he had gone a greatway from the island of his government (and whether it was island, city, town, orvillage that he governed he never troubled himself to inquire) he saw coming alongthe road he was travelling six pilgrims with staves, foreigners of that sort that begfor alms singing; who as they drew near arranged themselves in a line and liftingup their voices all together began to sing in their own language something thatSancho could not with the exception of one word which sounded plainly "alms, "from which he gathered that it was alms they asked for in their song; and being, as Cide Hamete says, remarkably charitable, he took out of his alforias the halfloaf and half cheese he had been provided with, and gave them to them, explaining to them by signs that he had nothing else to give them. They receivedthem very gladly, but exclaimed, "Geld! Geld!""I don't understand what you want of me, good people, " said Sancho. On this one of them took a purse out of his bosom and showed it to Sancho, bywhich he comprehended they were asking for money, and putting his thumb to histhroat and spreading his hand upwards he gave them to understand that he hadnot the sign of a coin about him, and urging Dapple forward he broke throughthem. But as he was passing, one of them who had been examining him veryclosely rushed towards him, and flinging his arms round him exclaimed in a loudvoice and good Spanish, "God bless me! What's this I see? Is it possible that I holdin my arms my dear friend, my good neighbour Sancho Panza? But there's nodoubt about it, for I'm not asleep, nor am I drunk just now. "Sancho was surprised to hear himself called by his name and find himselfembraced by a foreign pilgrim, and after regarding him steadily without speakinghe was still unable to recognise him; but the pilgrim perceiving his perplexitycried, "What! and is it possible, Sancho Panza, that thou dost not know thyneighbour Ricote, the Morisco shopkeeper of thy village?"Sancho upon this looking at him more carefully began to recall his features, andat last recognised him perfectly, and without getting off the ass threw his armsround his neck saying, "Who the devil could have known thee, Ricote, in thismummer's dress thou art in? Tell me, who bas frenchified thee, and how dostthou dare to return to Spain, where if they catch thee and recognise thee it will gohard enough with thee?""If thou dost not betray me, Sancho, " said the pilgrim, "I am safe; for in thisdress no one will recognise me; but let us turn aside out of the road into thatgrove there where my comrades are going to eat and rest, and thou shalt eat withthem there, for they are very good fellows; I'll have time enough to tell thee thenall that has happened me since I left our village in obedience to his Majesty's edictthat threatened such severities against the unfortunate people of my nation, asthou hast heard. "Sancho complied, and Ricote having spoken to the other pilgrims they withdrewto the grove they saw, turning a considerable distance out of the road. They threwdown their staves, took off their pilgrim's cloaks and remained in their under-clothing; they were all good-looking young fellows, except Ricote, who was a mansomewhat advanced in years. They carried alforjas all of them, and all apparentlywell filled, at least with things provocative of thirst, such as would summon itfrom two leagues off. They stretched themselves on the ground, and making atablecloth of the grass they spread upon it bread, salt, knives, walnut, scraps ofcheese, and well-picked ham-bones which if they were past gnawing were not pastsucking. They also put down a black dainty called, they say, caviar, and made ofthe eggs of fish, a great thirst-wakener. Nor was there any lack of olives, dry, it istrue, and without any seasoning, but for all that toothsome and pleasant. Butwhat made the best show in the field of the banquet was half a dozen botas ofwine, for each of them produced his own from his alforjas; even the good Ricote, who from a Morisco had transformed himself into a German or Dutchman, tookout his, which in size might have vied with the five others. They then began to eatwith very great relish and very leisurely, making the most of each morsel--verysmall ones of everything--they took up on the point of the knife; and then all atthe same moment raised their arms and botas aloft, the mouths placed in theirmouths, and all eyes fixed on heaven just as if they were taking aim at it; and inthis attitude they remained ever so long, wagging their heads from side to side asif in acknowledgment of the pleasure they were enjoying while they decanted thebowels of the bottles into their own stomachs. Sancho beheld all, "and nothing gave him pain;" so far from that, acting on theproverb he knew so well, "when thou art at Rome do as thou seest, " he askedRicote for his bota and took aim like the rest of them, and with not lessenjoyment. Four times did the botas bear being uplifted, but the fifth it was all invain, for they were drier and more sapless than a rush by that time, which madethe jollity that had been kept up so far begin to flag. Every now and then some one of them would grasp Sancho's right hand in hisown saying, "Espanoli y Tudesqui tuto uno: bon compano;" and Sancho wouldanswer, "Bon compano, jur a Di!" and then go off into a fit of laughter that lastedan hour, without a thought for the moment of anything that had befallen him inhis government; for cares have very little sway over us while we are eating anddrinking. At length, the wine having come to an end with them, drowsiness beganto come over them, and they dropped asleep on their very table and tablecloth. Ricote and Sancho alone remained awake, for they had eaten more and drunkless, and Ricote drawing Sancho aside, they seated themselves at the foot of abeech, leaving the pilgrims buried in sweet sleep; and without once falling into hisown Morisco tongue Ricote spoke as follows in pure Castilian:"Thou knowest well, neighbour and friend Sancho Panza, how the proclamationor edict his Majesty commanded to be issued against those of my nation filled usall with terror and dismay; me at least it did, insomuch that I think before thetime granted us for quitting Spain was out, the full force of the penalty hadalready fallen upon me and upon my children. I decided, then, and I think wisely(just like one who knows that at a certain date the house he lives in will be takenfrom him, and looks out beforehand for another to change into), I decided, I say, to leave the town myself, alone and without my family, and go to seek out someplace to remove them to comfortably and not in the hurried way in which theothers took their departure; for I saw very plainly, and so did all the older menamong us, that the proclamations were not mere threats, as some said, butpositive enactments which would be enforced at the appointed time; and whatmade me believe this was what I knew of the base and extravagant designs whichour people harboured, designs of such a nature that I think it was a divineinspiration that moved his Majesty to carry out a resolution so spirited; not thatwe were all guilty, for some there were true and steadfast Christians; but theywere so few that they could make no head against those who were not; and it wasnot prudent to cherish a viper in the bosom by having enemies in the house. Inshort it was with just cause that we were visited with the penalty of banishment, a mild and lenient one in the eyes of some, but to us the most terrible that couldbe inflicted upon us. Wherever we are we weep for Spain; for after all we wereborn there and it is our natural fatherland. Nowhere do we find the reception ourunhappy condition needs; and in Barbary and all the parts of Africa where wecounted upon being received, succoured, and welcomed, it is there they insult andill-treat us most. We knew not our good fortune until we lost it; and such is thelonging we almost all of us have to return to Spain, that most of those who likemyself know the language, and there are many who do, come back to it and leavetheir wives and children forsaken yonder, so great is their love for it; and now Iknow by experience the meaning of the saying, sweet is the love of one's country. "I left our village, as I said, and went to France, but though they gave us a kindreception there I was anxious to see all I could. I crossed into Italy, and reachedGermany, and there it seemed to me we might live with more freedom, as theinhabitants do not pay any attention to trifling points; everyone lives as he likes, for in most parts they enjoy liberty of conscience. I took a house in a town nearAugsburg, and then joined these pilgrims, who are in the habit of coming to Spainin great numbers every year to visit the shrines there, which they look upon astheir Indies and a sure and certain source of gain. They travel nearly all over it, and there is no town out of which they do not go full up of meat and drink, as thesaying is, and with a real, at least, in money, and they come off at the end of theirtravels with more than a hundred crowns saved, which, changed into gold, theysmuggle out of the kingdom either in the hollow of their staves or in the patchesof their pilgrim's cloaks or by some device of their own, and carry to their owncountry in spite of the guards at the posts and passes where they are searched. Now my purpose is, Sancho, to carry away the treasure that I left buried, which, as it is outside the town, I shall be able to do without risk, and to write, or crossover from Valencia, to my daughter and wife, who I know are at Algiers, and findsome means of bringing them to some French port and thence to Germany, thereto await what it may be God's will to do with us; for, after all, Sancho, I knowwell that Ricota my daughter and Francisca Ricota my wife are CatholicChristians, and though I am not so much so, still I am more of a Christian than aMoor, and it is always my prayer to God that he will open the eyes of myunderstanding and show me how I am to serve him; but what amazes me and Icannot understand is why my wife and daughter should have gone to Barbaryrather than to France, where they could live as Christians. "To this Sancho replied, "Remember, Ricote, that may not have been open tothem, for Juan Tiopieyo thy wife's brother took them, and being a true Moor hewent where he could go most easily; and another thing I can tell thee, it is mybelief thou art going in vain to look for what thou hast left buried, for we heardthey took from thy brother-in-law and thy wife a great quantity of pearls andmoney in gold which they brought to be passed. ""That may be, " said Ricote; "but I know they did not touch my hoard, for I didnot tell them where it was, for fear of accidents; and so, if thou wilt come withme, Sancho, and help me to take it away and conceal it, I will give thee twohundred crowns wherewith thou mayest relieve thy necessities, and, as thouknowest, I know they are many. ""I would do it, " said Sancho; "but I am not at all covetous, for I gave up anoffice this morning in which, if I was, I might have made the walls of my house ofgold and dined off silver plates before six months were over; and so for thisreason, and because I feel I would be guilty of treason to my king if I helped hisenemies, I would not go with thee if instead of promising me two hundred crownsthou wert to give me four hundred here in hand. ""And what office is this thou hast given up, Sancho?" asked Ricote. "I have given up being governor of an island, " said Sancho, "and such a one, faith, as you won't find the like of easily. ""And where is this island?" said Ricote. "Where?" said Sancho; "two leagues from here, and it is called the island ofBarataria. ""Nonsense! Sancho, " said Ricote; "islands are away out in the sea; there are noislands on the mainland. ""What? No islands!" said Sancho; "I tell thee, friend Ricote, I left it this morning, and yesterday I was governing there as I pleased like a sagittarius; but for all thatI gave it up, for it seemed to me a dangerous office, a governor's. ""And what hast thou gained by the government?" asked Ricote. "I have gained, " said Sancho, "the knowledge that I am no good for governing, unless it is a drove of cattle, and that the riches that are to be got by thesegovernments are got at the cost of one's rest and sleep, ay and even one's food; forin islands the governors must eat little, especially if they have doctors to lookafter their health. ""I don't understand thee, Sancho, " said Ricote; "but it seems to me all nonsensethou art talking. Who would give thee islands to govern? Is there any scarcity inthe world of cleverer men than thou art for governors? Hold thy peace, Sancho, and come back to thy senses, and consider whether thou wilt come with me as Isaid to help me to take away treasure I left buried (for indeed it may be called atreasure, it is so large), and I will give thee wherewithal to keep thee, as I toldthee. ""And I have told thee already, Ricote, that I will not, " said Sancho; "let itcontent thee that by me thou shalt not be betrayed, and go thy way in God's nameand let me go mine; for I know that well-gotten gain may be lost, but ill-gottengain is lost, itself and its owner likewise. ""I will not press thee, Sancho, " said Ricote; "but tell me, wert thou in our villagewhen my wife and daughter and brother-in-law left it?""I was so, " said Sancho; "and I can tell thee thy daughter left it looking so lovelythat all the village turned out to see her, and everybody said she was the fairestcreature in the world. She wept as she went, and embraced all her friends andacquaintances and those who came out to see her, and she begged them all tocommend her to God and Our Lady his mother, and this in such a touching waythat it made me weep myself, though I'm not much given to tears commonly; and, faith, many a one would have liked to hide her, or go out and carry her off on theroad; but the fear of going against the king's command kept them back. The onewho showed himself most moved was Don Pedro Gregorio, the rich young heirthou knowest of, and they say he was deep in love with her; and since she left hehas not been seen in our village again, and we all suspect he has gone after her tosteal her away, but so far nothing has been heard of it. ""I always had a suspicion that gentleman had a passion for my daughter, " saidRicote; "but as I felt sure of my Ricota's virtue it gave me no uneasiness to knowthat he loved her; for thou must have heard it said, Sancho, that the Moriscowomen seldom or never engage in amours with the old Christians; and mydaughter, who I fancy thought more of being a Christian than of lovemaking, would not trouble herself about the attentions of this heir. ""God grant it, " said Sancho, "for it would be a bad business for both of them;but now let me be off, friend Ricote, for I want to reach where my master DonQuixote is to-night. ""God be with thee, brother Sancho, " said Ricote; "my comrades are beginning tostir, and it is time, too, for us to continue our journey;" and then they bothembraced, and Sancho mounted Dapple, and Ricote leant upon his staff, and sothey parted. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LV. OF WHAT BEFELL SANCHO ON THE ROAD, AND OTHER THINGSTHAT CANNOT BE SURPASSEDThe length of time he delayed with Ricote prevented Sancho from reaching theduke's castle that day, though he was within half a league of it when night, somewhat dark and cloudy, overtook him. This, however, as it was summer time, did not give him much uneasiness, and he turned aside out of the road intendingto wait for morning; but his ill luck and hard fate so willed it that as he wassearching about for a place to make himself as comfortable as possible, he andDapple fell into a deep dark hole that lay among some very old buildings. As hefell he commended himself with all his heart to God, fancying he was not going tostop until he reached the depths of the bottomless pit; but it did not turn out so, for at little more than thrice a man's height Dapple touched bottom, and he foundhimself sitting on him without having received any hurt or damage whatever. Hefelt himself all over and held his breath to try whether he was quite sound or hada hole made in him anywhere, and finding himself all right and whole and inperfect health he was profuse in his thanks to God our Lord for the mercy thathad been shown him, for he made sure he had been broken into a thousandpieces. He also felt along the sides of the pit with his hands to see if it werepossible to get out of it without help, but he found they were quite smooth andafforded no hold anywhere, at which he was greatly distressed, especially when heheard how pathetically and dolefully Dapple was bemoaning himself, and nowonder he complained, nor was it from ill-temper, for in truth he was not in avery good case. "Alas, " said Sancho, "what unexpected accidents happen at everystep to those who live in this miserable world! Who would have said that one whosaw himself yesterday sitting on a throne, governor of an island, giving orders tohis servants and his vassals, would see himself to-day buried in a pit without asoul to help him, or servant or vassal to come to his relief? Here must we perishwith hunger, my ass and myself, if indeed we don't die first, he of his bruises andinjuries, and I of grief and sorrow. At any rate I'll not be as lucky as my masterDon Quixote of La Mancha, when he went down into the cave of that enchantedMontesinos, where he found people to make more of him than if he had been inhis own house; for it seems he came in for a table laid out and a bed ready made. There he saw fair and pleasant visions, but here I'll see, I imagine, toads andadders. Unlucky wretch that I am, what an end my follies and fancies have cometo! They'll take up my bones out of this, when it is heaven's will that I'm found, picked clean, white and polished, and my good Dapple's with them, and by that, perhaps, it will be found out who we are, at least by such as have heard thatSancho Panza never separated from his ass, nor his ass from Sancho Panza. Unlucky wretches, I say again, that our hard fate should not let us die in our owncountry and among our own people, where if there was no help for ourmisfortune, at any rate there would be some one to grieve for it and to close oureyes as we passed away! O comrade and friend, how ill have I repaid thy faithfulservices! Forgive me, and entreat Fortune, as well as thou canst, to deliver us outof this miserable strait we are both in; and I promise to put a crown of laurel onthy head, and make thee look like a poet laureate, and give thee double feeds. "In this strain did Sancho bewail himself, and his ass listened to him, butanswered him never a word, such was the distress and anguish the poor beastfound himself in. At length, after a night spent in bitter moanings andlamentations, day came, and by its light Sancho perceived that it was whollyimpossible to escape out of that pit without help, and he fell to bemoaning hisfate and uttering loud shouts to find out if there was anyone within hearing; butall his shouting was only crying in the wilderness, for there was not a soulanywhere in the neighbourhood to hear him, and then at last he gave himself upfor dead. Dapple was lying on his back, and Sancho helped him to his feet, whichhe was scarcely able to keep; and then taking a piece of bread out of his alforjaswhich had shared their fortunes in the fall, he gave it to the ass, to whom it wasnot unwelcome, saying to him as if he understood him, "With bread all sorrowsare less. "And now he perceived on one side of the pit a hole large enough to admit aperson if he stooped and squeezed himself into a small compass. Sancho made forit, and entered it by creeping, and found it wide and spacious on the inside, which he was able to see as a ray of sunlight that penetrated what might be calledthe roof showed it all plainly. He observed too that it opened and widened outinto another spacious cavity; seeing which he made his way back to where the asswas, and with a stone began to pick away the clay from the hole until in a shorttime he had made room for the beast to pass easily, and this accomplished, takinghim by the halter, he proceeded to traverse the cavern to see if there was anyoutlet at the other end. He advanced, sometimes in the dark, sometimes withoutlight, but never without fear; "God Almighty help me!" said he to himself; "thisthat is a misadventure to me would make a good adventure for my master DonQuixote. He would have been sure to take these depths and dungeons for flowerygardens or the palaces of Galiana, and would have counted upon issuing out ofthis darkness and imprisonment into some blooming meadow; but I, unlucky thatI am, hopeless and spiritless, expect at every step another pit deeper than the firstto open under my feet and swallow me up for good; 'welcome evil, if thou comestalone. '"In this way and with these reflections he seemed to himself to have travelledrather more than half a league, when at last he perceived a dim light that lookedlike daylight and found its way in on one side, showing that this road, whichappeared to him the road to the other world, led to some opening. Here Cide Hamete leaves him, and returns to Don Quixote, who in high spiritsand satisfaction was looking forward to the day fixed for the battle he was to fightwith him who had robbed Dona Rodriguez's daughter of her honour, for whom hehoped to obtain satisfaction for the wrong and injury shamefully done to her. Itcame to pass, then, that having sallied forth one morning to practise and exercisehimself in what he would have to do in the encounter he expected to find himselfengaged in the next day, as he was putting Rocinante through his paces orpressing him to the charge, he brought his feet so close to a pit that but forreining him in tightly it would have been impossible for him to avoid falling intoit. He pulled him up, however, without a fall, and coming a little closer examinedthe hole without dismounting; but as he was looking at it he heard loud criesproceeding from it, and by listening attentively was able to make out that he whouttered them was saying, "Ho, above there! is there any Christian that hears me, or any charitable gentleman that will take pity on a sinner buried alive, on anunfortunate disgoverned governor?"It struck Don Quixote that it was the voice of Sancho Panza he heard, whereathe was taken aback and amazed, and raising his own voice as much as he could, he cried out, "Who is below there? Who is that complaining?""Who should be here, or who should complain, " was the answer, "but the forlornSancho Panza, for his sins and for his ill-luck governor of the island of Barataria, squire that was to the famous knight Don Quixote of La Mancha?"When Don Quixote heard this his amazement was redoubled and hisperturbation grew greater than ever, for it suggested itself to his mind that Sanchomust be dead, and that his soul was in torment down there; and carried away bythis idea he exclaimed, "I conjure thee by everything that as a Catholic Christian Ican conjure thee by, tell me who thou art; and if thou art a soul in torment, tellme what thou wouldst have me do for thee; for as my profession is to give aid andsuccour to those that need it in this world, it will also extend to aiding andsuccouring the distressed of the other, who cannot help themselves. ""In that case, " answered the voice, "your worship who speaks to me must be mymaster Don Quixote of La Mancha; nay, from the tone of the voice it is plain itcan be nobody else. ""Don Quixote I am, " replied Don Quixote, "he whose profession it is to aid andsuccour the living and the dead in their necessities; wherefore tell me who thouart, for thou art keeping me in suspense; because, if thou art my squire SanchoPanza, and art dead, since the devils have not carried thee off, and thou art byGod's mercy in purgatory, our holy mother the Roman Catholic Church hasintercessory means sufficient to release thee from the pains thou art in; and I formy part will plead with her to that end, so far as my substance will go; withoutfurther delay, therefore, declare thyself, and tell me who thou art. ""By all that's good, " was the answer, "and by the birth of whomsoever yourworship chooses, I swear, Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, that I am your squireSancho Panza, and that I have never died all my life; but that, having given up mygovernment for reasons that would require more time to explain, I fell last nightinto this pit where I am now, and Dapple is witness and won't let me lie, for moreby token he is here with me. "Nor was this all; one would have fancied the ass understood what Sancho said, because that moment he began to bray so loudly that the whole cave rang again. "Famous testimony!" exclaimed Don Quixote; "I know that bray as well as if Iwas its mother, and thy voice too, my Sancho. Wait while I go to the duke's castle, which is close by, and I will bring some one to take thee out of this pit into whichthy sins no doubt have brought thee. ""Go, your worship, " said Sancho, "and come back quick for God's sake; for Icannot bear being buried alive any longer, and I'm dying of fear. "Don Quixote left him, and hastened to the castle to tell the duke and duchesswhat had happened Sancho, and they were not a little astonished at it; they couldeasily understand his having fallen, from the confirmatory circumstance of thecave which had been in existence there from time immemorial; but they could notimagine how he had quitted the government without their receiving anyintimation of his coming. To be brief, they fetched ropes and tackle, as the sayingis, and by dint of many hands and much labour they drew up Dapple and SanchoPanza out of the darkness into the light of day. A student who saw him remarked, "That's the way all bad governors should come out of their governments, as thissinner comes out of the depths of the pit, dead with hunger, pale, and I supposewithout a farthing. "Sancho overheard him and said, "It is eight or ten days, brother growler, since Ientered upon the government of the island they gave me, and all that time I neverhad a bellyful of victuals, no not for an hour; doctors persecuted me and enemiescrushed my bones; nor had I any opportunity of taking bribes or levying taxes;and if that be the case, as it is, I don't deserve, I think, to come out in thisfashion; but 'man proposes and God disposes;' and God knows what is best, andwhat suits each one best; and 'as the occasion, so the behaviour;' and 'let nobodysay "I won't drink of this water;"' and 'where one thinks there are flitches, thereare no pegs;' God knows my meaning and that's enough; I say no more, though Icould. ""Be not angry or annoyed at what thou hearest, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "orthere will never be an end of it; keep a safe conscience and let them say what theylike; for trying to stop slanderers' tongues is like trying to put gates to the openplain. If a governor comes out of his government rich, they say he has been athief; and if he comes out poor, that he has been a noodle and a blockhead. ""They'll be pretty sure this time, " said Sancho, "to set me down for a fool ratherthan a thief. "Thus talking, and surrounded by boys and a crowd of people, they reached thecastle, where in one of the corridors the duke and duchess stood waiting for them;but Sancho would not go up to see the duke until he had first put up Dapple inthe stable, for he said he had passed a very bad night in his last quarters; then hewent upstairs to see his lord and lady, and kneeling before them he said, "Becauseit was your highnesses' pleasure, not because of any desert of my own, I went togovern your island of Barataria, which 'I entered naked, and naked I find myself; Ineither lose nor gain. ' Whether I have governed well or ill, I have had witnesseswho will say what they think fit. I have answered questions, I have decidedcauses, and always dying of hunger, for Doctor Pedro Recio of Tirteafuera, theisland and governor doctor, would have it so. Enemies attacked us by night andput us in a great quandary, but the people of the island say they came off safe andvictorious by the might of my arm; and may God give them as much health asthere's truth in what they say. In short, during that time I have weighed the caresand responsibilities governing brings with it, and by my reckoning I find myshoulders can't bear them, nor are they a load for my loins or arrows for myquiver; and so, before the government threw me over I preferred to throw thegovernment over; and yesterday morning I left the island as I found it, with thesame streets, houses, and roofs it had when I entered it. I asked no loan ofanybody, nor did I try to fill my pocket; and though I meant to make some usefullaws, I made hardly any, as I was afraid they would not be kept; for in that case itcomes to the same thing to make them or not to make them. I quitted the island, as I said, without any escort except my ass; I fell into a pit, I pushed on throughit, until this morning by the light of the sun I saw an outlet, but not so easy a onebut that, had not heaven sent me my master Don Quixote, I'd have stayed theretill the end of the world. So now my lord and lady duke and duchess, here is yourgovernor Sancho Panza, who in the bare ten days he has held the government hascome by the knowledge that he would not give anything to be governor, not to sayof an island, but of the whole world; and that point being settled, kissing yourworships' feet, and imitating the game of the boys when they say, 'leap thou, andgive me one, ' I take a leap out of the government and pass into the service of mymaster Don Quixote; for after all, though in it I eat my bread in fear andtrembling, at any rate I take my fill; and for my part, so long as I'm full, it's allalike to me whether it's with carrots or with partridges. "Here

Sancho brought his long speech to an end, Don Quixote having been thewhole time in dread of his uttering a host of absurdities; and when he found himleave off with so few, he thanked heaven in his heart. The duke embraced Sanchoand told him he was heartily sorry he had given up the government so soon, butthat he would see that he was provided with some other post on his estate lessonerous and more profitable. The duchess also embraced him, and gave ordersthat he should be taken good care of, as it was plain to see he had been badlytreated and worse bruised. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LVI. OF THE PRODIGIOUS AND UNPARALLELED BATTLE THAT TOOKPLACE BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA AND THELACQUEY TOSILOS IN DEFENCE OF THE DAUGHTER OF DONARODRIGUEZThe duke and duchess had no reason to regret the joke that had been playedupon Sancho Panza in giving him the government; especially as their majordomoreturned the same day, and gave them a minute account of almost every word anddeed that Sancho uttered or did during the time; and to wind up with, eloquentlydescribed to them the attack upon the island and Sancho's fright and departure, with which they were not a little amused. After this the history goes on to say thatthe day fixed for the battle arrived, and that the duke, after having repeatedlyinstructed his lacquey Tosilos how to deal with Don Quixote so as to vanquishhim without killing or wounding him, gave orders to have the heads removed fromthe lances, telling Don Quixote that Christian charity, on which he plumedhimself, could not suffer the battle to be fought with so much risk and danger tolife; and that he must be content with the offer of a battlefield on his territory(though that was against the decree of the holy Council, which prohibits allchallenges of the sort) and not push such an arduous venture to its extreme limits. Don Quixote bade his excellence arrange all matters connected with the affair ashe pleased, as on his part he would obey him in everything. The dread day, then, having arrived, and the duke having ordered a spacious stand to be erected facingthe court of the castle for the judges of the field and the appellant duennas, mother and daughter, vast crowds flocked from all the villages and hamlets of theneighbourhood to see the novel spectacle of the battle; nobody, dead or alive, inthose parts having ever seen or heard of such a one. The first person to enter the-field and the lists was the master of theceremonies, who surveyed and paced the whole ground to see that there wasnothing unfair and nothing concealed to make the combatants stumble or fall;then the duennas entered and seated themselves, enveloped in mantles coveringtheir eyes, nay even their bosoms, and displaying no slight emotion as DonQuixote appeared in the lists. Shortly afterwards, accompanied by severaltrumpets and mounted on a powerful steed that threatened to crush the wholeplace, the great lacquey Tosilos made his appearance on one side of the courtyardwith his visor down and stiffly cased in a suit of stout shining armour. The horsewas a manifest Frieslander, broad-backed and flea-bitten, and with half a hundredof wool hanging to each of his fetlocks. The gallant combatant came well primedby his master the duke as to how he was to bear himself against the valiant DonQuixote of La Mancha; being warned that he must on no account slay him, butstrive to shirk the first encounter so as to avoid the risk of killing him, as he wassure to do if he met him full tilt. He crossed the courtyard at a walk, and comingto where the duennas were placed stopped to look at her who demanded him for ahusband; the marshal of the field summoned Don Quixote, who had alreadypresented himself in the courtyard, and standing by the side of Tosilos headdressed the duennas, and asked them if they consented that Don Quixote of LaMancha should do battle for their right. They said they did, and that whatever heshould do in that behalf they declared rightly done, final and valid. By this timethe duke and duchess had taken their places in a gallery commanding theenclosure, which was filled to overflowing with a multitude of people eager to seethis perilous and unparalleled encounter. The conditions of the combat were thatif Don Quixote proved the victor his antagonist was to marry the daughter ofDona Rodriguez; but if he should be vanquished his opponent was released fromthe promise that was claimed against him and from all obligations to givesatisfaction. The master of the ceremonies apportioned the sun to them, andstationed them, each on the spot where he was to stand. The drums beat, thesound of the trumpets filled the air, the earth trembled under foot, the hearts ofthe gazing crowd were full of anxiety, some hoping for a happy issue, someapprehensive of an untoward ending to the affair, and lastly, Don Quixote, commending himself with all his heart to God our Lord and to the lady Dulcineadel Toboso, stood waiting for them to give the necessary signal for the onset. Ourlacquey, however, was thinking of something very different; he only thought ofwhat I am now going to mention. It seems that as he stood contemplating his enemy she struck him as the mostbeautiful woman he had ever seen all his life; and the little blind boy whom in ourstreets they commonly call Love had no mind to let slip the chance of triumphingover a lacquey heart, and adding it to the list of his trophies; and so, stealinggently upon him unseen, he drove a dart two yards long into the poor lacquey'sleft side and pierced his heart through and through; which he was able to do quiteat his ease, for Love is invisible, and comes in and goes out as he likes, withoutanyone calling him to account for what he does. Well then, when they gave thesignal for the onset our lacquey was in an ecstasy, musing upon the beauty of herwhom he had already made mistress of his liberty, and so he paid no attention tothe sound of the trumpet, unlike Don Quixote, who was off the instant he heardit, and, at the highest speed Rocinante was capable of, set out to meet his enemy, his good squire Sancho shouting lustily as he saw him start, "God guide thee, cream and flower of knights-errant! God give thee the victory, for thou hast theright on thy side!" But though Tosilos saw Don Quixote coming at him he neverstirred a step from the spot where he was posted; and instead of doing so calledloudly to the marshal of the field, to whom when he came up to see what hewanted he said, "Senor, is not this battle to decide whether I marry or do notmarry that lady?" "Just so, " was the answer. "Well then, " said the lacquey, "I feelqualms of conscience, and I should lay a-heavy burden upon it if I were toproceed any further with the combat; I therefore declare that I yield myselfvanquished, and that I am willing to marry the lady at once. "The marshal of the field was lost in astonishment at the words of Tosilos; andas he was one of those who were privy to the arrangement of the affair he knewnot what to say in reply. Don Quixote pulled up in mid career when he saw thathis enemy was not coming on to the attack. The duke could not make out thereason why the battle did not go on; but the marshal of the field hastened to himto let him know what Tosilos said, and he was amazed and extremely angry at it. In the meantime Tosilos advanced to where Dona Rodriguez sat and said in a loudvoice, "Senora, I am willing to marry your daughter, and I have no wish to obtainby strife and fighting what I can obtain in peace and without any risk to my life. "The valiant Don Quixote heard him, and said, "As that is the case I am releasedand absolved from my promise; let them marry by all means, and as 'God ourLord has given her, may Saint Peter add his blessing. '"The duke had now descended to the courtyard of the castle, and going up toTosilos he said to him, "Is it true, sir knight, that you yield yourself vanquished, and that moved by scruples of conscience you wish to marry this damsel?""It is, senor, " replied Tosilos. "And he does well, " said Sancho, "for what thou hast to give to the mouse, giveto the cat, and it will save thee all trouble. "Tosilos meanwhile was trying to unlace his helmet, and he begged them to cometo his help at once, as his power of breathing was failing him, and he could notremain so long shut up in that confined space. They removed it in all haste, andhis lacquey features were revealed to public gaze. At this sight Dona Rodriguezand her daughter raised a mighty outcry, exclaiming, "This is a trick! This is atrick! They have put Tosilos, my lord the duke's lacquey, upon us in place of thereal husband. The justice of God and the king against such trickery, not to sayroguery!""Do not distress yourselves, ladies, " said Don Quixote; "for this is no trickery orroguery; or if it is, it is not the duke who is at the bottom of it, but those wickedenchanters who persecute me, and who, jealous of my reaping the glory of thisvictory, have turned your husband's features into those of this person, who yousay is a lacquey of the duke's; take my advice, and notwithstanding the malice ofmy enemies marry him, for beyond a doubt he is the one you wish for a husband. "When the duke heard this all his anger was near vanishing in a fit of laughter, and he said, "The things that happen to Senor Don Quixote are so extraordinarythat I am ready to believe this lacquey of mine is not one; but let us adopt thisplan and device; let us put off the marriage for, say, a fortnight, and let us keepthis person about whom we are uncertain in close confinement, and perhaps inthe course of that time he may return to his original shape; for the spite which theenchanters entertain against Senor Don Quixote cannot last so long, especially asit is of so little advantage to them to practise these deceptions andtransformations. ""Oh, senor, " said Sancho, "those scoundrels are well used to changing whateverconcerns my master from one thing into another. A knight that he overcame sometime back, called the Knight of the Mirrors, they turned into the shape of thebachelor Samson Carrasco of our town and a great friend of ours; and my ladyDulcinea del Toboso they have turned into a common country wench; so I suspectthis lacquey will have to live and die a lacquey all the days of his life. "Here the Rodriguez's daughter exclaimed, "Let him be who he may, this manthat claims me for a wife; I am thankful to him for the same, for I had rather bethe lawful wife of a lacquey than the cheated mistress of a gentleman; though hewho played me false is nothing of the kind. "To be brief, all the talk and all that had happened ended in Tosilos being shutup until it was seen how his transformation turned out. All hailed Don Quixote asvictor, but the greater number were vexed and disappointed at finding that thecombatants they had been so anxiously waiting for had not battered one anotherto pieces, just as the boys are disappointed when the man they are waiting to seehanged does not come out, because the prosecution or the court has pardonedhim. The people dispersed, the duke and Don Quixote returned to the castle, theylocked up Tosilos, Dona Rodriguez and her daughter remained perfectly contentedwhen they saw that any way the affair must end in marriage, and Tosilos wantednothing else. