That imaginative gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha.

CORNELL
UNIVERSITY
. LIBRARY

uf GIFT OF
T. F. Crane

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DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA

THAT IMAGINATIVE GENTLEMAN

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH

ROBINSON SMITH

LONDON

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LIMITED

NEW YORK : E. P. DUTTON & GO.

At ^%U^'\o

A
LA COMPANERA ETERNA MIA EN TODOS MIS CAMINOS Y CARRERAS

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

IN the prologue Cervantes speaks of this book as ' the tale of a
poor, shrivelled, whimsical son, teeming with all manner of
thoughts never entertained by another, even as one engendered in a
'prison, where every discomfort has its seat and every mournful
sound its habitation. ' Hence sprang and flourished a tradition that
the book Don Quijote was at least begun, if not largely written, in
confinement. And it is possible that portions of the first part were
composed in the Seville jail, where trustworthy, though none too
definite, evidence places Cervantes for a portion of the year 1602. '
But it is not at all likely that the opening chapters were so written,
since a small library must have been at hand for their composition.
The first book to come down from the shelf was a treatise by
Antonio de Guevara, entitled Contempt of Court and Praise of
Country Life, ^ where in the seventh chapter Cervantes found writ-
ten : ' O happy he that dwelleth in the country ! since for him suflice
a lance behind the door, a horse in the stable, a shield in the hall. '
This sentence forms part of the opening of Don Quijote ; also from
this treatise were derived suggestions as to the knight's diet and
dress, the matter of the pruning-hook , together with his fondness
for the chase and for debating with the village-priest. ' The fairly
unusual word Quijote (our cuish, or thigh-piece) was probably
suggested by its presence (in an emphatic position) in a passage
(which for another reason we are sure Cervantes read) dealing with
this same Guevara, where the hope is expressed that thigh-piedes
(quijotes) may again come into use. *

Now that he has described the diet and dress, the house and
j habits of his hero, our author comes to the central idea of his story :
I i such a country-gentleman becoming obsessed with reading books of
I chivalry and determining himself to become a knight-errant for the
amelioration of the world. Teofilo Folengo had partially anticipated
Cervantes in this idea by seventy years and more (1526) in his
heroic-comic poem II Baldo, '' being the wild and ridiculous adven-
tures of a youth whose head had been filled with the nonsense of

TRANSLATOR S PREFACE

the books of chivalry. He read all with relish, but had his favourites
like his successor Don Quijote. '

So one can follow Cervantes line by line, at times word by word,
in the writing of his first chapter. After reading the second para-
graph of this translation, turn to another treatise by Guevara (bound
with the one above), the Counsels for Favourites, ' and you will
find, just before a denunciation of the books of chivalry : ' We see
learned and well-read gentlemen becoming infirm and befogged,
since so great is their dehght in letters that they quite forget the
refreshment of their persons ; ' and this as well : ' being advised how
in the city of Damascus were some ancient books, he at once set out
to see them... and arriving there sold his patrimony for their pur-
chase... nay, was willing to forfeit his entire estate. '

Still another book to come down from the shelf was one then in
manuscript : The Letters of the Bachelor of Arcadia, by Diego
Hurtado de Mendoza, * who therein ridicules the style of FeUciano
de Silva, especially his use of reason and unreason. The passage of
Feliciano de Silva which Cervantes particularly parodies is from the
Don Florisel de Niquea : " ' O love ! why do I complain of thine
unreason, since in thee unreason has more sway than reason. ' And
Cervantes' next travesty is of : ' O celestial image, what grievance is
done thy sovereign beauty, since, though thou deservest the highest
seat of the heavens, they let thee abide among mortals ; and to them,
by making none deserving of meriting thee save me. If any desert
I have toward thee, it is for the love wherewith I love thee. ' But
this was not from Feliciano de Silva, but from Antonio de Torque-
mada's Olivante de Laura, " a book of chivalry surpassing all the
others perhaps both in fatuity and in the frequency with which it
lent to Cervantes word, phi-ase, incident and even plot for the
writing of Don Quijote.

Such are the more important derivations of Cervantes' two opening
paragraphs. Perhaps too should be noted that Don Quijote's stew of
rather more beef than mutton at once indicates both his poverty and
his position — his poverty by the fact that beef then and there was
cheaper than mutton ; his position, in that an old proverb ran, Beef
and mutton, stew of a gentleman. " His Saturday maigre of ' paunch
and penance ' was probably composed of the head or neck and the
tripe of animals. " In hitting at authors that were divided between
the names Quesada and Quijada (jaw-bone), though neither was the
right one, Cervantes incidentally further characterises his hero.

THE WRITING OF DON QUIJOTE III

In the third paragraph reference is made to the wounds received
by Don Belianis. These occur in the History of Don Belianis by
Geronimo Fernandez, in four parts. " In the first two alone he
receives one hundred and nine serious ones. The other reference is
to the end of the fourth book, chapter seventy-five, where the author
says : ' I give permission to any one into whose hands the other part
may come to add it to this. ' The source for the debating with the
village-priest has already been noted. " As to Amadis' capacity for
tears, one has but to read : ' Oriana was furious at seeing Amadis
weep. "* 'He was wan with much weeping. "° ' I see him weep
often, lady. ' " ' She saw tears fall from his eyes and moisten his
whole face. ' "

The key to the fourth paragraph is the word fantasia (fantasy),
borrowed directly from the fifty-third line of the second Maccheronica
of II Baldo, the Folengo poem mentioned above, '" where the reading
of Baldo is described much as Don Quijote's is here. The reference
to Bernardo del Carpio is to the thirty-fifth canto of Nicolas de
Espinosa's Segunda Parte de Orlando. ^^ While the especial exploit
of Rinaldo that delighted Don Quijote is from the Espejo de Gabal-
lerias " : ' The good Rinaldo answered not courteous words ; rather
with brave aspect he addressed him : ' O bastard... thou liest in
every word, for to rob pagans in Spain is no robbery, when I alone
in the teeth of forty thousand Moors and more seized a Mahomet
of gold, vrhereof I had need to pay my soldiers. ' '

For the m^ter of the fifth paragraph one has but to turn to the
OUvante de Laura : ' Silvano, armed to the teeth, wandered the
world o'er in quest of adventures •' ^^ ' Redressing many grievances
and wrongs ; ' *' ' Courting dangerous adventures, and experimenting
with his person in mighty deeds of arms ; ' " 'In those days princes
and young knights, to their fame and deathless name, .^ere woni te* .
encompass the earth... by their might and valour... surmounting
things ; ' " and Don Quijote's dream of /feecoming at least emperor of
Trebizond had been realised by Rinaldo : ' Trebizofid, or the Third
Book of Rinaldo, hov7 he came by his chivalries to be emperor of
Trebizond. ' " The Spanish word Trapisonda besides being a proper
name also means confusion.

The sixth paragraph may be considered Cervantes' own, but when
we come to the seventh we again meet with an appropriation, this
time from the treatise that probably gave Cervantes the ingenioso
(imaginative) of his title-page. In this book, the Examen de Ingenios, "

IV translator's preface

the distinction between the imagination and the understanding is
elaborated at great length, and the adjective ingenioso is frequently
applied to the imaginative. In chapter eight, page ninety-eight, we
read : ' They lose themselves in reading books of chivalry, in the
Orlando, in Boscan, in the Diana of Montemayor, and others of that
breed, since all are works of the imagination. ' And in the same
chapter, pages one hundred five and six, we get a hint for the naming
of Rocinante : ' Of this opinion of Plato was a Spanish gentleman
whose pastime was to write books of chivalry, since he possessed
that order of imagination that inclines men to falsehoods and lies.
Of him it is related that introducing a furious giant into his works he
spent many days imagining some name that would wholly fit his
temper. ' Again, when Cervantes writes ' errant without lady-love
is a tree bare of leaves or fruit, a body and no soul, ' he is para-
phrasing a couplet from the Orlando Innamorato : "'

Perch'ogai cavalier, ch'6 senza amore,
Se'n vista e vivo, 6 vivo senza core.

Finally, the name Dulcinea is a blending of Dulcineo and Dulcina,
a shepherd and shepherdess that appear in Antonio de Lofraso's
pastoral Fortuna de Amor. "

So much for the way Cervantes wrote his first chapter — a classic
in the art of handling material already extant. This method indeed
our author pursues throughout the entii'e book, though not again
with such consistency as here at its beginning. And naturally, for
when Cervantes sat down to write Don Quijote, he probably had in
mind a short story only, one whose sole raison d'etre was as a
travesty of the books of chivalry, and its small canvass was nec-
essarily crowded with materials from them. Apparently he had
proceeded for seven or eight chapters (not divided as such when
first written) before he saw what an inexhaustible mine of diversion
he had in playing off Don Quijote and Sancho, one against the other,
and hence that he could afford to leave the beaten track of imitation.

But here in the early chapters he keeps close to his models. At the
beginning of the second, for example, Don Quijote's departure,
unseen of any, before dawn, " his eagerness to be dubbed, " the
lyric tongues of the bii'ds, '' the coming of the flushed Aurora, " can
be matched almost word for word from the books of chivalry as
can also, in the third chapter, the words and manner of his petition
for knighthood, '* the double invocation of his lady when in peril "

THE WRITING OP DON QUIJOTE V

and in the fourth, the delaying at the cross-roads. '" But it is to
be noted that Cervantes belittles and bemeans all that was fine
and fair, never however sacrificing reality, but stopping short just
this side of caricature. Instead of sallying forth through the gate of a
city like the knights before him, it is through the postern of his corral
that Don Quijote passes on that happy and historic July morning.
In place of the customary castle it is a third-rate inn where he is that
night regaled. It is a swineherd with a drove of hogs (and not a
dwarf on the battlements) that, blowing his horn for them to herd,
announces his arrival. Women of the lowest travelUng type disarm
him and not princesses solacing themselves on the castle-ward. A fat
rogue of an innkeeper welcomes him and not the usual lord of the
the castle.

(Cervantes thus does give life to much that was dead, bringing to
common earth much that was in the air, and it were well to bear in
mind, when we think him a trifle hard on his hero, that his object
was not so much to be hard or easy, as simply to make as ridiculous
as possible the books of chivalry and his own knight, the personifi-
cation of them. Hence we find our imaginative gentleman believing
pthat he is being regaled with music at some famous castle, and that
I ladies are serving him with trout and white bread, whereas in
J reality, dusty and way-worn, he is seated before an inn, and on his
I head an old-fashioned helmet tied on with green ribbons, with a
I cardboard visor so poorly contrived that even when it was raised
he could not feed himself but must have poorly-soaked and worse
cooked codfish from the hands of carriers' wenches, while all the
music that he heard came from a boar-gelder, who sounded four or
five notes on an instrument of reeds, the signal of his trade. "

Regret as one may, and there have always been some to regret, "
that Cervantes was not a little more sparing of his hero's flesh and
feelings, one must at the same time admire the marvellous skill with
which he made sport of the chivalresque tales and, by the same
stroke, made them serve his own story. A good instance of this is
the innkeeper's assertion that he too had been a knight, ' wandering
in search of adventures in sundry parts of the world, ' but that ' he
had ended by taking up his abode in this his castle, where on his
own and others ' fortunes he now lived, welcoming there all knights-
errant... simply from the great affection he bore them and that they
might share their possessions with him in return for his good-will. '
This passage travesties one in the second book of Olivante, '" where

VI translator's preface

in all seriousness and fustian it is told of a knight that ' inasmuch as
he had naught but this castle for a livelihood, he employed his good-
will in appropriating such knights and other persons as travelled
these roads, bringing them to share their possessions with him. '

Continuing, the innkeeper suggests that Don Quijote should carry
a little phial of ointments, telling of some knights that had friendly
enchanters who carried to their relief, when stricken in the field or
desert, some damsel or dwarf through the air in a cloud with a
flask of water of such virtue that ' with just a drop the knights
became as cured of their wounds as if they had none. ' These last
words, suited as they are to the mouth of the mocking innkeeper,
also came from the OUvante, *" twelve chapters further on, while
quite another chapter is harked back to when we come to the
innkeeper's next and most important suggestion, that of a squire.
In that chapter "' Olivante petitions to be made a knight in much the
same words as did Don Quijote after him ; there Olivante declares
that two hours would be sufficient for watching his arms before the
dubbing, even as the innkeeper tells Don Quijote ; there is Olivante's
squire first mentioned. In the ninth chapter of the first book of
Olivante de Laura was the immortal Sancho born.

And so Cervantes finishes his third chapter with the dubbing
scene and the arming of the knight, which could be matched, with
less plebeian surroundings, again and again in the romances of
chivalry. Yet so well fitted are these incorporations to the characters
and circumstances of the Don Quijote narrative, that the general
reader may at no point detect the inclusion, may indeed not wish to
be reminded thereof. But to others perhaps the humour of the book is
thereby both double and more delicate. In any case it was Cervantes'
method. Would he ridicule Angelica for excusing the overthrow of
Sacripante, *' he makes Don Quijote likewise lay the blame of his
mishap to the fall of his steed, *' though such fault-finding may be
slightly out of keeping with our sense of his chivalry. If he wishes
to burlesque a whole palace wailing over some fallen idol, he lets
you hear the outbursts of niece and housekeeper. *' If he goes to
great pains to leave the swords of Don Quijote and the Biscayan
in the air at the end of a chapter, " it is because Diego Ortunez
de Calahorra did the same with two combatants in his Espeio
de Principes y Caballeros. *' If he seems to outrage your feelings
unnecessarily by having Don Quijote carried shamefully in a cage, *"
exposed to public view, it is because he is mimicking Pulci in his

THE WRITING OP DON QUIJOTE VII

Morgante Maggiore, " where the pagans in a similar way lay hold
of Orlando in his sleep.

Thus does the story progress, less imitative than in the early
chapters, yet ready like a gipsy to make its own whatever came its
way, taking not alone from the prose and poetry of chivalry but
frequently from books just published and more than once from
contemporary events and from incidents in Cervantes' life. "' At
times the narrative is boldly and obviously mock-heroic, as in the
adventure of the windmills taken for giants, *° the flocks of sheep
that appeared to be armies, '" the penance in the Sierra Morena, "
the boon sought by the damsel, " the adventure of the lions, *' the
descent into the cave of Montesinos. '* But there are also many inci-
dents and portrayals of life which one would not suspect to be
transcriptions. The tossing of Sancho, " for instance, is a replica of
the tossing of Guzman de Alfarache in Mateo Aleman's recently
published novel of that name. ^' Cervantes also had that rogue in
mind when depicting Gines de Pasamonte, " particulary in Ginks'
statement that he wrote his life while in the galleys, *' in his other-
wise obcure reference to the stains got by the commissary at the inn
and in his reference to biscuit as part of the galley-fare. "

Again the adventure of the corpse " is reproduced from an incident
that occurred a few years before this, when the body of a monk was
being carried to Segovia. " In the thirtieth chapter of the first part
Dorothea says of her prophesied deliverer that he was to have a
grey mole with hairs like bristles on his right side, beneath his left
shoulder or thereabouts ; so in Miguel de Luna's history of Don
Roderick " a woman says in prophecy of a deliverer that as a mark
of recognition he was to have a hairy mole upon the shoulder of
the right hand. In the Don Quijote narrative stripping is suggested
as a means of verification ; in the other case it is actually performed.
Similarly Dorothea's blunder "' in making Osuna a sea-port is a hit
at the historian Mariana, who did the same thing. '*

What pains and pleasure and risk Cervantes took in thus making
merry at others' expense is nowhere more clearly shown than on the
title-page of the second part, which reads That Imaginative Knight
instead of That Imaginative Gentleman. This has always been
regarded as a classic instance of cervantesque carelessness, but
it is simply another case of copying our old friends the books of
chivalry, where on the title-pages of the different parts young spit-
fires constantly graduate from knightood to kingship. And through-

VIII translator's preface

0 .^j ,3^ ' out the second part, written ten years after the first and when the age

1 ( ' of our author bordered on fifty, we meet almost on every page with
? 'V) cvo evidences of the intense absorption in litterature of one who was so
W! T-i- finely a man of the world, so swift to action in time of great need.
V 'g^-'l In the first chapter of this second part Don Quijote suggests that
^ {4/Sknights be summoned to protect Spain against the power of the

Turk, an echo of a similar scheme mentioned in a petition put before
the royal council at Madrid in 1611. "' The braying incident of the
twenty-fifth chapter was probably founded on a quarrel that arose
between two villages in that neighbourhood in the fifteenth century. '*
In stating in the twenty-ninth chapter that fleas are said to leave
mariners when crossing the equinoctial line Cervantes shows that he
has been reading Abraham Ortelious, a Spanish translation" of
whose Theatrum Orbis Terrarum had just appeared. The adventure
of the enchanted head °' has the marks of an incident in the life of
Antonio de Guevara, connected with a mysterious voice. °°

But there is still another class of borrowings, unlike the first,
which are legitimate travesties of adventures in the books of
chivalry, unlike the second, which while making material also made
fun of authors and incidents, both usually contemporary. This third
class consists of wholesale transcriptions of episodes and anecdotes,
usually ancient, appropriated by Cervantes, not for the sake of
mockery as in the other cases, but simply to fill his page and further
his story. Of this nature is the tale of the flock of goats crossing the
river one by one ; '° Sancho's anecdote of the vdne tasters ; " the
debtor and his stick filled with crowns ; " the woman raped by the
farmer ; " several of the episodes at the house of the duchess, '*
though they might also be brought under class one ; the race
between the fat man and the lean man. " All these were wholly or
in large part derived.

How much then, one is tempted to enquire, is left to Cervantes?
Well, a vast deal — the whole splendid spirit of the book for one
thing, and the best of its matter : above all, Sancho, and those
inimitable dialogues 'twixt master and man. That is, in general ; but
in particular, when one reads of the manner of the stealing of
Sancho's ass, " or of how Don Quijote was in love by report only, "
of how the island was on the mainland, " and of how at its storming
Sancho felt the whole thing must be sinking, '» when the reader
comes to these bits and is about to exclaim : How like Cervantes !
how delightfully original ! then must the reader beware.

THE WRITING OF DON QUIJOTE IX

This translation is based on the last Spanish Academy text of 1819.
It follows Hartzenbusch '" however in inserting the loss of Dapple
at a point where it seems likely Cervantes intended it should be
inserted, at a point at least that renders any change of the original
text unnecessary. It follows that original text (first Madrid 1605) in
putting the excommunication speech of I xix into the mouth of the
bachelor; also in the matter of the rosary in I xxvi. As to other,
minor, cruxes the translation itself is in evidence. The short stories
in the Don Quijote, which prove a stumbling-block to many readers
and which Cervantes himself practically acknowledges " interfere
with the unity and flow of the main narrative, have been omitted,
together with some of the poor poetry, but the translation is not
therefore to be considered abridged or expurgated. Rather it may
be contended that here the reader will find the true consecutive
narrative for the first time." For occasional words and phrases I am
indebted to my predecessors, Shelton, Ormsby and Watts. For
sympathy and suggestion I owe to whom I dedicate it more than
I can say.

i Emilio Cotarelo y Mori : E/emerides Cervantinas Madrid 1905 pp 186-7

2 Menosprecio de Corte y Alaban^a de Aldea in Las Obras del Illustre

Antonio de Guevara Valiadolid 1539

3 See my article Notes on Don Quijote in the Athenceam of August 21 1909

4 See note 69

5 Le Opere Maccheroniche di Merlin Cocai (Teofilo Folengo 1491-1544)

Mantua 1882 vol I p 83. This reference was given me by Professor
Henry R Lang of Yale University.

6 Sed quater Orlandi puerilia tempora legit.

Oh quantum haec eadem sibi phantasia placebat ;
Masime scarpavit Carlonis quando piatum.
Talibus in rebus multum stimulatur ad arma.

II Baldo Maccheronica II 11 52-5

7 Aviso de Privados ; see note 2

8 In Carta del Bachiller de Arcadia al Capitan Salazar ; not published

till 1890 (Madrid) in Sales Espanolas ed by Antonio Paz y Melia Part I p 80

9 Valiadolid 1532 Part lU ch 2

10 Antonio de Torquemada : Olivante de Laura Barcelona 15^

11 Vaca y Carnero,
OUa de Cavallero.

Academy Dictionary Madrid 1726-39

12 A Morel-Fatio : Duelos y Quebrantos in Etudes Romanes dedieea A Gaston

Paris Paris 1891
, 13 Burgos 1577-9

14 See note 3

15 Amadis de Gaula Saragossa 1508 11 17

16 11 46

17 m 72

X translator's preface

d8 IV 103, 109

19 See notes 5 and 6

30 Saragossa 1555

21 By Pedro de Reynosa, Seville 1533 I 46

22 I 40 of note 10

23 m 7 of note 10

24 I 9 of note 10

25 Dedication of note 10

26 Seville 1533

27 By Juan Huarte, Pamplona 1578 but references are to Leyden 1591

28 By Matteo Boiardo, Venice 1486 I canto 18 st 46

29 Barcelona 1573

30 I 9 of note 10
311 7 of note 10

32 II 43 of note 10

33 II 7 of note 10

34 I 9 of note 10

35 II 55 and I 39 of note 10

36 I 8 of note 21

37 Sebastian de Covarrubias : Tesoro de la Lengua Caslellana Madrid 1611

fol 194

38 Don Qaijote II 3

39 II 2 of note 10

40 II 14 of note 10

41 Ariosto : Orlando Farioso : Ferrara 1516 I 67

42 I 4 and 5

43 1 5

44 18

45 Saragossa 1562 Part V Book I chap 1

46 146

47 Venice 1481 XII 87

48 For example, the description of a sea-fight I 38. Cervantes was so exposed

at Lepanto.

49 17

50 118

51 I 25-6

52 I 29 ; in imitation of I 33 of note 10.

53 n 17

54 II 22-3

55 1 17

56 Madrid 1599 Part I Book III 1

57 122

58 Preface of note 56

59 Book III 8 of note 56

60 1 19

61 M Fernandez de Navarrette : Vida de Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra Madrid

1819 p 79 '

62 La Verdadera Historia del Rey Don Rodrigo Grenada 1592 : also Saraffo<;«a

1603 1 7 "iiagobsa

63 I 30

64 Juan de Mariana : Historia General de Espana Toledo 1601 III .1 • in t ntir,

Toledo 1592 ' ° ^"^"^

65 Gregorio Leti : Vita di Don Pietro Giron, Diica d'Ossnna Amsterdam

1699 vol II Part II Book 1 -amsteraam

THE WRITING OF DON QUIJOTE XI

66 Aureliano Fernandez-Guerra y Orbe : Noticio de nn Precioso Codice de la

Biblioteca Columbina — Algunos Datos para illustrar el Qiiijote Madrid
1864 p 38

67 Theatro d'el Orbe de la Tierra Antwerp 1612

68 II 62

69 Cronica de Francessillo de Zaniga Madrid 1855 chap 84 (in vol 36 of

Biblioteca de Aatores Espanoles published by Rivadeneyra)

70 I 20 ; in Francisco Sansovino : Cento Novello Scelte, to which is added

Cento Novelle Antiche (Number xxxi) Venice 1575

71 II 13 ; see H E Walts : Don Quijote London 1893 vol HI p 140 n

72 II 45 ; from Jacobus de Voragine : Legenda Aurea Basle 1470

73 II 45 ; in Francisco de Ossona : El Norte de los EHados Burgos 1550

74 The car of II 3b is after Caballero de la Cruz Seville 1485 II 21 ; the descrip-

tion of Countess Trifaldi is after Lisuarle de Grecia Seville 1525 chap 7 ;
the magic horse of II 41 is of very ancient invention : e. g. in Firdousi :
Shak Namu Calcutta 1811

75 II 66 ; in Melchior de Santa Cruz : Floresta Espanola Toledo 1574

76 II 4 ; in note 41 canto XXVII st 84

77 II 9 ; so, among others, Alpartacio is enamoured of Miraminia in Lisuarle

de Grecia SevUle 1525 chap 79

78 II 45 ; so, among other places, Palmerin de Oliva 1511 chap 125

79 II 53 ; II 5 of note 10

80 Argamasilla de Alba 1863

81 II 3, 44

author's prologue

AUTHOR'S PROLOGUE

THOU canst take my word without an oath, idle reader, that I
would that this book, as child of mine understanding, were the
fairest, merriest and wisest imaginable. But alas ! how could I
contravene nature's order, whereby like begets like ? What could
my barren and half-tilled wit produce but the tale of a poor, shriv-
elled, whimsical son, teeming with all manner of thoughts never
entertained by another ? even as one engendered in a prison, where
every discomfort has its seat and every mournful sound its habi-
tation. Leisure, tranquillity, the delight of the country, the serenity
of the sky, the murmur of brooks, the spirit's own quietude within,
are well-nigh indispensable if the more barren muses are to conceive
and bring forth children to the joy and wonder of the world. If a
father have an ill-featured, evil-favoured son, the love he bears him,
veiling his eyes, blinds him to his deficiencies of mind and body,
which rather he deems gifts and graces, recounting them to his
friends as sallies of wit and charms of manner. But I, being after all
but Don Quijote's step-father, do not, like others, care almost weep-
ing to beseech thee, dearest reader, to pardon or disguise the faults
thou mayst see in this my child. Thou art neither his kinsman nor
friend and hast thy soul in thy body and thine own free will with
the best of them. Thou livest in thy house, whereof thou art lord as
the king of his taxes, and knowest the saying, Beneath mine own
coat I kill the king. All of which exempts thee from every obligation
of duty or respect : thou canst say of this story all thou choosest, nor
needest fear they will abuse thee for the ill or x-eward thee for the
good.

Mine only wish was to offer the tale clear and clean, unadorned
with prologue and the countless customary fopperies of sonnets,
epigrams, eulogies, that are wont to find place at the beginning of
books. For I can tell thee that though the tale itself cost me some
labour I met with none greater than in composing this preface, now
before thine eyes. Many times I took pen in hand and as many laid
it down, not knowing what to say. But on one of these occasions,
as I sat in suspense, paper before me, quill behind mine ear, elbow
on the table and my cheek resting on my hand, who should enter

author's prologue xiii

but a charming, most intelligent friend of mine, who on seeing me
thus pensive asked the cause. Making no bones of it I plainly told
him I was attempting a prologue to the history of Don Quijote, but
it so baffled me I was on the point not only of bidding it farewell but
of surpressing the deeds of the noble knight altogether.

' For can you expect me not to be apprehensive of what that
ancient judge, the public, will say when after the decades I have
slept in the silence of obUvion it sees me with all my years on my
back now appearing with a tale dry as sedge, barren of invention,
feeble in style, poor in conceits and devoid of all learning and doctrine,
without marginal citation or notes at the end, when I see other
books, even the fabulous and profane, crammed with quotations
from Aristotle, Plato and the whole pack of philosophers, which set
their readers agog and proclaim the authors erudite and eloquent
scholars ? And then when they cite Scripture ! you'ld take them for
Saint Thomases or other Church doctors, preserving as they do so
resourceful a decorum that though in one line they paint a distracted
lover, in the next they're ready with a pious homily that does the
heart good to hear or read.

' Of all this my book will be deprived, since I have nothing to quote
in the margin and nothing to note at the end. Still less do I know
who are my authorities in order that this book like all others might
lead off with an alphabetical list, from Aristotle to Xenophon, or to
Zoilus and Zeuxis, though the former was a slanderer and the
latter wielded the brush. So also must my book be without prefatory
sonnets, at least without those whose authors are dukes, marquises,
counts, bishops, ladies or renowned poets, though had I asked two
or three of my friends in the trade, I'm certain they would give me
such that the poets of greatest repute in present-day Spain couldn't
match them. In short, dear sir and friend, resolved I am that Senor
Don Quijote shall remain in the archives of La Mancha till Heaven
provide some one to trick him out in the things he now lacks and
which through incapacity and want of learning I cannot supply,
being by nature slow and slothful in seeking out others to say what
I can as well say myself. Hence that rapt suspense in which you
found me ; you have heard its sufficient cause. '

Upon this, giving a slap to his forehead and breaking into a hearty
laugh, my friend exclaimed: ' 'Fore God, brother, now am I reUeved
of an error that's dogged me during the whole long period of our
acquaintance. AU that while I held you discreet and prudent of

AUTHOR'S PROLOGUE

action ; whereas now I see you as far from that as the heavens from
the earth. For how can things of such little concern and easy cure
engage and arrest so ripe a wit and one so wont to break through
and trample under foot far greater obtrusions ? I' faith, txs not
incapacity stands in your way but sloth and poverty of sense.
Would you see the truth of this ? listen and you'll find that in the
twinkling of an eye I'll put to rout the problems and remedy all the
faults that frighten you from publishing the story of your famous
Quijote, light and mirror of knight-errantry. ' And I replied : ' Tell
me then how you think to fill the void of my fears and lead unto
light the chaos of my confusion. '

To this my friend returned : ' The first thing you balk at — the
prefatory sonnets, epigrams and eulogies by persons of rank and
importance — can be remedied if yourself will take the little trouble
of their composition and at their baptism christen them with any
names you please, fathering them on Prester John of the Indies or
the emperor of Trebizond, who, I am confident, are reputed famous
poets. Even if they were not and pedants and bachelors turned up
to dispute it, snapping and snarling behind your back, don't care
two maravedis for them, who, though they prove the lie, won't cut
off the hand that wrote it. The marginal references to books and
writers as authorities for your opinions and statements can be
managed by the suitable introduction of a few sentences or tags of
Latin which you already know by heart or are easily found. When
treating of freedon or captivity for example, 'twill be a simple matter
to insert :

Non bene pro toto libertas venditur auro,

naming in the margin Horace or whoever 'twas that said it. Should
you dwell on the power of death, make haste with :

Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
Reguraque turres ;

if on friendship or the love God bids us bear our enemy, come to
the point at once by citing Scripture, which requires the smallest
possible research, quoting no less an authority than the Almighty :
Ego aiitem dico vobis, Diligite inimicos vestros. If evil thoughts be
your text, quick with the Gospel : De corde exeunt cogitationes
malse ; if the fickleness of friends, here is Gato with the distich :

Donee eris felix, multos numerabis amicos ;
Tempera si fuerint nubila, solus eris.

author's prologue XV

With these little odds and ends of Latin and the like you will at
least be taken for a grammarian, which nowadays is no slight
honour and profit.

' In the matter of notes at the end of your book you can safely
proceed in this fashion. If you mention some giant or other, manage
to make him Goliath, for merely with him, who will cost you
nothing, you at once have a grand note reading : The giant Golias
or Goliath : a Philistine slain of the shepherd David by means of a
spirited stone-cast in the vale of Teberinth, as related in the Book of
Kings ; and then cite chapter. Again, to show yourself a scholar in
polite letters and cosmography, drop an allusion to the river Tagus
and you'll have ready-made another famous annotation : The river
Tagus : so called by a certain king of Spain ; it has its birth in such-
and-such a place and dies in the Oceanus, kissing the walls of the
famous city of Lisbon. Its sands are supposed to be of gold; et cetera,
et cetera.

' If thieves be your subject, I'll give you the history of Gacus,
which I know by heart ; if courtesans, enter Bishop of Mondonedo,
who will provide you with Lamia, Laida and Flora, which annota-
tion will win you great credit ; if cruel women, Ovid will contribute
Medea ; if witches and enchantresses. Homer has Calypso, and
Virgil Circe ; if valiant captains, himself in his Commentaries will
lend you JuUus Ceesar, while Plutarch will furnish a thousand
Alexanders. If it be love you are depicting, with your two ounces
of Tuscan you will meet with Leon the Jew, who will satisfy you to
your heart's content. Should you not care to wander in foreign
lands, in your own house you have Fonseca, On the Love of God,
where is condensed all that you and the most fastidious could desire.
Indeed do but contrive to mention the above names or refer to their
histories in yours, and leave to me the quoting and annotation, for
by all that's good I pledge to cram your margins and waste four
sheets at the end. As to the array of authors such as other books
boast but which as yet is lacking in yours, all you must do is find
a volume that names them as you say from A to izzard and appro-
priate the list outright. Though from the slight use made of it its
falsity be apparent, what matters it ? some fool may think it helped
your simple artless history and such an imposing parade will at
once lend weight, and in any case none will trouble to see whether
you follow it, since he would have nothing to gain.

' And most of all, your narrative needs none of the things you say

XVI author's prologue

it wants since, if I mistake not, 'tis one long invective against books
of chivalry, concerning which Aristotle never reasoned, Saint Basil
delivered himself or Cicero had knowledge. The niceties of truth are
in no way concerned with their fabulous nonsense, nor the calcula-
tions of astrology. Neither do geometric dimensions nor confutations
of arguments employed in rhetoric fall within their scope. Nor is
there ground for preaching, mixing human and divine in a motley
wherewith no Christian understanding should be clad. A writer has
but to make his chosen medium his own : as he disciplines himself
therein, so^much^the-moj^eperfect yyiUjis writingb^CAnd since the
sole intent of your book is to destroy the favour and position with
the vulgar enjoyed by the books of chivalry, your object should be,
not to beg opinions from philosophers, precepts from Scripture,
fables from poets, orations from rhetoricians, miracles from saints,
but to see to it that your phrase and period issue flowing and festive
in simple, pregnant, just and well-ordered words. Declare your
conceits and underlying purpose without confusion or mystification,
and so write that the melancholy will be moved to smiles, the merry
to laughter. Let the simple be not bored ; let the vdse admire its
invention, the grave not disparage nor the prudent fail to praise. In
fine, keep your attention fixed on your aim, that of demolishing the
ill-founded fabric of these knightly books, loathed by many yet lauded
by more. If you achieve this, your success will not be slight. '

In profound silence I listened to my friend, and was so impressed
by his argument that I accepted it then and there and adopted it for
this prologue. Whereby, gentle reader, thou dost see not only his
sense and my good fortune in this time of need but thine own
advantage in securing without twists and turnings the history of the
famous Don Quijote de La Mancha, who by all the dwellers of the
district of the plain of Montiel is deemed the purest lover and most
puissant knight seen in those parts this many a day. I would not
exaggerate my services in introducing thee to so revered and notable
a champion, but I should appreciate thy thanks for the knowledge
thou wilt have of the famous Sancho Panza his squire, in whom
methinks are epitomised all the squirely graces that lie scattered
throughout the swarming and savourless books of knighthood. With
this, God give thee health — not forgetting me — and farewell.

CHAPTER I

The character and calling of that famous gentleman
Don Quijote de La Mancha

IN a village of La Mancha, whose name I do not care to recall,
there lately lived one of those gentlemen that keep a lance
in the rack, an ancient shield, a rake of a horse and one lone
harrier-hound. 'A stew of rather more beef than mutton, usually
appearing at supper as a salad, lentils Friday, ' paunch and
penance ' Saturday and young pigeon as a delicacy on Sunday,
relieved him of three-fourths of his income ; while a doublet of
broadcloth with velvet breeches and slippers for feast-days and a
week-day livery of the finest homespun made away with the
rest. His family comprised a housekeeper past forty, a niece
under twenty and a yokel for field and mart, who saddled the
nag as nimbly as he handled the pruning-hook. The age of our
hidalgo ^bordered on fifty years, but though dry of visage and
spare of flesh he boasted a vigorous constitution, was a great
early-riser and a lover of the chase. Authors differ as to his
name, whether Quijada or Quesada, though there is reason to
suppose that it really was Quijana. But this matters little to
our story : enough that in its telling we swerve not a jot from
the truth.