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LVII. WHICH TREATS OF HOW DON QUIXOTE TOOK LEAVE OF THEDUKE, AND OF WHAT FOLLOWED WITH THE WITTY ANDIMPUDENT ALTISIDORA, ONE OF THE DUCHESS'S DAMSELSDon Quixote now felt it right to quit a life of such idleness as he was leading inthe castle; for he fancied that he was making himself sorely missed by sufferinghimself to remain shut up and inactive amid the countless luxuries andenjoyments his hosts lavished upon him as a knight, and he felt too that he wouldhave to render a strict account to heaven of that indolence and seclusion; and soone day he asked the duke and duchess to grant him permission to take hisdeparture. They gave it, showing at the same time that they were very sorry hewas leaving them. The duchess gave his wife's letters to Sancho Panza, who shed tears over them, saying, "Who would have thought that such grand hopes as the news of mygovernment bred in my wife Teresa Panza's breast would end in my going backnow to the vagabond adventures of my master Don Quixote of La Mancha? StillI'm glad to see my Teresa behaved as she ought in sending the acorns, for if shehad not sent them I'd have been sorry, and she'd have shown herself ungrateful. Itis a comfort to me that they can't call that present a bribe; for I had got thegovernment already when she sent them, and it's but reasonable that those whohave had a good turn done them should show their gratitude, if it's only with atrifle. After all I went into the government naked, and I come out of it naked; so Ican say with a safe conscience--and that's no small matter--'naked I was born, naked I find myself, I neither lose nor gain. '"Thus did Sancho soliloquise on the day of their departure, as Don Quixote, whohad the night before taken leave of the duke and duchess, coming out made hisappearance at an early hour in full armour in the courtyard of the castle. Thewhole household of the castle were watching him from the corridors, and the dukeand duchess, too, came out to see him. Sancho was mounted on his Dapple, withhis alforjas, valise, and proven supremely happy because the duke's majordomo, the same that had acted the part of the Trifaldi, had given him a little purse withtwo hundred gold crowns to meet the necessary expenses of the road, but of thisDon Quixote knew nothing as yet. While all were, as has been said, observinghim, suddenly from among the duennas and handmaidens the impudent and wittyAltisidora lifted up her voice and said in pathetic tones:Give ear, cruel knight;Draw rein; where's the needOf spurring the flanksOf that ill-broken steed?From what art thou flying?No dragon I am, Not even a sheep, But a tender young lamb. Thou hast jilted a maidenAs fair to beholdAs nymph of DianaOr Venus of old. Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!In thy claws, ruthless robber, Thou bearest awayThe heart of a meekLoving maid for thy prey, Three kerchiefs thou stealest, And garters a pair, From legs than the whitestOf marble more fair;And the sighs that pursue theeWould burn to the groundTwo thousand Troy Towns, If so many were found. Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!May no bowels of mercyTo Sancho be granted, And thy DulcineaBe left still enchanted, May thy falsehood to meFind its punishment in her, For in my land the justOften pays for the sinner. May thy grandest adventuresDiscomfitures prove, May thy joys be all dreams, And forgotten thy love. Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!May thy name be abhorredFor thy conduct to ladies, From London to England, From Seville to Cadiz;May thy cards be unlucky, Thy hands contain ne'er aKing, seven, or aceWhen thou playest primera;When thy corns are cutMay it be to the quick;When thy grinders are drawnMay the roots of them stick. Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!All the while the unhappy Altisidora was bewailing herself in the above strainDon Quixote stood staring at her; and without uttering a word in reply to her heturned round to Sancho and said, "Sancho my friend, I conjure thee by the life ofthy forefathers tell me the truth; say, hast thou by any chance taken the threekerchiefs and the garters this love-sick maid speaks of?"To this Sancho made answer, "The three kerchiefs I have; but the garters, asmuch as 'over the hills of Ubeda. '"The duchess was amazed at Altisidora's assurance; she knew that she was bold, lively, and impudent, but not so much so as to venture to make free in thisfashion; and not being prepared for the joke, her astonishment was all the greater. The duke had a mind to keep up the sport, so he said, "It does not seem to mewell done in you, sir knight, that after having received the hospitality that hasbeen offered you in this very castle, you should have ventured to carry off eventhree kerchiefs, not to say my handmaid's garters. It shows a bad heart and doesnot tally with your reputation. Restore her garters, or else I defy you to mortalcombat, for I am not afraid of rascally enchanters changing or altering my featuresas they changed his who encountered you into those of my lacquey, Tosilos. ""God forbid, " said Don Quixote, "that I should draw my sword against yourillustrious person from which I have received such great favours. The kerchiefs Iwill restore, as Sancho says he has them; as to the garters that is impossible, for Ihave not got them, neither has he; and if your handmaiden here will look in herhiding-places, depend upon it she will find them. I have never been a thief, mylord duke, nor do I mean to be so long as I live, if God cease not to have me in hiskeeping. This damsel by her own confession speaks as one in love, for which I amnot to blame, and therefore need not ask pardon, either of her or of yourexcellence, whom I entreat to have a better opinion of me, and once more to giveme leave to pursue my journey. ""And may God so prosper it, Senor Don Quixote, " said the duchess, "that wemay always hear good news of your exploits; God speed you; for the longer youstay, the more you inflame the hearts of the damsels who behold you; and as forthis one of mine, I will so chastise her that she will not transgress again, eitherwith her eyes or with her words. ""One word and no more, O valiant Don Quixote, I ask you to hear, " saidAltisidora, "and that is that I beg your pardon about the theft of the garters; for byGod and upon my soul I have got them on, and I have fallen into the sameblunder as he did who went looking for his ass being all the while mounted on it. ""Didn't I say so?" said Sancho. "I'm a likely one to hide thefts! Why if I wantedto deal in them, opportunities came ready enough to me in my government. "Don Quixote bowed his head, and saluted the duke and duchess and all thebystanders, and wheeling Rocinante round, Sancho following him on Dapple, herode out of the castle, shaping his course for Saragossa. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 35Chapters 58-59Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LVIII. WHICH TELLS HOW ADVENTURES CAME CROWDING ON DONQUIXOTE IN SUCH NUMBERS THAT THEY GAVE ONE ANOTHERNO BREATHING-TIMEWhen Don Quixote saw himself in open country, free, and relieved from theattentions of Altisidora, he felt at his ease, and in fresh spirits to take up thepursuit of chivalry once more; and turning to Sancho he said, "Freedom, Sancho, is one of the most precious gifts that heaven has bestowed upon men; no treasuresthat the earth holds buried or the sea conceals can compare with it; for freedom, as for honour, life may and should be ventured; and on the other hand, captivityis the greatest evil that can fall to the lot of man. I say this, Sancho, because thouhast seen the good cheer, the abundance we have enjoyed in this castle we areleaving; well then, amid those dainty banquets and snow-cooled beverages I felt asthough I were undergoing the straits of hunger, because I did not enjoy them withthe same freedom as if they had been mine own; for the sense of being under anobligation to return benefits and favours received is a restraint that checks theindependence of the spirit. Happy he, to whom heaven has given a piece of breadfor which he is not bound to give thanks to any but heaven itself!""For all your worship says, " said Sancho, "it is not becoming that there shouldbe no thanks on our part for two hundred gold crowns that the duke's majordomohas given me in a little purse which I carry next my heart, like a warming plasteror comforter, to meet any chance calls; for we shan't always find castles wherethey'll entertain us; now and then we may light upon roadside inns where they'llcudgel us. "In conversation of this sort the knight and squire errant were pursuing theirjourney, when, after they had gone a little more than half a league, they perceivedsome dozen men dressed like labourers stretched upon their cloaks on the grass ofa green meadow eating their dinner. They had beside them what seemed to bewhite sheets concealing some objects under them, standing upright or lying flat, and arranged at intervals. Don Quixote approached the diners, and, saluting themcourteously first, he asked them what it was those cloths covered. "Senor, "answered one of the party, "under these cloths are some images carved in reliefintended for a retablo we are putting up in our village; we carry them covered upthat they may not be soiled, and on our shoulders that they may not be broken. ""With your good leave, " said Don Quixote, "I should like to see them; for imagesthat are carried so carefully no doubt must be fine ones. ""I should think they were!" said the other; "let the money they cost speak forthat; for as a matter of fact there is not one of them that does not stand us inmore than fifty ducats; and that your worship may judge; wait a moment, and youshall see with your own eyes;" and getting up from his dinner he went anduncovered the first image, which proved to be one of Saint George on horsebackwith a serpent writhing at his feet and the lance thrust down its throat with allthat fierceness that is usually depicted. The whole group was one blaze of gold, asthe saying is. On seeing it Don Quixote said, "That knight was one of the bestknights-errant the army of heaven ever owned; he was called Don Saint George, and he was moreover a defender of maidens. Let us see this next one. "The man uncovered it, and it was seen to be that of Saint Martin on his horse, dividing his cloak with the beggar. The instant Don Quixote saw it he said, "Thisknight too was one of the Christian adventurers, but I believe he was generousrather than valiant, as thou mayest perceive, Sancho, by his dividing his cloakwith the beggar and giving him half of it; no doubt it was winter at the time, forotherwise he would have given him the whole of it, so charitable was he. ""It was not that, most likely, " said Sancho, "but that he held with the proverbthat says, 'For giving and keeping there's need of brains. '"Don Quixote laughed, and asked them to take off the next cloth, underneathwhich was seen the image of the patron saint of the Spains seated on horseback, his sword stained with blood, trampling on Moors and treading heads underfoot;and on seeing it Don Quixote exclaimed, "Ay, this is a knight, and of thesquadrons of Christ! This one is called Don Saint James the Moorslayer, one ofthe bravest saints and knights the world ever had or heaven has now. "They then raised another cloth which it appeared covered Saint Paul fallingfrom his horse, with all the details that are usually given in representations of hisconversion. When Don Quixote saw it, rendered in such lifelike style that onewould have said Christ was speaking and Paul answering, "This, " he said, "was inhis time the greatest enemy that the Church of God our Lord had, and the greatestchampion it will ever have; a knight-errant in life, a steadfast saint in death, anuntiring labourer in the Lord's vineyard, a teacher of the Gentiles, whose schoolwas heaven, and whose instructor and master was Jesus Christ himself. "There were no more images, so Don Quixote bade them cover them up again, and said to those who had brought them, "I take it as a happy omen, brothers, tohave seen what I have; for these saints and knights were of the same profession asmyself, which is the calling of arms; only there is this difference between themand me, that they were saints, and fought with divine weapons, and I am a sinnerand fight with human ones. They won heaven by force of arms, for heavensuffereth violence; and I, so far, know not what I have won by dint of mysufferings; but if my Dulcinea del Toboso were to be released from hers, perhapswith mended fortunes and a mind restored to itself I might direct my steps in abetter path than I am following at present. ""May God hear and sin be deaf, " said Sancho to this. The men were filled with wonder, as well at the figure as at the words of DonQuixote, though they did not understand one half of what he meant by them. They finished their dinner, took their images on their backs, and bidding farewellto Don Quixote resumed their journey. Sancho was amazed afresh at the extent of his master's knowledge, as much asif he had never known him, for it seemed to him that there was no story or eventin the world that he had not at his fingers' ends and fixed in his memory, and hesaid to him, "In truth, master mine, if this that has happened to us to-day is to becalled an adventure, it has been one of the sweetest and pleasantest that havebefallen us in the whole course of our travels; we have come out of itunbelaboured and undismayed, neither have we drawn sword nor have we smittenthe earth with our bodies, nor have we been left famishing; blessed be God thathe has let me see such a thing with my own eyes!""Thou sayest well, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "but remember all times are notalike nor do they always run the same way; and these things the vulgar commonlycall omens, which are not based upon any natural reason, will by him who is wisebe esteemed and reckoned happy accidents merely. One of these believers inomens will get up of a morning, leave his house, and meet a friar of the order ofthe blessed Saint Francis, and, as if he had met a griffin, he will turn about andgo home. With another Mendoza the salt is spilt on his table, and gloom is spiltover his heart, as if nature was obliged to give warning of coming misfortunes bymeans of such trivial things as these. The wise man and the Christian should nottrifle with what it may please heaven to do. Scipio on coming to Africa stumbledas he leaped on shore; his soldiers took it as a bad omen; but he, clasping the soilwith his arms, exclaimed, 'Thou canst not escape me, Africa, for I hold thee tightbetween my arms. ' Thus, Sancho, meeting those images has been to me a mosthappy occurrence. ""I can well believe it, " said Sancho; "but I wish your worship would tell me whatis the reason that the Spaniards, when they are about to give battle, in calling onthat Saint James the Moorslayer, say 'Santiago and close Spain!' Is Spain, then, open, so that it is needful to close it; or what is the meaning of this form?""Thou art very simple, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "God, look you, gave thatgreat knight of the Red Cross to Spain as her patron saint and protector, especially in those hard struggles the Spaniards had with the Moors; and thereforethey invoke and call upon him as their defender in all their battles; and in thesehe has been many a time seen beating down, trampling under foot, destroying andslaughtering the Hagarene squadrons in the sight of all; of which fact I could givethee many examples recorded in truthful Spanish histories. "Sancho changed the subject, and said to his master, "I marvel, senor, at theboldness of Altisidora, the duchess's handmaid; he whom they call Love musthave cruelly pierced and wounded her; they say he is a little blind urchin who, though blear-eyed, or more properly speaking sightless, if he aims at a heart, be itever so small, hits it and pierces it through and through with his arrows. I haveheard it said too that the arrows of Love are blunted and robbed of their points bymaidenly modesty and reserve; but with this Altisidora it seems they aresharpened rather than blunted. ""Bear in mind, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that love is influenced by noconsideration, recognises no restraints of reason, and is of the same nature asdeath, that assails alike the lofty palaces of kings and the humble cabins ofshepherds; and when it takes entire possession of a heart, the first thing it does isto banish fear and shame from it; and so without shame Altisidora declared herpassion, which excited in my mind embarrassment rather than commiseration. ""Notable cruelty!" exclaimed Sancho; "unheard-of ingratitude! I can only say formyself that the very smallest loving word of hers would have subdued me andmade a slave of me. The devil! What a heart of marble, what bowels of brass, what a soul of mortar! But I can't imagine what it is that this damsel saw in yourworship that could have conquered and captivated her so. What gallant figure wasit, what bold bearing, what sprightly grace, what comeliness of feature, which ofthese things by itself, or what all together, could have made her fall in love withyou? For indeed and in truth many a time I stop to look at your worship from thesole of your foot to the topmost hair of your head, and I see more to frighten onethan to make one fall in love; moreover I have heard say that beauty is the firstand main thing that excites love, and as your worship has none at all, I don'tknow what the poor creature fell in love with. ""Recollect, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "there are two sorts of beauty, one ofthe mind, the other of the body; that of the mind displays and exhibits itself inintelligence, in modesty, in honourable conduct, in generosity, in good breeding;and all these qualities are possible and may exist in an ugly man; and when it isthis sort of beauty and not that of the body that is the attraction, love is apt tospring up suddenly and violently. I, Sancho, perceive clearly enough that I am notbeautiful, but at the same time I know I am not hideous; and it is enough for anhonest man not to be a monster to be an object of love, if only he possesses theendowments of mind I have mentioned. "While engaged in this discourse they were making their way through a woodthat lay beyond the road, when suddenly, without expecting anything of the kind, Don Quixote found himself caught in some nets of green cord stretched from onetree to another; and unable to conceive what it could be, he said to Sancho, "Sancho, it strikes me this affair of these nets will prove one of the strangestadventures imaginable. May I die if the enchanters that persecute me are nottrying to entangle me in them and delay my journey, by way of revenge for myobduracy towards Altisidora. Well then let me tell them that if these nets, insteadof being green cord, were made of the hardest diamonds, or stronger than thatwherewith the jealous god of blacksmiths enmeshed Venus and Mars, I wouldbreak them as easily as if they were made of rushes or cotton threads. " But just ashe was about to press forward and break through all, suddenly from among sometrees two shepherdesses of surpassing beauty presented themselves to his sight--or at least damsels dressed like shepherdesses, save that their jerkins and sayaswere of fine brocade; that is to say, the sayas were rich farthingales of goldembroidered tabby. Their hair, that in its golden brightness vied with the beamsof the sun itself, fell loose upon their shoulders and was crowned with garlandstwined with green laurel and red everlasting; and their years to all appearancewere not under fifteen nor above eighteen. Such was the spectacle that filled Sancho with amazement, fascinated DonQuixote, made the sun halt in his course to behold them, and held all four in astrange silence. One of the shepherdesses, at length, was the first to speak andsaid to Don Quixote, "Hold, sir knight, and do not break these nets; for they arenot spread here to do you any harm, but only for our amusement; and as I knowyou will ask why they have been put up, and who we are, I will tell you in a fewwords. In a village some two leagues from this, where there are many people ofquality and rich gentlefolk, it was agreed upon by a number of friends andrelations to come with their wives, sons and daughters, neighbours, friends andkinsmen, and make holiday in this spot, which is one of the pleasantest in thewhole neighbourhood, setting up a new pastoral Arcadia among ourselves, wemaidens dressing ourselves as shepherdesses and the youths as shepherds. Wehave prepared two eclogues, one by the famous poet Garcilasso, the other by themost excellent Camoens, in its own Portuguese tongue, but we have not as yetacted them. Yesterday was the first day of our coming here; we have a few ofwhat they say are called field-tents pitched among the trees on the bank of anample brook that fertilises all these meadows; last night we spread these nets inthe trees here to snare the silly little birds that startled by the noise we make mayfly into them. If you please to be our guest, senor, you will be welcomed heartilyand courteously, for here just now neither care nor sorrow shall enter. "She held her peace and said no more, and Don Quixote made answer, "Of atruth, fairest lady, Actaeon when he unexpectedly beheld Diana bathing in thestream could not have been more fascinated and wonderstruck than I at the sightof your beauty. I commend your mode of entertainment, and thank you for thekindness of your invitation; and if I can serve you, you may command me withfull confidence of being obeyed, for my profession is none other than to showmyself grateful, and ready to serve persons of all conditions, but especiallypersons of quality such as your appearance indicates; and if, instead of taking up, as they probably do, but a small space, these nets took up the whole surface ofthe globe, I would seek out new worlds through which to pass, so as not to breakthem; and that ye may give some degree of credence to this exaggerated languageof mine, know that it is no less than Don Quixote of La Mancha that makes thisdeclaration to you, if indeed it be that such a name has reached your ears. ""Ah! friend of my soul, " instantly exclaimed the other shepherdess, "what greatgood fortune has befallen us! Seest thou this gentleman we have before us? Wellthen let me tell thee he is the most valiant and the most devoted and the mostcourteous gentleman in all the world, unless a history of his achievements thathas been printed and I have read is telling lies and deceiving us. I will lay a wagerthat this good fellow who is with him is one Sancho Panza his squire, whosedrolleries none can equal. ""That's true, " said Sancho; "I am that same droll and squire you speak of, andthis gentleman is my master Don Quixote of La Mancha, the same that's in thehistory and that they talk about. ""Oh, my friend, " said the other, "let us entreat him to stay; for it will give ourfathers and brothers infinite pleasure; I too have heard just what thou hast toldme of the valour of the one and the drolleries of the other; and what is more, ofhim they say that he is the most constant and loyal lover that was ever heard of, and that his lady is one Dulcinea del Toboso, to whom all over Spain the palm ofbeauty is awarded. ""And justly awarded, " said Don Quixote, "unless, indeed, your unequalledbeauty makes it a matter of doubt. But spare yourselves the trouble, ladies, ofpressing me to stay, for the urgent calls of my profession do not allow me to takerest under any circumstances. "At this instant there came up to the spot where the four stood a brother of oneof the two shepherdesses, like them in shepherd costume, and as richly and gailydressed as they were. They told him that their companion was the valiant DonQuixote of La Mancha, and the other Sancho his squire, of whom he knew alreadyfrom having read their history. The gay shepherd offered him his services andbegged that he would accompany him to their tents, and Don Quixote had to giveway and comply. And now the gave was started, and the nets were filled with avariety of birds that deceived by the colour fell into the danger they were flyingfrom. Upwards of thirty persons, all gaily attired as shepherds and shepherdesses, assembled on the spot, and were at once informed who Don Quixote and hissquire were, whereat they were not a little delighted, as they knew of him alreadythrough his history. They repaired to the tents, where they found tables laid out, and choicely, plentifully, and neatly furnished. They treated Don Quixote as aperson of distinction, giving him the place of honour, and all observed him, andwere full of astonishment at the spectacle. At last the cloth being removed, DonQuixote with great composure lifted up his voice and said:"One of the greatest sins that men are guilty of is--some will say pride--but Isay ingratitude, going by the common saying that hell is full of ingrates. This sin, so far as it has lain in my power, I have endeavoured to avoid ever since I haveenjoyed the faculty of reason; and if I am unable to requite good deeds that havebeen done me by other deeds, I substitute the desire to do so; and if that be notenough I make them known publicly; for he who declares and makes known thegood deeds done to him would repay them by others if it were in his power, andfor the most part those who receive are the inferiors of those who give. Thus, Godis superior to all because he is the supreme giver, and the offerings of man fallshort by an infinite distance of being a full return for the gifts of God; butgratitude in some degree makes up for this deficiency and shortcoming. Itherefore, grateful for the favour that has been extended to me here, and unable tomake a return in the same measure, restricted as I am by the narrow limits of mypower, offer what I can and what I have to offer in my own way; and so I declarethat for two full days I will maintain in the middle of this highway leading toSaragossa, that these ladies disguised as shepherdesses, who are here present, arethe fairest and most courteous maidens in the world, excepting only the peerlessDulcinea del Toboso, sole mistress of my thoughts, be it said without offence tothose who hear me, ladies and gentlemen. "On hearing this Sancho, who had been listening with great attention, cried outin a loud voice, "Is it possible there is anyone in the world who will dare to sayand swear that this master of mine is a madman? Say, gentlemen shepherds, isthere a village priest, be he ever so wise or learned, who could say what mymaster has said; or is there knight-errant, whatever renown he may have as a manof valour, that could offer what my master has offered now?"Don Quixote turned upon Sancho, and with a countenance glowing with angersaid to him, "Is it possible, Sancho, there is anyone in the whole world who willsay thou art not a fool, with a lining to match, and I know not what trimmings ofimpertinence and roguery? Who asked thee to meddle in my affairs, or to inquirewhether I am a wise man or a blockhead? Hold thy peace; answer me not a word;saddle Rocinante if he be unsaddled; and let us go to put my offer into execution;for with the right that I have on my side thou mayest reckon as vanquished allwho shall venture to question it;" and in a great rage, and showing his angerplainly, he rose from his seat, leaving the company lost in wonder, and makingthem feel doubtful whether they ought to regard him as a madman or a rationalbeing. In the end, though they sought to dissuade him from involving himself insuch a challenge, assuring him they admitted his gratitude as fully established, and needed no fresh proofs to be convinced of his valiant spirit, as those relatedin the history of his exploits were sufficient, still Don Quixote persisted in hisresolve; and mounted on Rocinante, bracing his buckler on his arm and graspinghis lance, he posted himself in the middle of a high road that was not far from thegreen meadow. Sancho followed on Dapple, together with all the members of thepastoral gathering, eager to see what would be the upshot of his vainglorious andextraordinary proposal. Don Quixote, then, having, as has been said, planted himself in the middle ofthe road, made the welkin ring with words to this effect: "Ho ye travellers andwayfarers, knights, squires, folk on foot or on horseback, who pass this way orshall pass in the course of the next two days! Know that Don Quixote of LaMancha, knight-errant, is posted here to maintain by arms that the beauty andcourtesy enshrined in the nymphs that dwell in these meadows and groves surpassall upon earth, putting aside the lady of my heart, Dulcinea del Toboso. Wherefore, let him who is of the opposite opinion come on, for here I await him. "Twice he repeated the same words, and twice they fell unheard by anyadventurer; but fate, that was guiding affairs for him from better to better, soordered it that shortly afterwards there appeared on the road a crowd of men onhorseback, many of them with lances in their hands, all riding in a compact bodyand in great haste. No sooner had those who were with Don Quixote seen themthan they turned