Be it known, then, that his intervals of leisure (covering most
of the year) were employed by this gentleman in reading books
of chivalry, and with such devotion and delight that he scarce gave
a thought to the exercise of the chase or even to the management
of his estate. Indeed this mad passion so obsessed him that he
sold many acres of arable land for the purchase of these tomes,
which (as many as he could buy) he then brought home to read.
Of them all was he most taken with those composed by the
renowned Feliciano de Silva, whose lucidity of style (with all
its involutions) struck him as beyond praise — in particular the
letters of conquest (or of conge) where frequently he lit on periods

2 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA J.

such as : ' The reason of the folly done my reason so impaireth
my reason that with reason I complain of thy beauty ; ' and
again : ' The high heavens, which thanks to thy divinity divinely
fortify thee with the stars, make thee worthy of the merit thy
nobleness deserveth. ' Over such reasonings the poor man near
lost his reason, trying far into the night to embowel them of
theirs, which Aristotle himself could not have discovered had
he returned to life for that special purpose.

On the other hand our friend had small patience with the
wounds received (and inflicted) by Don Belianis, reflecting that
however deft the surgeons that healed them, his face and whole
body must needs have been left with many little scars and
tokens. None the less he commended the author for taking leave
with leave for another to end that interminable adventure, and
more than once the wish came to take up the pen and finish
it himself, and doubtless so he would have done and succeeded
with it too, had not bolder and more urgent thoughts constrained
him. He often debated with the village-priest (a learned man, a
graduate of Siguenza) as to which had been the finer cavalier,
Palmerin of England or Amadis of Gaul, but Master Nicholas
the barber maintained that none came up to the Knight of Phcebus,
unless perhaps Don Galaor — his was a nature ready for anything :
he was none of your finikin knights, nor a whimperer like his
brother Amadis, while in point of valour not a whit behind.

In a word this respected gentleman passed his nights from
twilight to dawn and his days from dawn to twilight entangled
in his books, till from little rest and much reading he muddled
his wits,,. which were filled with the fantasy of all that he read,
whether of enchantments, broils, battles, challenges, wounds,
wooings, amours, hurricanos, or of other the wildest absurdities.
And this fabric of fantastic dreams became so fixed in his fancy
that for him there was no more reliable history in the world.
Cid Ruy Diaz was, he granted, a most worthy cavalier, but not
to be mentioned with the Knight of Flaming Sword, who with
one back-stroke cut square in two a brace of huge and fearsome
giants. On even better terms was he with Bernardo del Carpio,
who at Roncesvalles throttled the enchanted Roland, after the

I HIS READING AND RESOLVE 3

manner of Hercules with Terra's son Antaeus. He also spoke
well of the giant Morgante, for whereas giants as a race are proud
and rude, Morgante alone was quite the reverse. But above and
beyond them all he delighted in Rinaldo of Montalvan, especially
when he saw him sally from his castle and rob everyone that
came his way, and when (as his history relates) in the land of the
Moors he made off with that idol of Mahomet, all of solid gold.
To give a round of kicks to the traitor Galalon he'ld have parted
with housekeeper and niece to boot.

Deprived thus of his better judgment our hero hit upon the
strangest fancy ever madman conceived, and this was that he
deemed it both proper and imperative, as well for the increase
of his honour as for the service of the state, that he turn knight-
errant and wander the world o'er with steed and arms in quest
of adventure, engaging in all that he had read knights-errant
engage in, redressing every manner of grievance and courting
perils and passes in whose surmounting he'ld win deathless
name and fame. The poor hidalgo already saw himself by his
arm's might crowned emperor of Trebizond at least, and in
his rare delight at so pleasant a prospect he hastened to effect
what had now become a life -resolve.

His first step was to furbish some armour belonging to his
great-grandfather and which, eaten with rust and mould, had
lain for ages forgotten in a corner. He scoured and adjusted the
various pieces as best he could, but he saw they had one grave
defect — the helmet had no visor. This lack his ingenuity sup-
plied by making one of cardboard, which, joined to the head-
piece proper, gave the effect of helmet entire. ' Tis true that to
prove it he drew blade and giving it two cuffs, with the first
undid in an instant the work of a week. The ease wherewith
he wrecked it could not but seem ill to him, and to secure
himself from further disaster he made it all over again with
little iron ribs inside, till satisfied of its strength without a
second proving, he commissioned and accepted it as a complete
and perfect helmet.

Our friend next looked to his horse, one with more sandcracks
than there are cuartos in a real and with more outs about him

4 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

than had Gonela's jade, that was so much skin and bones ; yet
to his master neither Alexander's Bucephalus nor the Gid's
Babieca seemed his equal. Four days he spent in choosing a
name for the beast, since (so he argued) the charger of so famous
a knight and one so excellent in himself would ill lack a recog-
nised appellation. He aimed therefore to procure one suggestive
of what the animal had been before he became the mount of an
errant as well as what he was now to be : it stood to reason that
since the master was changing his calling, the steed should
change his cognomen, getting him one pompous and high-sound-
ing, as comported with the new order and exercise he was about
to profess. Hence of the many names he constructed, dropped,
added to, tore to pieces and restored, he at last decided on
Rocin-ante, a word that seemed to him both lofty and sonorous,
and indicative of what the creature had been when but a forlorn,
work-a-day nag (rocin), before (antes) becoming what he now
was : the first and foremost (antes) of all the nags of the world.

With so pleasant a title for his steed, our knight's next wish
was to procure one for himself. Eight days were given up to this
consideration, with the issue that his choice fell on Don Quijote
(whence, as has been said, certain authors of this so very true
history would have it that surely his real name was Quijada,
not Quesada as others would affirm). But recollecting that the
worthy Amadis, not content with that dry name, made mention
of his country that he might bring it renown, styling himself
Amadis of Gaul, he too, like the good knight he was, desired
with the name of his native country as a tail to his own to be
proclaimed Don Quijote de La Mancha, whereby (as it seemed to
him) he declared unmistakeably his lineage and his land and
honoured the latter by so doing.

With armour cleansed, helmet reclaimed, horse christened and
himself confirmed, our champion saw that naught was lacking but
a maid of whom to be enamoured : for errant without lady-love is
a tree bare of leaves or fruit, a body and no soul. He would say :
' If by mischance or by good hap I stumble on some giant here-
abouts, as is the fashion with errant knights, and if unsaddling
him or slicing him in twain I vanquish and make him surrender.

II THE INN OR CASTLE 0

will it not be well to have someone to whom to send him as a gift,
that he may enter and kneeling before my sweet mistress say in
accents contrite and humble : ' I am the giant Caraculiambro,
lord of the island Malindrania, o'erthrown in single combat by
the never-adequately-praised Don Quijote de La Mancha, who
bids me present myself before your worship that your highness
may dispose of me according to your pleasure. ' '

O how pleased with himself was our good knight when delivered
of this speech, and still more when he found one to call his
lady fair ! It seems that in a village near his own dwelt a comely
peasant-girl for whom he once cherished feelings, though it would
appear she never knew it or cared a fig. Aldonza Lorenzo was
she on whom he thought well to bestow the title of mistress of
his thoughts. And casting about for a name that would not
greatly belie her own and at the same time sort and square with
that of princess and great lady, he hit upon Dulcinea del Toboso
(el Toboso being her native town) : a name that seemed to him
musical, self-evident and rare, like all the others he had chosen
for himself and his outfit.

CHAPTER II

The first sally of this imaginative gentleman
from his native village

Now that his preparations were complete, our knight would
brook no tarriance in effecting his design, impelled by the
feeling of the want its postponement was causing in the world,
such were the grievances he meant to redress, wrongs right,
follies correct, abuses mitigate and obligations discharge. And so,
acquainting no one of his resolve, unseen of any, before the dawn
of a hot July day he donned armour and ill-fashioned helmet,
mounted Rocinante, embraced shield, seized lance and through
the postern of his corral sallied forth onto the open plain, tasting
the greatest satisfaction and delight on seeing with what ease he
had embarked on his good emprize.

6 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

But scarce did he find himself out on that table-land, when a
terrible thought assailed him, and one that all but nipped his
venture in the bud. He suddenly woke to the fact that he hadn't
been dubbed a knight ; that accordingly, in compliance with the
laws of chivalry, he neither should nor could bear arms against
a cavalier, and that even had he been so dubbed, as a novice he
must carry his armour white, with no device on his shield till
his valour earned him one. These considerations made him stag-
ger in his purpose, but as his lack of reason prevailed over every
other, he determined to be made a knight by the first he came
across, in imitation of many before him, even as he had read in
the books that held him in thrall. Touching the white armour he
thought, come the chance, to scour his own whiter than ermine.
With this be quieted down and continued on his way, letting his
steed take which he would, for therein he deemed lay the very
spirit of adventure.

As he ambled along, our new-born champion communed with
himself and said : ' Who doubts that in years to come, when the
true narrative of my famous deeds leaps to light and the sage-
chronicler comes to relate this my first sally so early in the morn-
ing, who, I ask, doubts that he will describe it in this manner :
' Scarce had the refulgent Apollo spread the golden tresses of his
hair over the face of the broad and spacious earth, and scarce
had the little painted birds with their lyric tongues proclaimed in
sweet and mellifluous harmony the coming of the flushed Aurora
as she, leaving the soft couch of her jealous husband, revealed
herself through the doorways and balconies of the Manchegan
horizon, when the renowned knight Don Quijote de La Mancha,
forsaking his downy bed of ease, mounted his far-famed Rocin-
ante and rode forth over the ancient and celebrated plain of
Montiel ; ' which was in truth where his journey lay.

And he continued, saying : ' Happy age and happy time in
which shall be blazoned abroad my famous deeds, worthy to be
graven on brasses, chiselled on marbles and painted on tablets
for future remembrance. O thou cunning magician, whosoever
thou art to whose fortune it shall fall to chronicle this rare story,
prithee forget not my good Rocinante, my eternal companion in

II

THE INN OR CASTLE

all my callings and quests. ' Then he struck a new strain, mur-
muring as if truly enamoured : ' O princess Dulcinea, ruler of
this captive heart, grievous wrong hast thou done, censuring and
spurning me with cruel mandate not to appear before thy beauty.
Deign to bethink thee of this submissive heart, lady, that endures
how many sorrows for thy love. ' With these he strung other
extravagances, all after the manner of those which his books had
taught him, imitating as best he could their very language.

Thus communing with himself our knight travelled so slowly
and the sun mounted so apace, the heat was enough to melt his
wits, were any there. Quite all that day he ambled along, yet
naught befell him worthy the notice, and at this he nigh de-
spaired, expecting at the very outset to run against one upon
whom to prove the valour of that puissant arm. Some authors
name Puerto Lapice as his first adventure, others the adventure
of the windmills, but the truth is (and this I have verified and
found so written in the annals of La Mancha) he kept saddle till
toward everung, when his nag and he were sore fatigued and
nearly dead of hunger. Casting about on the chance of discov-
ering some castle or shepherd's hut to relieve his great want, not
far off he espied an inn, which like a star was to lead him not
to the porch alone but to the very palace of his salvation. He
pricked steed and drew near just as the evening was closing in.

As each new thing he thought, saw or imagined, assumed the
semblance of something he had met with in his reading, so this
tavern instantly loomed a castle with four corner-towers and
silver-shining pinnacles ; nor was drawbridge lacking or deep
moat or any of the appurtenances wherewith such strongholds
are depicted. A stone's throw from this inn or castle our advent-
urer drew rein, looking for some dwarf upon the battlements to
announce with trumpet that knight was approaching. But seeing
there was delay and that Rocinante was restless for supper, he
rode toward the tavern-gate, where chanced to be standing two
women-adventurers, on their way to Seville with some carriers
passing the night there. Our cavalier immediately supposed
them maidens or gracious matrons solacing themselves on the
castle- ward.

8 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

Now at this juncture a swineherd, gathering in from the
stubble a drove of hogs (without your pardon be they named),
chanced to blow his born, the signal for them to herd. Don
Quijote, supposing this the dwarf announcing his arrival, with
rare content rode toward the women. But they, seeing and
fearing this man in full armour with lance and shield, turned
to seek refuge within, till the other, divining their fear from their
flight, lifting his cardboard visor, half-revealed his lean and
dusty face and in subdued tones thus addressed them : ' Let not
your worships flee or fear aught of injury, since it pertains to
the order of chivalry I profess to wrong nobody, least of all
damsels of the rank your presence declares. '

The women had stayed to make out his features, which the
sorry visor half-concealed, but on hearing themselves called
damsels, a word so foreign to their station, they couldn't forbear
laughter, to the extent that Don Quijote flew^ off the handle
saying : ' Courtesy befits the fair and laughter proceeding from
slight cause is folly. I don't say this to vex or rouse ill-will,
since mine is no other than to serve you. ' Such language was
Greek to these ladies and the poor figure cut by our knight did
but increase their mirth, his annoyance. Things would have gone
from bad to worse had not now come on the scene the innkeeper,
who, excessively fat, was a lover of peace, and though, on
beholding that scarecrow with trappings, shield and corselet so
out of keeping with his manner of riding, he almost seconded
the women's unsurpressed amusement, startled as he was by the
warlike appearance of our champion, he deemed it best to
speak civilly and so said : ' If your worship, sir knight, seek
lodging, here you'll find it and to spare — all save a bed for there
is none. '

Don Quijote, marking the amenity of the stronghold's governor
(such he thought him), replied : * For myself, sir castellano
(governor), aught is enough, since

Of arms my habit's made
And flghting's my repose. '

Now his host thought that in addressing him as castellano he

ir

THE INN OR CASTLE

meant to suggest ' a sly old fox of Castile, ' a thief in disguise in
other words, whereas he really hailed from Andalusia, from the
shore of San Lucar, not less a robber than Gacus, nor less a
rogue than student or page. So he answered : ' In that event

Shall bed on rocks be laid
And eyes in sleep ne'er close,

since your worship may alight with the certainty of finding in
this humble dwelling cases and causes of not sleeping the whole
year through, to say nothing of one night. ' With this he held
the stirrup for our hero, who dismounted with real labour,
having fasted all that day. He asked that extra care be taken of
Rocinante, the finest bit of horse-flesh that ever ate bread. The
innkeeper glanced the animal over but did not think him so good
as his master had said, nay, not by half. He put him in the stable
however and returned to attend to the wishes of his guest.

The damsels, who had made their peace, were in the midst of
disarming him. They had removed breast-plate and shoulder-
piece but couldn't loosen the gorget and counterfeit helmet, tied
together with green ribbon whose knots wouldn't undo and
Don Qnijote wouldn't hear of their being cut. So all that night
he remained with head-piece on, the oddest and most ludicrous
figure conceivable. "While these rough women were divesting
him, our adventurer, taking them for fine ladies attached to the
castle, with a deal of manner thus addressed them :

' By dames so well watched o'er
A knight was never seen
As, since he left his door,
Has Don Quijole been :
Him maids provided for,
Princesses his rocin —

or Rocinante, the name, your highnesses, of my steed, and Don
Quijote de La Mancha mine. Though I had wished not to be
known till the deeds done in your service and behalf made me,
the need of adapting this old ballad concerning Lancelot to the
present occasion discovered me aforetime. But the day will come

10 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA •*■

when your ladyships shall ask and I obey, and the valour of
mine arm make plain my desire to serve you. '

The women, unused to such rhetoric, replied not a word save
to ask would he eat. ' Anything, for methinks 'twill be much to
the purpose. ' Now it chanced to be Friday and the only food in
the tavern was some portions of a certain fish called in Castile
poor-jack, ling in Andalusia, in some districts cod and in others
small-cod. So they asked would his worship perhaps relish some
small-cod, and were answered : ' Many small-cod will serve for
a salmon-trout, since 'tis the same whether they give me eight
single reals or a piece of eight ; the more that these small-cod
may resemble the calf, which is better eating than the cow, even
as the kid than the goat. But whatever it be, fetch it at once, for
the work and weight of arms can't be borne on empty stomach. '

They placed a table before the inn-door for coolness and the
keeper brought the knight a piece of ill-soaked and worse cooked
cod-fish, together with some bread as black and mouldy as his
armour. Merry thing it was to see him eat, for with helmet on
and visor over his mouth, one of the women must needs help
feed him. Likewise was he unable to drink, till the keeper,
boring a cane and putting one end between his teeth, poured the
wine in at the other. And this Don Quijote patiently endured
rather than have them cut the ribbons of his casque. While all
were thus busy, arrived a boar-gelder who, as he approached,
sounded four or five notes on an instrument of reeds. This was
the last touch necessary to assure our errant he was at some
famous castle where they regaled him with music. Now was he
certain that the cod were salmon-trout, the bread white, the
women ladies and the innkeeper the keeper of the stronghold.
So he could not but regard his purpose and pilgrimage as happily
begun. Only one thing distressed him : to find himself not
dubbed, feeling as he did that lawfully he might not tax himself
with any adventure till he had received the order of knighthood.

Ill

THE DUBBING 11

CHAPTER III
The delightful way our friend chose for being knighted

HARRAssED by thls thought Don Quijote shortened his pot-
luck and limited meal. Calling the innkeeper he closeted
himself in the stable with him and kneeling said : ' Never shall
I rise from where I kneel, worthy knight, unless your courtesy
promise to grant the boon I seek, which will redound to your
own praise and the good of mankind. ' The other, seeing his
guest at his feet and hearing this declaration, was confounded
and stood looking at him, not knowing what to do or say. He
endeavoured to get him to rise but in vain till he had given his
word as to the desired boon. ' I looked for no less from your
great magnificence, and I make known that the gift I seek and
of your large heart granted, is that to-morrow you dub me a
cavalier. To-night in the chapel of this your castle I shall watch
mine arms and on the morrow as I have said shall be fulfilled
what I so strongly desire, that I may wander, as is fitting, over
the four quarters of the globe in search of adventures on behalf
of the needy — the office of chivalry and of knights-errant like
myself that are inclined to such deeds. '

The keeper as already hinted was a knowing rogue and ere this
had suspected his guest's judgment to be clouded, and though
now certain he decided to humour him and thus provide for the
evening's entertainment. So he answered that this was a most
just request and that such a fancy was both proper and natural
for errants of the high rank he seemed and his genteel presence
showed him to be ; that himself in his youth had practised that
honourable calling, wandering in seach of adventures in sundry
parts of the world, not forgetting the Curing-Grounds near Malaga,
the Isles of Riaran, the Compass-Quarter of Seville, the Little-
Mart of Segovia, the Olive-Plaza in Valencia, the Walls in
Granada, the Shore ofSanLiicar, Cordova's Colt-Fountain, the

12 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

Stalls of Toledo and divers other places, where he had exercised
lightness of hands and feet, commiting numberless offences,
soliciting various widows, wronging a maiden or two, cheatmg
minors, in a word coming in contact with well-nigh all the courts
and tribunals of Spain ; but he had ended by taking up his abode
in this his castle, where on his own and others' fortunes he now
lived, welcoming there all knights-errant, no matter what their
quality or status, simply from the great affection he bore them
and that they might share their possessions with him in return
for his good- will.

He went on to say that for the present the castle was minus a
chapel for watching arms, for the old one had been torn down to
be built anew, but he assured Don Quijote that in case of neces-
sity they could rightfully be watched wherever he pleased. There
was an open castle-court where he might keep his vigil for the
night, and in the morning, God consenting, they would execute
the appropriate ceremonies and the other would emerge a dubbed
knight and such an one that there couldn't be more of a knight in
the world. He asked his guest had be any silver about him, and
the other told him not a coin, for he had never read in tales
about knights-errant that they carried such a thing. The innkeeper
said that in this he was deceived : authors of these books didn't
specify it, feeling there could be no occasion to mention such
obvious needments for a journey as bandages and cash. But one
should not infer that knights did without them ; indeed he should
consider it proved beyond cavil that all those errants, to whose
existence so many books testify in extenso, carried purses well
lined for any emergency.

They also carried lint, the innkeeper declared, and a little
chest filled with ointments for healing of wounds, for out there
on the plains and deserts where they fought and sustained injuries
there couldn't always be someone around to attend to them,
unless they had a sage-magician for a friend who, in that case,
would come to their relief instantly, bearing through the air on
a cloud damsel or dwarf with flask of water of such virtue that
with just a drop the knights became as cured of their sores and
wounds as if they had had none. But were they not favoured

Ill THE DUBBING 13

with such friends, the errants of the past took it for granted that
their squires came provided with money and other necessities
such as bandages and liealing salves. And if they couldn't boast
squires even, which was rare indeed, themselves carried every-
thing in cunning wallet back of the saddle almost hidden from
view, as if 'twere something else of greater respect, for, save
in emergencies of this kind, the carrying of wallets was frowned
on by the order. He advised him therefore, indeed, as the other
was so soon to be his god-child, he might command him, to
proceed no further without money and the stated requirements,
since he would see when least expected how well it was to have
them on hand.

To all this Don Quijote promised strictly to adhere and the
keeper thereupon ordered the vigil to be kept in a large corral at
the side of the inn. Our novice gathered his arms and laid them
on a trough near a well, and embracing shield and grasping lance
paced slowly back and forth ; and as be began to pace, the night
began to shut down. The keeper of the tavern told the folk inside
about his guest's aberration, the arms-vigil and knighthood-
dubbing that was to follow and they, marvelling at such strange
delusion, came to witness the spectacle at safe distance. They
found him pacing back and forth in quietude, but again he would
stop and leaning on lance gaze fixedly at his armour, long and
long. Though 'twas night now, the moon shone with sufficient
brightness to have vied with him that lent it her, and whatever
the new errant did could readily be seen by all.

Now at this juncture it befell that one of the carriers came to
get water for his mules, to do which it was necessary to remove
the arms from the trough. Don Quijote seeing him approach
exclaimed : ' Ho thou, whoever thou art, reckless knight, that
comest to touch the arms of the bravest errant ever girt on sword,
take heed, would thou not quit this life as guerdon for thy guile. '
The carrier took no heed (though better had he attended this
behest and attended himself in health) but instead seized the
armour by the straps and gave it a good fling. Beholding this,
Don Quijote raised his eyes aloft and cried (directing his thoughts
to his lady Dulcinea) : ' Lend me thine aid, lady mine, in this

14 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA •■■

the first affront offered thine enthralled heart. Let not thy favour
and protection forsake me in this initial crisis. ' With these
words and more like them he dropped shield and raising lance
gave the carrier a swingeing blow on the head, laying him so flat
that had another followed the poor chap would have had no use
for a leech. This done our novice collected his armour and paced
baclTandlbrth with the same tranquillity as at first.

After short space another carrier, ignorant of what had occured
(for the first lay unconscious), came with like intent of watering
his mules. As he approached to remove the armour from the
trough, Don Quijote again, and this time without words and
imploring favour of none, dropped shield, raised lance and broke
not it but the carrier's head into more than three parts for it
opened up in quarters. All, including the innkeeper, at once
came on the run to the scene of trouble, but the knight at their
advance raised shield again and putting hand to sword cried :
' O mistress of beauty, vigour and virtue of my enfeebled heart,
now is the moment to turn thy ladyship's eyes toward this thy
captive lord whom so great an adventure is awaiting ; ' which
invocation seemed to instil such fresh courage in his breast that
he wouldn't have taken a step backward for all the carriers in the
world.

The comrades of the wounded, seeing them so, from afar began
to shower stones on the assailant who, covering himself with his
shield as he could, ventured not to leave the trough lest he seem
to forsake the armour. The keeper called to the carriers to quit
— hadn't he told them the man was mad and being mad could
kill them all with impunity ? Likewise Don Quijote in still
louder voice denounced them as recreant traitors and named the
lord of the castle villain and base-born knight in allowing errant
guests to experience such treatment, adding that had he received
the order of chivalry, he'ld make him understand this breach of
trust. ' But of you, you low-lived rabble, I make no account.
Gome throw your stones and injure me as you can ; you'll soon
find reward for your insult and folly. ' This was said with such
utter fearlessness that his adversaries quailed, and therefrom no
less than from their host's warning ceased their attack. Don

Ill THE DUBBING IS

Quijote left them to carry off their wounded and himself returned
to his vigil, calm and untroubled as before.

The innkeeper didn't fancy his guest's jokes and hoping to
cut them short determined to give him the benighted order of
chivalry at once, before another disaster should befall. Walking
to Don Quijote he tried to exculpate himself from that base
crew's insolence, professing entire ignorance save that they were
roundly punished for their temerity. As he had already informed
him, the castle didn't boast a chapel, but a chapel after all
wouldn't be of much use for what remained to be done. The
whole business of being dubbed, according to his understanding
' of the ceremonial, consisted in a cuff on the neck and a blow with
the flat of the sword on the shoulder and these could be given
in the middle of a field. Our candidate had fulfilled, he said, the
requirement of watching arms : only two hours were necessary
and he had been over four. His pupil swallowed all and said he
was ready to obey him then and there, urging the greatest pos-
sible despatch, for if he were attacked a second time and found
himself knighted, he didn't think to leave a person in that castle
alive, save such as he might spare at the request of and out of
respect to its lord.

Forewarned and fearful of such catastrophe, the keeper quickly
brought from the inn a book wherein he hept account of straw
and barley used by carriers, and accompanied by the two women
and a small boy bearing a candle-end, approached the applicant.
Commanding him to kneel he muttered something behind his
manual as if in devout prayer and midway raising his hand gave
him a sound whack on the neck, following it with blow royal on
the shoulder with the flat of his sword, all the time muttering
between his teeth as if praying. This done he ordered one of the
women to gird on the blade, which she did with great sobriety
and self-control, though at every point all were on the verge of
laughter, and only the recollection of the prowess just displayed
by the new knight restrained them.

In fastening the sword the good woman said : ' God make thy
worship a most venturesome knight and grant thee fortune in
battle. ' Don Quijote enquired her name that therafter he might

16 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA '

know to whom he was beholden for the favour received, since
he purposed to bestow upon her some portion of the honour his
strong arm was to reap him. She answered most humbly that
she was known as La Tolosa, the daughter of a Toledan cobbler
of the stall of Sancho Bienaya, but that wherever she might be,
she would serve him as her lord. The knight asked that for love
she do him the favour of assuming the Don and thereafter style
herself Dona Tolosa ; which she promised to do. The other
woman buckled his spurs and the same colloquy passed as with
her of the sword. He asked her name and was told La Molinera,
her father a respected miller of Antequera. He requested her
likewise to assume the Don and call herself Dona Molinera,
offering his further services and good- will.

Now that with breathless speed this unprecedented ritual was
concluded, our late-born champion scarce could wait to find him-
self ahorse and on' the road in quest of adventure. Accordingly
he saddled Rocinante and mounted, and embracing his host made
such extraordinary speeches by way of thanks that 'tis impossible
accurately to set them down. Seeing him well outside, the
innkeeper with no less rhetoric but in fewer words made reply
and not asking pay for his lodging gave him hearty farewell.

CHAPTER IV
Our knight's experiences after quitting the inn

'rpwAS early dawn when Don Quijote rode forth from the inn,
_L so contented, thrilled and jubilant at finding himself a
knight, his joy was like to burst his horse's girth. But recollecting
the landlord's advice as to requisites for the road, in particular
money and lint, he decided to turn home and get a complete
outfit, including a squire, slating a peasant neighbour of his, poor
and with children but otherwise well suited to that office. He
therefore headed Rocinante home, who, as if scenting old haunts,
started off so briskly that his feet appeared barely to touch the
ground.

IV ANDRES THE MERCHANTS 17

The two had not gone far when the rider thought he heard in
the thick coppice on his right a voice as of a person pleading,
and then and there he exclaimed : ' I give thanks to Heaven for
the favour it shows in laying so promptly before me opportunities
whereby I can fulfil mine obligations to my calling and gather
the fruits of my worthy aims. This voice proceeds no doubt
from a person in distress, some man or woman that requires my
succour and assistance. ' He guided Rocinante toward the sounds
and soon discovered a mare tied to a holm-oak and a boy about
fifteen lied to another, naked to the waist. He it was that was
making outcry and not without cause, for a lusty farmer was
belting him, accompanying each stroke with reproof and precept
saying : ' Wide eyes and tight mouth ; ' while the lad kept
crying : ' I'll not do so again, master ; by the passion of God I
won't. I swear I'll take better care of the flock. '

Don Quijote, observing all, called in angry voice : ' Impudent
knight, it looks ill to attack one that can't defend himself. Mount
and take lance (one was standing against the tree to which the
mare was tied), that I may expose the dastardly trick you are
playing. ' The farmer, seeing an armed figure brandish a lance
over him, gave himself up for dead and with humble words made
answer : ' Sir knight, this boy I flog I hired to watch a flock of
ewes hereabouts, but he proves so careless that every day one is
missing, and because I punish his negligence, or roguery it may
be, he says I do it out of miserliness to avoid wages, and 'fore
God and on my soul he lies. ' ' How dare you utter such libel in
my presence, vile villein ! ' quoth Don Quijole ; ' by the sun that
gives us light I have a mind to pass you through with this lance.
Pay him without a word, or by the God that rules I'll transfix
you to your death. Unbind him instantly I say I '

The farmer hung his head and attempting no reply unbound
the lad, whom Don Quijote questioned as to what his master
owed. ' For nine months at seven reals a month. ' Don Quijote
making the calculation and finding it came to sixty-three reals
ordered the farmer to lay down the money on pain of death.
The terrified countryman replied that by the pass in which he
found himself and by the oath he had already sworn (though he

2

18 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA I

had sworn to nothing) the debt was not that large, since three
pairs of shoes and a real for two blood-lettings when the lad lay
sick were to be deducted. ' Well and good, ' said the knight ;
' pair off the shoes and blood-lettings with these undeserved
stripes. If he broke through the hide of the shoes, you have
broken through that of his body, and if the barber drew blood
in sickness, you have drawn it in health, so that on either score
he owes you nothing. '

' The deuce of it is, sir knight, I haven't the money here.
Let Andres come home and I'll pay him to the real. ' ' I go home
with him ! ' exclaimed the lad ; ' O year of woe ! sire, 'tis not to
be thought of, for the moment he has me alone, he'll flay me
like Saint Bartholomew. ' ' Nay, nay, ' said his deliverer ; ' that
I command is enough that he shall obey, and provided he swear
by the order of chivalry he has received, letting him go I'll
guarantee the payment. ' ' May your worship listen to what you
say, ' returned the lad ; ' my master is no knight nor has he
received any order of chivalry — he's only Juan Haldudo the
rich of Quintanar. ' 'What of that?' responded Don Quijote;
' Haldudos can be knights and gentlemen ; the more that every-
man is the son of his works. ' ' True enough, ' said Andres, ' but
of what works is my-master the son when he withholds pay for
the sweat of my brow ? ' ' I don't withhold it, brother Andres, '
put in the farmer ; ' give me the pleasure of your company and
I sWear by all the orders of chivalry in the world to pay you as
I said, real by real and all perfumed. '

' Keep the perfumery, ' said Don Quijote ; ' pay in reals and
I shall be content. But take care to do as you have sworn or by
that same oath I swear to return, hunt you out and punish you,
though you hide closer than a lizard. Would you know who
gives this command, that you may be the more bound to obey
it, behold the valerous Don Quijote de la Mancha, avenger of
insults and injuries. God be with you and may you forget not
the promise and oath under pain of the penalty pronounced ; ' so
saying he spurred Rocinante and soon had left them behind.
The farmer followed with his eyes till the knight had quit the
wood, and then turning to his servant said : ' Gome hither, my

IV ANDRES THE MERCHANTS 19

son, that I may pay what I owe, as commanded by this avenger
of wrongs. ' And Andres : ' I swear you will do well in obeying
such a good knight. May he live a thousand years, since he's
a worthy and fearless judge. By Roque, but he'll return and do
what he threatens, if you don't pay me. ' ' I swear so too, ' said
the farmer, ' but I love you so well that I wish to increase the
debt in order to increase the pay. ' And seizing the lad's arm he
tied him again to the holm-oak and lashed him nearly to his
death. ' Gall on the redresser of injuries now, Mister Andres,
and you'll find he doesn't undo this one, though I believe it
not wholly done, for I've a mind to flay you alive even as you
feared. ' But instead he set him free, giving him leave to seek out
his judge that he might execute the sentence pronounced. Andres
left him in dudgeon, swearing to go in search of the valerous
Don Quijote de La Mancha and rehearse to him point by point
what had passed, and all would be paid sevenfold. But he was
sobbing when they parted, and the farmer laughing.

Thus did the gallant adventurer right this wrong ; but he of
course was more than content at what had taken place, deeming
it a high and happy beginning to his chivalrous deeds. With
great complacency he rode toward home, saying half-aloud :
' Well mayst thou call thyself blest above all living, O thou fair
above the fair, Dulcinea del Toboso, since it sorted to thee to
hold subject and obsequious to thine every wish and will so
valiant, so renowned a knight as is and shall be Don Quijote de
La Mancha who, as all the world knows, only yesterday received
the order of chivalry, and to-day has righted the direst wrong
and injury ever injustice concocted or cruelty performed, wrest-
ing the scourge from his heartless foe who so without reason
was flogging a delicate child. ' Having now arrived where four
roads met, the knight straightly bethought him of the cross-roads
where errants were wont to place themselves that they might
cast in their minds which one to take, and in imitation thereof
our errant now delayed a while. When he had thought it all out,
he lent the reins to his steed, subjecting his own to Rocinante's
will, which led him, as at first, straight toward his stable.