about and withdrew to some distance from the road, for theyknew that if they stayed some harm might come to them; but Don Quixote withintrepid heart stood his ground, and Sancho Panza shielded himself withRocinante's hind-quarters. The troop of lancers came up, and one of them whowas in advance began shouting to Don Quixote, "Get out of the way, you son ofthe devil, or these bulls will knock you to pieces!""Rabble!" returned Don Quixote, "I care nothing for bulls, be they the fiercestJarama breeds on its banks. Confess at once, scoundrels, that what I havedeclared is true; else ye have to deal with me in combat. "The herdsman had no time to reply, nor Don Quixote to get out of the way evenif he wished; and so the drove of fierce bulls and tame bullocks, together with thecrowd of herdsmen and others who were taking them to be penned up in a villagewhere they were to be run the next day, passed over Don Quixote and overSancho, Rocinante and Dapple, hurling them all to the earth and rolling them overon the ground. Sancho was left crushed, Don Quixote scared, Dapple belabouredand Rocinante in no very sound condition. They all got up, however, at length, and Don Quixote in great haste, stumblinghere and falling there, started off running after the drove, shouting out, "Hold!stay! ye rascally rabble, a single knight awaits you, and he is not of the temper oropinion of those who say, 'For a flying enemy make a bridge of silver. '" Theretreating party in their haste, however, did not stop for that, or heed his menacesany more than last year's clouds. Weariness brought Don Quixote to a halt, andmore enraged than avenged he sat down on the road to wait until Sancho, Rocinante and Dapple came up. When they reached him master and man mountedonce more, and without going back to bid farewell to the mock or imitationArcadia, and more in humiliation than contentment, they continued their journey. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LIX. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE THING, WHICH MAY BEREGARDED AS AN ADVENTURE, THAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTEA clear limpid spring which they discovered in a cool grove relieved DonQuixote and Sancho of the dust and fatigue due to the unpolite behaviour of thebulls, and by the side of this, having turned Dapple and Rocinante loose withoutheadstall or bridle, the forlorn pair, master and man, seated themselves. Sanchohad recourse to the larder of his alforjas and took out of them what he called theprog; Don Quixote rinsed his mouth and bathed his face, by which cooling processhis flagging energies were revived. Out of pure vexation he remained withouteating, and out of pure politeness Sancho did not venture to touch a morsel ofwhat was before him, but waited for his master to act as taster. Seeing, however, that, absorbed in thought, he was forgetting to carry the bread to his mouth, hesaid never a word, and trampling every sort of good breeding under foot, began tostow away in his paunch the bread and cheese that came to his hand. "Eat, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote; "support life, which is of moreconsequence to thee than to me, and leave me to die under the pain of mythoughts and pressure of my misfortunes. I was born, Sancho, to live dying, andthou to die eating; and to prove the truth of what I say, look at me, printed inhistories, famed in arms, courteous in behaviour, honoured by princes, courted bymaidens; and after all, when I looked forward to palms, triumphs, and crowns, won and earned by my valiant deeds, I have this morning seen myself trampledon, kicked, and crushed by the feet of unclean and filthy animals. This thoughtblunts my teeth, paralyses my jaws, cramps my hands, and robs me of all appetitefor food; so much so that I have a mind to let myself die of hunger, the cruelestdeath of all deaths. ""So then, " said Sancho, munching hard all the time, "your worship does notagree with the proverb that says, 'Let Martha die, but let her die with a full belly. 'I, at any rate, have no mind to kill myself; so far from that, I mean to do as thecobbler does, who stretches the leather with his teeth until he makes it reach asfar as he wants. I'll stretch out my life by eating until it reaches the end heavenhas fixed for it; and let me tell you, senor, there's no greater folly than to think ofdying of despair as your worship does; take my advice, and after eating lie downand sleep a bit on this green grass-mattress, and you will see that when youawake you'll feel something better. "Don Quixote did as he recommended, for it struck him that Sancho's reasoningwas more like a philosopher's than a blockhead's, and said he, "Sancho, if thouwilt do for me what I am going to tell thee my ease of mind would be moreassured and my heaviness of heart not so great; and it is this; to go aside a littlewhile I am sleeping in accordance with thy advice, and, making bare thy carcaseto the air, to give thyself three or four hundred lashes with Rocinante's reins, onaccount of the three thousand and odd thou art to give thyself for thedisenchantment of Dulcinea; for it is a great pity that the poor lady should be leftenchanted through thy carelessness and negligence. ""There is a good deal to be said on that point, " said Sancho; "let us both go tosleep now, and after that, God has decreed what will happen. Let me tell yourworship that for a man to whip himself in cold blood is a hard thing, especially ifthe stripes fall upon an ill-nourished and worse-fed body. Let my lady Dulcineahave patience, and when she is least expecting it, she will see me made a riddle ofwith whipping, and 'until death it's all life;' I mean that I have still life in me, andthe desire to make good what I have promised. "Don Quixote thanked him, and ate a little, and Sancho a good deal, and thenthey both lay down to sleep, leaving those two inseparable friends and comrades, Rocinante and Dapple, to their own devices and to feed unrestrained upon theabundant grass with which the meadow was furnished. They woke up rather late, mounted once more and resumed their journey, pushing on to reach an inn whichwas in sight, apparently a league off. I say an inn, because Don Quixote called itso, contrary to his usual practice of calling all inns castles. They reached it, andasked the landlord if they could put up there. He said yes, with as much comfortand as good fare as they could find in Saragossa. They dismounted, and Sanchostowed away his larder in a room of which the landlord gave him the key. He tookthe beasts to the stable, fed them, and came back to see what orders DonQuixote, who was seated on a bench at the door, had for him, giving specialthanks to heaven that this inn had not been taken for a castle by his master. Supper-time came, and they repaired to their room, and Sancho asked thelandlord what he had to give them for supper. To this the landlord replied that hismouth should be the measure; he had only to ask what he would; for that inn wasprovided with the birds of the air and the fowls of the earth and the fish of thesea. "There's no need of all that, " said Sancho; "if they'll roast us a couple of chickenswe'll be satisfied, for my master is delicate and eats little, and I'm not over andabove gluttonous. "The landlord replied he had no chickens, for the kites had stolen them. "Well then, " said Sancho, "let senor landlord tell them to roast a pullet, so that itis a tender one. ""Pullet! My father!" said the landlord; "indeed and in truth it's only yesterday Isent over fifty to the city to sell; but saving pullets ask what you will. ""In that case, " said Sancho, "you will not be without veal or kid. ""Just now, " said the landlord, "there's none in the house, for it's all finished; butnext week there will be enough and to spare. ""Much good that does us, " said Sancho; "I'll lay a bet that all these short-comings are going to wind up in plenty of bacon and eggs. ""By God, " said the landlord, "my guest's wits must be precious dull; I tell him Ihave neither pullets nor hens, and he wants me to have eggs! Talk of otherdainties, if you please, and don't ask for hens again. ""Body o' me!" said Sancho, "let's settle the matter; say at once what you havegot, and let us have no more words about it. ""In truth and earnest, senor guest, " said the landlord, "all I have is a couple ofcow-heels like calves' feet, or a couple of calves' feet like cowheels; they are boiledwith chick-peas, onions, and bacon, and at this moment they are crying 'Come eatme, come eat me. ""I mark them for mine on the spot, " said Sancho; "let nobody touch them; I'llpay better for them than anyone else, for I could not wish for anything more tomy taste; and I don't care a pin whether they are feet or heels. ""Nobody shall touch them, " said the landlord; "for the other guests I have, beingpersons of high quality, bring their own cook and caterer and larder with them. ""If you come to people of quality, " said Sancho, "there's nobody more so thanmy master; but the calling he follows does not allow of larders or store-rooms; welay ourselves down in the middle of a meadow, and fill ourselves with acorns ormedlars. "Here ended Sancho's conversation with the landlord, Sancho not caring to carryit any farther by answering him; for he had already asked him what calling orwhat profession it was his master was of. Supper-time having come, then, Don Quixote betook himself to his room, thelandlord brought in the stew-pan just as it was, and he sat himself down to supvery resolutely. It seems that in another room, which was next to Don Quixote's, with nothing but a thin partition to separate it, he overheard these words, "As youlive, Senor Don Jeronimo, while they are bringing supper, let us read anotherchapter of the Second Part of 'Don Quixote of La Mancha. '"The instant Don Quixote heard his own name be started to his feet and listenedwith open ears to catch what they said about him, and heard the Don Jeronimowho had been addressed say in reply, "Why would you have us read that absurdstuff, Don Juan, when it is impossible for anyone who has read the First Part ofthe history of 'Don Quixote of La Mancha' to take any pleasure in reading thisSecond Part?""For all that, " said he who was addressed as Don Juan, "we shall do well to readit, for there is no book so bad but it has something good in it. What displeases memost in it is that it represents Don Quixote as now cured of his love for Dulcineadel Toboso. "On hearing this Don Quixote, full of wrath and indignation, lifted up his voiceand said, "Whoever he may be who says that Don Quixote of La Mancha hasforgotten or can forget Dulcinea del Toboso, I will teach him with equal arms thatwhat he says is very far from the truth; for neither can the peerless Dulcinea delToboso be forgotten, nor can forgetfulness have a place in Don Quixote; his mottois constancy, and his profession to maintain the same with his life and neverwrong it. ""Who is this that answers us?" said they in the next room. "Who should it be, " said Sancho, "but Don Quixote of La Mancha himself, whowill make good all he has said and all he will say; for pledges don't trouble a goodpayer. "Sancho had hardly uttered these words when two gentlemen, for such theyseemed to be, entered the room, and one of them, throwing his arms round DonQuixote's neck, said to him, "Your appearance cannot leave any question as toyour name, nor can your name fail to identify your appearance; unquestionably, senor, you are the real Don Quixote of La Mancha, cynosure and morning star ofknight-errantry, despite and in defiance of him who has sought to usurp yourname and bring to naught your achievements, as the author of this book which Ihere present to you has done;" and with this he put a book which his companioncarried into the hands of Don Quixote, who took it, and without replying began torun his eye over it; but he presently returned it saying, "In the little I have seen Ihave discovered three things in this author that deserve to be censured. The firstis some words that I have read in the preface; the next that the language isAragonese, for sometimes he writes without articles; and the third, which aboveall stamps him as ignorant, is that he goes wrong and departs from the truth inthe most important part of the history, for here he says that my squire SanchoPanza's wife is called Mari Gutierrez, when she is called nothing of the sort, butTeresa Panza; and when a man errs on such an important point as this there isgood reason to fear that he is in error on every other point in the history. ""A nice sort of historian, indeed!" exclaimed Sancho at this; "he must know adeal about our affairs when he calls my wife Teresa Panza, Mari Gutierrez; takethe book again, senor, and see if I am in it and if he has changed my name. ""From your talk, friend, " said Don Jeronimo, "no doubt you are Sancho Panza, Senor Don Quixote's squire. ""Yes, I am, " said Sancho; "and I'm proud of it. ""Faith, then, " said the gentleman, "this new author does not handle you with thedecency that displays itself in your person; he makes you out a heavy feeder and afool, and not in the least droll, and a very different being from the Sanchodescribed in the First Part of your master's history. ""God forgive him, " said Sancho; "he might have left me in my corner withouttroubling his head about me; 'let him who knows how ring the bells; 'Saint Peter isvery well in Rome. '"The two gentlemen pressed Don Quixote to come into their room and havesupper with them, as they knew very well there was nothing in that inn fit for oneof his sort. Don Quixote, who was always polite, yielded to their request andsupped with them. Sancho stayed behind with the stew. And invested withplenary delegated authority seated himself at the head of the table, and thelandlord sat down with him, for he was no less fond of cow-heel and calves' feetthan Sancho was. While at supper Don Juan asked Don Quixote what news he had of the ladyDulcinea del Toboso, was she married, had she been brought to bed, or was shewith child, or did she in maidenhood, still preserving her modesty and delicacy, cherish the remembrance of the tender passion of Senor Don Quixote?To this he replied, "Dulcinea is a maiden still, and my passion more firmlyrooted than ever, our intercourse unsatisfactory as before, and her beautytransformed into that of a foul country wench;" and then he proceeded to givethem a full and particular account of the enchantment of Dulcinea, and of whathad happened him in the cave of Montesinos, together with what the sage Merlinhad prescribed for her disenchantment, namely the scourging of Sancho. Exceedingly great was the amusement the two gentlemen derived from hearingDon Quixote recount the strange incidents of his history; and if they were amazedby his absurdities they were equally amazed by the elegant style in which hedelivered them. On the one hand they regarded him as a man of wit and sense, and on the other he seemed to them a maundering blockhead, and they could notmake up their minds whereabouts between wisdom and folly they ought to placehim. Sancho having finished his supper, and left the landlord in the X condition, repaired to the room where his master was, and as he came in said, "May I die, sirs, if the author of this book your worships have got has any mind that weshould agree; as he calls me glutton (according to what your worships say) I wishhe may not call me drunkard too. ""But he does, " said Don Jeronimo; "I cannot remember, however, in what way, though I know his words are offensive, and what is more, lying, as I can seeplainly by the physiognomy of the worthy Sancho before me. ""Believe me, " said Sancho, "the Sancho and the Don Quixote of this history mustbe different persons from those that appear in the one Cide Hamete Benengeliwrote, who are ourselves; my master valiant, wise, and true in love, and I simple, droll, and neither glutton nor drunkard. ""I believe it, " said Don Juan; "and were it possible, an order should be issuedthat no one should have the presumption to deal with anything relating to DonQuixote, save his original author Cide Hamete; just as Alexander commanded thatno one should presume to paint his portrait save Apelles. ""Let him who will paint me, " said Don Quixote; "but let him not abuse me; forpatience will often break down when they heap insults upon it. ""None can be offered to Senor Don Quixote, " said Don Juan, "that he himselfwill not be able to avenge, if he does not ward it off with the shield of hispatience, which, I take it, is great and strong. "A considerable portion of the night passed in conversation of this sort, andthough Don Juan wished Don Quixote to read more of the book to see what it wasall about, he was not to be prevailed upon, saying that he treated it as read andpronounced it utterly silly; and, if by any chance it should come to its author'sears that he had it in his hand, he did not want him to flatter himself with theidea that he had read it; for our thoughts, and still more our eyes, should keepthemselves aloof from what is obscene and filthy. They asked him whither he meant to direct his steps. He replied, to Saragossa, to take part in the harness jousts which were held in that city every year. DonJuan told him that the new history described how Don Quixote, let him be who hemight, took part there in a tilting at the ring, utterly devoid of invention, poor inmottoes, very poor in costume, though rich in sillinesses. "For that very reason, " said Don Quixote, "I will not set foot in Saragossa; andby that means I shall expose to the world the lie of this new history writer, andpeople will see that I am not the Don Quixote he speaks of. ""You will do quite right, " said Don Jeronimo; "and there are other jousts atBarcelona in which Senor Don Quixote may display his prowess. ""That is what I mean to do, " said Don Quixote; "and as it is now time, I prayyour worships to give me leave to retire to bed, and to place and retain me amongthe number of your greatest friends and servants. ""And me too, " said Sancho; "maybe I'll be good for something. "With this they exchanged farewells, and Don Quixote and Sancho retired totheir room, leaving Don Juan and Don Jeronimo amazed to see the medley hemade of his good sense and his craziness; and they felt thoroughly convinced thatthese, and not those their Aragonese author described, were the genuine DonQuixote and Sancho. Don Quixote rose betimes, and bade adieu to his hosts byknocking at the partition of the other room. Sancho paid the landlordmagnificently, and recommended him either to say less about the providing of hisinn or to keep it better provided. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 36Chapter 60Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LX. OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TOBARCELONAIt was a fresh morning giving promise of a cool day as Don Quixote quitted theinn, first of all taking care to ascertain the most direct road to Barcelona withouttouching upon Saragossa; so anxious was he to make out this new historian, whothey said abused him so, to be a liar. Well, as it fell out, nothing worthy of beingrecorded happened him for six days, at the end of which, having turned aside outof the road, he was overtaken by night in a thicket of oak or cork trees; for on thispoint Cide Hamete is not as precise as he usually is on other matters. Master and man dismounted from their beasts, and as soon as they had settledthemselves at the foot of the trees, Sancho, who had had a good noontide mealthat day, let himself, without more ado, pass the gates of sleep. But Don Quixote, whom his thoughts, far more than hunger, kept awake, could not close an eye, and roamed in fancy to and fro through all sorts of places. At one moment itseemed to him that he was in the cave of Montesinos and saw Dulcinea, transformed into a country wench, skipping and mounting upon her she-ass; againthat the words of the sage Merlin were sounding in his ears, setting forth theconditions to be observed and the exertions to be made for the disenchantment ofDulcinea. He lost all patience when he considered the laziness and want of charityof his squire Sancho; for to the best of his belief he had only given himself fivelashes, a number paltry and disproportioned to the vast number required. At thisthought he felt such vexation and anger that he reasoned the matter thus: "IfAlexander the Great cut the Gordian knot, saying, 'To cut comes to the same thingas to untie, ' and yet did not fail to become lord paramount of all Asia, neithermore nor less could happen now in Dulcinea's disenchantment if I scourge Sanchoagainst his will; for, if it is the condition of the remedy that Sancho shall receivethree thousand and odd lashes, what does it matter to me whether he inflictsthem himself, or some one else inflicts them, when the essential point is that hereceives them, let them come from whatever quarter they may?"With this idea he went over to Sancho, having first taken Rocinante's reins andarranged them so as to be able to flog him with them, and began to untie thepoints (the common belief is he had but one in front) by which his breeches wereheld up; but the instant he approached him Sancho woke up in his full senses andcried out, "What is this? Who is touching me and untrussing me?""It is I, " said Don Quixote, "and I come to make good thy shortcomings andrelieve my own distresses; I come to whip thee, Sancho, and wipe off someportion of the debt thou hast undertaken. Dulcinea is perishing, thou art living onregardless, I am dying of hope deferred; therefore untruss thyself with a good will, for mine it is, here, in this retired spot, to give thee at least two thousand lashes. ""Not a bit of it, " said Sancho; "let your worship keep quiet, or else by the livingGod the deaf shall hear us; the lashes I pledged myself to must be voluntary andnot forced upon me, and just now I have no fancy to whip myself; it is enough if Igive you my word to flog and flap myself when I have a mind. ""It will not do to leave it to thy courtesy, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for thouart hard of heart and, though a clown, tender of flesh;" and at the same time hestrove and struggled to untie him. Seeing this Sancho got up, and grappling with his master he gripped him withall his might in his arms, giving him a trip with the heel stretched him on theground on his back, and pressing his right knee on his chest held his hands in hisown so that he could neither move nor breathe. "How now, traitor!" exclaimed Don Quixote. "Dost thou revolt against thymaster and natural lord? Dost thou rise against him who gives thee his bread?""I neither put down king, nor set up king, " said Sancho; "I only stand up formyself who am my own lord; if your worship promises me to be quiet, and not tooffer to whip me now, I'll let you go free and unhindered; if not--Traitor and Dona Sancha's foe, Thou diest on the spot. "Don Quixote gave his promise, and swore by the life of his thoughts not totouch so much as a hair of his garments, and to leave him entirely free and to hisown discretion to whip himself whenever he pleased. Sancho rose and removed some distance from the spot, but as he was about toplace himself leaning against another tree he felt something touch his head, andputting up his hands encountered somebody's two feet with shoes and stockingson them. He trembled with fear and made for another tree, where the very samething happened to him, and he fell a-shouting, calling upon Don Quixote to comeand protect him. Don Quixote did so, and asked him what had happened to him, and what he was afraid of. Sancho replied that all the trees were full of men's feetand legs. Don Quixote felt them, and guessed at once what it was, and said toSancho, "Thou hast nothing to be afraid of, for these feet and legs that thoufeelest but canst not see belong no doubt to some outlaws and freebooters thathave been hanged on these trees; for the authorities in these parts are wont tohang them up by twenties and thirties when they catch them; whereby Iconjecture that I must be near Barcelona;" and it was, in fact, as he supposed;with the first light they looked up and saw that the fruit hanging on those treeswere freebooters' bodies. And now day dawned; and if the dead freebooters had scared them, their heartswere no less troubled by upwards of forty living ones, who all of a suddensurrounded them, and in the Catalan tongue bade them stand and wait until theircaptain came up. Don Quixote was on foot with his horse unbridled and his lanceleaning against a tree, and in short completely defenceless; he thought it besttherefore to fold his arms and bow his head and reserve himself for a morefavourable occasion and opportunity. The robbers made haste to search Dapple, and did not leave him a single thing of all he carried in the alforjas and in thevalise; and lucky it was for Sancho that the duke's crowns and those he broughtfrom home were in a girdle that he wore round him; but for all that these goodfolk would have stripped him, and even looked to see what he had hiddenbetween the skin and flesh, but for the arrival at that moment of their captain, who was about thirty-four years of age apparently, strongly built, above themiddle height, of stern aspect and swarthy complexion. He was mounted upon apowerful horse, and had on a coat of mail, with four of the pistols they callpetronels in that country at his waist. He saw that his squires (for so they callthose who follow that trade) were about to rifle Sancho Panza, but he orderedthem to desist and was at once obeyed, so the girdle escaped. He wondered to seethe lance leaning against the tree, the shield on the ground, and Don Quixote inarmour and dejected, with the saddest and most melancholy face that sadnessitself could produce; and going up to him he said, "Be not so cast down, goodman, for you have not fallen into the hands of any inhuman Busiris, but intoRoque Guinart's, which are more merciful than cruel. ""The cause of my dejection, " returned Don Quixote, "is not that I have falleninto thy hands, O valiant Roque, whose fame is bounded by no limits on earth, but that my carelessness should have been so great that thy soldiers should havecaught me unbridled, when it is my duty, according to the rule of knight-errantrywhich I profess, to be always on the alert and at all times my own sentinel; for letme tell thee, great Roque, had they found me on my horse, with my lance andshield, it would not have been very easy for them to reduce me to submission, forI am Don Quixote of La Mancha, he who hath filled the whole world with hisachievements. "Roque Guinart at once perceived that Don Quixote's weakness was more akin tomadness than to swagger; and though he had sometimes heard him spoken of, henever regarded the things attributed to him as true, nor could he persuade himselfthat such a humour could become dominant in the heart of man; he was extremelyglad, therefore, to meet him and test at close quarters what he had heard of himat a distance; so he said to him, "Despair not, valiant knight, nor regard as anuntoward fate the position in which thou findest thyself; it may be that by theseslips thy crooked fortune will make itself straight; for heaven by strange circuitousways, mysterious and incomprehensible to man, raises up the fallen and makesrich the poor. "Don Quixote was about to thank him, when they heard behind them a noise asof a troop of horses; there was, however, but one, riding on which at a furiouspace came a youth, apparently about twenty years of age, clad in green damaskedged with gold and breeches and a loose frock, with a hat looped up in theWalloon fashion, tight-fitting polished boots, gilt spurs, dagger and sword, and inhis hand a musketoon, and a pair of pistols at his waist. Roque turned round at the noise and perceived this comely figure, whichdrawing near thus addressed him, "I came in quest of thee, valiant Roque, to findin thee if not a remedy at least relief in my misfortune; and not to keep thee insuspense, for I see thou dost not recognise me, I will tell thee who I am; I amClaudia Jeronima, the daughter of Simon Forte, thy good friend, and specialenemy of Clauquel Torrellas, who is thine also as being of the faction opposed tothee. Thou knowest that this Torrellas has a son who is called, or at least was nottwo hours since, Don Vicente Torrellas. Well, to cut short the tale of mymisfortune, I will tell thee in a few words what this youth has brought upon me. He saw me, he paid court to me, I listened to him, and, unknown to my father, Iloved him; for there is no woman, however secluded she may live or close shemay be kept, who will not have opportunities and to spare for following herheadlong impulses. In a word, he pledged himself to be mine, and I promised tobe his, without carrying matters any further. Yesterday I learned that, forgetful ofhis pledge to me, he was about to marry another, and that he was to go thismorning to plight his troth, intelligence which overwhelmed and exasperated me;my father not being at home I was able to adopt this costume you see, and urgingmy horse to speed I overtook Don Vicente about a league from this, and withoutwaiting to utter reproaches or hear excuses I fired this musket at him, and thesetwo pistols besides, and to the best of my belief I must have lodged more thantwo bullets in his body, opening doors to let my honour go free, enveloped in hisblood. I left him there in the hands of his servants, who did not dare and were notable to interfere in his defence, and I come to seek from thee a safe-conduct intoFrance, where I have relatives with whom I can live; and also to implore thee toprotect my father, so that Don Vicente's numerous kinsmen may not venture towreak their lawless vengeance upon him. "Roque, filled with admiration at the gallant bearing, high spirit, comely figure, and adventure of the fair Claudia, said to her, "Come, senora, let us go and see ifthy enemy is dead; and then we will consider what will be best for thee. " DonQuixote, who had been listening to what Claudia said and Roque Guinart said inreply to her, exclaimed, "Nobody need trouble himself with the defence of thislady, for I take it upon myself. Give me my horse and arms, and wait for me here;I will go in quest of this knight, and dead or alive I will make him keep his wordplighted to so great beauty. ""Nobody need have any doubt about that, " said Sancho, "for my master has avery happy knack of matchmaking; it's not many days since he forced anotherman to marry, who in the same way backed out of his promise to another maiden;and if it had not been for his persecutors the enchanters changing the man'sproper shape into a lacquey's the said maiden would not be one this minute. "Roque, who was paying more attention to the fair Claudia's adventure than tothe words of master or man, did not hear them; and ordering his squires torestore to Sancho everything they had stripped Dapple of, he directed them toreturn to the place where they had been quartered during the night, and then setoff with Claudia at full speed in search of the wounded or slain Don Vicente. Theyreached the spot where Claudia met him, but found nothing there save freshlyspilt blood; looking all round, however, they descried some people on the slope ofa hill above them, and concluded, as indeed it proved to be, that it was DonVicente, whom either dead or alive his servants were removing to attend to hiswounds or to bury him. They made haste to overtake them, which, as the partymoved slowly, they were able to do with ease. They found Don Vicente in thearms of his servants, whom he was entreating in a broken feeble voice to leavehim there to die, as the pain of his wounds would not suffer him to go anyfarther. Claudia and Roque threw themselves off their horses and advancedtowards him; the servants were overawed by the appearance of Roque, andClaudia was moved by the sight of Don Vicente, and going up to him half tenderlyhalf sternly, she seized his hand and said to him, "Hadst thou given me thisaccording to our compact thou hadst never come to this pass. "The wounded gentleman opened his all but closed eyes, and recognising Claudiasaid, "I see clearly, fair and mistaken lady, that it is thou that hast slain me, apunishment not merited or deserved by my feelings towards thee, for never did Imean to, nor could I, wrong thee in thought or deed. ""It is not true, then, " said Claudia, "that thou wert going this morning to marryLeonora the daughter of the rich Balvastro?""Assuredly not, " replied Don Vicente; "my cruel fortune must have carried thosetidings to thee to drive thee in thy jealousy to take my life; and to assure thyselfof this, press my hands and take me for thy husband if thou wilt; I have no bettersatisfaction to offer thee for the wrong thou fanciest thou hast received from me. "Claudia wrung his hands, and her own heart was so wrung that she lay faintingon the bleeding breast of Don Vicente, whom a death spasm seized the sameinstant. Roque was in perplexity and knew not what to do; the servants ran tofetch water to sprinkle their faces, and brought some and bathed them with it. Claudia recovered from her fainting fit, but not so Don Vicente from the paroxysmthat had overtaken him, for his life had come to an end. On perceiving this, Claudia, when she had convinced herself that her beloved husband was no more, rent the air with her sighs and made the heavens ring with her lamentations; shetore her hair and scattered it to the winds, she beat her face with her hands andshowed all the signs of grief and sorrow that could be conceived to come from anafflicted heart. "Cruel, reckless woman!" she cried, "how easily wert thou moved tocarry out a thought so wicked! O furious force of jealousy, to what desperatelengths dost thou lead those that give thee lodging in their bosoms! O husband, whose unhappy fate in being mine hath borne thee from the marriage bed to thegrave!"So vehement and so piteous were the lamentations of Claudia that they drewtears from Roque's eyes, unused as they were to shed them on any occasion. Theservants wept, Claudia swooned away again and again, and the whole placeseemed a field of sorrow and an abode of misfortune. In the end Roque Guinartdirected Don Vicente's servants to carry his body to his father's village, which wasclose by, for burial. Claudia told him she meant to go to a monastery of which anaunt of hers was abbess, where she intended to pass her life with a better andeverlasting spouse. He applauded her pious resolution, and offered to accompanyher whithersoever she wished, and to protect her father against the kinsmen ofDon Vicente and all the world, should they seek to injure him. Claudia would noton any account allow him to accompany her; and thanking him for his offers aswell as she could, took leave of him in tears. The servants of Don Vicente carriedaway his body, and Roque returned to his comrades, and so ended the love ofClaudia Jeronima; but what wonder, when it was the insuperable and cruel mightof jealousy that wove the web of her sad story?Roque Guinart found his squires at the place to which he had ordered them, and Don Quixote on Rocinante in the midst of them delivering a harangue to themin which he urged them to give up a mode of life so full of peril, as well to thesoul as to the body; but as most of them were Gascons, rough lawless fellows, hisspeech did not make much impression on them. Roque on coming up askedSancho if his men had returned and restored to him the treasures and jewels theyhad stripped off Dapple. Sancho said they had, but that three kerchiefs that wereworth three cities were missing. "What are you talking about, man?" said one of the bystanders; "I have gotthem, and they are not worth three reals. ""That is true, " said Don Quixote; "but my squire values them at the rate he says, as having been given me by the person who gave them. "Roque Guinart ordered them to be restored at once; and making his men fall inin line he directed all the clothing, jewellery, and money that they had taken sincethe last distribution to be produced; and making a hasty valuation, and reducingwhat could not be divided into money, he made shares for the whole band soequitably and carefully, that in no case did he exceed or fall short of strictdistributive justice. When this had been done, and all left satisfied, Roque observed to Don Quixote, "If this scrupulous exactness were not observed with these fellows there would beno living with them. "Upon this Sancho remarked, "From what I have seen here, justice is such a goodthing that there is no doing without it, even among the thieves themselves. "One of the squires heard this, and raising the butt-end of his harquebuss wouldno doubt have broken Sancho's head with it had not Roque Guinart called out tohim to hold his hand. Sancho was frightened out of his wits, and vowed not toopen his lips so long as he was in the company of these people. At this instant one or two of those squires who were posted as sentinels on theroads, to watch who came along them and report what passed to their chief, cameup and said, "Senor, there is a great troop of people not far off coming along theroad to Barcelona. "To which Roque replied, "Hast thou made out whether they are of the sort thatare after us, or of the sort we are after?""The sort we are after, " said the squire. "Well then, away with you all, " said Roque, "and bring them here to me at oncewithout letting one of them escape. "They obeyed, and Don Quixote, Sancho, and Roque, left by themselves, waitedto see what the squires brought, and while they were waiting Roque said to DonQuixote, "It must seem a strange sort of life to Senor Don Quixote, this of ours, strange adventures, strange incidents, and all full of danger; and I do not wonderthat it should seem so, for in truth I must own there is no mode of life morerestless or anxious than ours. What led me into it was a certain thirst forvengeance, which is strong enough to disturb the quietest hearts. I am by naturetender-hearted and kindly, but, as I said, the desire to revenge myself for a wrongthat was done me so overturns all my better impulses that I keep on in this way oflife in spite of what conscience tells me; and as one depth calls to another, andone sin to another sin, revenges have linked themselves together, and I have takenupon myself not only my own but those of others: it pleases God, however, that, though I see myself in this maze of entanglements, I do not lose all hope ofescaping from it and reaching a safe port. "Don Quixote was amazed to hear Roque utter such excellent and justsentiments, for he did not think that among those who followed such trades asrobbing, murdering, and waylaying, there could be anyone capable of a virtuousthought, and he said in reply, "Senor Roque, the beginning of health lies inknowing the disease and in the sick man's willingness to take the medicines whichthe physician prescribes; you are sick, you know what ails you, and heaven, ormore properly speaking God, who is our physician, will administer medicines thatwill cure you, and cure gradually, and not of a sudden or by a miracle; besides, sinners of discernment are nearer amendment than those who are fools; and asyour worship has shown good sense in your remarks, all you have to do is to keepup a good heart and trust that the weakness of your conscience will bestrengthened. And if you have any desire to shorten the journey and put yourselfeasily in the way of salvation, come with me, and I will show you how to becomea knight-errant, a calling wherein so many hardships and mishaps are encounteredthat if they be taken as penances they will lodge you in heaven in a trice. "Roque laughed at Don Quixote's exhortation, and changing the conversation herelated the tragic affair of Claudia Jeronima, at which Sancho was extremelygrieved; for he had not found the young woman's beauty, boldness, and spirit atall amiss. And now the squires despatched to make the prize came up, bringing with themtwo gentlemen on horseback, two pilgrims on foot, and a coach full of womenwith some six servants on foot and on horseback in attendance on them, and acouple of