Again had they gone about two miles when Don Quijote

20 DON QCIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

descried a company of horsemen, who later appeared Toledan
traders en route to Murcia to buy silk. They were six, each
under a parasol, together with four mounted servants and three
mule-servants afoot. Scarce had our knight observed them when
he imagined this a fresh adventure, and to emulate as far as
possible the various feats of arms described in his books, he
intended now to introduce one that, he felt, fitted like a glove.
To this end, assuming an easy air of courage he planted himself
firmly in the stirrups, tightened his hold on lance, drew shield
over breast and taking stand in the middle of the road awaited
these knightly-adventurers, as he held and judged them to be.
When they were near enough to see and hear him, with haughty
gesture he cried : ' Let all the world halt, if all the world do
not acknowledge there's not in all the world a maiden more
beautiful than the empress of La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea
del Tobosa. '

On hearing these words the merchants halted and when they
beheld the scarecrow figure that uttered them, his demeanour
and demand at once showed them that the person responsible
for them was not responsible for himself. They were anxious
nevertheless more leisurely to learn why such confession was
sought, and one, a bit of a wag and shrewd withal, spoke up and
said : ' Sir knight, we know not the lady fair you refer to.
Discover her, and if she prove as beautiful as you say, with
pleasure and without reward we shall acknowledge the truth of
your assertion. ' ' Should I show you her, ' said Don Quijote,
' what profit in the acknowledgment of a truth so obvious ?
The thing is without sight of her you must acknowledge and
believe it, affirm, swear and defend it, or fight, you unnatural
and presumptuous louts. Whether you come singly, as the order
of chivalry craves, or all together, as is the custom and vulgar
usage of your breed, here I expect and await you, trusting in the
right on my side. ' ' Sir kinight, ' replied the other, ' that we
may not burden our consciences by vouching for a thing we've
neither seen nor heard, and which moreover is strongly to the
prejudice of the empresses and queens of Alcaria and Estrama-
dura, on behalf of all these princes I pray your worship may

* * ANDRES THE MERCHANTS , 21

be pleased to show us a portrait of the lady, for, tliough it be no
larger than a grain of wheat, by the thread one comes to know
the reel : we shall rest satisfied and safe, you contented and
acquitted. Indeed methinks we're already so much on her side
that though her likeness represent her asquint of one eye and
distilling vermillioa and brimstone from the other, for your sake
we should say in her favour all that you asked. '

' She distils nothing of the kind, ye dogs ! ' exclaimed our
knight in towering rage ; ' she distils naught but ambergris and
civet in cotton; nor is she crook-eyed or crook-backed but
straighter than the spindle of the Guadarrama mountains. But
you shall answer for this great blasphemy against the boundless
beauty of my lady-love. ' Saying this he drove at their spokes-
man with levelled lance and with such sudden fury that if by
good chance Rocinante had not stumbled and fallen in mid-
career, the rash merchant would have fared ill. But the steed
fell and sent his rider rolling a good space along the road. The
latter tried repeatedly to rise but the weight of the old armour,
with that of lance, shield, spurs and helmet, hindered him and
held him down. In this vain endeavour to regain his feet he
kept crying : ' Flee not, cowards ! flee, not, caitifis ; stand ! not
I but my horse is why I am stretched out here. '

One of the mule-servants, who couldn't have been any too
good-natured, hearing such arrogance from the poor fallen one,
could not suffer it without giving him answer in the ribs. Coming
up, he seized the lance, and breaking it into several pieces, with
one began to administer such swinge^ to our Don Quijote that
despite the armour he ground him like grain. His masters cried
out for him to desist, but the fellow was piqued and wouldn't
quit the game till he had staked all his fury. Availing himself of
the other lance-pieces he expended them all on the miserable
challenger, who amid all this tempest of sticks kept threatening
the vengeance of heaven and earth against these brigands, as he
now considered them. The servant at last exhausted himself and
the merchants jogged on, not wanting matter for talk on their
way. When he of whom they spoke found himself alone, he
again attempted to rise, but if he could not when whole and

22 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

sound, how could he beaten to bits and well-nigh undone ! Even
so, he counted himself happy, esteeming this a misventure
appropriate to knights-errant ; moreover he attributed all to the
shortcoming of his steed. But rise he certainly could not, since
his body was one bruise.

CHAPTER V
A continuance of the narrative of our knight's humiliation

SEEING of a surety that he could not help himself, our hero
resorted to his usual remedy of recalling some episode in
his books, and his madness brought to his mind the case of
Baldwin and the Marquis of Mantua when the former was left
wounded on the mountain by Garloto — a tale familiar to child-
ren, not unknown to youths, praised and even believed by old
men, yet no more fact than the miracles of Mahomet. That affair
seemed to Don Quijote to come pat to his predicament, and as
in great agony he rolled along the ground, with broken breath
he began to repeat the words of the wounded Knight of the
Wood:

Where canst' thou be, beloved heart.
That for my plight thou dost not grieve ?
Either in ignorance thou art
Or thou art false and dost deceive.

In this manner he continued as far as the lines :

O noble Marquis of Mantua,
Mine uncle and lord in the flesh,

when it chanced that there passed a peasant (a neighbour of the
knight) who had been with a load of wheat to the mill. Behold-
ing this man lying there, he approached and asked his name and
why he thus sadly lamented. But Don Quijote, taking him for
his uncle the Marquis of Mantua, made no reply, continuing the
ballad where it tells of his humiliation, together with the amours
of the emperor's son and his wife, word for word as the romance

V THE MARQUIS OF MANTUA 23

relates. The peasant stood listening to and marvelling at this
nonsense till, removing the visor, which had been demolished
by the blows, and wiping the dust from the poor man's face,
at once recognising him he exclaimed : ' Seiior Quijada ! ' (the
name by which he was known before he lost his reason and
turned from a gentleman at ease to a knight of the road) ' and
what has brought you to this pass ? ' But the other let the ballad
answer each question that was put.

So there was naught for the good man to do but remove the
knight's breast-plate and shoulder-piece as best he could ; but no
blood or sign of wound was discoverable. He managed to lift
him from the ground and after not a little labour lay him on his
ass, which seemed the easier of the two mounts. Gathering up
the arms, even to the fragments of the lance, he fastened them on
Rocinante, whom he then led by the bridle and his ass by the
halter toward their village, sadly troubled by the wild talk of
the challenger, who was no less in grief since, pounded and
broken to pieces, he could not keep position, still sighing heaven-
ward in a way that caused the peasant again to enquire as to his
troubles. But it seemed as if Satan reminded the poor man of
stories that sorted with his situation for, losing sight of Baldwin,
he bethought him of how the governor of Antequera, Rodrigo
de Narvaez, captured the Moor Abindarraez and brought him
prisoner to his fortress. So when the peasant now asked, the
knight answered in the words employed by Abindarraez in his
reply to Rodrigo, as told in the Diana of Jorge de Montemayor ;
and so apposite did he make it that the peasant wished himself
to the devil for listening to such a harvest of absurdities. Glean-
ing from it all that his neighbour had gone mad, he hastened to
their village that he might be rid of the confusion caused by this
long harangue.

At the end of this last tale Don Quijote said : ' Seiior Don
Rodrigo de Narvaez, your worship is to know that the fair
Xarifa above named is not the rare Dulcinea del Toboso, she for
whom I have done, am doing and shall continue to do the most
famous deeds of knighthood the world has yet seen, now sees
or ever shall see. ' To which the peasant replied : ' Mark you.

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

sir, that, sinner thougli I be, I'm no Rodrigo de Narvaez nor
Marquis of Mantua, but your neighbour Pedro Alonso ; nor is
your worship Baldwin or Abindarraez bnt the respected gentle-
man Senor Quijada. ' ' I linow who I am and I know that I can
be not only those I have named but the Twelve Peers of France
and the Nine of Fame as well, since my deeds outweigh all
theirs, both what they did singly and in unison. '

Engaged in this and similar converse they reached the village,
just at dusk, but the peasant delayed a bit before entering, that
none might see how poor a horseman their battered townsman
made. When all was dark, he entered the place and the corral
of Don Quijote's house, which he found in great turmoil. The
priest and barber, the knight's great friends, were there, and the
honsekeeper at the top of her voice was saying : ' What think
you. Doctor Pedro Perez, of my master's strait ? Neither horse
nor rider nor shield, lance and armour has been seen these three
days. Misery of me but I think, and this is the truth as I was
born to die, that those cursed books of chivalry, which he reads
with never a let-up, have addled his wits. For I remember often
to have heard him say, addressing himself, that he longed to
turn errant and go through these worlds on the track of adven-
tures. May all such books be commended to Satan and Barabbas,
since they have wrecked the most delicate understanding in all
La Mancha. '

The niece said the same and more : ' Believe me, barber
Nicholas, not infrequently mine uncle would read in these
soulless books of disaventures two days and nights at a stretch,
and then throwing the volume from him would clap hand to
sword and go slashing the walls. At length, exhausted, he'ld say
he had killed four giants like four towers, calling his sweat the
blood of battle-wounds. Then would be drink a jug of cold
water and rest well and quiet again, saying the water was a
most precious balsam fetched by the sage Esquife, a great
magician and a friend of his. But the whole blame is mine, in
that I didn't advise your worships of mine uncle's frenzies, that
they might have been cured ere they reached this present pitch
and all those excommunicated books, whereof he has great num-

V THE MARQUIS OP MANTUA 25

ber, been set on fire, for they deserve to be burned like heretics.'
' I say no less, ' said the priest, ' and by my faith to-morrow
shall not pass without a public act being voted to condemn them
to the flames ; no longer shall they cause whoever reads them to
do what my good friend must have done. '

The peasant and Don Quijote were outside listening to all this.
Thereby the former came to know for certain the nature of the
.latter's malady, so now he called : ' Open, your worships, to
Senor Baldwin and Senor Marquis of Mantua, who comes sorely
wounded ; open too to Senor Moor Abindarraez, whom the
worthy Rodrigo de Narvaez, Governor of Antequera, leads
captive. ' At this they rushed out and recognising some their
friend, others their master and uncle, ran to embrace him, though
not yet dismounted from the ass — for he was helpless. ' Hold
all, ' he cried, ' for I come sadly wounded through my steed's
default. Garry me to bed and if possible call in the sage Urganda
to inspect and heal my wounds. ' ' May I be cursed, ' quoth the
housekeeper, ' if my heart didn't tell me truly on which foot my
master limped. Dismount, sir, and welcome home, for we shall
know how to cure you without any of your ganders. The devil
take, I say again and a hundred times more, the books that have
done you this ill. '

They straightway carried him to bed, but found no wounds
though he told them his whole body was one, having suffered a
great fall wiiith his steed Rocinante while fighting ten giants, the
boldest and most lawless that could be found in the greater
cantle of the world. ' Ha, ha ! ' nodded the priest, ' so there are
giants in the dance?' They asked a thousand questions but his
only answer was that they must give him something to eat and
lek him sleep, the thing he most needed. This they did and the
priest got a full account from the other of the finding of their
friend. The peasant told all, including the wild things he had
said both as he lay on the ground and on the road home. This
increased the priest's desire to do what he did next day, which
was first of all to get the barber to go with him to Don Quijote's
house.

IQ DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER VI

The high and mighty inquisition held by priest
and barber on the library of our imaginative gentleman

THE knight was still sleeping. The priest asked for the key •
of the room where were kept the books that had done the
nischief. The niece willingly gave it and all went in. There they
bund naore than a hundred well-bound large volumes and
lumerous small ones. No sooner did the housekeeper catch sight
)f them than she fled from the room, presently returning with a
jrock of holy-water and a bunch of hyssop, saying to the priest :

Take these, your worship, and sprinkle the room lest here lurk
iome magician, one of the many in these books, who might
juchant us for our seeking to oust them from the world. ' Smiling
it her credulity, the priest bade the barber hand him the books
singly that he might learn wereof they treated — he might find
iome undeserving judgment by fire. ' None deserves pardon, '
jleaded the niece, ' since all are offenders. 'Twere well to throw
iveryone of them into the inner-court and apply a light to the
leap, or better carry them to the corral where the smoke won't
rouble us. ' The housekeeper agreed — such was the pair's
pleasure in the slaughter of these innocents. But the priest
vouldn't consent till he had at least read the titles.

The first that Master Nicholas placed in his hands were the
bur volumes of Amadis of Gaul. ' Curious, ' said the priest, ' for
his was the first Eo5kn3f^ivalry_printedL in _Spain, they tell
ne, and from it sprang all "BBrothers" As founder of so'pernic-
ous a sect; methThFs' we should condemn it without apology to
he fire. ' ' On the contrary, ' replied the barber, ' 'tis the best,

have heard, of all the books of this character ; as alone in its
ilass therefore it should be pardoned. ' ' Right you are, ' said
he priest ; ' for the present at least its life shall be spared. What
s the one standing next it ? ' ' The Exploits of Esplandian,
egitimate son of Amadis of Gaul. ' ' The goodness of thTfother

VI ARRAIGNMENT OP THE BOOKS 27

availeth not the child, ' returned the priest ; ' open the window,
mistress housekeeper, and lay the foundation for the fire. ' With
a right good-will the woman obeyed and the worthy Esplandian
went flying into the yard to await with all patience his pending
doom.

' This next, ' said the barber, ' is Amadis_of_Greece and all
on that side are of the same Amadis breed. ' ' To the yard with
them, ' ordered the priest ; ' rather than not burn Queen Pinti-
quiniestra and the shepherd Darinel together with the eclogues
and the involved and bedevilled discourse of the author, I'ld
burn the father that begat me, did he masquerade as knight-
errant. ' ' I too, ' agreed the barber. ' And I, ' said the niece.
' Well then, ' chimed in the househeeper, ' let them come, and
away they go, ' she cried, as they handed them to her and she,
sparing the stairs, pitched them out of the window. ' What is
that tub ? ' asked the priest, and when the barber told him Don
Olivante de Laura, he said : ' The author of this book also wr&te
The^Garden^fFlowers, and 'tis dificult to tell which is the more
truthful, or better say, the less false. But of this I am certain
that for its fatuous pride it should go to the yard. ' And this, '
said the barber, ' is Florismarte jof Hyrcania. ' ' And is Seiior
Florismarte here ! ' exclaimed the priest ; ' then by my faith he
must soon be in the yard despite his miraculous birth and
extraordinary adventures ; his stiff barren style permits of naught
else. To the yard with him and the other, mistress housekeeper. '
' My pleasure, ' she answered, carrying out his wish with
despatch.

' Here is The Knight Platir. ' ' 'Tis an old book, ' the priest
declared, ' but I have yerto find aught that warrants absolution,
so let him join the others without protest ; ' and join them he
did. He opened another whereof he found the title, JThe Knight
of the Gross. ' For the sacredness of the name one mighTKrfive
itsstupidityTbut the saying is : The devil lurks — so away with
it to the fire. ' Taking up another the barber told him 'twas The
Mirror of KnightlyPeeds. ' I know his worship of old, ' offered
the priest ; ' Rinaldo of Montalvan appears in this book, together
with his friends and boon companions, worse robbers than

20 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 1

Gacus ; aad the Twelve Peers with their truthful story-teller
Turpin. I'm for condemning it to certainly no more than per-
petjjaL banishment, if only because it furnished material to Matteo
(Bbiardo^ and from it too the Christian poet Ludovico Afibstd)
s^unTms web. Him, were he here in another tongue, 1 khould
little respect, but if in his own, I'ld place him on my head. '
' Well, 'tis in the Italian I own him, ' vouchsafed the barber,
' but I confess I don't comprehend him. ' ' Nor were it well if
you did, ' returned the priest ; ' and we should have forgiven the
good Captain if he had not introduced him into Spain by dress-
ing him in Castilian. He robbed him of much of his native force,
as indeed do all that would turn verse into another tongue ;
however cunning and careful they be, the poems never have
the charm of the original. But to return : I feel that this and all
the books treating of those French affairs should be dropped
down a dry well and left, till we can examine and see what shall
be done with them, always excepting one Bernardo del Carpio
that is going about nowadays, and a book caUedTRoncesvalles,
These in coming to my hands are certain to pass into those of
the housekeeper and so to the fire without remission. ' Of all
this the barber approved : so assured was he that the priest was
too good a Christian and too much a friend of the truth to speak
else for all the world.

Opening another book the barber found it Palmerin de Oliva
and next Palmerin of England ; whereupon the priest remarked :
' Let this olive be hewn down and cast into the fire, till not
even the ashes remain, but let this English palm be spared and
preserved as a rare specimen, and let there be made a chest for
it such as Alexander found among the spoils of Darius, who
|kept the works of Homer therein. This book, my friend, pos-
sesses merit of two kinds. First, 'tis excellent in itself, and
secondly, according to report 'twas written by an intelligent
Portugese king. The episodes connected with Miraguarda's castle
are deftly contrived, the dialague is courteous and clear and very
perceivingly maintains the essential character of each speaker.
I feel therefore, saving Master Nicholas's good judgment, that
this and Amadis of Gaul should be saved the fire, but that the

VI ARRAIGNMENT OF THE BOOKS 29

rest should perish without further examination. ' ' Not so, friend
priest, ' replied the barber, ' for the book now in niy hand iTthe
celebrated Don BeTiams|'~TIve'inre,' said the priest, 'with his
second, tmrd and fourth parts needs a little rhubarb to purge
him of excess of bile. 'Twere well also to rid him of that rubbish
of the Castle of Fame and even worse nonsense, wherefor we
shall allow hinl certains days of grace and, as he is puritied
or not, so mercy or justice shall be dealt him. In the interval,
my friend, keep him in your house where none can read him. '
' Agreed, ' replied the other.

As the priest cared not to weary himself further with books
of chivalry, he bade the housemistress take all the larger volumes
and throw them into the yard. He spake to a person neither
deaf nor dull but more eager to destroy these books than weave
a piece of cloth however large or fine. Taking seven and eight.,
at a time, she pitched them out of the window. In this way one
fell at the feet of the barber who, picking it up, found it bore the
title. History of Famous Tirante the White. ' God help me ! '
quoth the priest ; ' and if here isn't Tirante. Hand it over, friend,
for verily niethinks therein have I found a treasure of content,
a mine'of diversion. In this book we meet with Don Kyrielson
of Montalvan, a worthy knight, together with his brother Thomas
of Montalvan and the cavalier Fonseca, not to mention the battle
the bold Tirante fought with the mastiff and the repartees of the
damsel Placer-de-mi-vida, with the intrigues and amours of the
widow Reposada and the tale of the empress enamoured of
Hippolito her squire. Truly, friend, by_right^ of style this is the
best book in the world. Here knights eat, sleep, die in bed, and
make their wilTs before the end, together with mucb else other
books of chivalry eschew. In my opinion this author is deserv
ing, for he didn't with open eyes write nonsense fit to send
him to the galleys for life. Take him home and read him and
you'll see I speak truth. '

' Good, ' said the barber ; ' but tell me, what disposal shall we
make of these little books ? ' ' They must contain poetry, not
chivalry, ' remarked the priest ; opening one he found the Diana
of Jorge de Montemayor, and supposing the others to be poetry as

30 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

well, he continued : ' These books don't deserve the fate of th®
others because, written for our amusement, they do not and will
not do th-e harm books of chivalry have done. ' ' Ah, sir, ' inter-
posed the niece, ' 'twere better to burn them with the rest or no
sooner will mine unclebe cured of his chivalry-ailment than like
enough, afteFfeadin^-atl these verses, he'll want to turn shepherd
and wander" through field and forest with pipe and song. And
' twould^JtrrWorse iflie" became a poet, a disease both infectious
and incurable Jhey. say. ' ' The girl is right, ' acknowledged the
priesTp 'twill be as well to save him from this pitfall. But as
to the Diana, methinks it shouldn't be burned ; merely shorn
rather of the passages dealing with the sage Felicifl and most of
the longer verse. The prose, and the honour of 'being.Jlifi.first
book of its kind, should be left it.'