muleteers whom the gentlemen had with them. The squires made a ringround them, both victors and vanquished maintaining profound silence, waitingfor the great Roque Guinart to speak. He asked the gentlemen who they were, whither they were going, and what money they carried with them; "Senor, " repliedone of them, "we are two captains of Spanish infantry; our companies are atNaples, and we are on our way to embark in four galleys which they say are atBarcelona under orders for Sicily; and we have about two or three hundredcrowns, with which we are, according to our notions, rich and contented, for asoldier's poverty does not allow a more extensive hoard. "Roque asked the pilgrims the same questions he had put to the captains, andwas answered that they were going to take ship for Rome, and that between themthey might have about sixty reals. He asked also who was in the coach, whitherthey were bound and what money they had, and one of the men on horsebackreplied, "The persons in the coach are my lady Dona Guiomar de Quinones, wifeof the regent of the Vicaria at Naples, her little daughter, a handmaid and aduenna; we six servants are in attendance upon her, and the money amounts tosix hundred crowns. ""So then, " said Roque Guinart, "we have got here nine hundred crowns and sixtyreals; my soldiers must number some sixty; see how much there falls to each, for Iam a bad arithmetician. " As soon as the robbers heard this they raised a shout of"Long life to Roque Guinart, in spite of the lladres that seek his ruin!"The captains showed plainly the concern they felt, the regent's lady wasdowncast, and the pilgrims did not at all enjoy seeing their property confiscated. Roque kept them in suspense in this way for a while; but he had no desire toprolong their distress, which might be seen a bowshot off, and turning to thecaptains he said, "Sirs, will your worships be pleased of your courtesy to lend mesixty crowns, and her ladyship the regent's wife eighty, to satisfy this band thatfollows me, for 'it is by his singing the abbot gets his dinner;' and then you may atonce proceed on your journey, free and unhindered, with a safe-conduct which Ishall give you, so that if you come across any other bands of mine that I havescattered in these parts, they may do you no harm; for I have no intention ofdoing injury to soldiers, or to any woman, especially one of quality. "Profuse and hearty were the expressions of gratitude with which the captainsthanked Roque for his courtesy and generosity; for such they regarded his leavingthem their own money. Senora Dona Guiomar de Quinones wanted to throwherself out of the coach to kiss the feet and hands of the great Roque, but hewould not suffer it on any account; so far from that, he begged her pardon for thewrong he had done her under pressure of the inexorable necessities of hisunfortunate calling. The regent's lady ordered one of her servants to give theeighty crowns that had been assessed as her share at once, for the captains hadalready paid down their sixty. The pilgrims were about to give up the whole oftheir little hoard, but Roque bade them keep quiet, and turning to his men hesaid, "Of these crowns two fall to each man and twenty remain over; let ten begiven to these pilgrims, and the other ten to this worthy squire that he may beable to speak favourably of this adventure;" and then having writing materials, with which he always went provided, brought to him, he gave them in writing asafe-conduct to the leaders of his bands; and bidding them farewell let them gofree and filled with admiration at his magnanimity, his generous disposition, andhis unusual conduct, and inclined to regard him as an Alexander the Great ratherthan a notorious robber. One of the squires observed in his mixture of Gascon and Catalan, "This captainof ours would make a better friar than highwayman; if he wants to be so generousanother time, let it be with his own property and not ours. "The unlucky wight did not speak so low but that Roque overheard him, anddrawing his sword almost split his head in two, saying, "That is the way I punishimpudent saucy fellows. " They were all taken aback, and not one of them dared toutter a word, such deference did they pay him. Roque then withdrew to one sideand wrote a letter to a friend of his at Barcelona, telling him that the famous DonQuixote of La Mancha, the knight-errant of whom there was so much talk, waswith him, and was, he assured him, the drollest and wisest man in the world; andthat in four days from that date, that is to say, on Saint John the Baptist's Day, hewas going to deposit him in full armour mounted on his horse Rocinante, togetherwith his squire Sancho on an ass, in the middle of the strand of the city; andbidding him give notice of this to his friends the Niarros, that they might divertthemselves with him. He wished, he said, his enemies the Cadells could bedeprived of this pleasure; but that was impossible, because the crazes and shrewdsayings of Don Quixote and the humours of his squire Sancho Panza could nothelp giving general pleasure to all the world. He despatched the letter by one ofhis squires, who, exchanging the costume of a highwayman for that of a peasant, made his way into Barcelona and gave it to the person to whom it was directed. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 37Chapter 61Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LXI. OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON ENTERING BARCELONA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERS THAT PARTAKE OF THE TRUERATHER THAN OF THE INGENIOUSDon Quixote passed three days and three nights with Roque, and had he passedthree hundred years he would have found enough to observe and wonder at in hismode of life. At daybreak they were in one spot, at dinner-time in another;sometimes they fled without knowing from whom, at other times they lay in wait, not knowing for what. They slept standing, breaking their slumbers to shift fromplace to place. There was nothing but sending out spies and scouts, postingsentinels and blowing the matches of harquebusses, though they carried but few, for almost all used flintlocks. Roque passed his nights in some place or other apartfrom his men, that they might not know where he was, for the manyproclamations the viceroy of Barcelona had issued against his life kept him in fearand uneasiness, and he did not venture to trust anyone, afraid that even his ownmen would kill him or deliver him up to the authorities; of a truth, a wearymiserable life! At length, by unfrequented roads, short cuts, and secret paths, Roque, Don Quixote, and Sancho, together with six squires, set out for Barcelona. They reached the strand on Saint John's Eve during the night; and Roque, afterembracing Don Quixote and Sancho (to whom he presented the ten crowns he hadpromised but had not until then given), left them with many expressions of good-will on both sides. Roque went back, while Don Quixote remained on horseback, just as he was, waiting for day, and it was not long before the countenance of the fair Aurorabegan to show itself at the balconies of the east, gladdening the grass and flowers, if not the ear, though to gladden that too there came at the same moment a soundof clarions and drums, and a din of bells, and a tramp, tramp, and cries of "Clearthe way there!" of some runners, that seemed to issue from the city. The dawn made way for the sun that with a face broader than a buckler beganto rise slowly above the low line of the horizon; Don Quixote and Sancho gazed allround them; they beheld the sea, a sight until then unseen by them; it struckthem as exceedingly spacious and broad, much more so than the lakes of Ruiderawhich they had seen in La Mancha. They saw the galleys along the beach, which, lowering their awnings, displayed themselves decked with streamers and pennonsthat trembled in the breeze and kissed and swept the water, while on board thebugles, trumpets, and clarions were sounding and filling the air far and near withmelodious warlike notes. Then they began to move and execute a kind of skirmishupon the calm water, while a vast number of horsemen on fine horses and inshowy liveries, issuing from the city, engaged on their side in a somewhat similarmovement. The soldiers on board the galleys kept up a ceaseless fire, which theyon the walls and forts of the city returned, and the heavy cannon rent the air withthe tremendous noise they made, to which the gangway guns of the galleysreplied. The bright sea, the smiling earth, the clear air--though at times darkenedby the smoke of the guns--all seemed to fill the whole multitude with unexpecteddelight. Sancho could not make out how it was that those great masses thatmoved over the sea had so many feet. And now the horsemen in livery came galloping up with shouts and outlandishcries and cheers to where Don Quixote stood amazed and wondering; and one ofthem, he to whom Roque had sent word, addressing him exclaimed, "Welcome toour city, mirror, beacon, star and cynosure of all knight-errantry in its widestextent! Welcome, I say, valiant Don Quixote of La Mancha; not the false, thefictitious, the apocryphal, that these latter days have offered us in lying histories, but the true, the legitimate, the real one that Cide Hamete Benengeli, flower ofhistorians, has described to us!"Don Quixote made no answer, nor did the horsemen wait for one, but wheelingagain with all their followers, they began curvetting round Don Quixote, who, turning to Sancho, said, "These gentlemen have plainly recognised us; I will wagerthey have read our history, and even that newly printed one by the Aragonese. "The cavalier who had addressed Don Quixote again approached him and said, "Come with us, Senor Don Quixote, for we are all of us your servants and greatfriends of Roque Guinart's;" to which Don Quixote returned, "If courtesy breedscourtesy, yours, sir knight, is daughter or very nearly akin to the great Roque's;carry me where you please; I will have no will but yours, especially if you deign toemploy it in your service. "The cavalier replied with words no less polite, and then, all closing in aroundhim, they set out with him for the city, to the music of the clarions and thedrums. As they were entering it, the wicked one, who is the author of all mischief, and the boys who are wickeder than the wicked one, contrived that a couple ofthese audacious irrepressible urchins should force their way through the crowd, and lifting up, one of them Dapple's tail and the other Rocinante's, insert a bunchof furze under each. The poor beasts felt the strange spurs and added to theiranguish by pressing their tails tight, so much so that, cutting a multitude ofcapers, they flung their masters to the ground. Don Quixote, covered with shameand out of countenance, ran to pluck the plume from his poor jade's tail, whileSancho did the same for Dapple. His conductors tried to punish the audacity ofthe boys, but there was no possibility of doing so, for they hid themselves amongthe hundreds of others that were following them. Don Quixote and Sanchomounted once more, and with the same music and acclamations reached theirconductor's house, which was large and stately, that of a rich gentleman, in short;and there for the present we will leave them, for such is Cide Hamete's pleasure. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 38Chapter 62Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LXII. WHICH DEALS WITH THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTEDHEAD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER TRIVIAL MATTERS WHICHCANNOT BE LEFT UNTOLDDon Quixote's host was one Don Antonio Moreno by name, a gentleman ofwealth and intelligence, and very fond of diverting himself in any fair and good-natured way; and having Don Quixote in his house he set about devising modes ofmaking him exhibit his mad points in some harmless fashion; for jests that givepain are no jests, and no sport is worth anything if it hurts another. The firstthing he did was to make Don Quixote take off his armour, and lead him, in thattight chamois suit we have already described and depicted more than once, out ona balcony overhanging one of the chief streets of the city, in full view of the crowdand of the boys, who gazed at him as they would at a monkey. The cavaliers inlivery careered before him again as though it were for him alone, and not toenliven the festival of the day, that they wore it, and Sancho was in high delight, for it seemed to him that, how he knew not, he had fallen upon anotherCamacho's wedding, another house like Don Diego de Miranda's, another castlelike the duke's. Some of Don Antonio's friends dined with him that day, and allshowed honour to Don Quixote and treated him as a knight-errant, and hebecoming puffed up and exalted in consequence could not contain himself forsatisfaction. Such were the drolleries of Sancho that all the servants of the house, and all who heard him, were kept hanging upon his lips. While at table DonAntonio said to him, "We hear, worthy Sancho, that you are so fond of manjarblanco and forced-meat balls, that if you have any left, you keep them in yourbosom for the next day. ""No, senor, that's not true, " said Sancho, "for I am more cleanly than greedy, and my master Don Quixote here knows well that we two are used to live for aweek on a handful of acorns or nuts. To be sure, if it so happens that they offerme a heifer, I run with a halter; I mean, I eat what I'm given, and make use ofopportunities as I find them; but whoever says that I'm an out-of-the-way eater ornot cleanly, let me tell him that he is wrong; and I'd put it in a different way if Idid not respect the honourable beards that are at the table. ""Indeed, " said Don Quixote, "Sancho's moderation and cleanliness in eatingmight be inscribed and graved on plates of brass, to be kept in eternalremembrance in ages to come. It is true that when he is hungry there is a certainappearance of voracity about him, for he eats at a great pace and chews with bothjaws; but cleanliness he is always mindful of; and when he was governor helearned how to eat daintily, so much so that he eats grapes, and evenpomegranate pips, with a fork. ""What!" said Don Antonio, "has Sancho been a governor?""Ay, " said Sancho, "and of an island called Barataria. I governed it to perfectionfor ten days; and lost my rest all the time; and learned to look down upon all thegovernments in the world; I got out of it by taking to flight, and fell into a pitwhere I gave myself up for dead, and out of which I escaped alive by a miracle. "Don Quixote then gave them a minute account of the whole affair of Sancho'sgovernment, with which he greatly amused his hearers. On the cloth being removed Don Antonio, taking Don Quixote by the hand, passed with him into a distant room in which there was nothing in the way offurniture except a table, apparently of jasper, resting on a pedestal of the same, upon which was set up, after the fashion of the busts of the Roman emperors, ahead which seemed to be of bronze. Don Antonio traversed the whole apartmentwith Don Quixote and walked round the table several times, and then said, "Now, Senor Don Quixote, that I am satisfied that no one is listening to us, and that thedoor is shut, I will tell you of one of the rarest adventures, or more properlyspeaking strange things, that can be imagined, on condition that you will keepwhat I say to you in the remotest recesses of secrecy. ""I swear it, " said Don Quixote, "and for greater security I will put a flag-stoneover it; for I would have you know, Senor Don Antonio" (he had by this timelearned his name), "that you are addressing one who, though he has ears to hear, has no tongue to speak; so that you may safely transfer whatever you have in yourbosom into mine, and rely upon it that you have consigned it to the depths ofsilence. ""In reliance upon that promise, " said Don Antonio, "I will astonish you withwhat you shall see and hear, and relieve myself of some of the vexation it givesme to have no one to whom I can confide my secrets, for they are not of a sort tobe entrusted to everybody. "Don Quixote was puzzled, wondering what could be the object of suchprecautions; whereupon Don Antonio taking his hand passed it over the bronzehead and the whole table and the pedestal of jasper on which it stood, and thensaid, "This head, Senor Don Quixote, has been made and fabricated by one of thegreatest magicians and wizards the world ever saw, a Pole, I believe, by birth, anda pupil of the famous Escotillo of whom such marvellous stories are told. He washere in my house, and for a consideration of a thousand crowns that I gave himhe constructed this head, which has the property and virtue of answeringwhatever questions are put to its ear. He observed the points of the compass, hetraced figures, he studied the stars, he watched favourable moments, and atlength brought it to the perfection we shall see to-morrow, for on Fridays it ismute, and this being Friday we must wait till the next day. In the interval yourworship may consider what you would like to ask it; and I know by experiencethat in all its answers it tells the truth. "Don Quixote was amazed at the virtue and property of the head, and wasinclined to disbelieve Don Antonio; but seeing what a short time he had to wait totest the matter, he did not choose to say anything except that he thanked him forhaving revealed to him so mighty a secret. They then quitted the room, DonAntonio locked the door, and they repaired to the chamber where the rest of thegentlemen were assembled. In the meantime Sancho had recounted to themseveral of the adventures and accidents that had happened his master. That afternoon they took Don Quixote out for a stroll, not in his armour but instreet costume, with a surcoat of tawny cloth upon him, that at that season wouldhave made ice itself sweat. Orders were left with the servants to entertain Sanchoso as not to let him leave the house. Don Quixote was mounted, not on Rocinante, but upon a tall mule of easy pace and handsomely caparisoned. They put thesurcoat on him, and on the back, without his perceiving it, they stitched aparchment on which they wrote in large letters, "This is Don Quixote of LaMancha. " As they set out upon their excursion the placard attracted the eyes of allwho chanced to see him, and as they read out, "This is Don Quixote of LaMancha, " Don Quixote was amazed to see how many people gazed at him, calledhim by his name, and recognised him, and turning to Don Antonio, who rode athis side, he observed to him, "Great are the privileges knight-errantry involves, forit makes him who professes it known and famous in every region of the earth; see, Don Antonio, even the very boys of this city know me without ever having seenme. ""True, Senor Don Quixote, " returned Don Antonio; "for as fire cannot be hiddenor kept secret, virtue cannot escape being recognised; and that which is attainedby the profession of arms shines distinguished above all others. "It came to pass, however, that as Don Quixote was proceeding amid theacclamations that have been described, a Castilian, reading the inscription on hisback, cried out in a loud voice, "The devil take thee for a Don Quixote of LaMancha! What! art thou here, and not dead of the countless drubbings that havefallen on thy ribs? Thou art mad; and if thou wert so by thyself, and kept thyselfwithin thy madness, it would not be so bad; but thou hast the gift of making foolsand blockheads of all who have anything to do with thee or say to thee. Why, lookat these gentlemen bearing thee company! Get thee home, blockhead, and seeafter thy affairs, and thy wife and children, and give over these fooleries that aresapping thy brains and skimming away thy wits. ""Go your own way, brother, " said Don Antonio, "and don't offer advice to thosewho don't ask you for it. Senor Don Quixote is in his full senses, and we who bearhim company are not fools; virtue is to be honoured wherever it may be found;go, and bad luck to you, and don't meddle where you are not wanted. ""By God, your worship is right, " replied the Castilian; "for to advise this goodman is to kick against the pricks; still for all that it fills me with pity that thesound wit they say the blockhead has in everything should dribble away by thechannel of his knight-errantry; but may the bad luck your worship talks of followme and all my descendants, if, from this day forth, though I should live longerthan Methuselah, I ever give advice to anybody even if he asks me for it. "The advice-giver took himself off, and they continued their stroll; but so greatwas the press of the boys and people to read the placard, that Don Antonio wasforced to remove it as if he were taking off something else. Night came and they went home, and there was a ladies' dancing party, for DonAntonio's wife, a lady of rank and gaiety, beauty and wit, had invited somefriends of hers to come and do honour to her guest and amuse themselves with hisstrange delusions. Several of them came, they supped sumptuously, the dancebegan at about ten o'clock. Among the ladies were two of a mischievous andfrolicsome turn, and, though perfectly modest, somewhat free in playing tricks forharmless diversion sake. These two were so indefatigable in taking Don Quixoteout to dance that they tired him down, not only in body but in spirit. It was asight to see the figure Don Quixote made, long, lank, lean, and yellow, hisgarments clinging tight to him, ungainly, and above all anything but agile. The gay ladies made secret love to him, and he on his part secretly repelledthem, but finding himself hard pressed by their blandishments he lifted up hisvoice and exclaimed, "Fugite, partes adversae! Leave me in peace, unwelcomeovertures; avaunt, with your desires, ladies, for she who is queen of mine, thepeerless Dulcinea del Toboso, suffers none but hers to lead me captive andsubdue me;" and so saying he sat down on the floor in the middle of the room, tired out and broken down by all this exertion in the dance. Don Antonio directed him to be taken up bodily and carried to bed, and thefirst that laid hold of him was Sancho, saying as he did so, "In an evil hour youtook to dancing, master mine; do you fancy all mighty men of valour are dancers, and all knights-errant given to capering? If you do, I can tell you you aremistaken; there's many a man would rather undertake to kill a giant than cut acaper. If it had been the shoe-fling you were at I could take your place, for I cando the shoe-fling like a gerfalcon; but I'm no good at dancing. "With these and other observations Sancho set the whole ball-room laughing, andthen put his master to bed, covering him up well so that he might sweat out anychill caught after his dancing. The next day Don Antonio thought he might as well make trial of the enchantedhead, and with Don Quixote, Sancho, and two others, friends of his, besides thetwo ladies that had tired out Don Quixote at the ball, who had remained for thenight with Don Antonio's wife, he locked himself up in the chamber where thehead was. He explained to them the property it possessed and entrusted the secretto them, telling them that now for the first time he was going to try the virtue ofthe enchanted head; but except Don Antonio's two friends no one else was privyto the mystery of the enchantment, and if Don Antonio had not first revealed it tothem they would have been inevitably reduced to the same state of amazement asthe rest, so artfully and skilfully was it contrived. The first to approach the ear of the head was Don Antonio himself, and in a lowvoice but not so low as not to be audible to all, he said to it, "Head, tell me by thevirtue that lies in thee what am I at this moment thinking of?"The head, without any movement of the lips, answered in a clear and distinctvoice, so as to be heard by all, "I cannot judge of thoughts. "All were thunderstruck at this, and all the more so as they saw that there wasnobody anywhere near the table or in the whole room that could have answered. "How many of us are here?" asked Don Antonio once more; and it was answeredhim in the same way softly, "Thou and thy wife, with two friends of thine and twoof hers, and a famous knight called Don Quixote of La Mancha, and a squire ofhis, Sancho Panza by name. "Now there was fresh astonishment; now everyone's hair was standing on endwith awe; and Don Antonio retiring from the head exclaimed, "This suffices toshow me that I have not been deceived by him who sold thee to me, O sage head, talking head, answering head, wonderful head! Let some one else go and put whatquestion he likes to it. "And as women are commonly impulsive and inquisitive, the first to comeforward was one of the two friends of Don Antonio's wife, and her question was, "Tell me, Head, what shall I do to be very beautiful?" and the answer she got was, "Be very modest. ""I question thee no further, " said the fair querist. Her companion then came up and said, "I should like to know, Head, whethermy husband loves me or not;" the answer given to her was, "Think how he usesthee, and thou mayest guess;" and the married lady went off saying, "That answerdid not need a question; for of course the treatment one receives shows thedisposition of him from whom it is received. "Then one of Don Antonio's two friends advanced and asked it, "Who am I?""Thou knowest, " was the answer. "That is not what I ask thee, " said thegentleman, "but to tell me if thou knowest me. " "Yes, I know thee, thou art DonPedro Noriz, " was the reply. "I do not seek to know more, " said the gentleman, "for this is enough toconvince me, O Head, that thou knowest everything;" and as he retired the otherfriend came forward and asked it, "Tell me, Head, what are the wishes of myeldest son?""I have said already, " was the answer, "that I cannot judge of wishes; however, Ican tell thee the wish of thy son is to bury thee. ""That's 'what I see with my eyes I point out with my finger, '" said the gentleman, "so I ask no more. "Don Antonio's wife came up and said, "I know not what to ask thee, Head; Iwould only seek to know of thee if I shall have many years of enjoyment of mygood husband;" and the answer she received was, "Thou shalt, for his vigour andhis temperate habits promise many years of life, which by their intemperanceothers so often cut short. "Then Don Quixote came forward and said, "Tell me, thou that answerest, wasthat which I describe as having happened to me in the cave of Montesinos thetruth or a dream? Will Sancho's whipping be accomplished without fail? Will thedisenchantment of Dulcinea be brought about?""As to the question of the cave, " was the reply, "there is much to be said; thereis something of both in it. Sancho's whipping will proceed leisurely. Thedisenchantment of Dulcinea will attain its due consummation. ""I seek to know no more, " said Don Quixote; "let me but see Dulcineadisenchanted, and I will consider that all the good fortune I could wish for hascome upon me all at once. "The last questioner was Sancho, and his questions were, "Head, shall I by anychance have another government? Shall I ever escape from the hard life of asquire? Shall I get back to see my wife and children?" To which the answer came, "Thou shalt govern in thy house; and if thou returnest to it thou shalt see thy wifeand children; and on ceasing to serve thou shalt cease to be a squire. ""Good, by God!" said Sancho Panza; "I could have told myself that; the prophetPerogrullo could have said no more. ""What answer wouldst thou have, beast?" said Don Quixote; "is it not enoughthat the replies this head has given suit the questions put to it?""Yes, it is enough, " said Sancho; "but I should have liked it to have made itselfplainer and told me more. "The questions and answers came to an end here, but not the wonder with whichall were filled, except Don Antonio's two friends who were in the secret. This CideHamete Benengeli thought fit to reveal at once, not to keep the world in suspense, fancying that the head had some strange magical mystery in it. He says, therefore, that on the model of another head, the work of an image maker, which he hadseen at Madrid, Don Antonio made this one at home for his own amusement andto astonish ignorant people; and its mechanism was as follows. The table was ofwood painted and varnished to imitate jasper, and the pedestal on which it stoodwas of the same material, with four eagles' claws projecting from it to support theweight more steadily. The head, which resembled a bust or figure of a Romanemperor, and was coloured like bronze, was hollow throughout, as was the table, into which it was fitted so exactly that no trace of the joining was visible. Thepedestal of the table was also hollow and communicated with the throat and neckof the head, and the whole was in communication with another room underneaththe chamber in which the head stood. Through the entire cavity in the pedestal, table, throat and neck of the bust or figure, there passed a tube of tin carefullyadjusted and concealed from sight. In the room below corresponding to the oneabove was placed the person who was to answer, with his mouth to the tube, andthe voice, as in an ear-trumpet, passed from above downwards, and from belowupwards, the words coming clearly and distinctly; it was impossible, thus, todetect the trick. A nephew of Don Antonio's, a smart sharp-witted student, wasthe answerer, and as he had been told beforehand by his uncle who the personswere that would come with him that day into the chamber where the head was, itwas an easy matter for him to answer the first question at once and correctly; theothers he answered by guess-work, and, being clever, cleverly. Cide Hamete addsthat this marvellous contrivance stood for some ten or twelve days; but that, as itbecame noised abroad through the city that he had in his house an enchantedhead that answered all who asked questions of it, Don Antonio, fearing it mightcome to the ears of the watchful sentinels of our faith, explained the matter to theinquisitors, who commanded him to break it up and have done with it, lest theignorant vulgar should be scandalised. By Don Quixote, however, and by Sanchothe head was still held to be an enchanted one, and capable of answeringquestions, though more to Don Quixote's satisfaction than Sancho's. The gentlemen of the city, to gratify Don Antonio and also to do the honours toDon Quixote, and give him an opportunity of displaying his folly, madearrangements for a tilting at the ring in six days from that time, which, however, for reason that will be mentioned hereafter, did not take place. Don Quixote took a fancy to stroll about the city quietly and on foot, for hefeared that if he went on horseback the boys would follow him; so he and Sanchoand two servants that Don Antonio gave him set out for a walk. Thus it came topass that going along one of the streets Don Quixote lifted up his eyes and sawwritten in very large letters over a door, "Books printed here, " at which he wasvastly pleased, for until then he had never seen a printing office, and he wascurious to know what it was like. He entered with all his following, and saw themdrawing sheets in one place, correcting in another, setting up type here, revisingthere; in short all the work that is to be seen in great printing offices. He went upto one case and asked what they were about there; the workmen told him, hewatched them with wonder, and passed on. He approached one man, amongothers, and asked him what he was doing. The workman replied, "Senor, thisgentleman here" (pointing to a man of prepossessing appearance and a certaingravity of look) "has translated an Italian book into our Spanish tongue, and I amsetting it up in type for the press. ""What is the title of the book?" asked Don Quixote; to which the author replied, "Senor, in Italian the book is called Le Bagatelle. ""And what does Le Bagatelle import in our Spanish?" asked Don Quixote. "Le Bagatelle, " said the author, "is as though we should say in Spanish LosJuguetes; but though the book is humble in name it has good solid matter in it. ""I, " said Don Quixote, "have some little smattering of Italian, and I plume myselfon singing some of Ariosto's stanzas; but tell me, senor--I do not say this to testyour ability, but merely out of curiosity--have you ever met with the wordpignatta in your book?""Yes, often, " said the author. "And how do you render that in Spanish?""How should I render it, " returned the author, "but by olla?""Body o' me, " exclaimed Don Quixote, "what a proficient you are in the Italianlanguage! I would lay a good wager that where they say in Italian piace you say inSpanish place, and where they say piu you say mas, and you translate su byarriba and giu by abajo. ""I translate them so of course, " said the author, "for those are their properequivalents. ""I would venture to swear, " said Don Quixote, "that your worship is not knownin the world, which always begrudges their reward to rare wits and praiseworthylabours. What talents lie wasted there! What genius thrust away into corners!What worth left neglected! Still it seems to me that translation from one languageinto another, if it be not from the queens of languages, the Greek and the Latin, islike looking at Flemish tapestries on the wrong side; for though the figures arevisible, they are full of threads that make them indistinct, and they do not showwith the smoothness and brightness of the right side; and translation from easylanguages argues neither ingenuity nor command of words, any more thantranscribing or copying out one document from another. But I do not mean by thisto draw the inference that no credit is to be allowed for the work of translating, for a man may employ himself in ways worse and less profitable to himself. Thisestimate does not include two famous translators, Doctor Cristobal de Figueroa, inhis Pastor Fido, and Don Juan de Jauregui, in his Aminta, wherein by their felicitythey leave it in doubt which is the translation and which the original. But tell me, are you printing this book at your own risk, or have you sold the copyright tosome bookseller?""I print at my own risk, " said the author, "and I expect to make a thousandducats at least by this first edition, which is to be of two thousand copies that willgo off in a twinkling at six reals apiece. ""A fine calculation you are making!" said Don Quixote; "it is plain you don'tknow the ins and outs of the printers, and how they play into one another'shands. I promise you when you find yourself saddled with two thousand copiesyou will feel so sore that it will astonish you, particularly if the book is a little outof the common and not in any way highly spiced. ""What!" said the author, "would your worship, then, have me give it to abookseller who will give three maravedis for the copyright and think he is doingme a favour? I do not print my books to win fame in the world, for I am known init already by my works; I want to make money, without which reputation is notworth a rap. ""God send your worship good luck, " said Don Quixote; and he moved on toanother case, where he saw them correcting a sheet of a book with the title of"Light of the Soul;" noticing it he observed, "Books like this, though there aremany of the kind, are the ones that deserve to be printed, for many are thesinners in these days, and lights unnumbered are needed for all that are indarkness. "He passed on, and saw they were also correcting another book, and when heasked its title they told him it was called, "The Second Part of the IngeniousGentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, " by one of Tordesillas. "I have heard of this book already, " said Don Quixote, "and verily and on myconscience I thought it had been by this time burned to ashes as a meddlesomeintruder; but its Martinmas will come to it as it does to every pig; for fictionshave the more merit and charm about them the more nearly they approach thetruth or what looks like it; and true stories, the truer they are the better they are;"and so saying he walked out of the printing office with a certain amount ofdispleasure in his looks. That same day Don Antonio arranged to take him to seethe galleys that lay at the beach, whereat Sancho was in high delight, as he hadnever seen any all his life. Don Antonio sent word to the commandant of thegalleys that he intended to bring his guest, the famous Don Quixote of LaMancha, of whom the commandant and all the citizens had already heard, thatafternoon to see them; and what happened on board of them will be told in thenext chapter. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 39Chapters 63-66Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LXIII. OF THE MISHAP THAT BEFELL SANCHO PANZA THROUGH THEVISIT TO THE GALLEYS, AND THE STRANGE ADVENTURE OF THEFAIR MORISCOProfound were Don Quixote's reflections on the reply of the enchanted head, not one of them, however, hitting on the secret of the trick, but all concentratedon the promise, which he regarded as a certainty, of Dulcinea's disenchantment. This he turned over in his mind again and again with great satisfaction, fullypersuaded that he would shortly see its fulfillment; and as for Sancho, though, ashas been said, he hated being a governor, still he had a longing to be giving ordersand finding himself obeyed once more; this is the misfortune that being inauthority, even in jest, brings with it. To resume; that afternoon their host Don Antonio Moreno and his two friends, with Don Quixote and Sancho, went to the galleys. The commandant had beenalready made aware of his good fortune in seeing two such famous persons as DonQuixote and Sancho, and the instant they came to the shore all the galleys strucktheir awnings and the clarions rang out. A skiff covered with rich carpets andcushions of crimson velvet was immediately lowered into the water, and as DonQuixote stepped on board of it, the leading galley fired her gangway gun, and theother galleys did the same; and as he mounted the starboard ladder the wholecrew saluted him (as is the custom when a personage of distinction comes onboard a galley) by exclaiming "Hu, hu, hu, " three times. The general, for so weshall call him, a Valencian gentleman of rank, gave him his hand and embracedhim, saying, "I shall mark this day with a white stone as one of the happiest I canexpect to enjoy in my lifetime, since I have seen Senor Don Quixote of LaMancha, pattern and image wherein we see contained and condensed all that isworthy in knight-errantry. "Don Quixote delighted beyond measure with such a lordly reception, replied tohim in words no less courteous. All then proceeded to the poop, which was veryhandsomely decorated, and seated themselves on the bulwark benches; theboatswain passed along the gangway and piped all hands to strip, which they didin an instant. Sancho, seeing such a number of men stripped to the skin, wastaken aback, and still more when he saw them spread the awning so briskly that itseemed to him as if all the devils were at work at it; but all this was cakes andfancy bread to what I am going to tell now. Sancho was seated on the captain'sstage, close to the aftermost rower on the right-hand side. He, previouslyinstructed in what he was to do, laid hold of Sancho, hoisting him up in his arms, and the whole crew, who were standing ready, beginning on the right, proceededto pass him on, whirling him along from hand to hand and from bench to benchwith such rapidity that it took the sight out of poor Sancho's eyes, and he madequite sure that the devils themselves were flying away with him; nor did theyleave off with him until they had sent him back along the left side and depositedhim on the poop; and the poor fellow was left bruised and breathless and all in asweat, and unable to comprehend what it was that had happened to him. Don Quixote when he saw Sancho's flight without wings asked the general ifthis was a usual ceremony with those who came on board the galleys for the firsttime; for, if so, as he had no intention of adopting them as a profession, he hadno mind to perform such feats of agility, and if anyone offered to lay hold of himto whirl him about, he vowed to God he would kick his soul out; and as he saidthis