0' The" nex^k^ne, ' said the barber, ' is Diana the second, by the
Salamancan.Wnd still ^nother of the same name by ffil Polo. '
' The one by the Salamancan may join and increase the number
of the damned, but the other, by GillPolo, shall be preserved as
if by Apollo. Gome, my friend, let's liseiiespatch-for-'tis getting
late. ' ' This book, ' said the barber opening another, ' is The Ten
Books of Love's Forturfe, by the Sardinian poet Antonio de
LofrSso; ' ' By mine orders, ' the other exclaimed, ' from the
time Apollo was Apollo, the muses muses and the poets poets, '
this is the best and rarest b'ook of its kind ; one so diverting and
whimsical has never been piit together and he that hasn't read it
may be sure he has never read anything so delightful. Hand it
here, friend, for I .prize more having met with this than the gift
of a cassock of Florentine serge. ' The priest joyously put it out
of harm's way and the other remarked:: 'These now in my
hands are The Shepherd of Iberia, The Nymphs of Henares and
a Disclosure of Jealousy. ' ' All you must do fs to entrust ffi'em to
the secular arm of the housekeeper ; don't ask why or I'ld never
have done. ' ' And this, ' offered the barber, ' The Shepherd of
Filida. ' ' No shepherd, his informant replied, ' butlitaTenfed
noblBlffan ; keep him like a precious stone. '

Still another the barber produced saying : ' This larger volume
is entitled A Treasury of Many Poems. ' ' Were they fewer they

VI ARRAIGNMENT OF THE BOOKS 31

^ould be more prized, ' was the criticism ; ' this book should be
weeded of the failures that choke the finer things. Keep it
however, both out of consideration of the author's more heroic"
and high-minded verse and because he's a friend of mine. ' ' And
this The Songs of Lopez Maldonado. ' ' Him too I number among
my great friends, ' returned the priest ; ' they that hear him sing
his songs are ravished by them and enchanted by the sweetness
of his voice. He's a trifle too verbose in his eclogues, but perfec-
tion after all is not to be looked for everywhere ; so let the book
be kept among the sheep. Have you another ? '

'The Galatea, "by Miguel de Cervantes,"'' replied the barber.
' My "great friend for many years, tJiis_,GeEyaates, and I can
assure you Ee'^s'a man" more versed in reverses than verses. His
book sliows alair amount of invention and proposes things bu^
conclBdes-inrthi«gi—We must wait for the promised second
part"^^-^Tt may then receive the full measure of grace now denied
it. In the ItTeantiiine keep it in your hpuse like a recluse. ' ' Very
good, ' assented the other ; ' and now come three at once. The
Araucana by Don Alonso de Ereilla, The Astriada by Juan Rufo,
a magistrate of Cordova, and Montserrat by the Valencian poet'
Ghristobal de Virues. ' ' These three books', "eXplatned the head-
inquistitor, ' are the best in Gastilian heroic verse and compare

• favourably .^th the most famous in the Italian. Keep them as
the ncEest poetic treasures Spain possesses. ' The priest was too
weary to examine further and ordered the rest of the books to be
fired off in a general discharge, but the barber had already
opened another, called The Tears of Angelica. ' I Sibould have
wept,' saM the ecclesiastic, ' had I assented to this book's
desTruction, for its auttior was one of the famous poets of the
world, let aloiie Spain, and made aTiappy translation of sundry
of Ovfd's fables. '

32 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER VII

The second sally of our good knight Don Quijote
de la Mancha

OF a sudden Don Quijote was heard to cry out : ' This
way, this way, brave knights ; display the power of your
stout arms ; the courtiers are prevailing in the tourney. ' The
inquisitors at once dropped the examination of the books,
with the result that the Garol^, The Lion of Spain_an4^The
Deeds of the Emperor, alPworks of DonTTuis of Avila, which
must certainly have been in the library, were burned without
a hearing ; otherwise they might have escaped such harsh
sentence. All rushed to the knight, whom they found risen from
bed, shouting and laying about with his sword, as wide awake
as if he had never slept. The two friends grappled with him
and forced him back. When he had recovered composure a little,
he adressed the priest in these words :

' Senor Archbishop Turpin, we that are known as The Twelve
Peers have certainly brought great disgrace upon us by permitting
the courtier-knights to carry off victory in this tournament and
with such ease, after we adventurers had held the advantage the
three days preceeding. ' ' Let your worship not worry, ' said
his friend, ' for God may be pleased to change the luck and
what is lost to-day may be won to-morrow. For the present
think only of your health ; I know you must be excessively
fatigued if not badly wounded. ' 'No, not wounded, but
unquestionably pounded and broken, since that bastard of a
Don Roland belaboured me with the trunk of an oak, all from
envy, seeing that I alone rival his feats of daring. But despite
all his enchantments I am no longer Rinaldo of Monlalvan if,
when I rise from this bed, he shall refuse me satisfaction. First
bring me something to eat, which methinks is what I need most,
and to me leave my revenge. ' Carrying out his wishes the

^11 SANCHO THE SECOND SALLY 33

women brought him refreshment, and soon after he fell asleep,
leaving them marvelling at his rage. That night the housekeeper
burned all the books to ashes, both those in the cbrraT and

any left in the~ESirsB7~Some~must have perished that deserved
to have T3eeh kept amohg^luves for ever, but the inquisitor's
negligence and their own fate did not permit. Thus was the
proverBTtulfined that the'salnt soriietimes suffers fbr the sinner.

One of the remedies the priest and barber suggested for the
temporary relief of their friend was that his library-door be
walled up and plastered over, so that when he recovered, held
not find it — perhaps with the cause removed the effect might
cease ; they could say a magician had carried the books off,
room and allTThis suggestion was made a fact with all speed,
and two days later when Don Quijote, leaving his bed, at once
made for his books, he didn't find them where he had left them,
though he searched everywhere. At last he came to the spot
where the door had been and went feeling along with his hands,
not saying aught but looking and looking. After a long space he
asked the housekeeper where were his books and the room. The
woman, well prompted, said : ' What room or what nothing
does your worship seek ? There's neither room nor books in the
house for the devil himself whisked them all off. '

' 'Twas not the devil, ' interposed the niece, ' but a magician
that came on a cloud one night soon after your worship set
forth, and alighting from a serpent entered the room. What he
did there I don't know, but after a little he went flying through
the roof, leaving the house full of smoke. And when we ran to
see, we found neither room nor books ; only we clearly remem-
ber, housekeeper and I, that as he flew off, the old wretch called
down that because of the secret enmity he bore the owner of that
library, he had used him in a way that would be seen. His name
was Munaton he said. ' ' Freston he should have said, ' observed
Don QuyoleT^I don't just rememberwhether Freston orFriton,'
offered the housekeeper, ' but I'm certain it ended in ton. '

' It does, ' Don Quijote assured her ; ' he's a cunning magician,
a great enemy of mine ; hates me bitterly, having learned from
his necromancy that sometime or other I shall engage and van-

3

34 DON QUIJOTK DE LA MANCHA I

quish a favourite knight of his and that nothing he can do
will stop me. He therefore does his best to work me ill, but I
warned him that naught could oppose or escape what Heaven
had ordained. ' ' Is there one to doubt it ? ' said the niece ; ' but,
uncle, who mixes you in these quarrels ? Wouldn't i^be better
to stay quietly at home ralTieFThah wander over the world in
search of better bread than wheat, forgetting that many go for
wool and come back shorn ? ' ' O niece" of mine, ' cried her
uncle, 'liow far out thou art in thy reckoning ! Ere they shear
me J shall pluck the beards off all that think to touch the end of
one of my hairs. ' Neither woman cared to say more, seeing his
anger kindle.

Our knight thus passed fifteen tranquil days and showed no
desire to return to his vagaries. He had pleasant converse with
his friends, the priest and barber, anent that thing of which he
deemed the world stood in sorest need, and which in him was
to be revived. At times the priest jcoiij£uJtfid_andjagain jjojacurred
in what he said — the only way to Jieepi him within^ounds.
But dufmg this period our hero was making overtures to a
peasant-neighirour of his, a good man though with few goods
and very tfffle'saTt in his brain-pan. He said so much and offered
so many inducements and promises of reward that"m the end
the fellow agreed to sally forth as his shieldbearer. Aniong^ther
things, Don Quijote told him he should be glad to go, since some
time or X)ther an adventure might befall that like a flash would
win his master an isle, aridhe woiild "make him, his servant, its
governorr"Eiured bx these arid" other assurances Sancho Panza
fojsoo^wife and children and engaged himself as squii'BT ■^

The knight then looked about for money, and by selling this
and pawning that, making bad bargains in all, got a fair sum
together. From a friend he borrowed a shield and patching his
battered helmet as he could gave notice to his squire of the day
and hour he purposed to take the road, that the other might
procure their equipment ; above all he charged him to bring
saddlebags. Sancho said yes, he would, and he was going to
fetch along a very good ass of his, since he wasn't accustomed
to long distances afoot. At the ass Don Quijote demurred, trying

VII SANCHO THE SECOND SALLY 35

to recall where the squire of a knight-erraiil rode ass-back. No
such instance came but he decided to admit the little beast,
counting on a more respectable mount by substituting the steed
of the first rude knight he encountered. Our champion also
provided himself with lint and the other things as advised by the
innkeeper. And now when all was said and done, without taking
leave, Panza of wife and children, his master of niece and house-
keeper, one night they sallied forth unseen and by dawn were so
well on their way they felt they couldn't be overtaken though
pursued. Sancho rode his ass like a patriarch, with wine-bag and
wallet and a huge desire to see himself governor of that promised
isle.

They chanced to take the same route the knight had taken on
his first sally, across the plain of Montiel, but now the don
travelled with less discomfort, for it was still early morn and
the sun's rays shone obliquely. As they ambled along, the
squire said to his lord : ' May your worship not forget the isle
you promised me, sir errant knight, for I can govern it, no
matter how big. ' And the other answered : ' You must know,
friend Sancho Panza, that usage among knights-errant of old was
to make their squires governors of the isles or kingdoms they
won, and I am resolved that such a pleasant custom shan't fault
through me. Rather I mean to improve upon it, for frequently
and perhaps more often than not they waited till their squires
had grown old in a service of hard days and worse nights before
bestowing the name of count or some such tittle — at least of
marquis of a valley or a province more or less.' But if you live
and I, it might easily come about before six days are up that I
shall win a realm with dependencies that would come pat for
you to be crowned king of one of them. Don't regard this as a
miracle, for^llliflginSppelftb knights and occasions arise in such
unexpected and unforseen ways that perchance I can give you
more than I promise. '

' And if by one of those miracles, ' ventured Sancho Panza,
' I became king, then my wifey Juana Gutierrez would have to
be queen and all my children princes. ' ' Well, who doubts it ? '
' I doubt it, ' said Sancho ; ' did God rain kingdoms, not one

36 / DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

/

methinks would sit well on the head of Mari Gutierrez. Take my
word for it, sirershe's not worth two coppers for a queen ;
a countess would better suit — and then God help her. ' '~Leave
it to HlmTforTIe wiiPgive what will most become her. But
humble not your spirit so low, my son, as to rest satisfied with
aught less than a governorship. '' That I will not,' promised
Sancho ; 'the more that in your worship I've a master of such
rank as to know everything befitting me and my capacity. '

CHAPTER VIII

The gallant knight's good fortune in the alarming and

unprecedented adventure of the windmills, together v^ith

other occurrences worthy of kindly remembrance

w

HiLE thus they conversed, fate brought it to pass that
some thirty or forty windmills, rising from that plain,
came into view, and no sbonerTlid Don Quijote sight them than
he said to his squire : ' Chance guides our fortunes better than
we could have wished, friend Sancho Panza, for yonder appear
thirty or more huge giants whom I purpose to engage in battle,
taking all their lives, and from the spoils we shall begin to enrich
ourselves. This is a righteous war and great service to God it is
to wipe this wicked brood from the face of the earth. ' ' What
giants?' questioned Sancho. ' Those there with the long arftrsr
some giants have arms two leagues long. ' ' Please, your worship,
those are not giants but windmills and what look like arms are
sails which, blown round by the wind, turn the millstones. '
' 'Tis more than plain, ' rejoined Don Quijote, ' that you are
not up in the business of adventures. Giants they are, and if
you fear, run and pray while I close with them in furious and
unequal battle. '

With this our hero gave spurs to Rocinante, heedless of the
cries of Sancho who shouted that they were sure-enough wind'
mills and no giants. But the knight was so certain they were the
latter that he heeded naught nor stopped to see what they

VIII THE WINDMILLS THE FRIARS 37

were, though now in the midst of them. He came on shouting :
' Flee not cowards and low-lived caitiffs ; one knight single-
handed comes to assail you. ' Just then a breeze arose and as
the long arms moved, the champion cried : ' Though ye wield
more arms than the giant Briareus, yours will be the penalty ; '
and commending himself with his whole heart to his lady
Dulcinea, petitioning her aid in this crisis, well covered with
shield and with lance on rest, he rode forward at his steed's full
gallop, attacking the mill before him by thrusting the lance into
its sail — which now the wind turned with such velocity that
shivering his weapon to pieces it gave horse and rider such a
toss that in sad plight they rolled over and over along the plain.
Sancho Panza, coming to the rescue at his ass's best speed,
found his master unable to stir, for he and Rocinante had landed
with tremendous force. ' God bless me, ' Panza cried, ' didn't
I tell your worship to look well to what you did, and that they
were windmills and naught else — that only he that had things
like them in his head could mistake them. ' ' Peace Sancho, '
murmured the other ; ' the fortunes of war are peculiarly subject
to change. Moreover I believe, and indeed it is so, that Freston,
the sage that spirited away my library, has" turned"these giants
into Windinills^oping in his hatred of me to snatch" the" glofy of
victory. But little shall his wicked arts avail against my trusty
sword.'"' God settle it as He will,' said Sancho; and helping
his master rise, mounted him on Rocinante, though the latter
had half-dislocated his shoulder.

Talking of the recent incident they followed the road to Puerto
Lapice, for much people journey through that pass and they could
not but find many and a great variety of adventures, so their
leader said. Sore distressed at the loss of his lance, he confessed
it to his squire, adding : ' But I remember to have read that a
Spanish knight Diego Perez de Vargas, having snapped his
sword in battle, lopped off a heavy branch from a holm-oak and
with it wrought such havoc that day and pounded so many
Moors to pieces, that he won the surname of Machuca or the
Bruiser, and he and his descendants have gone by the name of
Vargas y Machuca ever since. I speak of this because I purpose

38 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

to lop off as good an one from the first holm-oak we come across
and I think and foresee I shall do such deeds with it that you
may consider yourself fortunate in being found worthy to
come and be eye-witness to things that will with difficulty be
believed. '

' With the help of God, ' said Sancho, ' I believe every whit
your worship says, only straighten a little, for you seem to ride
lopsided ; that fall must have left its token. ' ' It did, and if I don't
murmur, it's because 'tis not given to knights-errant to complain
of wounds, though their bowels protude. ' ' Then have I nothing
to say, ' replied the squire, ' though God knows I'ld rather you
told me when aught ailed. For myself I shall make a fuss over
the smallest twinge, unless this business of not complaining per-
tains also to squires. ' Don Quijote could not help smiling at the
others's simplicity, promising he could complain how and when
he pleased, with or without cause, for as yet he had read nothing
lo the contrary in knightly discipline. Sancho now bade his
master consider that 'twas time to eat. The latter told him to eat
whenever it suited him ; for himself he had no desire at present.
With this license Sancho arranged himself on his ass as com-
fortably as he could and opening the saddlebags rode behind
his master eating and taking his time, every now and then
raising the wine-bag with such good-will the daintiest tapster of
Malaga might have envied him. So long as he retailed draughts,
he little bethought him of his lord's promises, nor was it work
at all, but a complete change rather, to go in quest of adventures
through it mattered not what hazards.

The two passed that night amid a grove of trees, from one
whereof Don Quijote lopped a dry limb that might fairly serve
as a lance, which he tipped with the iron from the broken one.
All night he slept not, thinking on his lady Dulcinea, so as to
be in line with what he had read in his books, where cavaliers
passed many nights in forests and deserts wide-eyed, busy with
memories of their loves. Not so did Sancho Panza let the time
slip by, for, as his stomach was full and not with chicory-water,
he made one long nap of it, and had not his master called, neither
the sun's rays shining in his face nor the many birds joyously

VIII THE WINDMILLS THE FIIIARS 39

proclaiming ttie new day would iiave stirred him. On rising he
felt of the wine-bag and finding it much flatter than on the pre-
vious eve was stricken to the heart, seeing no ready way of
supplying the deficiency. His master on the other hand didn't
care to breakfast, sustained as has been said by succulent
memories.