he stood up and clapped his hand upon his sword. At this instant they struckthe awning and lowered the yard with a prodigious rattle. Sancho thought heavenwas coming off its hinges and going to fall on his head, and full of terror heducked it and buried it between his knees; nor were Don Quixote's kneesaltogether under control, for he too shook a little, squeezed his shoulders togetherand lost colour. The crew then hoisted the yard with the same rapidity and clatteras when they lowered it, all the while keeping silence as though they had neithervoice nor breath. The boatswain gave the signal to weigh anchor, and leapingupon the middle of the gangway began to lay on to the shoulders of the crew withhis courbash or whip, and to haul out gradually to sea. When Sancho saw so many red feet (for such he took the oars to be) moving alltogether, he said to himself, "It's these that are the real chanted things, and notthe ones my master talks of. What can those wretches have done to be sowhipped; and how does that one man who goes along there whistling dare to whipso many? I declare this is hell, or at least purgatory!"Don Quixote, observing how attentively Sancho regarded what was going on, said to him, "Ah, Sancho my friend, how quickly and cheaply might you finish offthe disenchantment of Dulcinea, if you would strip to the waist and take yourplace among those gentlemen! Amid the pain and sufferings of so many you wouldnot feel your own much; and moreover perhaps the sage Merlin would allow eachof these lashes, being laid on with a good hand, to count for ten of those whichyou must give yourself at last. "The general was about to ask what these lashes were, and what was Dulcinea'sdisenchantment, when a sailor exclaimed, "Monjui signals that there is an oaredvessel off the coast to the west. "On hearing this the general sprang upon the gangway crying, "Now then, mysons, don't let her give us the slip! It must be some Algerine corsair brigantinethat the watchtower signals to us. " The three others immediately came alongsidethe chief galley to receive their orders. The general ordered two to put out to seawhile he with the other kept in shore, so that in this way the vessel could notescape them. The crews plied the oars driving the galleys so furiously that theyseemed to fly. The two that had put out to sea, after a couple of miles sighted avessel which, so far as they could make out, they judged to be one of fourteen orfifteen banks, and so she proved. As soon as the vessel discovered the galleys shewent about with the object and in the hope of making her escape by her speed;but the attempt failed, for the chief galley was one of the fastest vessels afloat, and overhauled her so rapidly that they on board the brigantine saw clearly therewas no possibility of escaping, and the rais therefore would have had them droptheir oars and give themselves up so as not to provoke the captain in command ofour galleys to anger. But chance, directing things otherwise, so ordered it that justas the chief galley came close enough for those on board the vessel to hear theshouts from her calling on them to surrender, two Toraquis, that is to say twoTurks, both drunken, that with a dozen more were on board the brigantine, discharged their muskets, killing two of the soldiers that lined the sides of ourvessel. Seeing this the general swore he would not leave one of those he found onboard the vessel alive, but as he bore down furiously upon her she slipped awayfrom him underneath the oars. The galley shot a good way ahead; those on boardthe vessel saw their case was desperate, and while the galley was coming aboutthey made sail, and by sailing and rowing once more tried to sheer off; but theiractivity did not do them as much good as their rashness did them harm, for thegalley coming up with them in a little more than half a mile threw her oars overthem and took the whole of them alive. The other two galleys now joinedcompany and all four returned with the prize to the beach, where a vast multitudestood waiting for them, eager to see what they brought back. The generalanchored close in, and perceived that the viceroy of the city was on the shore. Heordered the skiff to push off to fetch him, and the yard to be lowered for thepurpose of hanging forthwith the rais and the rest of the men taken on board thevessel, about six-and-thirty in number, all smart fellows and most of them Turkishmusketeers. He asked which was the rais of the brigantine, and was answered inSpanish by one of the prisoners (who afterwards proved to be a Spanishrenegade), "This young man, senor that you see here is our rais, " and he pointedto one of the handsomest and most gallant-looking youths that could be imagined. He did not seem to be twenty years of age. "Tell me, dog, " said the general, "what led thee to kill my soldiers, when thousawest it was impossible for thee to escape? Is that the way to behave to chiefgalleys? Knowest thou not that rashness is not valour? Faint prospects of successshould make men bold, but not rash. "The rais was about to reply, but the general could not at that moment listen tohim, as he had to hasten to receive the viceroy, who was now coming on boardthe galley, and with him certain of his attendants and some of the people. "You have had a good chase, senor general, " said the viceroy. "Your excellency shall soon see how good, by the game strung up to this yard, "replied the general. "How so?" returned the viceroy. "Because, " said the general, "against all law, reason, and usages of war theyhave killed on my hands two of the best soldiers on board these galleys, and Ihave sworn to hang every man that I have taken, but above all this youth who isthe rais of the brigantine, " and he pointed to him as he stood with his handsalready bound and the rope round his neck, ready for death. The viceroy looked at him, and seeing him so well-favoured, so graceful, and sosubmissive, he felt a desire to spare his life, the comeliness of the youthfurnishing him at once with a letter of recommendation. He therefore questionedhim, saying, "Tell me, rais, art thou Turk, Moor, or renegade?"To which the youth replied, also in Spanish, "I am neither Turk, nor Moor, norrenegade. ""What art thou, then?" said the viceroy. "A Christian woman, " replied the youth. "A woman and a Christian, in such a dress and in such circumstances! It is moremarvellous than credible, " said the viceroy. "Suspend the execution of the sentence, " said the youth; "your vengeance willnot lose much by waiting while I tell you the story of my life. "What heart could be so hard as not to be softened by these words, at any rateso far as to listen to what the unhappy youth had to say? The general bade himsay what he pleased, but not to expect pardon for his flagrant offence. With thispermission the youth began in these words. "Born of Morisco parents, I am of that nation, more unhappy than wise, uponwhich of late a sea of woes has poured down. In the course of our misfortune Iwas carried to Barbary by two uncles of mine, for it was in vain that I declared Iwas a Christian, as in fact I am, and not a mere pretended one, or outwardly, buta true Catholic Christian. It availed me nothing with those charged with our sadexpatriation to protest this, nor would my uncles believe it; on the contrary, theytreated it as an untruth and a subterfuge set up to enable me to remain behind inthe land of my birth; and so, more by force than of my own will, they took mewith them. I had a Christian mother, and a father who was a man of sound senseand a Christian too; I imbibed the Catholic faith with my mother's milk, I waswell brought up, and neither in word nor in deed did I, I think, show any sign ofbeing a Morisco. To accompany these virtues, for such I hold them, my beauty, ifI possess any, grew with my growth; and great as was the seclusion in which Ilived it was not so great but that a young gentleman, Don Gaspar Gregorio byname, eldest son of a gentleman who is lord of a village near ours, contrived tofind opportunities of seeing me. How he saw me, how we met, how his heart waslost to me, and mine not kept from him, would take too long to tell, especially ata moment when I am in dread of the cruel cord that threatens me interposingbetween tongue and throat; I will only say, therefore, that Don Gregorio chose toaccompany me in our banishment. He joined company with the Moriscoes whowere going forth from other villages, for he knew their language very well, and onthe voyage he struck up a friendship with my two uncles who were carrying mewith them; for my father, like a wise and far-sighted man, as soon as he heard thefirst edict for our expulsion, quitted the village and departed in quest of somerefuge for us abroad. He left hidden and buried, at a spot of which I alone haveknowledge, a large quantity of pearls and precious stones of great value, togetherwith a sum of money in gold cruzadoes and doubloons. He charged me on noaccount to touch the treasure, if by any chance they expelled us before his return. I obeyed him, and with my uncles, as I have said, and others of our kindred andneighbours, passed over to Barbary, and the place where we took up our abodewas Algiers, much the same as if we had taken it up in hell itself. The king heardof my beauty, and report told him of my wealth, which was in some degreefortunate for me. He summoned me before him, and asked me what part of SpainI came from, and what money and jewels I had. I mentioned the place, and toldhim the jewels and money were buried there; but that they might easily berecovered if I myself went back for them. All this I told him, in dread lest mybeauty and not his own covetousness should influence him. While he was engagedin conversation with me, they brought him word that in company with me wasone of the handsomest and most graceful youths that could be imagined. I knewat once that they were speaking of Don Gaspar Gregorio, whose comelinesssurpasses the most highly vaunted beauty. I was troubled when I thought of thedanger he was in, for among those barbarous Turks a fair youth is more esteemedthan a woman, be she ever so beautiful. The king immediately ordered him to bebrought before him that he might see him, and asked me if what they said aboutthe youth was true. I then, almost as if inspired by heaven, told him it was, butthat I would have him to know it was not a man, but a woman like myself, and Ientreated him to allow me to go and dress her in the attire proper to her, so thather beauty might be seen to perfection, and that she might present herself beforehim with less embarrassment. He bade me go by all means, and said that the nextday we should discuss the plan to be adopted for my return to Spain to carryaway the hidden treasure. I saw Don Gaspar, I told him the danger he was in if helet it be seen he was a man, I dressed him as a Moorish woman, and that sameafternoon I brought him before the king, who was charmed when he saw him, andresolved to keep the damsel and make a present of her to the Grand Signor; andto avoid the risk she might run among the women of his seraglio, and distrustfulof himself, he commanded her to be placed in the house of some Moorish ladies ofrank who would protect and attend to her; and thither he was taken at once. What we both suffered (for I cannot deny that I love him) may be left to theimagination of those who are separated if they love one another dearly. The kingthen arranged that I should return to Spain in this brigantine, and that two Turks, those who killed your soldiers, should accompany me. There also came with methis Spanish renegade"--and here she pointed to him who had first spoken--"whom I know to be secretly a Christian, and to be more desirous of being left inSpain than of returning to Barbary. The rest of the crew of the brigantine areMoors and Turks, who merely serve as rowers. The two Turks, greedy andinsolent, instead of obeying the orders we had to land me and this renegade inChristian dress (with which we came provided) on the first Spanish ground wecame to, chose to run along the coast and make some prize if they could, fearingthat if they put us ashore first, we might, in case of some accident befalling us, make it known that the brigantine was at sea, and thus, if there happened to beany galleys on the coast, they might be taken. We sighted this shore last night, and knowing nothing of these galleys, we were discovered, and the result waswhat you have seen. To sum up, there is Don Gregorio in woman's dress, amongwomen, in imminent danger of his life; and here am I, with hands bound, inexpectation, or rather in dread, of losing my life, of which I am already weary. Here, sirs, ends my sad story, as true as it is unhappy; all I ask of you is to allowme to die like a Christian, for, as I have already said, I am not to be charged withthe offence of which those of my nation are guilty;" and she stood silent, her eyesfilled with moving tears, accompanied by plenty from the bystanders. The viceroy, touched with compassion, went up to her without speaking and untied the cordthat bound the hands of the Moorish girl. But all the while the Morisco Christian was telling her strange story, an elderlypilgrim, who had come on board of the galley at the same time as the viceroy, kept his eyes fixed upon her; and the instant she ceased speaking he threwhimself at her feet, and embracing them said in a voice broken by sobs and sighs, "O Ana Felix, my unhappy daughter, I am thy father Ricote, come back to look forthee, unable to live without thee, my soul that thou art!"At these words of his, Sancho opened his eyes and raised his head, which hehad been holding down, brooding over his unlucky excursion; and looking at thepilgrim he recognised in him that same Ricote he met the day he quitted hisgovernment, and felt satisfied that this was his daughter. She being now unboundembraced her father, mingling her tears with his, while he addressing the generaland the viceroy said, "This, sirs, is my daughter, more unhappy in her adventuresthan in her name. She is Ana Felix, surnamed Ricote, celebrated as much for herown beauty as for my wealth. I quitted my native land in search of some shelteror refuge for us abroad, and having found one in Germany I returned in thispilgrim's dress, in the company of some other German pilgrims, to seek mydaughter and take up a large quantity of treasure I had left buried. My daughter Idid not find, the treasure I found and have with me; and now, in this strangeroundabout way you have seen, I find the treasure that more than all makes merich, my beloved daughter. If our innocence and her tears and mine can with strictjustice open the door to clemency, extend it to us, for we never had any intentionof injuring you, nor do we sympathise with the aims of our people, who have beenjustly banished. ""I know Ricote well, " said Sancho at this, "and I know too that what he saysabout Ana Felix being his daughter is true; but as to those other particulars aboutgoing and coming, and having good or bad intentions, I say nothing. "While all present stood amazed at this strange occurrence the general said, "Atany rate your tears will not allow me to keep my oath; live, fair Ana Felix, all theyears that heaven has allotted you; but these rash insolent fellows must pay thepenalty of the crime they have committed;" and with that he gave orders to havethe two Turks who had killed his two soldiers hanged at once at the yard-arm. The viceroy, however, begged him earnestly not to hang them, as their behavioursavoured rather of madness than of bravado. The general yielded to the viceroy'srequest, for revenge is not easily taken in cold blood. They then tried to devisesome scheme for rescuing Don Gaspar Gregorio from the danger in which he hadbeen left. Ricote offered for that object more than two thousand ducats that hehad in pearls and gems; they proposed several plans, but none so good as thatsuggested by the renegade already mentioned, who offered to return to Algiers ina small vessel of about six banks, manned by Christian rowers, as he knew where, how, and when he could and should land, nor was he ignorant of the house inwhich Don Gaspar was staying. The general and the viceroy had some hesitationabout placing confidence in the renegade and entrusting him with the Christianswho were to row, but Ana Felix said she could answer for him, and her fatheroffered to go and pay the ransom of the Christians if by any chance they shouldnot be forthcoming. This, then, being agreed upon, the viceroy landed, and DonAntonio Moreno took the fair Morisco and her father home with him, the viceroycharging him to give them the best reception and welcome in his power, while onhis own part he offered all that house contained for their entertainment; so greatwas the good-will and kindliness the beauty of Ana Felix had infused into hisheart. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LXIV. TREATING OF THE ADVENTURE WHICH GAVE DON QUIXOTEMORE UNHAPPINESS THAN ALL THAT HAD HITHERTO BEFALLENHIMThe wife of Don Antonio Moreno, so the history says, was extremely happy tosee Ana Felix in her house. She welcomed her with great kindness, charmed aswell by her beauty as by her intelligence; for in both respects the fair Morisco wasrichly endowed, and all the people of the city flocked to see her as though theyhad been summoned by the ringing of the bells. Don Quixote told Don Antonio that the plan adopted for releasing Don Gregoriowas not a good one, for its risks were greater than its advantages, and that itwould be better to land himself with his arms and horse in Barbary; for he wouldcarry him off in spite of the whole Moorish host, as Don Gaiferos carried off hiswife Melisendra. "Remember, your worship, " observed Sancho on hearing him say so, "Senor DonGaiferos carried off his wife from the mainland, and took her to France by land;but in this case, if by chance we carry off Don Gregorio, we have no way ofbringing him to Spain, for there's the sea between. ""There's a remedy for everything except death, " said Don Quixote; "if they bringthe vessel close to the shore we shall be able to get on board though all the worldstrive to prevent us. ""Your worship hits it off mighty well and mighty easy, " said Sancho; "but 'it's along step from saying to doing;' and I hold to the renegade, for he seems to me anhonest good-hearted fellow. "Don Antonio then said that if the renegade did not prove successful, theexpedient of the great Don Quixote's expedition to Barbary should be adopted. Two days afterwards the renegade put to sea in a light vessel of six oars a-sidemanned by a stout crew, and two days later the galleys made sail eastward, thegeneral having begged the viceroy to let him know all about the release of DonGregorio and about Ana Felix, and the viceroy promised to do as he requested. One morning as Don Quixote went out for a stroll along the beach, arrayed infull armour (for, as he often said, that was "his only gear, his only rest the fray, "and he never was without it for a moment), he saw coming towards him a knight, also in full armour, with a shining moon painted on his shield, who, onapproaching sufficiently near to be heard, said in a loud voice, addressing himselfto Don Quixote, "Illustrious knight, and never sufficiently extolled Don Quixote ofLa Mancha, I am the Knight of the White Moon, whose unheard-of achievementswill perhaps have recalled him to thy memory. I come to do battle with thee andprove the might of thy arm, to the end that I make thee acknowledge and confessthat my lady, let her be who she may, is incomparably fairer than thy Dulcineadel Toboso. If thou dost acknowledge this fairly and openly, thou shalt escapedeath and save me the trouble of inflicting it upon thee; if thou fightest and Ivanquish thee, I demand no other satisfaction than that, laying aside arms andabstaining from going in quest of adventures, thou withdraw and betake thyself tothine own village for the space of a year, and live there without putting hand tosword, in peace and quiet and beneficial repose, the same being needful for theincrease of thy substance and the salvation of thy soul; and if thou dost vanquishme, my head shall be at thy disposal, my arms and horse thy spoils, and therenown of my deeds transferred and added to thine. Consider which will be thybest course, and give me thy answer speedily, for this day is all the time I havefor the despatch of this business. "Don Quixote was amazed and astonished, as well at the Knight of the WhiteMoon's arrogance, as at his reason for delivering the defiance, and with calmdignity he answered him, "Knight of the White Moon, of whose achievements Ihave never heard until now, I will venture to swear you have never seen theillustrious Dulcinea; for had you seen her I know you would have taken care notto venture yourself upon this issue, because the sight would have removed alldoubt from your mind that there ever has been or can be a beauty to be comparedwith hers; and so, not saying you lie, but merely that you are not correct in whatyou state, I accept your challenge, with the conditions you have proposed, and atonce, that the day you have fixed may not expire; and from your conditions Iexcept only that of the renown of your achievements being transferred to me, for Iknow not of what sort they are nor what they may amount to; I am satisfied withmy own, such as they be. Take, therefore, the side of the field you choose, and Iwill do the same; and to whom God shall give it may Saint Peter add his blessing. "The Knight of the White Moon had been seen from the city, and it was told theviceroy how he was in conversation with Don Quixote. The viceroy, fancying itmust be some fresh adventure got up by Don Antonio Moreno or some othergentleman of the city, hurried out at once to the beach accompanied by DonAntonio and several other gentlemen, just as Don Quixote was wheeling Rocinanteround in order to take up the necessary distance. The viceroy upon this, seeingthat the pair of them were evidently preparing to come to the charge, put himselfbetween them, asking them what it was that led them to engage in combat all of asudden in this way. The Knight of the White Moon replied that it was a questionof precedence of beauty; and briefly told him what he had said to Don Quixote, and how the conditions of the defiance agreed upon on both sides had beenaccepted. The viceroy went over to Don Antonio, and asked in a low voice did heknow who the Knight of the White Moon was, or was it some joke they wereplaying on Don Quixote. Don Antonio replied that he neither knew who he wasnor whether the defiance was in joke or in earnest. This answer left the viceroy ina state of perplexity, not knowing whether he ought to let the combat go on ornot; but unable to persuade himself that it was anything but a joke he fell back, saying, "If there be no other way out of it, gallant knights, except to confess ordie, and Don Quixote is inflexible, and your worship of the White Moon still moreso, in God's hand be it, and fall on. "He of the White Moon thanked the viceroy in courteous and well-chosen wordsfor the permission he gave them, and so did Don Quixote, who then, commendinghimself with all his heart to heaven and to his Dulcinea, as was his custom on theeve of any combat that awaited him, proceeded to take a little more distance, ashe saw his antagonist was doing the same; then, without blast of trumpet or otherwarlike instrument to give them the signal to charge, both at the same instantwheeled their horses; and he of the White Moon, being the swifter, met DonQuixote after having traversed two-thirds of the course, and there encounteredhim with such violence that, without touching him with his lance (for he held ithigh, to all appearance purposely), he hurled Don Quixote and Rocinante to theearth, a perilous fall. He sprang upon him at once, and placing the lance over hisvisor said to him, "You are vanquished, sir knight, nay dead unless you admit theconditions of our defiance. "Don Quixote, bruised and stupefied, without raising his visor said in a weakfeeble voice as if he were speaking out of a tomb, "Dulcinea del Toboso is thefairest woman in the world, and I the most unfortunate knight on earth; it is notfitting that this truth should suffer by my feebleness; drive your lance home, sirknight, and take my life, since you have taken away my honour. ""That will I not, in sooth, " said he of the White Moon; "live the fame of the ladyDulcinea's beauty undimmed as ever; all I require is that the great Don Quixoteretire to his own home for a year, or for so long a time as shall by me be enjoinedupon him, as we agreed before engaging in this combat. "The viceroy, Don Antonio, and several others who were present heard all this, and heard too how Don Quixote replied that so long as nothing in prejudice ofDulcinea was demanded of him, he would observe all the rest like a true and loyalknight. The engagement given, he of the White Moon wheeled about, and makingobeisance to the viceroy with a movement of the head, rode away into the city ata half gallop. The viceroy bade Don Antonio hasten after him, and by some meansor other find out who he was. They raised Don Quixote up and uncovered hisface, and found him pale and bathed with sweat. Rocinante from the mere hard measure he had received lay unable to stir for thepresent. Sancho, wholly dejected and woebegone, knew not what to say or do. Hefancied that all was a dream, that the whole business was a piece of enchantment. Here was his master defeated, and bound not to take up arms for a year. He sawthe light of the glory of his achievements obscured; the hopes of the promiseslately made him swept away like smoke before the wind; Rocinante, he feared, was crippled for life, and his master's bones out of joint; for if he were onlyshaken out of his madness it would be no small luck. In the end they carried himinto the city in a hand-chair which the viceroy sent for, and thither the viceroyhimself returned, cager to ascertain who this Knight of the White Moon was whohad left Don Quixote in such a sad plight. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LXV. WHEREIN IS MADE KNOWN WHO THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITEMOON WAS; LIKEWISE DON GREGORIO'S RELEASE, AND OTHEREVENTSDon Antonia Moreno followed the Knight of the White Moon, and a number ofboys followed him too, nay pursued him, until they had him fairly housed in ahostel in the heart of the city. Don Antonio, eager to make his acquaintance, entered also; a squire came out to meet him and remove his armour, and he shuthimself into a lower room, still attended by Don Antonio, whose bread would notbake until he had found out who he was. He of the White Moon, seeing then thatthe gentleman would not leave him, said, "I know very well, senor, what you havecome for; it is to find out who I am; and as there is no reason why I shouldconceal it from you, while my servant here is taking off my armour I will tell youthe true state of the case, without leaving out anything. You must know, senor, that I am called the bachelor Samson Carrasco. I am of the same village as DonQuixote of La Mancha, whose craze and folly make all of us who know him feelpity for him, and I am one of those who have felt it most; and persuaded that hischance of recovery lay in quiet and keeping at home and in his own house, I hitupon a device for keeping him there. Three months ago, therefore, I went out tomeet him as a knight-errant, under the assumed name of the Knight of theMirrors, intending to engage him in combat and overcome him without hurtinghim, making it the condition of our combat that the vanquished should be at thedisposal of the victor. What I meant to demand of him (for I regarded him asvanquished already) was that he should return to his own village, and not leave itfor a whole year, by which time he might be cured. But fate ordered it otherwise, for he vanquished me and unhorsed me, and so my plan failed. He went his way, and I came back conquered, covered with shame, and sorely bruised by my fall, which was a particularly dangerous one. But this did not quench my desire tomeet him again and overcome him, as you have seen to-day. And as he is soscrupulous in his observance of the laws of knight-errantry, he will, no doubt, inorder to keep his word, obey the injunction I have laid upon him. This, senor, ishow the matter stands, and I have nothing more to tell you. I implore of you notto betray me, or tell Don Quixote who I am; so that my honest endeavours may besuccessful, and that a man of excellent wits--were he only rid of the fooleries ofchivalry--may get them back again. ""O senor, " said Don Antonio, "may God forgive you the wrong you have donethe whole world in trying to bring the most amusing madman in it back to hissenses. Do you not see, senor, that the gain by Don Quixote's sanity can neverequal the enjoyment his crazes give? But my belief is that all the senor bachelor'spains will be of no avail to bring a man so hopelessly cracked to his senses again;and if it were not uncharitable, I would say may Don Quixote never be cured, forby his recovery we lose not only his own drolleries, but his squire Sancho Panza'stoo, any one of which is enough to turn melancholy itself into merriment. However, I'll hold my peace and say nothing to him, and we'll see whether I amright in my suspicion that Senor Carrasco's efforts will be fruitless. "The bachelor replied that at all events the affair promised well, and he hopedfor a happy result from it; and putting his services at Don Antonio's commands hetook his leave of him; and having had his armour packed at once upon a mule, herode away from the city the same day on the horse he rode to battle, and returnedto his own country without meeting any adventure calling for record in thisveracious history. Don Antonio reported to the viceroy what Carrasco told him, and the viceroywas not very well pleased to hear it, for with Don Quixote's retirement there wasan end to the amusement of all who knew anything of his mad doings. Six days did Don Quixote keep his bed, dejected, melancholy, moody and out ofsorts, brooding over the unhappy event of his defeat. Sancho strove to comforthim, and among other things he said to him, "Hold up your head, senor, and be ofgood cheer if you can, and give thanks to heaven that if you have had a tumble tothe ground you have not come off with a broken rib; and, as you know that 'wherethey give they take, ' and that 'there are not always fletches where there are pegs, 'a fig for the doctor, for there's no need of him to cure this ailment. Let us gohome, and give over going about in search of adventures in strange lands andplaces; rightly looked at, it is I that am the greater loser, though it is your worshipthat has had the worse usage. With the government I gave up all wish to be agovernor again, but I did not give up all longing to be a count; and that will nevercome to pass if your worship gives up becoming a king by renouncing the callingof chivalry; and so my hopes are going to turn into smoke. ""Peace, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "thou seest my suspension and retirement isnot to exceed a year; I shall soon return to my honoured calling, and I shall not beat a loss for a kingdom to win and a county to bestow on thee. ""May God hear it and sin be deaf, " said Sancho; "I have always heard say that 'agood hope is better than a bad holding. "As they were talking Don Antonio came in looking extremely pleased andexclaiming, "Reward me for my good news, Senor Don Quixote! Don Gregorio andthe renegade who went for him have come ashore--ashore do I say? They are bythis time in the viceroy's house, and will be here immediately. "Don Quixote cheered up a little and said, "Of a truth I am almost ready to say Ishould have been glad had it turned out just the other way, for it would haveobliged me to cross over to Barbary, where by the might of my arm I should haverestored to liberty, not only Don Gregorio, but all the Christian captives there arein Barbary. But what am I saying, miserable being that I am? Am I not he that hasbeen conquered? Am I not he that has been overthrown? Am I not he who mustnot take up arms for a year? Then what am I making professions for; what am Ibragging about; when it is fitter for me to handle the distaff than the sword?""No more of that, senor, " said Sancho; "'let the hen live, even though it be withher pip; 'today for thee and to-morrow for me;' in these affairs of encounters andwhacks one must not mind them, for he that falls to-day may get up to-morrow;unless indeed he chooses to lie in bed, I mean gives way to weakness and doesnot pluck up fresh spirit for fresh battles; let your worship get up now to receiveDon Gregorio; for the household seems to be in a bustle, and no doubt he hascome by this time;" and so it proved, for as soon as Don Gregorio and therenegade had given the viceroy an account of the voyage out and home, DonGregorio, eager to see Ana Felix, came with the renegade to Don Antonio's house. When they carried him away from Algiers he was in woman's dress; on board thevessel, however, he exchanged it for that of a captive who escaped with him; butin whatever dress he might be he looked like one to be loved and served andesteemed, for he was surpassingly well-favoured, and to judge by appearancessome seventeen or eighteen years of age. Ricote and his daughter came out towelcome him, the father with tears, the daughter with bashfulness. They did notembrace each other, for where there is deep love there will never be overmuchboldness. Seen side by side, the comeliness of Don Gregorio and the beauty ofAna Felix were the admiration of all who were present. It was silence that spokefor the lovers at that moment, and their eyes were the tongues that declared theirpure and happy feelings. The renegade explained the measures and means he hadadopted to rescue Don Gregorio, and Don Gregorio at no great length, but in afew words, in which he showed that his intelligence was in advance of his years, described the peril and embarrassment he found himself in among the womenwith whom he had sojourned. To conclude, Ricote liberally recompensed andrewarded as well the renegade as the men who had rowed; and the renegadeeffected his readmission into the body of the Church and was reconciled with it, and from a rotten limb became by penance and repentance a clean and sound one. Two days later the viceroy discussed with Don Antonio the steps they shouldtake to enable Ana Felix and her father to stay in Spain, for it seemed to themthere could be no objection to a daughter who was so good a Christian and afather to all appearance so well disposed remaining there. Don Antonio offered toarrange the matter at the capital, whither he was compelled to go on some otherbusiness, hinting that many a difficult affair was settled there with the help offavour and bribes. "Nay, " said Ricote, who was present during the conversation, "it will not do torely upon favour or bribes, because with the great Don Bernardino de Velasco, Conde de Salazar, to whom his Majesty has entrusted our expulsion, neitherentreaties nor promises, bribes nor appeals to compassion, are of any use; forthough it is true he mingles mercy with justice, still, seeing that the whole body ofour nation is tainted and corrupt, he applies to it the cautery that burns ratherthan the salve that soothes; and thus, by prudence, sagacity, care and the fear heinspires, he has borne on his mighty shoulders the weight of this great policy andcarried it into effect, all our schemes and plots, importunities and wiles, beingineffectual to blind his Argus eyes, ever on the watch lest one of us should remainbehind in concealment, and like a hidden root come in course of time to sproutand bear poisonous fruit in Spain, now cleansed, and relieved of the fear in whichour vast numbers kept it. Heroic resolve of the great Philip the Third, andunparalleled wisdom to have entrusted it to the said Don Bernardino de Velasco!""At any rate, " said Don Antonio, "when I am there I will make all possibleefforts, and let heaven do as pleases it best; Don Gregorio will come with me torelieve the anxiety which his parents must be suffering on account of his absence;Ana Felix will remain in my house with my wife, or in a monastery; and I knowthe viceroy will be glad that the worthy Ricote should stay with him until we seewhat terms I can make. "The viceroy agreed to all that was proposed; but Don Gregorio on learning whathad passed declared he could not and would not on any account leave Ana Felix;however, as it was his purpose to go and see his parents and devise some way ofreturning for her, he fell in with the proposed arrangement. Ana Felix remainedwith Don Antonio's wife, and Ricote in the viceroy's house. The day for Don Antonio's departure came; and two days later that for DonQuixote's and Sancho's, for Don Quixote's fall did not suffer him to take the roadsooner. There were tears and sighs, swoonings and sobs, at the parting betweenDon Gregorio and Ana Felix. Ricote offered Don Gregorio a thousand crowns if hewould have them, but he would not take any save five which Don Antonio lenthim and he promised to repay at the capital. So the two of them took theirdeparture, and Don Quixote and Sancho afterwards, as has been already said, Don Quixote without his armour and in travelling gear, and Sancho on foot, Dapple being loaded with the armour. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LXVI. WHICH TREATS OF WHAT HE WHO READS WILL SEE, OR WHATHE WHO HAS IT READ TO HIM WILL HEARAs he left Barcelona, Don Quixote turned gaze upon the spot where he hadfallen. "Here Troy was, " said he; "here my ill-luck, not my cowardice, robbed meof all the glory I had won; here Fortune made me the victim of her caprices; herethe lustre of my achievements was dimmed; here, in a word, fell my happinessnever to rise again. ""Senor, " said Sancho on hearing this, "it is the part of brave hearts to be patientin adversity just as much as to be glad in prosperity; I judge by myself, for, ifwhen I was a governor I was glad, now that I am a squire and on foot I am notsad; and I have heard say that she whom commonly they call Fortune is adrunken whimsical jade, and, what is more, blind, and therefore neither sees whatshe does, nor knows whom she casts down or whom she sets up. ""Thou art a great philosopher, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "thou speakest verysensibly; I know not who taught thee. But I can tell thee there is no such thing asFortune in the world, nor does anything which takes place there, be it good orbad, come about by chance, but by the special preordination of heaven; and hencethe common saying that 'each of us is the maker of his own Fortune. ' I have beenthat of mine; but not with the proper amount of prudence, and my self-confidencehas therefore made me pay dearly; for I ought to have reflected that Rocinante'sfeeble strength could not resist the mighty bulk of the Knight of the White Moon'shorse. In a word, I ventured it, I did my best, I was overthrown, but though I lostmy honour I did not lose nor can I lose the virtue of keeping my word. When Iwas a knight-errant, daring and valiant, I supported my achievements by handand deed, and now that I am a humble squire I will support my words by keepingthe promise I have given. Forward then, Sancho my friend, let us go to keep theyear of the novitiate in our own country, and in that seclusion we shall pick upfresh strength to return to the by me never-forgotten calling of arms. ""Senor, " returned Sancho, "travelling on foot is not such a pleasant thing that itmakes me feel disposed or tempted to make long marches. Let us leave thisarmour hung up on some tree, instead of some one that has been hanged; andthen with me on Dapple's back and my feet off the ground we will arrange thestages as your worship pleases to measure them out; but to suppose that I amgoing to travel on foot, and make long ones, is to suppose nonsense. ""Thou sayest well, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "let my armour be hung up for atrophy, and under it or round it we will carve on the trees what was inscribed onthe trophy of Roland's armour-These let none moveWho dareth not his might with Roland prove. ""That's the very thing, " said Sancho; "and if it was not that we should feel thewant of Rocinante on the road, it would be as well to leave him hung up too. ""And yet, I had rather not have either him or the armour hung up, " said DonQuixote, "that it may not be said, 'for good service a bad return. '""Your worship is right, " said Sancho; "for, as sensible people hold, 'the fault ofthe ass must not be laid on the pack-saddle;' and, as in this affair the fault is yourworship's, punish yourself and don't let your anger break out against the

alreadybattered and bloody armour, or the meekness of Rocinante, or the tenderness ofmy feet, trying to make them travel more than is reasonable. "In converse of this sort the whole of that day went by, as did the foursucceeding ones, without anything occurring to interrupt their journey, but on thefifth as they entered a village they found a great number of people at the door ofan inn enjoying themselves, as it was a holiday. Upon Don Quixote's approach apeasant called out, "One of these two gentlemen who come here, and who don'tknow the parties, will tell us what we ought to do about our wager. ""That I will, certainly, " said Don Quixote, "and according to the rights of thecase, if I can manage to understand it. ""Well, here it is, worthy sir, " said the peasant; "a man of this village who is sofat that he weighs twenty stone challenged another, a neighbour of his, who doesnot weigh more than nine, to run a race. The agreement was that they were to runa distance of a hundred paces with equal weights; and when the challenger wasasked how the weights were to be equalised he said that the other, as he weighednine stone, should put eleven in iron on his back, and that in this way the twentystone of the thin man would equal the twenty stone of the fat one. ""Not at all, " exclaimed Sancho at once, before Don Quixote could answer; "it'sfor me, that only a few days ago left off being a governor and a judge, as all theworld knows, to settle these doubtful questions and give an opinion in disputes ofall sorts. ""Answer in God's name, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote, "for I am not fitto give crumbs to a cat, my wits are so confused and upset. "With this permission Sancho said to the peasants who stood clustered roundhim, waiting with open mouths for the decision to come from his, "Brothers, whatthe fat man requires is not in reason, nor has it a shadow of justice in it; because, if it be true, as they say, that the challenged may choose the weapons, the otherhas no right to choose such as will prevent and keep him from winning. Mydecision, therefore, is that the fat challenger prune, peel, thin, trim and correcthimself, and take eleven stone of his flesh off his body, here or there, as hepleases, and as suits him best; and being in this way reduced to nine stoneweight, he will make himself equal and even with nine stone of his opponent, andthey will be able to run on equal terms. ""By all that's good, " said one of the peasants as he heard Sancho's decision, "butthe gentleman has spoken like a saint, and given judgment like a canon! But I'll bebound the fat man won't part with an ounce of his flesh, not to say eleven stone. ""The best plan will be for them not to run, " said another, "so that neither thethin man break down under the weight, nor the fat one strip himself of his flesh;let half the wager be spent in wine, and let's take these gentlemen to the tavernwhere there's the best, and 'over me be the cloak when it rains. ""I thank you, sirs, " said Don Quixote; "but I cannot stop for an instant, for sadthoughts and unhappy circumstances force me to seem discourteous and to travelapace;" and spurring Rocinante he pushed on, leaving them wondering at whatthey had seen and heard, at his own strange figure and at the shrewdness of hisservant, for such they took Sancho to be; and another of them observed, "If theservant is so clever, what must the master be? I'll bet, if they are going toSalamanca to study, they'll come to be alcaldes of the Court in a trice; for it's amere joke--only to read and read, and have interest and good luck; and before aman knows where he is he finds himself with a staff in his hand or a mitre on hishead. "That night master and man passed out in the fields in the open air, and the nextday as they were pursuing their journey they saw coming towards them a man onfoot with alforjas at the neck and a javelin or spiked staff in his hand, the very cutof a foot courier; who, as soon as he came close to Don Quixote, increased hispace and half running came up to him, and embracing his right thigh, for he couldreach no higher, exclaimed with evident pleasure, "O Senor Don Quixote of LaMancha, what happiness it will be to the heart of my lord the duke when heknows your worship is coming back to his castle, for he is still there with my ladythe duchess!""I do not recognise you, friend, " said Don Quixote, "nor do I know who you are, unless you tell me. ""I am Tosilos, my lord the duke's lacquey, Senor Don Quixote, " replied thecourier; "he who refused to fight your worship about marrying the daughter ofDona Rodriguez. ""God bless me!" exclaimed Don Quixote; "is it possible that you are the onewhom mine enemies the enchanters changed into the lacquey you speak of inorder to rob me of the honour of that battle?""Nonsense, good sir!" said the messenger; "there was no enchantment ortransformation at all; I entered the lists just as much lacquey Tosilos as I cameout of them lacquey Tosilos. I thought to marry without fighting, for the girl hadtaken my fancy; but my scheme had a very different result, for as soon as yourworship had left the castle my lord the duke had a hundred strokes of the stickgiven me for having acted contrary to the orders he gave me before engaging inthe combat; and the end of the whole affair is that the girl has become a nun, andDona Rodriguez has gone back to Castile, and I am now on my way to Barcelonawith a packet of letters for the viceroy which my master is sending him. If yourworship would like a drop, sound though warm, I have a gourd here full of thebest, and some scraps of Tronchon cheese that will serve as a provocative andwakener of your thirst if so be it is asleep. ""I take the offer, " said Sancho; "no more compliments about it; pour out, goodTosilos, in spite of all the enchanters in the Indies. ""Thou art indeed the greatest glutton in the world, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and the greatest booby on earth, not to be able to see that this courier isenchanted and this Tosilos a sham one; stop with him and take thy fill; I will goon slowly and wait for thee to come up with me. "The lacquey laughed, unsheathed his gourd, unwalletted his scraps, and takingout a small loaf of bread he and Sancho seated themselves on the green grass, andin peace and good fellowship finished off the contents of the alforjas down to thebottom, so resolutely that they licked the wrapper of the letters, merely because itsmelt of cheese. Said Tosilos to Sancho, "Beyond a doubt, Sancho my friend, this master of thineought to be a madman. ""Ought!" said Sancho; "he owes no man anything; he pays for everything, particularly when the coin is madness. I see it plain enough, and I tell him soplain enough; but what's the use? especially now that it is all over with him, forhere he is beaten by the Knight of the White Moon. "Tosilos begged him to explain what had happened him, but Sancho replied thatit would not be good manners to leave his master waiting for him; and that someother day if they met there would be time enough for that; and then getting up, after shaking his doublet and brushing the crumbs out of his beard, he droveDapple on before him, and bidding adieu to Tosilos left him and rejoined hismaster, who was waiting for him under the shade of a tree. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 40Chapters 67-70Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LXVII. OF THE RESOLUTION DON QUIXOTE FORMED TO TURNSHEPHERD AND TAKE TO A LIFE IN THE FIELDS WHILE THEYEAR FOR WHICH HE HAD GIVEN HIS WORD WAS RUNNING ITSCOURSE; WITH OTHER EVENTS TRULY DELECTABLE AND HAPPYIf a multitude of reflections used to harass Don Quixote before he had beenoverthrown, a great many more harassed him since his fall. He was under theshade of a tree, as has been said, and there, like flies on honey, thoughts camecrowding upon him and stinging him. Some of them turned upon thedisenchantment of Dulcinea, others upon the life he was about to lead in hisenforced retirement. Sancho came up and spoke in high praise of the generousdisposition of the lacquey Tosilos. "Is it possible, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that thou dost still think that heyonder is a real lacquey? Apparently it has escaped thy memory that thou hastseen Dulcinea turned and transformed into a peasant wench, and the Knight ofthe Mirrors into the bachelor Carrasco; all the work of the enchanters thatpersecute me. But tell me now, didst thou ask this Tosilos, as thou callest him, what has become of Altisidora, did she weep over my absence, or has she alreadyconsigned to oblivion the love thoughts that used to afflict her when I waspresent?""The thoughts that I had, " said Sancho, "were not such as to leave time forasking fool's questions. Body o' me, senor! is your worship in a condition now toinquire into other people's thoughts, above all love thoughts?""Look ye, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "there is a great difference between whatis done out of love and what is done out of gratitude. A knight may very possiblybe proof against love; but it is impossible, strictly speaking, for him to beungrateful. Altisidora, to all appearance, loved me truly; she gave me the threekerchiefs thou knowest of; she wept at my departure, she cursed me, she abusedme, casting shame to the winds she bewailed herself in public; all signs that sheadored me; for the wrath of lovers always ends in curses. I had no hopes to giveher, nor treasures to offer her, for mine are given to Dulcinea, and the treasuresof knights-errant are like those of the fairies, ' illusory and deceptive; all I can giveher is the place in my memory I keep for her, without prejudice, however, to thatwhich I hold devoted to Dulcinea, whom thou art wronging by thy remissness inwhipping thyself and scourging that flesh--would that I saw it eaten by wolves--which would rather keep itself for the worms than for the relief of that poor lady. ""Senor, " replied Sancho, "if the truth is to be told, I cannot persuade myself thatthe whipping of my backside has anything to do with the disenchantment of theenchanted; it is like saying, 'If your head aches rub ointment on your knees;' atany rate I'll make bold to swear that in all the histories dealing with knight-errantry that your worship has read you have never come across anybodydisenchanted by whipping; but whether or no I'll whip myself when I have a fancyfor it, and the opportunity serves for scourging myself comfortably. ""God grant it, " said Don Quixote; "and heaven give thee grace to take it to heartand own the obligation thou art under to help my lady, who is thine also, inasmuch as thou art mine. "As they pursued their journey talking in this way they came to the very samespot where they had been trampled on by the bulls. Don Quixote recognised it, and said he to Sancho, "This is the meadow where we came upon those gayshepherdesses and gallant shepherds who were trying to revive and imitate thepastoral Arcadia there, an idea as novel as it was happy, in emulation whereof, ifso be thou dost approve of it, Sancho, I would have ourselves turn shepherds, atany rate for the time I have to live in retirement. I will buy some ewes andeverything else requisite for the pastoral calling; and, I under the name of theshepherd Quixotize and thou as the shepherd Panzino, we will roam the woodsand groves and meadows singing songs here, lamenting in elegies there, drinkingof the crystal waters of the springs or limpid brooks or flowing rivers. The oakswill yield us their sweet fruit with bountiful hand, the trunks of the hard corktrees a seat, the willows shade, the roses perfume, the widespread meadowscarpets tinted with a thousand dyes; the clear pure air will give us breath, themoon and stars lighten the darkness of the night for us, song shall be our delight, lamenting our joy, Apollo will supply us with verses, and love with conceitswhereby we shall make ourselves famed for ever, not only in this but in ages tocome. ""Egad, " said Sancho, "but that sort of life squares, nay corners, with my notions;and what is more the bachelor Samson Carrasco and Master Nicholas the barberwon't have well seen it before they'll want to follow it and turn shepherds alongwith us; and God grant it may not come into the curate's head to join thesheepfold too, he's so jovial and fond of enjoying himself. ""Thou art in the right of it, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "and the bachelorSamson Carrasco, if he enters the pastoral fraternity, as no doubt he will, may callhimself the shepherd Samsonino, or perhaps the shepherd Carrascon; Nicholas thebarber may call himself Niculoso, as old Boscan formerly was called Nemoroso; asfor the curate I don't know what name we can fit to him unless it be somethingderived from his title, and we call him the shepherd Curiambro. For theshepherdesses whose lovers we shall be, we can pick names as we would pears;and as my lady's name does just as well for a shepherdess's as for a princess's, Ineed not trouble myself to look for one that will suit her better; to thine, Sancho, thou canst give what name thou wilt. ""I don't mean to give her any but Teresona, " said Sancho, "which will go wellwith her stoutness and with her own right name, as she is called Teresa; and thenwhen I sing her praises in my verses I'll show how chaste my passion is, for I'mnot going to look 'for better bread than ever came from wheat' in other men'shouses. It won't do for the curate to have a shepherdess, for the sake of goodexample; and if the bachelor chooses to have one, that is his look-out. ""God bless me, Sancho my friend!" said Don Quixote, "what a life we shall lead!What hautboys and Zamora bagpipes we shall hear, what tabors, timbrels, andrebecks! And then if among all these different sorts of music that of the alboguesis heard, almost all the pastoral instruments will be there. ""What are albogues?" asked Sancho, "for I never in my life heard tell of them orsaw them. ""Albogues, " said Don Quixote, "are brass plates like candlesticks that struckagainst one another on the hollow side make a noise which, if not very pleasing orharmonious, is not disagreeable and accords very well with the rude notes of thebagpipe and tabor. The word albogue is Morisco, as are all those in our Spanishtongue that begin with al; for example, almohaza, almorzar, alhombra, alguacil, alhucema, almacen, alcancia, and others of the same sort, of which there are notmany more; our language has only three that are Morisco and end in i, which areborcegui, zaquizami, and maravedi. Alheli and alfaqui are seen to be Arabic, aswell by the al at the beginning as by the they end with. I mention thisincidentally, the chance allusion to albogues having reminded me of it; and it willbe of great assistance to us in the perfect practice of this calling that I amsomething of a poet, as thou knowest, and that besides the bachelor SamsonCarrasco is an accomplished one. Of the curate I say nothing; but I will wager hehas some spice of the poet in him, and no doubt Master Nicholas too, for allbarbers, or most of them, are guitar players and stringers of verses. I will bewailmy separation; thou shalt glorify thyself as a constant lover; the shepherdCarrascon will figure as a rejected one, and the curate Curiambro as whatever mayplease him best; and so all will go as gaily as heart could wish. "To this Sancho made answer, "I am so unlucky, senor, that I'm afraid the daywill never come when I'll see myself at such a calling. O what neat spoons I'llmake when I'm a shepherd! What messes, creams, garlands, pastoral odds andends! And if they don't get me a name for wisdom, they'll not fail to get me onefor ingenuity. My daughter Sanchica will bring us our dinner to the pasture. Butstay--she's good-looking, and shepherds there are with more mischief thansimplicity in them; I would not have her 'come for wool and go back shorn;' love-making and lawless desires are just as common in the fields as in the cities, and inshepherds' shanties as in royal palaces; 'do away with the cause, you do awaywith the sin;' 'if eyes don't see hearts don't break' and 'better a clear escape thangood men's prayers. '""A truce to thy proverbs, Sancho, " exclaimed Don Quixote; "any one of thosethou hast uttered would suffice to explain thy meaning; many a time have Irecommended thee not to be so lavish with proverbs and to exercise somemoderation in delivering them; but it seems to me it is only 'preaching in thedesert;' 'my mother beats me and I go on with my tricks. ""It seems to me, " said Sancho, "that your worship is like the common saying, 'Said the frying-pan to the kettle, Get away, blackbreech. ' You chide me foruttering proverbs, and you string them in couples yourself. ""Observe, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "I bring in proverbs to the purpose, and when I quote them they fit like a ring to the finger; thou bringest them in bythe head and shoulders, in such a way that thou dost drag them in, rather thanintroduce them; if I am not mistaken, I have told thee already that proverbs areshort maxims drawn from the experience and observation of our wise men of old;but the proverb that is not to the purpose is a piece of nonsense and not a maxim. But enough of this; as nightfall is drawing on let us retire some little distance fromthe high road to pass the night; what is in store for us to-morrow God knoweth. "They turned aside, and supped late and poorly, very much against Sancho's will, who turned over in his mind the hardships attendant upon knight-errantry inwoods and forests, even though at times plenty presented itself in castles andhouses, as at Don Diego de Miranda's, at the wedding of Camacho the Rich, andat Don Antonio Moreno's; he reflected, however, that it could not be always day, nor always night; and so that night he passed in sleeping, and his master inwaking. CHAPTER LXVIII. OF THE BRISTLY ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTEThe night was somewhat dark, for though there was a moon in the sky it wasnot in a quarter where she could be seen; for sometimes the lady Diana goes on astroll to the antipodes, and leaves the mountains all black and the valleys indarkness. Don Quixote obeyed nature so far as to sleep his first sleep, but did notgive way to the second, very different from Sancho, who never had any second, because with him sleep lasted from night till morning, wherein he showed what asound constitution and few cares he had. Don Quixote's cares kept him restless, so much so that he awoke Sancho and said to him, "I am amazed, Sancho, at theunconcern of thy temperament. I believe thou art made of marble or hard brass, incapable of any emotion or feeling whatever. I lie awake while thou sleepest, Iweep while thou singest, I am faint with fasting while thou art sluggish and torpidfrom pure repletion. It is the duty of good servants to share the sufferings and feelthe sorrows of their masters, if it be only for the sake of appearances. See thecalmness of the night, the solitude of the spot, inviting us to break our slumbersby a vigil of some sort. Rise as thou livest, and retire a little distance, and with agood heart and cheerful courage give thyself three or four hundred lashes onaccount of Dulcinea's disenchantment score; and this I entreat of thee, making it arequest, for I have no desire to come to grips with thee a second time, as I knowthou hast a heavy hand. As soon as thou hast laid them on we will pass the rest ofthe night, I singing my separation, thou thy constancy, making a beginning atonce with the pastoral life we are to follow at our village. ""Senor, " replied Sancho, "I'm no monk to get up out of the middle of my sleepand scourge myself, nor does it seem to me that one can pass from one extreme ofthe pain of whipping to the other of music. Will your worship let me sleep, andnot worry me about whipping myself? or you'll make me swear never to touch ahair of my doublet, not to say my flesh. ""O hard heart!" said Don Quixote, "O pitiless squire! O bread ill-bestowed andfavours ill-acknowledged, both those I have done thee and those I mean to dothee! Through me hast thou seen thyself a governor, and through me thou seestthyself in immediate expectation of being a count, or obtaining some otherequivalent title, for I--post tenebras spero lucem. ""I don't know what that is, " said Sancho; "all I know is that so long as I amasleep I have neither fear nor hope, trouble nor glory; and good luck betide himthat invented sleep, the cloak that covers over all a man's thoughts, the food thatremoves hunger, the drink that drives away thirst, the fire that warms the cold, the cold that tempers the heat, and, to wind up with, the universal coinwherewith everything is bought, the weight and balance that makes the shepherdequal with the king and the fool with the wise man. Sleep, I have heard say, hasonly one fault, that it is like death; for between a sleeping man and a dead manthere is very little difference. ""Never have I heard thee speak so elegantly as now, Sancho, " said Don Quixote;"and here I begin to see the truth of the proverb thou dost sometimes quote, 'Notwith whom thou art bred, but with whom thou art fed. '""Ha, by my life, master mine, " said Sancho, "it's not I that am stringing proverbsnow, for they drop in pairs from your worship's mouth faster than from mine;only there is this difference between mine and yours, that yours are well-timedand mine are untimely; but anyhow, they are all proverbs. "At this point they became aware of a harsh indistinct noise that seemed tospread through all the valleys around. Don Quixote stood up and laid his handupon his sword, and Sancho ensconced himself under Dapple and put the bundleof armour on one side of him and the ass's pack-saddle on the other, in fear andtrembling as great as Don Quixote's perturbation. Each instant the noise increasedand came nearer to the two terrified men, or at least to one, for as to the other, his courage is known to all. The fact of the matter was that some men were takingabove six hundred pigs to sell at a fair, and were on their way with them at thathour, and so great was the noise they made and their grunting and blowing, thatthey deafened the ears of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, and they could notmake out what it was. The wide-spread grunting drove came on in a surging mass, and without showing any respect for Don Quixote's dignity or Sancho's, passedright over the pair of them, demolishing Sancho's entrenchments, and not onlyupsetting Don Quixote but sweeping Rocinante off his feet into the bargain; andwhat with the trampling and the grunting, and the pace at which the uncleanbeasts went, pack-saddle, armour, Dapple and Rocinante were left scattered onthe ground and Sancho and Don Quixote at their wits' end. Sancho got up as well as he could and begged his master to give him his sword, saying he wanted to kill half a dozen of those dirty unmannerly pigs, for he hadby this time found out that that was what they were. "Let them be, my friend, " said Don Quixote; "this insult is the penalty of my sin;and it is the righteous chastisement of heaven that jackals should devour avanquished knight, and wasps sting him and pigs trample him under foot. ""I suppose it is the chastisement of heaven, too, " said Sancho, "that flies shouldprick the squires of vanquished knights, and lice eat them, and hunger assailthem. If we squires were the sons of the knights we serve, or their very nearrelations, it would be no wonder if the penalty of their misdeeds overtook us, even to the fourth generation. But what have the Panzas to do with the Quixotes?Well, well, let's lie down again and sleep out what little of the night there's left, and God will send us dawn and we shall be all right. ""Sleep thou, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote, "for thou wast born to sleep as Iwas born to watch; and during the time it now wants of dawn I will give a looserein to my thoughts, and seek a vent for them in a little madrigal which, unknownto thee, I composed in my head last night. ""I should think, " said Sancho, "that the thoughts that allow one to make versescannot be of great consequence; let your worship string verses as much as you likeand I'll sleep as much as I can;" and forthwith, taking the space of ground herequired, he muffled himself up and fell into a sound sleep, undisturbed by bond, debt, or trouble of any sort. Don Quixote, propped up against the trunk of abeech or a cork tree--for Cide Hamete does not specify what kind of tree it was--sang in this strain to the accompaniment of his own sighs:When in my mindI muse, O Love, upon thy cruelty, To death I flee, In hope therein the end of all to find. But drawing nearThat welcome haven in my sea of woe, Such joy I know, That life revives, and still I linger here. Thus life doth slay, And death again to life restoreth me;Strange destiny, That deals with life and death as with a play!He accompanied each verse with many sighs and not a few tears, just like onewhose heart was pierced with grief at his defeat and his separation from Dulcinea. And now daylight came, and the sun smote Sancho on the eyes with his beams. He awoke, roused himself up, shook himself and stretched his lazy limbs, andseeing the havoc the pigs had made with his stores he cursed the drove, and morebesides. Then the pair resumed their journey, and as evening closed in they sawcoming towards them some ten men on horseback and four or five on foot. DonQuixote's heart beat quick and Sancho's quailed with fear, for the personsapproaching them carried lances and bucklers, and were in very warlike guise. Don Quixote turned to Sancho and said, "If I could make use of my weapons, andmy promise had not tied my hands, I would count this host that comes against usbut cakes and fancy bread; but perhaps it may prove something different fromwhat we apprehend. " The men on horseback now came up, and raising theirlances surrounded Don Quixote in silence, and pointed them at his back andbreast, menacing him with death. One of those on foot, putting his finger to hislips as a sign to him to be silent, seized Rocinante's bridle and drew him out ofthe road, and the others driving Sancho and Dapple before them, and allmaintaining a strange silence, followed in the steps of the one who led DonQuixote. The latter two or three times attempted to ask where they were takinghim to and what they wanted, but the instant he began to open his lips theythreatened to close them with the points of their lances; and Sancho fared thesame way, for the moment he seemed about to speak one of those on footpunched him with a goad, and Dapple likewise, as if he too wanted to talk. Nightset in, they quickened their pace, and the fears of the two prisoners grew greater, especially as they heard themselves assailed with--"Get on, ye Troglodytes;""Silence, ye barbarians;" "March, ye cannibals;" "No murmuring, ye Scythians;""Don't open your eyes, ye murderous Polyphemes, ye blood-thirsty lions, " andsuchlike names with which their captors harassed the ears of the wretched masterand man. Sancho went along saying to himself, "We, tortolites, barbers, animals! Idon't like those names at all; 'it's in a bad wind our corn is being winnowed;''misfortune comes upon us all at once like sticks on a dog, ' and God grant it maybe no worse than them that this unlucky adventure has in store for us. "Don Quixote rode completely dazed, unable with the aid of all his wits to makeout what could be the meaning of these abusive names they called them, and theonly conclusion he could arrive at was that there was no good to be hoped for andmuch evil to be feared. And now, about an hour after midnight, they reached acastle which Don Quixote saw at once was the duke's, where they had been but ashort time before. "God bless me!" said he, as he recognised the mansion, "whatdoes this mean? It is all courtesy and politeness in this house; but with thevanquished good turns into evil, and evil into worse. "They entered the chief court of the castle and found it prepared and fitted up ina style that added to their amazement and doubled their fears, as will be seen inthe following chapter. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LXIX. OF THE STRANGEST AND MOST EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURETHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE IN THE WHOLE COURSE OF THISGREAT HISTORYThe horsemen dismounted, and, together with the men on foot, without amoment's delay taking up Sancho and Don Quixote bodily, they carried them intothe court, all round which near a hundred torches fixed in sockets were burning, besides above five hundred lamps in the corridors, so that in spite of the night, which was somewhat dark, the want of daylight could not be perceived. In themiddle of the court was a catafalque, raised about two yards above the groundand covered completely by an immense canopy of black velvet, and on the stepsall round it white wax tapers burned in more than a hundred silver candlesticks. Upon the catafalque was seen the dead body of a damsel so lovely that by herbeauty she made death itself look beautiful. She lay with her head resting upon acushion of brocade and crowned with a garland of sweet-smelling flowers of diverssorts, her hands crossed upon her bosom, and between them a branch of yellowpalm of victory. On one side of the court was erected a stage, where upon twochairs were seated two persons who from having crowns on their heads andsceptres in their hands appeared to be kings of some sort, whether real or mockones. By the side of this stage, which was reached by steps, were two other chairson which the men carrying the prisoners seated Don Quixote and Sancho, all insilence, and by signs giving them to understand that they too were to be silent;which, however, they would have been without any signs, for their amazement atall they saw held them tongue-tied. And now two persons of distinction, who wereat once recognised by Don Quixote as his hosts the duke and duchess, ascendedthe stage attended by a numerous suite, and seated themselves on two gorgeouschairs close to the two kings, as they seemed to be. Who would not have beenamazed at this? Nor was this all, for Don Quixote had perceived that the deadbody on the catafalque was that of the fair Altisidora. As the duke and duchessmounted the stage Don Quixote and Sancho rose and made them a profoundobeisance, which they returned by bowing their heads slightly. At this moment anofficial crossed over, and approaching Sancho threw over him a robe of blackbuckram painted all over with flames of fire, and taking off his cap put upon hishead a mitre such as those undergoing the sentence of the Holy Office wear; andwhispered in his ear that he must not open his lips, or they would put a gag uponhim, or take his life. Sancho surveyed himself from head to foot and saw himselfall ablaze with flames; but as they did not burn him, he did not care two farthingsfor them. He took off the mitre and seeing painted with devils he put it on again, saying to himself, "Well, so far those don't burn me nor do these carry me off. "Don Quixote surveyed him too, and though fear had got the better of his faculties, he could not help smiling to see the figure Sancho presented. And now fromunderneath the catafalque, so it seemed, there rose a low sweet sound of flutes, which, coming unbroken by human voice (for there silence itself kept silence), hada soft and languishing effect. Then, beside the pillow of what seemed to be thedead body, suddenly appeared a fair youth in a Roman habit, who, to theaccompaniment of a harp which he himself played, sang in a sweet and clear voicethese two stanzas:While fair Altisidora, who the sportOf cold Don Quixote's cruelty hath been, Returns to life, and in this magic courtThe dames in sables come to grace the scene, And while her matrons all in seemly sortMy lady robes in baize and bombazine, Her beauty and her sorrows will I singWith defter quill than touched the Thracian string. But not in life alone, methinks, to meBelongs the office; Lady, when my tongueIs cold in death, believe me, unto theeMy voice shall raise its tributary song. My soul, from this strait prison-house set free, As o'er the Stygian lake it floats along, Thy praises singing still shall hold its way, And make the waters of oblivion stay. At this point one of the two that looked like kings exclaimed, "Enough, enough, divine singer! It would be an endless task to put before us now the death and thecharms of the peerless Altisidora, not dead as the ignorant world imagines, butliving in the voice of fame and in the penance which Sancho Panza, here present, has to undergo to restore her to the long-lost light. Do thou, therefore, ORhadamanthus, who sittest in judgment with me in the murky caverns of Dis, asthou knowest all that the inscrutable fates have decreed touching the resuscitationof this damsel, announce and declare it at once, that the happiness we lookforward to from her restoration be no longer deferred. "No sooner had Minos the fellow judge of Rhadamanthus said this, thanRhadamanthus rising up said:"Ho, officials of this house, high and low, great and small, make haste hitherone and all, and print on Sancho's face four-and-twenty smacks, and give himtwelve pinches and six pin thrusts in the back and arms; for upon this ceremonydepends the restoration of Altisidora. "On hearing this Sancho broke silence and cried out, "By all that's good, I'll assoon let my face be smacked or handled as turn Moor. Body o' me! What hashandling my face got to do with the resurrection of this damsel? 'The old womantook kindly to the blits; they enchant Dulcinea, and whip me in order todisenchant her; Altisidora dies of ailments God was pleased to send her, and tobring her to life again they must give me four-and-twenty smacks, and prick holesin my body with pins, and raise weals on my arms with pinches! Try those jokeson a brother-in-law; 'I'm an old dog, and "tus, tus" is no use with me. '""Thou shalt die, " said Rhadamanthus in a loud voice; "relent, thou tiger; humblethyself, proud Nimrod; suffer and he silent, for no impossibilities are asked ofthee; it is not for thee to inquire into the difficulties in this matter; smacked thoumust be, pricked thou shalt see thyself, and with pinches thou must be made tohowl. Ho, I say, officials, obey my orders; or by the word of an honest man, yeshall see what ye were born for. "At this some six duennas, advancing across the court, made their appearance inprocession, one after the other, four of them with spectacles, and all with theirright hands uplifted, showing four fingers of wrist to make their hands looklonger, as is the fashion now-a-days. No sooner had Sancho caught sight of themthan, bellowing like a bull, he exclaimed, "I might let myself be handled by all theworld; but allow duennas to touch me--not a bit of it! Scratch my face, as mymaster was served in this very castle; run me through the body with burnisheddaggers; pinch my arms with red-hot pincers; I'll bear all in patience to serve thesegentlefolk; but I won't let duennas touch me, though the devil should carry meoff!"Here Don Quixote, too, broke silence, saying to Sancho, "Have patience, myson, and gratify these noble persons, and give all thanks to heaven that it hasinfused such virtue into thy person, that by its sufferings thou canst disenchantthe enchanted and restore to life the dead. "The duennas were now close to Sancho, and he, having become more tractableand reasonable, settling himself well in his chair presented his face and beard tothe first, who delivered him a smack very stoutly laid on, and then made him alow curtsey. "Less politeness and less paint, senora duenna, " said Sancho; "by God yourhands smell of vinegar-wash. "In fine, all the duennas smacked him and several others of the householdpinched him; but what he could not stand was being pricked by the pins; and so, apparently out of patience, he started up out of his chair, and seizing a lightedtorch that stood near him fell upon the duennas and the whole set of histormentors, exclaiming, "Begone, ye ministers of hell; I'm not made of brass not tofeel such out-of-the-way tortures. "At this instant Altisidora, who probably was tired of having been so long lyingon her back, turned on her side; seeing which the bystanders cried out almostwith one voice, "Altisidora is alive! Altisidora lives!"Rhadamanthus bade Sancho put away his wrath, as the object they had in viewwas now attained. When Don Quixote saw Altisidora move, he went on his kneesto Sancho saying to him, "Now is the time, son of my bowels, not to call thee mysquire, for thee to give thyself some of those lashes thou art bound to lay on forthe disenchantment of Dulcinea. Now, I say, is the time when the virtue that is inthee is ripe, and endowed with efficacy to work the good that is looked for fromthee. "To which Sancho made answer, "That's trick upon trick, I think, and not honeyupon pancakes; a nice thing it would be for a whipping to come now, on the topof pinches, smacks, and pin-proddings! You had better take a big stone and tie itround my neck, and pitch me into a well; I should not mind it much, if I'm to bealways made the cow of the wedding for the cure of other people's ailments. Leaveme alone; or else by God I'll fling the whole thing to the dogs, let come whatmay. "Altisidora had by this time sat up on the catafalque, and as she did so theclarions sounded, accompanied by the flutes, and the voices of all presentexclaiming, "Long life to Altisidora! long life to Altisidora!" The duke and duchessand the kings Minos and Rhadamanthus stood up, and all, together with DonQuixote and Sancho, advanced to receive her and take her down from thecatafalque; and she, making as though she were recovering from a swoon, bowedher head to the duke and duchess and to the kings, and looking sideways at DonQuixote, said to him, "God forgive thee, insensible knight, for through thy crueltyI have been, to me it seems, more than a thousand years in the other world; andto thee, the most compassionate upon earth, I render thanks for the life I am nowin possession of. From this day forth, friend Sancho, count as thine six smocks ofmine which I bestow upon thee, to make as many shirts for thyself, and if theyare not all quite whole, at any rate they are all clean. "Sancho kissed her hands in gratitude, kneeling, and with the mitre in his hand. The duke bade them take it from him, and give him back his cap and doublet andremove the flaming robe. Sancho begged the duke to let them leave him the robeand mitre; as he wanted to take them home for a token and memento of thatunexampled adventure. The duchess said they must leave them with him; for heknew already what a great friend of his she was. The duke then gave orders thatthe court should be cleared, and that all should retire to their chambers, and thatDon Quixote and Sancho should be conducted to their old quarters. CHAPTER LXX. WHICH FOLLOWS SIXTY-NINE AND DEALS WITH MATTERSINDISPENSABLE FOR THE CLEAR COMPREHENSION OF THISHISTORYSancho slept that night in a cot in the same chamber with Don Quixote, a thinghe would have gladly excused if he could for he knew very well that withquestions and answers his master would not let him sleep, and he was in nohumour for talking much, as he still felt the pain of his late martyrdom, whichinterfered with his freedom of speech; and it would have been more to his taste tosleep in a hovel alone, than in that luxurious chamber in company. And so wellfounded did his apprehension prove, and so correct was his anticipation, thatscarcely had his master got into bed when he said, "What dost thou think oftonight's adventure, Sancho? Great and mighty is the power of cold-hearted scorn, for thou with thine own eyes hast seen Altisidora slain, not by arrows, nor by thesword, nor by any warlike weapon, nor by deadly poisons, but by the thought ofthe sternness and scorn with which I have always treated her. ""She might have died and welcome, " said Sancho, "when she pleased and howshe pleased; and she might have left me alone, for I never made her fall in love orscorned her. I don't

know nor can I imagine how the recovery of Altisidora, adamsel more fanciful than wise, can have, as I have said before, anything to dowith the sufferings of Sancho Panza. Now I begin to see plainly and clearly thatthere are enchanters and enchanted people in the world; and may God deliver mefrom them, since I can't deliver myself; and so I beg of your worship to let mesleep and not ask me any more questions, unless you want me to throw myselfout of the window. ""Sleep, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote, "if the pinprodding and pinchesthou hast received and the smacks administered to thee will let thee. ""No pain came up to the insult of the smacks, " said Sancho, "for the simplereason that it was duennas, confound them, that gave them to me; but once moreI entreat your worship to let me sleep, for sleep is relief from misery to those whoare miserable when awake. ""Be it so, and God be with thee, " said Don Quixote. They fell asleep, both of them, and Cide Hamete, the author of this greathistory, took this opportunity to record and relate what it was that induced theduke and duchess to get up the elaborate plot that has been described. Thebachelor Samson Carrasco, he says, not forgetting how he as the Knight of theMirrors had been vanquished and overthrown by Don Quixote, which defeat andoverthrow upset all his plans, resolved to try his hand again, hoping for betterluck than he had before; and so, having learned where Don Quixote was from thepage who brought the letter and present to Sancho's wife, Teresa Panza, he gothimself new armour and another horse, and put a white moon upon his shield, and to carry his arms he had a mule led by a peasant, not by Tom Cecial hisformer squire for fear he should be recognised by Sancho or Don Quixote. Hecame to the duke's castle, and the duke informed him of the road and route DonQuixote had taken with the intention of being present at the jousts at Saragossa. He told him, too, of the jokes he had practised upon him, and of the device forthe disenchantment of Dulcinea at the expense of Sancho's backside; and finallyhe gave him an account of the trick Sancho had played upon his master, makinghim believe that Dulcinea was enchanted and turned into a country wench; and ofhow the duchess, his wife, had persuaded Sancho that it was he himself who wasdeceived, inasmuch as Dulcinea was really enchanted; at which the bachelorlaughed not a little, and marvelled as well at the sharpness and simplicity ofSancho as at the length to which Don Quixote's madness went. The duke beggedof him if he found him (whether he overcame him or not) to return that way andlet him know the result. This the bachelor did; he set out in quest of Don Quixote, and not finding him at Saragossa, he went on, and how he fared has been alreadytold. He returned to the duke's castle and told him all, what the conditions of thecombat were, and how Don Quixote was now, like a loyal knight-errant, returningto keep his promise of retiring to his village for a year, by which time, said thebachelor, he might perhaps be cured of his madness; for that was the object thathad led him to adopt these disguises, as it was a sad thing for a gentleman of suchgood parts as Don Quixote to be a madman. And so he took his leave of the duke, and went home to his village to wait there for Don Quixote, who was coming afterhim. Thereupon the duke seized the opportunity of practising this mystificationupon him; so much did he enjoy everything connected with Sancho and DonQuixote. He had the roads about the castle far and near, everywhere he thoughtDon Quixote was likely to pass on his return, occupied by large numbers of hisservants on foot and on horseback, who were to bring him to the castle, by fairmeans or foul, if they met him. They did meet him, and sent word to the duke, who, having already settled what was to be done, as soon as he heard of hisarrival, ordered the torches and lamps in the court to be lit and Altisidora to beplaced on the catafalque with all the pomp and ceremony that has been described, the whole affair being so well arranged and acted that it differed but little fromreality. And Cide Hamete says, moreover, that for his part he considers theconcocters of the joke as crazy as the victims of it, and that the duke and duchesswere not two fingers' breadth removed from being something like fools themselveswhen they took such pains to make game of a pair of fools. As for the latter, one was sleeping soundly and the other lying awake occupiedwith his desultory thoughts, when daylight came to them bringing with it thedesire to rise; for the lazy down was never a delight to Don Quixote, victor orvanquished. Altisidora, come back from death to life as Don Quixote fancied, following up the freak of her lord and lady, entered the chamber, crowned withthe garland she had worn on the catafalque and in a robe of white taffetaembroidered with gold flowers, her hair flowing loose over her shoulders, andleaning upon a staff of fine black ebony. Don Quixote, disconcerted and inconfusion at her appearance, huddled himself up and well-nigh covered himselfaltogether with the sheets and counterpane of the bed, tongue-tied, and unable tooffer her any civility. Altisidora seated herself on a chair at the head of the bed, and, after a deep sigh, said to him in a feeble, soft voice, "When women of rankand modest maidens trample honour under foot, and give a loose to the tonguethat breaks through every impediment, publishing abroad the inmost secrets oftheir hearts, they are reduced to sore extremities. Such a one am I, Senor DonQuixote of La Mancha, crushed, conquered, love-smitten, but yet patient undersuffering and virtuous, and so much so that my heart broke with grief and I lostmy life. For the last two days I have been dead, slain by the thought of the crueltywith which thou hast treated me, obdurate knight, O harder thou than marble to my plaint;or at least believed to be dead by all who saw me; and had it not been thatLove, taking pity on me, let my recovery rest upon the sufferings of this goodsquire, there I should have remained in the other world. ""Love might very well have let it rest upon the sufferings of my ass, and Ishould have been obliged to him, " said Sancho. "But tell me, senora--and mayheaven send you a tenderer lover than my master--what did you see in the otherworld? What goes on in hell? For of course that's where one who dies in despair isbound for. ""To tell you the truth, " said Altisidora, "I cannot have died outright, for I did notgo into hell; had I gone in, it is very certain I should never have come out again, do what I might. The truth is, I came to the gate, where some dozen or so ofdevils were playing tennis, all in breeches and doublets, with falling collarstrimmed with Flemish bonelace, and ruffles of the same that served them forwristbands, with four fingers' breadth of the arms exposed to make their handslook longer; in their hands they held rackets of fire; but what amazed me stillmore was that books, apparently full of wind and rubbish, served them for tennisballs, a strange and marvellous thing; this, however, did not astonish me so muchas to observe that, although with players it is usual for the winners to be glad andthe losers sorry, there in that game all were growling, all were snarling, and allwere cursing one another. " "That's no wonder, " said Sancho; "for devils, whetherplaying or not, can never be content, win or lose. ""Very likely, " said Altisidora; "but there is another thing that surprises me too, Imean surprised me then, and that was that no ball outlasted the first throw orwas of any use a second time; and it was wonderful the constant succession therewas of books, new and old. To one of them, a brand-new, well-bound one, theygave such a stroke that they knocked the guts out of it and scattered the leavesabout. 'Look what book that is, ' said one devil to another, and the other replied, 'It is the "Second Part of the History of Don Quixote of La Mancha, " not by CideHamete, the original author, but by an Aragonese who by his own account is ofTordesillas. ' 'Out of this with it, ' said the first, 'and into the depths of hell with itout of my sight. ' 'Is it so bad?' said the other. 'So bad is it, ' said the first, 'that if Ihad set myself deliberately to make a worse, I could not have done it. ' They thenwent on with their game, knocking other books about; and I, having heard themmention the name of Don Quixote whom I love and adore so, took care to retainthis vision in my memory. ""A vision it must have been, no doubt, " said Don Quixote, "for there is no otherI in the world; this history has been going about here for some time from hand tohand, but it does not stay long in any, for everybody gives it a taste of his foot. Iam not disturbed by hearing that I am wandering in a fantastic shape in thedarkness of the pit or in the daylight above, for I am not the one that historytreats of. If it should be good, faithful, and true, it will have ages of life; but if itshould be bad, from its birth to its burial will not be a very long journey. "Altisidora was about to proceed with her complaint against Don Quixote, whenhe said to her, "I have several times told you, senora that it grieves me you shouldhave set your affections upon me, as from mine they can only receive gratitude, but no return. I was born to belong to Dulcinea del Toboso, and the fates, if thereare any, dedicated me to her; and to suppose that any other beauty can take theplace she occupies in my heart is to suppose an impossibility. This frankdeclaration should suffice to make you retire within the bounds of your modesty, for no one can bind himself to do impossibilities. "Hearing this, Altisidora, with a show of anger and agitation, exclaimed, "God'slife! Don Stockfish, soul of a mortar, stone of a date, more obstinate and obduratethan a clown asked a favour when he has his mind made up, if I fall upon you I'lltear your eyes out! Do you fancy, Don Vanquished, Don Cudgelled, that I died foryour sake? All that you have seen to-night has been make-believe; I'm not thewoman to let the black of my nail suffer for such a camel, much less die!""That I can well believe, " said Sancho; "for all that about lovers pining to deathis absurd; they may talk of it, but as for doing it--Judas may believe that!"While they were talking, the musician, singer, and poet, who had sung the twostanzas given above came in, and making a profound obeisance to Don Quixotesaid, "Will your worship, sir knight, reckon and retain me in the number of yourmost faithful servants, for I have long been a great admirer of yours, as wellbecause of your fame as because of your achievements?" "Will your worship tellme who you are, " replied Don Quixote, "so that my courtesy may be answerable toyour deserts?" The young man replied that he was the musician and songster ofthe night before. "Of a truth, " said Don Quixote, "your worship has a mostexcellent voice; but what you sang did not seem to me very much to the purpose;for what have Garcilasso's stanzas to do with the death of this lady?""Don't be surprised at that, " returned the musician; "for with the callow poets ofour day the way is for every one to write as he pleases and pilfer where hechooses, whether it be germane to the matter or not, and now-a-days there is nopiece of silliness they can sing or write that is not set down to poetic licence. "Don Quixote was about to reply, but was prevented by the duke and duchess, who came in to see him, and with them there followed a long and delightfulconversation, in the course of which Sancho said so many droll and saucy thingsthat he left the duke and duchess wondering not only at his simplicity but at hissharpness. Don Quixote begged their permission to take his departure that sameday, inasmuch as for a vanquished knight like himself it was fitter he should livein a pig-sty than in a royal palace. They gave it very readily, and the duchessasked him if Altisidora was in his good graces. He replied, "Senora, let me tell your ladyship that this damsel's ailment comesentirely of idleness, and the cure for it is honest and constant employment. Sheherself has told me that lace is worn in hell; and as she must know how to makeit, let it never be out of her hands; for when she is occupied in shifting thebobbins to and fro, the image or images of what she loves will not shift to and froin her thoughts; this is the truth, this is my opinion, and this is my advice. ""And mine, " added Sancho; "for I never in all my life saw a lace-maker that diedfor love; when damsels are at work their minds are more set on finishing theirtasks than on thinking of their loves. I speak from my own experience; for whenI'm digging I never think of my old woman; I mean my Teresa Panza, whom I lovebetter than my own eyelids. " "You say well, Sancho, " said the duchess, "and I willtake care that my Altisidora employs herself henceforward in needlework of somesort; for she is extremely expert at it. " "There is no occasion to have recourse tothat remedy, senora, " said Altisidora; "for the mere thought of the cruelty withwhich this vagabond villain has treated me will suffice to blot him out of mymemory without any other device; with your highness's leave I will retire, not tohave before my eyes, I won't say his rueful countenance, but his abominable, uglylooks. " "That reminds me of the common saying, that 'he that rails is ready toforgive, '" said the duke. Altisidora then, pretending to wipe away her tears with a handkerchief, madean obeisance to her master and mistress and quitted the room. "Ill luck betide thee, poor damsel, " said Sancho, "ill luck betide thee! Thou hastfallen in with a soul as dry as a rush and a heart as hard as oak; had it been me, i'faith 'another cock would have crowed to thee. '"So the conversation came to an end, and Don Quixote dressed himself anddined with the duke and duchess, and set out the same evening. DON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 41Chapters 71-72Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LXXI. OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRESANCHO ON THE WAY TO THEIR VILLAGEThe vanquished and afflicted Don Quixote went along very downcast in onerespect and very happy in another. His sadness arose from his defeat, and hissatisfaction from the thought of the virtue that lay in Sancho, as had been provedby the resurrection of Altisidora; though it was with difficulty he could persuadehimself that the love-smitten damsel had been really dead. Sancho went alonganything but cheerful, for it grieved him that Altisidora had not kept her promiseof giving him the smocks; and turning this over in his mind he said to his master, "Surely, senor, I'm the most unlucky doctor in the world; there's many a physicianthat, after killing the sick man he had to cure, requires to be paid for his work, though it is only signing a bit of a list of medicines, that the apothecary and nothe makes up, and, there, his labour is over; but with me though to cure somebodyelse costs me drops of blood, smacks, pinches, pinproddings, and whippings, nobody gives me a farthing. Well, I swear by all that's good if they put anotherpatient into my hands, they'll have to grease them for me before I cure him; for, as they say, 'it's by his singing the abbot gets his dinner, ' and I'm not going tobelieve that heaven has bestowed upon me the virtue I have, that I should bedealing it out to others all for nothing. ""Thou art right, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote, "and Altisidora hasbehaved very badly in not giving thee the smocks she promised; and although thatvirtue of thine is gratis data--as it has cost thee no study whatever, any morethan such study as thy personal sufferings may be--I can say for myself that ifthou wouldst have payment for the lashes on account of the disenchant ofDulcinea, I would have given it to thee freely ere this. I am not sure, however, whether payment will comport with the cure, and I would not have the rewardinterfere with the medicine. I think there will be nothing lost by trying it; considerhow much thou wouldst have, Sancho, and whip thyself at once, and pay thyselfdown with thine own hand, as thou hast money of mine. "At this proposal Sancho opened his eyes and his ears a palm's breadth wide, and in his heart very readily acquiesced in whipping himself, and said he to hismaster, "Very well then, senor, I'll hold myself in readiness to gratify yourworship's wishes if I'm to profit by it; for the love of my wife and children forcesme to seem grasping. Let your worship say how much you will pay me for eachlash I give myself. ""If Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "I were to requite thee as the importance andnature of the cure deserves, the treasures of Venice, the mines of Potosi, would beinsufficient to pay thee. See what thou hast of mine, and put a price on eachlash. ""Of them, " said Sancho, "there are three thousand three hundred and odd; ofthese I have given myself five, the rest remain; let the five go for the odd ones, and let us take the three thousand three hundred, which at a quarter real apiece(for I will not take less though the whole world should bid me) make threethousand three hundred quarter reals; the three thousand are one thousand fivehundred half reals, which make seven hundred and fifty reals; and the threehundred make a hundred and fifty half reals, which come to seventy-five reals, which added to the seven hundred and fifty make eight hundred and twenty-fivereals in all. These I will stop out of what I have belonging to your worship, and I'llreturn home rich and content, though well whipped, for 'there's no taking trout'--but I say no more. ""O blessed Sancho! O dear Sancho!" said Don Quixote; "how we shall be boundto serve thee, Dulcinea and I, all the days of our lives that heaven may grant us! Ifshe returns to her lost shape (and it cannot be but that she will) her misfortunewill have been good fortune, and my defeat a most happy triumph. But look here, Sancho; when wilt thou begin the scourging? For if thou wilt make short work ofit, I will give thee a hundred reals over and above. ""When?" said Sancho; "this night without fail. Let your worship order it so thatwe pass it out of doors and in the open air, and I'll scarify myself. "Night, longed for by Don Quixote with the greatest anxiety in the world, cameat last, though it seemed to him that the wheels of Apollo's car had broken down, and that the day was drawing itself out longer than usual, just as is the case withlovers, who never make the reckoning of their desires agree with time. They madetheir way at length in among some pleasant trees that stood a little distance fromthe road, and there vacating Rocinante's saddle and Dapple's pack-saddle, theystretched themselves on the green grass and made their supper off Sancho'sstores, and he making a powerful and flexible whip out of Dapple's halter andheadstall retreated about twenty paces from his master among some beech trees. Don Quixote seeing him march off with such resolution and spirit, said to him, "Take care, my friend, not to cut thyself to pieces; allow the lashes to wait for oneanother, and do not be in so great a hurry as to run thyself out of breath midway;I mean, do not lay on so strenuously as to make thy life fail thee before thou hastreached the desired number; and that thou mayest not lose by a card too much ortoo little, I will station myself apart and count on my rosary here the lashes thougivest thyself. May heaven help thee as thy good intention deserves. ""'Pledges don't distress a good payer, '" said Sancho; "I mean to lay on in such away as without killing myself to hurt myself, for in that, no doubt, lies theessence of this miracle. "He then stripped himself from the waist upwards, and snatching up the rope hebegan to lay on and Don Quixote to count the lashes. He might have given himselfsix or eight when he began to think the joke no trifle, and its price very low; andholding his hand for a moment, he told his master that he cried off on the score ofa blind bargain, for each of those lashes ought to be paid for at the rate of half areal instead of a quarter. "Go on, Sancho my friend, and be not disheartened, " said Don Quixote; "for Idouble the stakes as to price. ""In that case, " said Sancho, "in God's hand be it, and let it rain lashes. " But therogue no longer laid them on his shoulders, but laid on to the trees, with suchgroans every now and then, that one would have thought at each of them his soulwas being plucked up by the roots. Don Quixote, touched to the heart, andfearing he might make an end of himself, and that through Sancho's imprudencehe might miss his own object, said to him, "As thou livest, my friend, let thematter rest where it is, for the remedy seems to me a very rough one, and it willbe well to have patience; 'Zamora was not won in an hour. ' If I have not reckonedwrong thou hast given thyself over a thousand lashes; that is enough for thepresent; 'for the ass, ' to put it in homely phrase, 'bears the load, but not theoverload. '""No, no, senor, " replied Sancho; "it shall never be said of me, 'The money paid, the arms broken;' go back a little further, your worship, and let me give myself atany rate a thousand lashes more; for in a couple of bouts like this we shall havefinished off the lot, and there will be even cloth to spare. ""As thou art in such a willing mood, " said Don Quixote, "may heaven aid thee;lay on and I'll retire. "Sancho returned to his task with so much resolution that he soon had the barkstripped off several trees, such was the severity with which he whipped himself;and one time, raising his voice, and giving a beech a tremendous lash, he criedout, "Here dies Samson, and all with him!"At the sound of his piteous cry and of the stroke of the cruel lash, Don Quixoteran to him at once, and seizing the twisted halter that served him for a courbash, said to him, "Heaven forbid, Sancho my friend, that to please me thou shouldstlose thy life, which is needed for the support of thy wife and children; letDulcinea wait for a better opportunity, and I will content myself with a hope soonto be realised, and have patience until thou hast gained fresh strength so as tofinish off this business to the satisfaction of everybody. ""As your worship will have it so, senor, " said Sancho, "so be it; but throw yourcloak over my shoulders, for I'm sweating and I don't want to take cold; it's a riskthat novice disciplinants run. "Don Quixote obeyed, and stripping himself covered Sancho, who slept until thesun woke him; they then resumed their journey, which for the time being theybrought to an end at a village that lay three leagues farther on. They dismountedat a hostelry which Don Quixote recognised as such and did not take to be acastle with moat, turrets, portcullis, and drawbridge; for ever since he had beenvanquished he talked more rationally about everything, as will be shownpresently. They quartered him in a room on the ground floor, where in place ofleather hangings there were pieces of painted serge such as they commonly use invillages. On one of them was painted by some very poor hand the Rape of Helen, when the bold guest carried her off from Menelaus, and on the other was thestory of Dido and AEneas, she on a high tower, as though she were making signalswith a half sheet to her fugitive guest who was out at sea flying in a frigate orbrigantine. He noticed in the two stories that Helen did not go very reluctantly, for she was laughing slyly and roguishly; but the fair Dido was shown droppingtears the size of walnuts from her eyes. Don Quixote as he looked at themobserved, "Those two ladies were very unfortunate not to have been born in thisage, and I unfortunate above all men not to have been born in theirs. Had I fallenin with those gentlemen, Troy would not have been burned or Carthage destroyed, for it would have been only for me to slay Paris, and all these misfortunes wouldhave been avoided. ""I'll lay a bet, " said Sancho, "that before long there won't be a tavern, roadsideinn, hostelry, or barber's shop where the story of our doings won't be painted up;but I'd like it painted by the hand of a better painter than painted these. ""Thou art right, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for this painter