The pair continued their road to Puerto Lapice and at three
that afternoon the pass came into view. ' Here, brother Sancho,
we can put our arms up to the elbows in your so-called advent-
ures, ' remarked Don Quijote on sighting the place ; ' but take
care you touch not your sword to defend me, even though you
see me in the direst dangers in the world, unless you observe
my assailants to be of the vulgar rabble — then may you lawfully
assist. If they be knights, the rules of chivalry debar you from
giving aid under any circumstance, until dubbed yourself. ' ' No
question, sire, but that your worship will promptly be obeyed
in this ; the more that I am of peaceful turn and little inclined
to mix myself in quarrels and disputes. Touching mine own
defence hovewer, I confess I shall little heed these laws, for
those of God and man allow everyone to protect himself against
any that seek to work him harm. ' ' I say no less, ' assented the
other, ' but when it comes to joining against knights, you must
control this natural impulse. ' ' I give my word, ' replied Sancho,
' and this commandment shall be kept like the sabbath. '

While they thus discoursed, appeared two Benedictine friars,
riding dromedaries — at least their mules appeared that tall.
They wore riding-masks and carried parasols, and behind them
came a coach attended by four men on horse-back and two mule-
servants afoot. It later appeared that a Biscayan lady was in the
coach on her way to Seville to join her husband, who was setting
out for the Indies with an important commission. The two friars
were not of the party but chanced to go the same road. Scarce
had our knight discovered them when he said to his squire :
' Either I deceive myself or this is the most famous adventure
that ever came to pass. Those dismal-looking phantoms there
must be and doubtless are magicians, abducting a princes in that
coach, and there's need to redress this wrong with all the power

40 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

at my command. ' ' Worse will this be than the windmills, '
murmured Sancho ; ' see, master, these are naught but Bene-
dictine friars, and the coach must belong to travellers. Take care
I say and look well to what you do, lest it be the devil deceives
you. ' ' I told you once before, Sancho, that you understand
little of this business of aventures. What I have said with regard
to this company is the truth, as you'll now see for yourself. '

With these words our champion rode forward, stationing
himself in the middle of the way, and when the friars were come
within earshot, he cried : ' Hideous and monstrous creatures,
straight release the noble princesses you abduct in that coach or
prepare to suffer instant death as the desert of your iniquity. '
The two friars drew rein, astonished not less at the knight's
appearance than at his words, to which they made answer : ' Sir
knight, we are neither hideous nor monstrous but simply two
Benedictine brothers on a journey. Whether or no there be
abducted princesses in that coach, we cannot say. ' ' No honied
words for me, for I know you of old, ye traitors, ' exclaimed
Don Quijote, and not awaiting reply he put spurs to Rocinante,
with couched lance attacking the first friar with such sudden
vigour that had he not slipped from his mule, he'ld have been
brought to the ground against his pleasure and sorely wounded
if not killed outright. The second brother, seeing the reception
his companion met with, drove his heels into his giant of a beast
and flew across country more swiftly than the wind.

Sancho Panza, observing the first friar on the ground, nimbly
alighted from his ass and running up began to remove the other's
habit. Two servants of the friars came forward and asked why
he did so. Sancho replied that this part fell lawfully to him, since
these were the spoils of the battle won by his lord Don Quijote.
The two servants, unused to jesting and ignorant of spoils and
battles, seeing the knight engaged in conversation with those
inside the coach, grappled with the squire, threw him and after
plucking every hair of his beard kicked him till he had neither
breath nor feeling. The friar, pale and trembling, immediately
made after his companion, who had halted at a distance in order
to see what this attack portended. And now, having witnessed

VIII THE WINDMILLS THE FRIARS 41

all they cared to, they went their way, crossing themselves more
than were the devil at their heels.

Don Qaijote, as mentioned, was speaking to the lady of the
coach, saying : ' Thy beauty, my lady, can now do with thy
person what is most thy pleasure, for the pride of thy abductors
is laid in the dust, o'erthrown by my puissant arm. And that
thou may St not pine to learn the mame of thy deliverer, know
that I call myself Don Quijote de La Mancha, errant knight and
captive of the peerless and beautiful Dulcinea del Toboso. All I
ask for the benefit received at my hands is that thou return to el
Toboso and presenting thyself before my lady tell her how I set
thee free. '

One of the squires attendant on the coach, a Biscayan, listened
to these words of Quijote, and finding that he intended the coach
shouldn't proceed but should return to el Toboso, he rode up to
him and taking hold of the other's lance said in bad Gastilian
and worse Biscayan : ' Begone, knight, and go to the devil ! by
God that made me, if you leave not this coach, I kill you as sure
as I am Biscayan. ' Don Qaijote understood him sufficiently well
and quietly made answer : ' Were you a knight (caballero) as you
are not, I should have chastised your folly and audacity ere this,
slave. ' To which the other replied : ' I no gentleman (caballero) !
My God you lie as I am Christian. Drop lance, draw sword, and
you see you fetch water to the cat. Biscayan by land, gentleman
by sea, gentleman to the devil, you lie. If you say other, I say,
look out. '

' Now shall thou see, quoth Agrages, ' shouted Don Qaijote ;
and throwing down his lance he drew sword, embraced his shield
and made at the Biscayan, bent on taking his life. The latter,
seeing the onset, though wishing to dismount from his mule (a
poor hired beast not to be trusted), had time merely to draw
sword. Fortunately however he was near the coach and could
snatch a cushion to serve him as a buckler. And now they dashed
at each other like mortal foes. The rest tried to pacify them but
in vain, for the Biscayan in his broken sentences said that if
they didn't let him fight it out, himself would slay their mistress
and all that opposed him.

4a DON QUIJOTE DB LA MANCHA ■»■

Amazed and alarmed at the spectacle, the mistress bade her
coachman drive to one side, and there she set herself to watch the
mighty struggle. In the course thereof the Biscayan smote heavily
on his adversary's shoulder over his shield — a blow to have
opened him to the waist had he been unprotected. Feeling the
uncommon force of the stroke Don Quijote cried aloud : ' Olady
of my soul, Dulcinea, flower of beauty, succour this thy knight,
who for the sake of thy great goodness finds himself in dire
extremity. ' To say this, clutch his sword, cover himself well
with his targe and rush at the Biscayan was the work of a
moment, since he resolved to hazard all upon a single blow. The
other, seeing what was coming and guessing his opponent's
mettle from his fearlessness, decided to pattern himself after him,
and so, protecting himself with his cushion, he awaited the
blow, unable to stir his mule which, unfit for these levities, from
pure exhaustion stood stock still.

This then was the situation : Don Quijote with sword on high
about to strike the Biscayan and split him in two ; the Biscayan
with sword equally aloft, screened by the cushion ready to
receive him; the bystanders in tremulous suspense as to what
must result from blows of the force of those now impending ;
and the lady of the coach and the maids offering a thousand prom-
ises and vows to all the shrines and images of Spain, would-CUuJ^
deliver Jheir squire and themselves from this grave peril. But
deuce take it all.atThTScritical point the author lets the combat/
hang fire, explaining that no more could be found concerning it.
The present writer however refused to believe that so rare a tale
had been consigned to the judgment of oblivion : that the wits
of LaMancha had been so little curious as not to possess amongst
their records and annals documents that treated of this famous
cavalier. He therefore despaired not of discovering the conclusion
of this engaging narrative, and this, Heaven favouring, he did
discover in the manner related in the following chapter. ;

IX THE BISCAYAN 43

CHAPTER IX

The conclusion of the stupendous battle between the
gallant Biscayau and the puissant Manchegan

IN the previous chapter we left the worthy Biscayan and the
renowned Don Quijote with unsheathed and lifted swords
about to strike two such furious blows as, did they reach home,
would cleave them both in twain, split like pomegranates. At this
critical juncture the story broke off and was left a torso, nor did
the author hint as to where the missing part might be foundsJhis
distressed me considerably, for my pleasure in the littlQJ/iad
read turned to disgust at the thought of the difficulties in the way
of finding the deal I felt must be wanting to this savoury narra-
tive. It seemed to me impossible and contrary to all good prece-
dent that sTnvTJTthy a knighTshould hBTETIo"sage to take if upon
himself to describe his never-such adventuress^ a fortune that
not once failedjany of the errants that, as it is termed, went adven-
turing. Every one had a sage or two handy not only to describe
his exploits but to enlarge on his most trifling fancies and
follies no matter how private. So excellent a knight as ours,
I reasoned, couldn't have been utterly denied what Platir and his
kind possessed and to spare. In a word I couldn't persuade
myself that so fine a tale had been left maimed and mutilated,
laying the blame for its present non-appearance at the door of
malicious Time, the devourer and consumer of all things. Time,
I said, had either concealed the missing part or consumed it.

Yet I consoled myself with the reflection that since such
modern books as A Disclosure of Jealousy and The Nymphs of
Henares were found in Don Quijote's library, his life too must
be of to-day, and were it not yet recorded, would at any rate
still live in the memory of his village and the neighbourhood.
I was more than ever anxious therefore to discover the life and
deeds of our famous Spaniard, light and mirror of Manchegan

44 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

chWalry and the first in our age and these calamitous times to
entfer on the labour and exercise of errant arms, redressing
wnongs, succouring widows and protecting damsels, such as in
all their maidenhood were wont to roam with whip and palfrey
over hill over dale over mead over mountain, and did not some

VI

lainous churl with steel hood and battle-axe or some big,
bi 5 giant win the day, continued virgins till eighty, and in all

at time slept not a night under roof, going to their graves as
eliaste-as the mothers that bore them. On this as on many other
accounts I maintain that our noble Quijote deserves lasting and
especial praise, nor should it be refused me for my diligence in
idiscovering the end of this absorbing tale ; though I confess that
had not Heaven, circumstance and good-fortune assisted me, the
world would have lost the diversion and delight wherewith the
attentive reader may now be occupied for nearly two hours.

InTthis manner then, I chanced to find the missing part. One
day as I stood in the Alcana market-place of Toledo, a lad
approached a silk-mercer in the hope of selling him a quantity of
old memorandum-books and papers, and as I love to read even
torn scraps I pick up in the streets, I was led to eXamifteone of
the note-books the boy was selling. I recognised the writing as
Arabic but not knowing how to read that tongue I looked about
for some Morisco that spoke Spanish. It isn't difficult to find
such_an interpreter there, and had I sought one that could speak
the older and better language of Hebrew, I shouldn't have been
disappointed. I soon happened on one in fact and telling him
mine errand put the pamphlet in his hand. He opened it at the
middle and reading a short way began to chuckle. I of course
asked his reason and he replied because of a certain note written
in the margin, which at my request he translated, still chuckling
as be read ; ' This Dulcinea, so often referred to in these pages,
is said to have had a better hand at salting down pigs tha^ any
woman in La Mancha. ' ^

I was indeed dumfounded, for it came to me like a flash that
these note-books must contain the history of our errant. I asked
the Morisco to read at the beginning and he translating as he
went read the title : History of Don Quijote de la Mancha, written

IX

THE BISCAYAN 45

by the Arabian Historiographer Gid Hamet Benengeli. It required
coristagFaBTeTcontrol to dissemble my pleasure^' but forestalling
the silk-mercer I purchased all the papers and note -books for
half a real. Had the liaiBeen keen or suspected why I wanTed
them, he night easily have asked and received more than tvsrelve
times that amount. I then went apart with the Morisco to the
cathedral -cloister and bade him translate all passages dealing
with Don Quijote, without addition or omission, offering to pay
whatever sum he named. He was satisfied with one bushel of
raisins and two of wheat, agreeing to make a good and faithful
rendering with all speed. To facilitate the arrangement and not
to let so rare a find leave my hands, I took him home with me,
where in little more than a month and^hallhe" translated the

whole, just as is here set down. ' ~" ~- -— »

, In the first note-boOk was depicted to the very life the combat
'twixt Don Quijote and the Biscayan, each represented with
drawn swords in the same attitude as in the story, the former
/protected by his shield, the latter by a cushion. The Biscayan's
j mule was drawn so vividly you could have told she was a hired
one a bowshot off. At its feet was printed Don Sancho de
Aspeitia, the name of the rider no doubt, for under Rocinante
one read Don Quijote. Rocinante himself was marvellously por-
trayed, so long and lank and lean with so prominent a back-bone
and so far gone in consumption, 'twas clear how perceivingly he
had been named. Near him stood Sancho Panza, holding his ass
by the halter, and at his feet was another inscription reading :
Sancho Zancas. This picture made him appear with round belly,
short waist and generous legs. Indeed the narrative mentions him
by both the names Panza (paunch) and Zancas (shanks).

A few other trifles concerntng~the manuscript might be men-
tioned~Burthey are trifles after all and have naught to do with
the truth of the history (and no history can be at fault provided
it be true). If there be any doubt about the honesty of this, it
canmHy arise froin the fact that its author was an Arab, it being
a trait oFffiat^oplejQ^deceive. But from their being such bitter
eneTflteToFoOTS, 'tis likely that he slighted rather than embel-
lished the story. Indeed I am almost certain that such is the case,

46 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

siace when he has the chance and ought to descant in so worthy
a knight's praise, he appears to observe intentional silen5e-<—
bad practice and worse principle, since the imperative duty of
historians is to be accurate, truthful and unprejudiced • neither
interest nor fear,^rtiality nor disICte,' shauJd move them fr"ioih
the path "of truth, whose mother^is history^— that rival ofTirne,
that HepoliTbTyTranionsr witness for the past, ensample and
warning to~tirr'presehTlin3rgui3e^o the future. I know that in
this particular one will 15e. found all flie pleasan test tlung toTje
desired, and if it lack aught, I shall consider ij the fault of the
hound of an auilior Stherltha^lXPf .th§ subject. Be that as it may,
its second part begins :

The two valiant and enraged combatants with their trenchant
blades on high appeared to menace heaven, earth and hell, such
the terror of their aspect. The first to let fall a blow was the
peppery Biscayan, and it descended with such force and fury
that had it not been turned aside, 'twould alone have sufficed to
end the bitter combat and all the adventures of Don Quijote.
But fortune, keeping him for greater things, averted it, and
though the sword struck his left shoulder, its only damage was
to pare the armour on that side, carrying in its train a goodly
portion of the helmet and half an ear — all of which came to the
ground with hideous ruin, leaving our knight in wretched case.

God help me, who can at all describe the wrath that now raged
in our Manchegan's heart on feeling himself thus dealt with ! All
that can be said is 'twas sufficient to cause him again to raise in
his stirrups, and having grasped his weapon more firmly with
both hands, to give the other such a whopping whack that,
reaching his head with force unabated by the cushion (even that
defence not availing him), as though a mountain had struck him
it caused him to spurt blood through mouth, ears and nostrils,
and doubtless would have knocked him from his mule, had he
not clutched her neck and saved himself. But she, thunderstruck
by the terrible impact, started across country on the run, and
her rider, losing stirrup and letting fall his arms, with a few
plunges was brought to eartli.

The other, who had been calmly looking on, now leapt from

X KNIGHTLY CUSTOMS 47

his horse, and quickly running up pointed his sword at his
enemy's eyes, telling him to surrender or held cut off his head.
The man was too confused to speak and Don Quijote so blinded
that it would have fared ill with his victim had not the ladies
of the coach, who in dismay had watched the encounter, hastened
to our champion and earnestly besought the great favour and
kindness of sparing their squire's life. With proud and serious
bearing the victor replied : ' Of a surety, fair ladies, I am most
willing to do as you list, but only on this stipulation and con-
dition, that your knight promise to visit el Toboso, presenting
himself before the peerless lady Dulcinea, that she may deal
with him according to her pleasure. ' In their terror and bewil-
derment the ladies didn't discuss terms, and without enquiring
as to Dulcinea's identity promised that their squire would
strictly obey the command. ' On the faith of that pledge, '
returned Don Quijote, ' I shall do him no further injury ; though
richly he deserves it. '

CHAPTER X

The pleasant colloquy that passed 'twixt Don Quijote
and his squire Saucho Pauza

SANCHO Panza, so ill used by the friars' servants, had come to
in time to witness his master's bout, offering in his heart
prayers to God that He should be pleased to grant him victory,
that thereby he might win an isle, whereof himself should be
governer, as promised. Seeing now that the scuffle was over and
that his master was about to remount, he ran to hold the stirrup,
first kneeling and taking his hand, kissing it and saying : ' May
your worship be pleased, my lord Don Quijote, to make me
governor of the island you won in this vengeful quarrel, for no
matter how big it is, I feel the stuff in me to govern it as well
as any man ever did isles in the world. '

To this request Don Quijote answered : ' You forget, brother
Sancho, that this adventure and any like it aren't adventures of

48 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■•■

isles but of cross-roads, where one wins naught but a broken
pate or the loss of an ear. Have patience, and adventures will
arise by whose means I can make you a governor and more too.'
Sancho returned thanks and again kissing the other's hand and
the border of his cuirass helped him mount Rocinante. He in turn
mounted and followed, for our knight, without word or farewell
to the ladies of the coach, at double-quick entered a neighbouring
wood.