is like Orbaneja, apainter there was at Ubeda, who when they asked him what he was painting, used to say, 'Whatever it may turn out; and if he chanced to paint a cock hewould write under it, 'This is a cock, ' for fear they might think it was a fox. Thepainter or writer, for it's all the same, who published the history of this new DonQuixote that has come out, must have been one of this sort I think, Sancho, for hepainted or wrote 'whatever it might turn out;' or perhaps he is like a poet calledMauleon that was about the Court some years ago, who used to answer athaphazard whatever he was asked, and on one asking him what Deum de Deomeant, he replied De donde diere. But, putting this aside, tell me, Sancho, hastthou a mind to have another turn at thyself to-night, and wouldst thou ratherhave it indoors or in the open air?""Egad, senor, " said Sancho, "for what I'm going to give myself, it comes all thesame to me whether it is in a house or in the fields; still I'd like it to be amongtrees; for I think they are company for me and help me to bear my painwonderfully. ""And yet it must not be, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote; "but, to enablethee to recover strength, we must keep it for our own village; for at the latest weshall get there the day after tomorrow. "Sancho said he might do as he pleased; but that for his own part he would liketo finish off the business quickly before his blood cooled and while he had anappetite, because "in delay there is apt to be danger" very often, and "praying toGod and plying the hammer, " and "one take was better than two I'll give thee's, "and "a sparrow in the hand than a vulture on the wing. ""For God's sake, Sancho, no more proverbs!" exclaimed Don Quixote; "it seemsto me thou art becoming sicut erat again; speak in a plain, simple, straight-forward way, as I have often told thee, and thou wilt find the good of it. ""I don't know what bad luck it is of mine, " argument to my mind; however, Imean to mend said Sancho, "but I can't utter a word without a proverb that is notas good as an argument to my mind; however, I mean to mend if I can;" and so forthe present the conversation ended. CHAPTER LXXII. OF HOW DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO REACHED THEIR VILLAGEAll that day Don Quixote and Sancho remained in the village and inn waitingfor night, the one to finish off his task of scourging in the open country, the otherto see it accomplished, for therein lay the accomplishment of his wishes. Meanwhile there arrived at the hostelry a traveller on horseback with three orfour servants, one of whom said to him who appeared to be the master, "Here, Senor Don Alvaro Tarfe, your worship may take your siesta to-day; the quartersseem clean and cool. "When he heard this Don Quixote said to Sancho, "Look here, Sancho; on turningover the leaves of that book of the Second Part of my history I think I camecasually upon this name of Don Alvaro Tarfe. ""Very likely, " said Sancho; "we had better let him dismount, and by-and-by wecan ask about it. "The gentleman dismounted, and the landlady gave him a room on the groundfloor opposite Don Quixote's and adorned with painted serge hangings of the samesort. The newly arrived gentleman put on a summer coat, and coming out to thegateway of the hostelry, which was wide and cool, addressing Don Quixote, whowas pacing up and down there, he asked, "In what direction your worship bound, gentle sir?""To a village near this which is my own village, " replied Don Quixote; "and yourworship, where are you bound for?""I am going to Granada, senor, " said the gentleman, "to my own country. ""And a goodly country, " said Don Quixote; "but will your worship do me thefavour of telling me your name, for it strikes me it is of more importance to me toknow it than I can tell you. ""My name is Don Alvaro Tarfe, " replied the traveller. To which Don Quixote returned, "I have no doubt whatever that your worship isthat Don Alvaro Tarfe who appears in print in the Second Part of the history ofDon Quixote of La Mancha, lately printed and published by a new author. ""I am the same, " replied the gentleman; "and that same Don Quixote, theprincipal personage in the said history, was a very great friend of mine, and it wasI who took him away from home, or at least induced him to come to some jouststhat were to be held at Saragossa, whither I was going myself; indeed, I showedhim many kindnesses, and saved him from having his shoulders touched up bythe executioner because of his extreme rashness. ""Tell me, Senor Don Alvaro, " said Don Quixote, "am I at all like that DonQuixote you talk of?""No indeed, " replied the traveller, "not a bit. ""And that Don Quixote-" said our one, "had he with him a squire called SanchoPanza?""He had, " said Don Alvaro; "but though he had the name of being very droll, Inever heard him say anything that had any drollery in it. ""That I can well believe, " said Sancho at this, "for to come out with drolleries isnot in everybody's line; and that Sancho your worship speaks of, gentle sir, mustbe some great scoundrel, dunderhead, and thief, all in one; for I am the realSancho Panza, and I have more drolleries than if it rained them; let your worshiponly try; come along with me for a year or so, and you will find they fall from meat every turn, and so rich and so plentiful that though mostly I don't know what Iam saying I make everybody that hears me laugh. And the real Don Quixote of LaMancha, the famous, the valiant, the wise, the lover, the righter of wrongs, theguardian of minors and orphans, the protector of widows, the killer of damsels, hewho has for his sole mistress the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, is this gentlemanbefore you, my master; all other Don Quixotes and all other Sancho Panzas aredreams and mockeries. ""By God I believe it, " said Don Alvaro; "for you have uttered more drolleries, myfriend, in the few words you have spoken than the other Sancho Panza in all Iever heard from him, and they were not a few. He was more greedy than well-spoken, and more dull than droll; and I am convinced that the enchanters whopersecute Don Quixote the Good have been trying to persecute me with DonQuixote the Bad. But I don't know what to say, for I am ready to swear I left himshut up in the Casa del Nuncio at Toledo, and here another Don Quixote turns up, though a very different one from mine. ""I don't know whether I am good, " said Don Quixote, "but I can safely say I amnot 'the Bad;' and to prove it, let me tell you, Senor Don Alvaro Tarfe, I havenever in my life been in Saragossa; so far from that, when it was told me that thisimaginary Don Quixote had been present at the jousts in that city, I declined toenter it, in order to drag his falsehood before the face of the world; and so I wenton straight to Barcelona, the treasure-house of courtesy, haven of strangers, asylum of the poor, home of the valiant, champion of the wronged, pleasantexchange of firm friendships, and city unrivalled in site and beauty. And thoughthe adventures that befell me there are not by any means matters of enjoyment, but rather of regret, I do not regret them, simply because I have seen it. In aword, Senor Don Alvaro Tarfe, I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, the one thatfame speaks of, and not the unlucky one that has attempted to usurp my nameand deck himself out in my ideas. I entreat your worship by your devoir as agentleman to be so good as to make a declaration before the alcalde of this villagethat you never in all your life saw me until now, and that neither am I the DonQuixote in print in the Second Part, nor this Sancho Panza, my squire, the oneyour worship knew. ""That I will do most willingly, " replied Don Alvaro; "though it amazes me to findtwo Don Quixotes and two Sancho Panzas at once, as much alike in name as theydiffer in demeanour; and again I say and declare that what I saw I cannot haveseen, and that what happened me cannot have happened. ""No doubt your worship is enchanted, like my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, " saidSancho; "and would to heaven your disenchantment rested on my giving myselfanother three thousand and odd lashes like what I'm giving myself for her, for I'dlay them on without looking for anything. ""I don't understand that about the lashes, " said Don Alvaro. Sancho replied thatit was a long story to tell, but he would tell him if they happened to be going thesame road. By this dinner-time arrived, and Don Quixote and Don Alvaro dined together. The alcalde of the village came by chance into the inn together with a notary, andDon Quixote laid a petition before him, showing that it was requisite for his rightsthat Don Alvaro Tarfe, the gentleman there present, should make a declarationbefore him that he did not know Don Quixote of La Mancha, also there present, and that he was not the one that was in print in a history entitled "Second Part ofDon Quixote of La Mancha, by one Avellaneda of Tordesillas. " The alcalde finallyput it in legal form, and the declaration was made with all the formalities requiredin such cases, at which Don Quixote and Sancho were in high delight, as if adeclaration of the sort was of any great importance to them, and as if their wordsand deeds did not plainly show the difference between the two Don Quixotes andthe two Sanchos. Many civilities and offers of service were exchanged by DonAlvaro and Don Quixote, in the course of which the great Manchegan displayedsuch good taste that he disabused Don Alvaro of the error he was under; and he, on his part, felt convinced he must have been enchanted, now that he had beenbrought in contact with two such opposite Don Quixotes. Evening came, they set out from the village, and after about half a league tworoads branched off, one leading to Don Quixote's village, the other the road DonAlvaro was to follow. In this short interval Don Quixote told him of hisunfortunate defeat, and of Dulcinea's enchantment and the remedy, all whichthrew Don Alvaro into fresh amazement, and embracing Don Quixote and Sanchohe went his way, and Don Quixote went his. That night he passed among treesagain in order to give Sancho an opportunity of working out his penance, whichhe did in the same fashion as the night before, at the expense of the bark of thebeech trees much more than of his back, of which he took such good care that thelashes would not have knocked off a fly had there been one there. The duped DonQuixote did not miss a single stroke of the count, and he found that together withthose of the night before they made up three thousand and twenty-nine. The sunapparently had got up early to witness the sacrifice, and with his light theyresumed their journey, discussing the deception practised on Don Alvaro, andsaying how well done it was to have taken his declaration before a magistrate insuch an unimpeachable form. That day and night they travelled on, nor didanything worth mention happen them, unless it was that in the course of the nightSancho finished off his task, whereat Don Quixote was beyond measure joyful. Hewatched for daylight, to see if along the road he should fall in with his alreadydisenchanted lady Dulcinea; and as he pursued his journey there was no womanhe met that he did not go up to, to see if she was Dulcinea del Toboso, as he heldit absolutely certain that Merlin's promises could not lie. Full of these thoughtsand anxieties, they ascended a rising ground wherefrom they descried their ownvillage, at the sight of which Sancho fell on his knees exclaiming, "Open thineeyes, longed-for home, and see how thy son Sancho Panza comes back to thee, ifnot very rich, very well whipped! Open thine arms and receive, too, thy son DonQuixote, who, if he comes vanquished by the arm of another, comes victor overhimself, which, as he himself has told me, is the greatest victory anyone candesire. I'm bringing back money, for if I was well whipped, I went mounted like agentleman. ""Have done with these fooleries, " said Don Quixote; "let us push on straight andget to our own place, where we will give free range to our fancies, and settle ourplans for our future pastoral life. "With this they descended the slope and directed their steps to their village. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEby Miguel de CervantesTranslated by John OrmsbyVolume II. , Part 42Chapters 73-74Prepared and Published by:EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComDON QUIXOTEVolume II. CHAPTER LXXIII. OF THE OMENS DON QUIXOTE HAD AS HE ENTERED HIS OWNVILLAGE, AND OTHER INCIDENTS THAT EMBELLISH AND GIVE ACOLOUR TO THIS GREAT HISTORYAt the entrance of the village, so says Cide Hamete, Don Quixote saw two boysquarrelling on the village threshing-floor one of whom said to the other, "Take iteasy, Periquillo; thou shalt never see it again as long as thou livest. "Don Quixote heard this, and said he to Sancho, "Dost thou not mark, friend, what that boy said, 'Thou shalt never see it again as long as thou livest'?""Well, " said Sancho, "what does it matter if the boy said so?""What!" said Don Quixote, "dost thou not see that, applied to the object of mydesires, the words mean that I am never to see Dulcinea more?"Sancho was about to answer, when his attention was diverted by seeing a harecome flying across the plain pursued by several greyhounds and sportsmen. In itsterror it ran to take shelter and hide itself under Dapple. Sancho caught it aliveand presented it to Don Quixote, who was saying, "Malum signum, malumsignum! a hare flies, greyhounds chase it, Dulcinea appears not. ""Your worship's a strange man, " said Sancho; "let's take it for granted that thishare is Dulcinea, and these greyhounds chasing it the malignant enchanters whoturned her into a country wench; she flies, and I catch her and put her into yourworship's hands, and you hold her in your arms and cherish her; what bad sign isthat, or what ill omen is there to be found here?"The two boys who had been quarrelling came over to look at the hare, andSancho asked one of them what their quarrel was about. He was answered by theone who had said, "Thou shalt never see it again as long as thou livest, " that hehad taken a cage full of crickets from the other boy, and did not mean to give itback to him as long as he lived. Sancho took out four cuartos from his pocket andgave them to the boy for the cage, which he placed in Don Quixote's hands, saying, "There, senor! there are the omens broken and destroyed, and they haveno more to do with our affairs, to my thinking, fool as I am, than with last year'sclouds; and if I remember rightly I have heard the curate of our village say that itdoes not become Christians or sensible people to give any heed to these sillythings; and even you yourself said the same to me some time ago, telling me thatall Christians who minded omens were fools; but there's no need of making wordsabout it; let us push on and go into our village. "The sportsmen came up and asked for their hare, which Don Quixote gavethem. They then went on, and upon the green at the entrance of the town theycame upon the curate and the bachelor Samson Carrasco busy with theirbreviaries. It should be mentioned that Sancho had thrown, by way of a sumpter-cloth, over Dapple and over the bundle of armour, the buckram robe painted withflames which they had put upon him at the duke's castle the night Altisidora cameback to life. He had also fixed the mitre on Dapple's head, the oddesttransformation and decoration that ever ass in the world underwent. They were atonce recognised by both the curate and the bachelor, who came towards themwith open arms. Don Quixote dismounted and received

them with a closeembrace; and the boys, who are lynxes that nothing escapes, spied out the ass'smitre and came running to see it, calling out to one another, "Come here, boys, and see Sancho Panza's ass figged out finer than Mingo, and Don Quixote's beastleaner than ever. "So at length, with the boys capering round them, and accompanied by thecurate and the bachelor, they made their entrance into the town, and proceeded toDon Quixote's house, at the door of which they found his housekeeper and niece, whom the news of his arrival had already reached. It had been brought to TeresaPanza, Sancho's wife, as well, and she with her hair all loose and half naked, dragging Sanchica her daughter by the hand, ran out to meet her husband; butseeing him coming in by no means as good case as she thought a governor oughtto be, she said to him, "How is it you come this way, husband? It seems to meyou come tramping and footsore, and looking more like a disorderly vagabondthan a governor. ""Hold your tongue, Teresa, " said Sancho; "often 'where there are pegs there areno flitches;' let's go into the house and there you'll hear strange things. I bringmoney, and that's the main thing, got by my own industry without wronginganybody. ""You bring the money, my good husband, " said Teresa, "and no matter whetherit was got this way or that; for, however you may have got it, you'll not havebrought any new practice into the world. "Sanchica embraced her father and asked him if he brought her anything, for shehad been looking out for him as for the showers of May; and she taking hold ofhim by the girdle on one side, and his wife by the hand, while the daughter ledDapple, they made for their house, leaving Don Quixote in his, in the hands of hisniece and housekeeper, and in the company of the curate and the bachelor. Don Quixote at once, without any regard to time or season, withdrew in privatewith the bachelor and the curate, and in a few words told them of his defeat, andof the engagement he was under not to quit his village for a year, which he meantto keep to the letter without departing a hair's breadth from it, as became aknight-errant bound by scrupulous good faith and the laws of knight-errantry; andof how he thought of turning shepherd for that year, and taking his diversion inthe solitude of the fields, where he could with perfect freedom give range to histhoughts of love while he followed the virtuous pastoral calling; and he besoughtthem, if they had not a great deal to do and were not prevented by moreimportant business, to consent to be his companions, for he would buy sheepenough to qualify them for shepherds; and the most important point of the wholeaffair, he could tell them, was settled, for he had given them names that would fitthem to a T. The curate asked what they were. Don Quixote replied that hehimself was to be called the shepherd Quixotize and the bachelor the shepherdCarrascon, and the curate the shepherd Curambro, and Sancho Panza theshepherd Pancino. Both were astounded at Don Quixote's new craze; however, lest he should oncemore make off out of the village from them in pursuit of his chivalry, they trustingthat in the course of the year he might be cured, fell in with his new project, applauded his crazy idea as a bright one, and offered to share the life with him. "And what's more, " said Samson Carrasco, "I am, as all the world knows, a veryfamous poet, and I'll be always making verses, pastoral, or courtly, or as it maycome into my head, to pass away our time in those secluded regions where weshall be roaming. But what is most needful, sirs, is that each of us should choosethe name of the shepherdess he means to glorify in his verses, and that we shouldnot leave a tree, be it ever so hard, without writing up and carving her name onit, as is the habit and custom of love-smitten shepherds. ""That's the very thing, " said Don Quixote; "though I am relieved from looking forthe name of an imaginary shepherdess, for there's the peerless Dulcinea delToboso, the glory of these brooksides, the ornament of these meadows, themainstay of beauty, the cream of all the graces, and, in a word, the being towhom all praise is appropriate, be it ever so hyperbolical. ""Very true, " said the curate; "but we the others must look about foraccommodating shepherdesses that will answer our purpose one way or another. ""And, " added Samson Carrasco, "if they fail us, we can call them by the namesof the ones in print that the world is filled with, Filidas, Amarilises, Dianas, Fleridas, Galateas, Belisardas; for as they sell them in the market-places we mayfairly buy them and make them our own. If my lady, or I should say myshepherdess, happens to be called Ana, I'll sing her praises under the name ofAnarda, and if Francisca, I'll call her Francenia, and if Lucia, Lucinda, for it allcomes to the same thing; and Sancho Panza, if he joins this fraternity, may glorifyhis wife Teresa Panza as Teresaina. "Don Quixote laughed at the adaptation of the name, and the curate bestowedvast praise upon the worthy and honourable resolution he had made, and againoffered to bear him company all the time that he could spare from his imperativeduties. And so they took their leave of him, recommending and beseeching him totake care of his health and treat himself to a suitable diet. It so happened his niece and the housekeeper overheard all the three of themsaid; and as soon as they were gone they both of them came in to Don Quixote, and said the niece, "What's this, uncle? Now that we were thinking you had comeback to stay at home and lead a quiet respectable life there, are you going to getinto fresh entanglements, and turn 'young shepherd, thou that comest here, youngshepherd going there?' Nay! indeed 'the straw is too hard now to make pipes of. '""And, " added the housekeeper, "will your worship be able to bear, out in thefields, the heats of summer, and the chills of winter, and the howling of thewolves? Not you; for that's a life and a business for hardy men, bred and seasonedto such work almost from the time they were in swaddling-clothes. Why, to makechoice of evils, it's better to be a knight-errant than a shepherd! Look here, senor;take my advice--and I'm not giving it to you full of bread and wine, but fasting, and with fifty years upon my head--stay at home, look after your affairs, go oftento confession, be good to the poor, and upon my soul be it if any evil comes toyou. ""Hold your peace, my daughters, " said Don Quixote; "I know very well what myduty is; help me to bed, for I don't feel very well; and rest assured that, knight-errant now or wandering shepherd to be, I shall never fail to have a care for yourinterests, as you will see in the end. " And the good wenches (for that theyundoubtedly were), the housekeeper and niece, helped him to bed, where theygave him something to eat and made him as comfortable as possible. EbdE-BooksDirectory. ComCHAPTER LXXIV. OF HOW DON QUIXOTE FELL SICK, AND OF THE WILL HE MADE, AND HOW HE DIEDAs nothing that is man's can last for ever, but all tends ever downwards from itsbeginning to its end, and above all man's life, and as Don Quixote's enjoyed nospecial dispensation from heaven to stay its course, its end and close came whenhe least looked for it. For--whether it was of the dejection the thought of hisdefeat produced, or of heaven's will that so ordered it--a fever settled upon himand kept him in his bed for six days, during which he was often visited by hisfriends the curate, the bachelor, and the barber, while his good squire SanchoPanza never quitted his bedside. They, persuaded that it was grief at findinghimself vanquished, and the object of his heart, the liberation and disenchantmentof Dulcinea, unattained, that kept him in this state, strove by all the means intheir power to cheer him up; the bachelor bidding him take heart and get up tobegin his pastoral life, for which he himself, he said, had already composed aneclogue that would take the shine out of all Sannazaro had ever written, and hadbought with his own money two famous dogs to guard the flock, one calledBarcino and the other Butron, which a herdsman of Quintanar had sold him. But for all this Don Quixote could not shake off his sadness. His friends calledin the doctor, who felt his pulse and was not very well satisfied with it, and saidthat in any case it would be well for him to attend to the health of his soul, asthat of his body was in a bad way. Don Quixote heard this calmly; but not so hishousekeeper, his niece, and his squire, who fell weeping bitterly, as if they hadhim lying dead before them. The doctor's opinion was that melancholy anddepression were bringing him to his end. Don Quixote begged them to leave himto himself, as he had a wish to sleep a little. They obeyed, and he slept at onestretch, as the saying is, more than six hours, so that the housekeeper and niecethought he was going to sleep for ever. But at the end of that time he woke up, and in a loud voice exclaimed, "Blessed be Almighty God, who has shown me suchgoodness. In truth his mercies are boundless, and the sins of men can neitherlimit them nor keep them back!"The niece listened with attention to her uncle's words, and they struck her asmore coherent than what usually fell from him, at least during his illness, so sheasked, "What are you saying, senor? Has anything strange occurred? What merciesor what sins of men are you talking of?""The mercies, niece, " said Don Quixote, "are those that God has this momentshown me, and with him, as I said, my sins are no impediment to them. Myreason is now free and clear, rid of the dark shadows of ignorance that myunhappy constant study of those detestable books of chivalry cast over it. Now Isee through their absurdities and deceptions, and it only grieves me that thisdestruction of my illusions has come so late that it leaves me no time to makesome amends by reading other books that might be a light to my soul. Niece, I feelmyself at the point of death, and I would fain meet it in such a way as to showthat my life has not been so ill that I should leave behind me the name of amadman; for though I have been one, I would not that the fact should be madeplainer at my death. Call in to me, my dear, my good friends the curate, thebachelor Samson Carrasco, and Master Nicholas the barber, for I wish to confessand make my will. " But his niece was saved the trouble by the entrance of thethree. The instant Don Quixote saw them he exclaimed, "Good news for you, goodsirs, that I am no longer Don Quixote of La Mancha, but Alonso Quixano, whoseway of life won for him the name of Good. Now am I the enemy of Amadis ofGaul and of the whole countless troop of his descendants; odious to me now areall the profane stories of knight-errantry; now I perceive my folly, and the perilinto which reading them brought me; now, by God's mercy schooled into my rightsenses, I loathe them. "When the three heard him speak in this way, they had no doubt whatever thatsome new craze had taken possession of him; and said Samson, "What? Senor DonQuixote! Now that we have intelligence of the lady Dulcinea being disenchanted, are you taking this line; now, just as we are on the point of becoming shepherds, to pass our lives singing, like princes, are you thinking of turning hermit? Hush, for heaven's sake, be rational and let's have no more nonsense. ""All that nonsense, " said Don Quixote, "that until now has been a reality to myhurt, my death will, with heaven's help, turn to my good. I feel, sirs, that I amrapidly drawing near death; a truce to jesting; let me have a confessor to confessme, and a notary to make my will; for in extremities like this, man must not triflewith his soul; and while the curate is confessing me let some one, I beg, go for thenotary. "They looked at one another, wondering at Don Quixote's words; but, thoughuncertain, they were inclined to believe him, and one of the signs by which theycame to the conclusion he was dying was this so sudden and complete return tohis senses after having been mad; for to the words already quoted he added muchmore, so well expressed, so devout, and so rational, as to banish all doubt andconvince them that he was sound of mind. The curate turned them all out, andleft alone with him confessed him. The bachelor went for the notary and returnedshortly afterwards with him and with Sancho, who, having already learned fromthe bachelor the condition his master was in, and finding the housekeeper andniece weeping, began to blubber and shed tears. The confession over, the curate came out saying, "Alonso Quixano the Good isindeed dying, and is indeed in his right mind; we may now go in to him while hemakes his will. "This news gave a tremendous impulse to the brimming eyes of the housekeeper, niece, and Sancho Panza his good squire, making the tears burst from their eyesand a host of sighs from their hearts; for of a truth, as has been said more thanonce, whether as plain Alonso Quixano the Good, or as Don Quixote of LaMancha, Don Quixote was always of a gentle disposition and kindly in all hisways, and hence he was beloved, not only by those of his own house, but by allwho knew him. The notary came in with the rest, and as soon as the preamble of the had beenset out and Don Quixote had commended his soul to God with all the devoutformalities that are usual, coming to the bequests, he said, "Item, it is my willthat, touching certain moneys in the hands of Sancho Panza (whom in mymadness I made my squire), inasmuch as between him and me there have beencertain accounts and debits and credits, no claim be made against him, nor anyaccount demanded of him in respect of them; but that if anything remain over andabove, after he has paid himself what I owe him, the balance, which will be butlittle, shall be his, and much good may it do him; and if, as when I was mad I hada share in giving him the government of an island, so, now that I am in mysenses, I could give him that of a kingdom, it should be his, for the simplicity ofhis character and the fidelity of his conduct deserve it. " And then, turning toSancho, he said, "Forgive me, my friend, that I led thee to seem as mad as myself, making thee fall into the same error I myself fell into, that there were and still areknights-errant in the world. ""Ah!" said Sancho weeping, "don't die, master, but take my advice and live manyyears; for the foolishest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself die withoutrhyme or reason, without anybody killing him, or any hands but melancholy'smaking an end of him. Come, don't be lazy, but get up from your bed and let ustake to the fields in shepherd's trim as we agreed. Perhaps behind some bush weshall find the lady Dulcinea disenchanted, as fine as fine can be. If it be that youare dying of vexation at having been vanquished, lay the blame on me, and sayyou were overthrown because I had girthed Rocinante badly; besides you musthave seen in your books of chivalry that it is a common thing for knights to upsetone another, and for him who is conquered to-day to be conqueror tomorrow. ""Very true, " said Samson, "and good Sancho Panza's view of these cases is quiteright. ""Sirs, not so fast, " said Don Quixote, "'in last year's nests there are no birds thisyear. ' I was mad, now I am in my senses; I was Don Quixote of La Mancha, I amnow, as I said, Alonso Quixano the Good; and may my repentance and sincerityrestore me to the esteem you used to have for me; and now let Master Notaryproceed. "Item, I leave all my property absolutely to Antonia Quixana my niece, herepresent, after all has been deducted from the most available portion of it that maybe required to satisfy the bequests I have made. And the first disbursement Idesire to be made is the payment of the wages I owe for the time my housekeeperhas served me, with twenty ducats, over and above, for a gown. The curate andthe bachelor Samson Carrasco, now present, I appoint my executors. "Item, it is my wish that if Antonia Quixana, my niece, desires to marry, sheshall marry a man of whom it shall be first of all ascertained by information takenthat he does not know what books of chivalry are; and if it should be proved thathe does, and if, in spite of this, my niece insists upon marrying him, and doesmarry him, then that she shall forfeit the whole of what I have left her, which myexecutors shall devote to works of charity as they please. "Item, I entreat the aforesaid gentlemen my executors, that, if any happy chanceshould lead them to discover the author who is said to have written a history nowgoing about under the title of 'Second Part of the Achievements of Don Quixote ofLa Mancha, ' they beg of him on my behalf as earnestly as they can to forgive mefor having been, without intending it, the cause of his writing so many and suchmonstrous absurdities as he has written in it; for I am leaving the world with afeeling of compunction at having provoked him to write them. "With this he closed his will, and a faintness coming over him he stretchedhimself out at full length on the bed. All were in a flutter and made haste torelieve him, and during the three days he lived after that on which he made hiswill he fainted away very often. The house was all in confusion; but still the nieceate and the housekeeper drank and Sancho Panza enjoyed himself; for inheritingproperty wipes out or softens down in the heir the feeling of grief the dead manmight be expected to leave behind him. At last Don Quixote's end came, after he had received all the sacraments, andhad in full and forcible terms expressed his detestation of books of chivalry. Thenotary was there at the time, and he said that in no book of chivalry had he everread of any knight-errant dying in his bed so calmly and so like a Christian as DonQuixote, who amid the tears and lamentations of all present yielded up his spirit, that is to say died. On perceiving it the curate begged the notary to bear witnessthat Alonso Quixano the Good, commonly called Don Quixote of La Mancha, hadpassed away from this present life, and died naturally; and said he desired thistestimony in order to remove the possibility of any other author save Cide HameteBenengeli bringing him to life again falsely and making interminable stories out ofhis achievements. Such was the end of the Ingenious Gentleman of La Mancha, whose village CideHamete would not indicate precisely, in order to leave all the towns and villagesof La Mancha to contend among themselves for the right to adopt him and claimhim as a son, as the seven cities of Greece contended for Homer. Thelamentations of Sancho and the niece and housekeeper are omitted here, as wellas the new epitaphs upon his tomb; Samson Carrasco, however, put the followinglines:A doughty gentleman lies here;A stranger all his life to fear;Nor in his death could Death prevail, In that last hour, to make him quail. He for the world but little cared;And at his feats the world was scared;A crazy man his life he passed, But in his senses died at last. And said most sage Cide Hamete to his pen, "Rest here, hung up by this brasswire, upon this shelf, O my pen, whether of skilful make or clumsy cut I knownot; here shalt thou remain long ages hence, unless presumptuous or malignantstory-tellers take thee down to profane thee. But ere they touch thee warn them, and, as best thou canst, say to them:Hold off! ye weaklings; hold your hands!Adventure it let none, For this emprise, my lord the king, Was meant for me alone. For me alone was Don Quixote born, and I for him; it was his to act, mine towrite; we two together make but one, notwithstanding and in spite of thatpretended Tordesillesque writer who has ventured or would venture with hisgreat, coarse, ill-trimmed ostrich quill to write the achievements of my valiantknight;--no burden for his shoulders, nor subject for his frozen wit: whom, ifperchance thou shouldst come to know him, thou shalt warn to leave at restwhere they lie the weary mouldering bones of Don Quixote, and not to attempt tocarry him off, in opposition to all the privileges of death, to Old Castile, makinghim rise from the grave where in reality and truth he lies stretched at full length, powerless to make any third expedition or new sally; for the two that he hasalready made, so much to the enjoyment and approval of everybody to whom theyhave become known, in this as well as in foreign countries, are quite sufficient forthe purpose of turning into ridicule the whole of those made by the whole set ofthe knights-errant; and so doing shalt thou discharge thy Christian calling, givinggood counsel to one that bears ill-will to thee. And I shall remain satisfied, andproud to have been the first who has ever enjoyed the fruit of his writings as fullyas he could desire; for my desire has been no other than to deliver over to thedetestation of mankind the false and foolish tales of the books of chivalry, which, thanks to that of my true Don Quixote, are even now tottering, and doubtlessdoomed to fall for ever. Farewell. "