Sancho kept his ass at its best trot but Rocinante travelled so
fleetly that, seeing he was left behind, the squire felt obliged to
call to the other. Don Quijote drew rein and stayed till Sancho
caught up, who said as he drew near : ' It looks to me, seiior,
'twould be better for us to take refuge in some church, since you
left that fellow in bad shape. 'Twill not be strange if they
advise the Holy Brotherhood, who will lock us up, and by my
faith we shall' sweat Otir Tails before we get out.' ' Peace, Sancho ;
where have you seen or read of knight-errant brought to justice,
no matter of how many homicides he was guilty ? ' ' I know
not these homely sides, nor have I ever seen any. I only know
that the Ho^y^rotherhood look after_all_£aiintry::fighters ; the
rest I shall let pass. '^'"Tlien'a^onTworry, friend, for I shall save
you from the hands of the Chaldeans, let alone the Brotherhood.
But tell me, on your life, have you ever seen a more valiant
knight than I in all the known parts of the world ? have you
ever read in histories of another that possessed more fearlessness
in the onset, more endurance in sustaining it, more skill in
wounding or more cunning in the final overthrow ? '

' To be plain with your worship, ' replied Sancho, ' never a
history have I read, nay, not onBT-foFTcaiTneitlTierTead nor
write. What I will wager js^tliat I nev^ served ajnigejlaicildivri
3ire in all the days of myjife ; I only pray these gallantries may
not be answered for in the quarter I spoke of. All I ask is that
y^our worship doctor himself, for a good bit of blood is oozing
from that ear and I have lint and a little white ointment in the
saddlebags. ' ' Both would be superfluous, ' remarked the other,
had I thought to make a flask of Fierabras ' balsam, with one
irop of which time and medicines would be saved. ' ' What flask

X KNIGHTLY CUSTOMS 49

and what balsam is this ? ' ' 'Tis a balsam whereof I have the
recipe in memory, whose possessor, even if sorely wounded,
need have no fear of death. When I have made it and handed it
over, should you in some battle see me cut in two, a thing that
not infrequently occurs, all you must do is deftly to clap the half
of me that has dropped to the ground back onto the half still
in the saddle, taking care to make an even and straight juncture
ere the blood congeal. Then give two draughts of this balsam
and you'll find me sounder than an apple. ' ' In that case, ' said
Panza, ' I henceforth forfeit the government of the promised isle
and accept as pay for my many and good services the recipe of
this sovereign drug, for an ounce thereof will methinks fetch two
reals anywhere and naught shall I do but live my life care-free
and respected. But first tell me if it costs much to make. ' ' For
less than three reals can be made a gallon and a half. ' ' Sinner
that I am ! and why does your worship delay in making some
and teaching me ?' ' Peace, my son, since I intend to teach you
greater mysteries and do you greater services than these. For the
present let us look to mine ear, which I confess pains me more
than I list. '

Sancho produced lint and ointment from the saddlebags, but
when Don Quijote observed his helmet in pieces, he well-nigh
went out of his head. Putting hand to sword and lifting eyes
heavenward he cried : ' I swear by the Creator of all things and
by the four Holy Gospels word for wt>rd to lead the life led by
the great Marquis of Mantua when he swore to avenge the death
or his nephew Baldwin, which was not to eat bread off a cloth
or embrace his wife, together with other things that now escape
me but which I agree to as if here expressed, until such time as
I take complete vengeance on him that brought me thii~sliaiHg7''"
Hearing this the squireTeinarEed : ' Observe, Senor Don Quijote,
that if yon knight obeyed your command to go and present
himself before my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he'll have done
his duty and deserves no further punishment until he commit
another crime. ' ' You have spoken well and to the point, Sancho,
and I therefore annul the oath so far as it relates^to taking fur-
ther vengeance, but fTsseverate it m tHFTnatter of leading that

50 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

kind of a life until I capture from some knight another helmg
as good as this of mine. And don't think' this all smoke"and"^no
fire and that I don't know what I say, for I have an excellent
example set me, in that this very thing occurred in the case of
Mambrino's helmet that cost Sacripante so dear. '

' Give all such oaths to the devil, sir, ' advised Sancho, ' as
mischievous to the health and harmful to the conscience. Or tell
me what we're to do if we don't meet a helmeted man for many
days to come ; must the vow be lived up to in spite of the many
trials and discomforts entailed, such as sleeping in our clothes,
never sleeping under roof and a thousand other nuisances
contained in that old fool of a Marquis of Mantua's oath which
your worship would now ratify ? Consider long, sir, that no
armed men travel these roads, none but carriers and carters that
not only don't wear helmets but belike never heard them named
in all their days. ' ' In this you are mistaken, friend, for we
shan't be two hours along these cross-roads before we meet more
men-at-arms than invested Albraca for the rescue of Angelica
the fair. ' ' Halt ! ' said the squire ; ' so let it be, and God grant
us good -luck and that the time may be drawing near for
winning that isle that's costing Sancho Panza so dear ; and then
let me die. ' 'I have before told you, ' replied the other, ' to
give this no care, for should an isle fail, there's the kingdom of
Denmark or of Sobradisa, to fit you like a ring the finger, and
you ought to be the more pleased in that both are on terra firma.
But let us leave this to its time, and see now if you have aught
in the saddlebags to eat. We may then go in search of a castle to
lodge in for the night, where we can make the balsam I told of ;
for I swear to you before God that mine ear continues to pain
tne more than enough. '

' I have an onion here, a little cheese and some bread-crumbs, '
ieclared Sancho, ' none of which is fit food for so worthy a
knight as your worship. ' ' How little you understand this
matter, ' Don Quijote sighed ; ' I must explain to you, son, that
it's reckoned an honour among knights-errant not to eat a thing
for a month at a time, and when they do eat to eat whatever
3omes most handy. You would be assured of this had you read

X KNIGHTLY CUSTOMS 81

as many histories as I, for though they are legion, in none have
I found mention of errants eating, unless by accident or at
sumptuous banquets prepared especially for them — the rest of
their days they feasted on flowers. Though it goes without saying
that in order to live they did eat and performed other natural
functions, being men like ourselves, it should likewise be appre-
ciated that as they spent most of their time wandering through
deserts and forests without a cook, their usual fare must have
been rustic, of the kind you now offer. Don't plague yourself
with a thing that pleases me, friend Sancho, nor hope to make
the world over, or lift knight-errantry off its hinges. '

' Forgive me, ' said Sancho, 'but since, as I have before said,
I can neidSer read nor write, I don't know and haven't picked
up as yet the rules of the chivalry profession. Hereafter I shall
fill the sa'ddIeBags~wTni"air manner of dried fruits for your
worship that is a knight, and for myself that am not one I shall
provide things more substantial that can fly. ' ' I do not say,
Sancho, that it's incumbent on errants to eat naught but these
fruits, but that their fare must usually consist of them and certain
field-growing herbs known to them and me. ' ' Such knowledge
is a virtue, ' returned the squire, ' for melhinks some day there'll
be occasion to make use of it ; ' and drawing forth the things he
had named, the servant ate in good peace and fellowship with
his lord. But as both were concerned about their lodging, the
pair soon finished their dry and scanty meal and mounting hast-
ened to reach cover ere night set in. The sun however and this
hope failed them near some goatherd-huts, forcing them to shelter
there. This compromise, bringing sorrow to Sancho, brought
equal joy to his master, who felt that in sleeping under the open
he performed an act of possession that helped establish his
knighthood.

St DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XI
Don Quijote with the goatherds

THE knight was cordially welcomed by the goatherds, and
when Rocinante and the ass had been provided for as well
as possible, Sancho ran down an odour that came from some
salted goat boiling in a pot. He was instantly moved to taste and
see if 'twere ready to be transferred to the stomach, but refrained,
for his hosts now removed it from the fire. Spreading pieces of
sheep-skin on the ground, they quickly prepared the rustic meal,
giving a warm invitation to their guests to sup with them. Six of
the goatherds squatted round the skins, having first with rough
ceremony asked Don Qutjote to be seated on an overturned
trough. The invitation was accepted but the squire remained
standing, the better to pass the horn-cup to his master, who,
observing him not yet seated, said :

' That you may see, Sancho, the virtue inherent in knight-^
errantry and that they who perform therein it matters not what
service are on the high road to be honoured and held in favour
by the world, I desire, my son, that you be seated here by my
side in the presence of this good company, that you be one with
me, thy master and natural lord, eating from my plate and
drinking from whatsoever I drink — for the same thing may be
said of chivalry as of love, that it levels all things. ' ' Many
thanks, ' replied the other, ' but I must tell your worship that
provided it be enough I can eat as well and better on my feet
^y myself than seated on a level with an emperor. Indeed if the
truth must be told, what I eat in my corner without fuss or
feathers better agrees with me, though but bread and an onion,
;han turkey at tables where I am supposed to chew my food,
irink in moderation, wipe my mouth every now and then, not
meeze or cough if I wish to, nor do other things that freedom and
lolitude permit. So these honours, which your lordship would

^I THE GOATHERDS 53

bestow upon me as servant and follower of knight-errantry,
prithee convert them into things more useful and suitable, for,
though I acknowledge them as well established, I renounce them
from this time forth even to the end of the world. ' ' Seated you
must be none the less, ' said his master, ' for him that humbleth
himself, God exalteth ; ' and grasping the squire by the arm, he
seated him next himself.

Little did the goatherds comprehend this gibberish about
squires and errant-knights, so they ate in silence, looking blankly
at their visitors, who with great elegance and pleasure were
stowing away pieces as big as one's fist. The meat-course over,
a number of brown shrivelled acorns were dropped on the skins,
together with a half-cheese harder than cement. Nor did the horn
lie idle all this hour but kept going the rounds, now full now
empty like the bucket of a water-wheel, draining with no trouble
one of the two wine-sacks hanging there. After our knight had
satisfied his hunger, he reached for several of the acorns, and
having gazed at them attentively for some time, he keyed his
voice to the following :

' Happy the age and time that men of old termed golden — not
that gold, so prized in this our iron age, could be had without
toil, but because they that lived fEenrKnSw not the words, thine
and mine. All things were common in that blessed state. To
gain a livelihood one needed but to raise his hand and pluck it
from lusty oaks which generously invited him to their sweet
and seasoned fruit. Crystal springs and running rivers gave him
bountifully of their delicate transparent waters. In the fissures
of rocks and hollows of trees the zealous and provident bees
formed their republic, offering to every hand without interest
the rich harvest of their honied toil. The stalwart cork-trees, in
no other office than that of courtesy, shed their bark in strips
ample and light, which men spread upon stakes to form houses,
merely as protection against the sky's inclemency.

' All was peace then, all friendliness, all harmony. The heavy^
crooked ploughshare made not bold to open and expose the
compassionate bowels of our first mother, who of her own sweeti
will offered over all her broad and fertile bosom whatever could

S4 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

nourish, sustain and delight the children that then possessed
her. So, too, the fair and simple shepherdesses wandered from
Vale to valley from upland to hill, with braided locks or flowing
tresses and just enough costume to conceal what continence has
/always required. Nor were their ornaments like those worn now,
set off by Tyrian purple and silk martyred in a thousand ways,
jbut burdock-leaves and ivy interwoven, and in such it may be
tthey walked with as much real dignity and composure as now
strut our noble dames in all their rare exotic inventions of an
idle thirst for novelty.

' In that age they expressed their love-conceits simply and
naturally, as the heart felt them and with no artificial turn of
words to set them off. Nor did fraud, malice or falsehood mingle
with truth and sincerity. Justice maintained herself in her proper
l^ounds, nor did they venture, from favour or interest, to warp
or offend her, as they threaten, deform and persecute her now-
a^days. Unwritten law, that rests merely on the say-so of the
jiidge, was unknown, since there existed neither malefactor nor
jmaglstrate. As I have said, maidens and modesty went hand in
hand, alone and single, without fear of ravishment, and their
undoing, if it came, was of their own free will. In our own
teontemptible times no maid, though hid in a Cretan labyrinth,
is secure, for even there, through crannies or the air, the lust-
epidemic enters in its cursed zeal and in spite of her seclusion
works her ruin. For her protection, as time went on and malic-
iousness increased, was instituted the order of errant arms, for
the defence of damsels, the relief of widows and the guardianship
of orphans and the oppressed. Of this order am I, brother goat-
herds, to whom I am indebted for this pleasant welcome and
reception. By the law of nature all persons are in duty bound to
favour errrants, but since you received and regaled me without
knowing I was one, 'tis fitting that with the best possible good-
will I thank you for yours. '

Though it might well have been excused, our knight delivered
this long harangue, simply because the acorns chanced to mind
him of the golden age. Moreover 'twas a pleasure to him to hold
forth thus idly to these goatherds, who listened in silence and

XI THE GOATHERDS 55

open-mouthed suspense. The squire too was silent, eating his
acorns and paying frequent visits to the other wine-sack that
hung from a cork-tree to cool. The knight had been longer in
speaking than he now was in finishing his repast, at the end
whereof one of the goatherds said to him : ' That your worship,
sir knight-errant, can say with more truth that we entertained
you with a right good-will, we would give you solace and
pleasure by asking a companion oF ours that will soon be here
to sing for us, for he's a lad of understanding and head-over-heels
in love, can read moreover and write, and plays the rebeck to
perfection. '

Scarce had the goatherd spoken, when the sound of that
instrument reached their ears, and soon appeared its player, a
good-looking lad of about two-and- twenty. His friends asked had
he eaten and on his answering yes, he that first suggested it
said : ' In that case, Antonio, you can give us pleasure by a
little singing, that this gentleman our guest may know there is
music even among mountains and woods. We have told him of
your skill and are anxious for you to show we told the truth.
As you live, prithee be seated and sing the song the curate your
uncle composed for you, for it has been most favourably received
in the town. ' ' Very well, ' said the lad and without further
entreaty, sitting him down on a felled oak's trunk, presently,
after tuning his instrument, with excellent grace began the

lay-
When he had done, our knight wished him to sing more, but
Sancho Panza wouldn't hear of it : he was more for sleeping
than hearing ditties and said to his master : ' Your worship
would do better to retire at once, for these good men's work
during the day doesn't permit them to pass the night in song. '
' I understand you perfectly, Sancho ; 'tis evident wine-sack
visits ask larger recompense from sleep than from music. ' ' 'Tis
pleasant to us all, God be praised,' apologised the servant.
' I don't deny it ; accommodate yourself where you wish ; those
of my profession appear better awake than asleep. Biit before
you go, my son, attend to mine ear, for it pains me unnecessarily.'
Sancho was about to obey when one of the goatherds, seeing the

56 DON QUIJOTE. DE LA MANCHA I

cut, told him not to trouble, for himself would apply a remedy
that would soon heal it. Taking some rosemary leaves, which
grew there in plenty, he chewed them and with a little salt
applied them to the ear, bandaging it tightly, assuring Don
Quijote that he needed no other medicine ; and so it proved.

CHAPTER XII

What one of the goatherds related to Dou Quijote
and the others

AT this point arrived another of the lads that brought the
goatherds food from the village, saying : ' Comrades, do
you know the village-news ? ' ' How should we ? ' one of them
replied. ' Well then, the famous student-shepherd Chrysostom
died this morning and rumour goes 'twas from love ot tUat pos-
sessed girl of a Maccgla, the rich Guillermo's daughter, she that
wanders through these solitudes in the garb of a shepherdess. '
' Marcela ? ' exclaimed one. ' The same, and the best of it is that
the fellow in his will asks that they bury him out in the country,
as if he were a Moor, at the foot of the cliff beside the cork-tree
spring ; they say 'twas there he first saw her. Other requests he
made as well which the clergy of the town declare should not
and must not be complied with, since they savour of paganism.
His great friend the student Ambrosio, who played the shepherd
with him, answers to all this that everything must be done
according to Ghrysostom's desires. The village is all astir over
the matter, but it is said that in the end Ambrosio and his shep-
herd-friend's wishes will be fulfilled, and that in the morning
they will come and bury him with great ceremony. Methinks
'twill be worth seeing — I at least intend to be there even though
I can't get back to the village to-morrow night. '

' We shall all go, ' said the others, ' for we can cast lots to
see who'll stay with the goats. ' ' You say well, Pedro, ' spoke
up another, ' but it won't be necessary to cast lots, since I shall
remain for you all. Don't consider this kindness on my part or

XII CURYSOSTOM 57

lack of curiosity ; tlie fact is that the splinter I ran into my foot
the other day won't let me walk. ' ' None the less you have our
thanks, ' replied Pedro. Don Quijote asked the last speaker who
the dead shepherd and who the shepherdess were. Pedro replied
that the youth was a rich hildago, a citizen of one of the mountain
villages, who had studied several years at Salamanca, returning
with the reputation of being a most wise and learned man. ' They
say he chiefly was expert in the science of the stars and of what
the sun and moon do up there in the sky, foretelling their
elipses. ' ' Tlie obscurations of these larger luminaries, ' inter-
rupted their guest, ' are spoken of as eclipses, not elipses. ' But
Pedro paid no attention to trifles, noving right on with his tale :
' This student could also foretell whether the year were to be
fruitful or storil. ' ' Sterile you mean to say, my friend. ' ' Sterile
or storil, 'tis the same in the end. I was about to tell that his
father and friends, following his counsel, grew very rich, for he
would say to them : This year sow barley, not wheat ; or. You
mustn't sow barley this year but pulse ; next year will see a
good olive-crop but not a drop of oil will be had the three
following. ' ' This science is called astrology, ' suggested Don
Quijote. ' I don't know its name, ' Pedro went on, ' but I know
he knew all that and more. Well, he hadn't been back many
months from Salamanca when one day he appeared in the -habit
of a shepherd with crook and skins, having thrown off the heavy
flowing scholar's gown. And with him appeared, also as shep-
herd, his great friend Ambrosio, a former companion in his
studies. I forgot to mention that Ghrysostom was a great hand
at writing verses, so much so that he wrote the Christmas carols
and the Corpus Christi plays, which the village-people acted and
everyone admired. Wherfthe villagers saw the two scholars thus
suddenly decked out, they were amazed and couldn't guess what
had caused this extraordinary transformation. In the meantine
the father of Chrysostom had died, leaving him heir to a large
estate in buildings, land, chattels, a goodly number of live-stock
large and small, together with plenty of money, of all which he
remained the dissolute owner. Indeed he deserved it, for he was
an excellent comrade, affectionate, a friend to all good people

3 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■••

Qd his face was like a benediction. In time it came to be under^
tood that the sole reason for his change of garb was that he
light wander throught these desolate regions in the wake of the
hepherdess Marcela (just mentioned by this lad) with whom he
ras in love.

' I now must tell you about this young woman and 'tis well
ou should know, for perhaps you'll not hear of such a case in
11 the days of your life though you live to be older than sarna
the itch). ' ' Say Sarah, ' offered our knight, who couldn't bear
tiis murdering of words. ' The itch lives long enough, ' rejoined
'edro, ' and, sir, if you go on correcting me at every step, we
han't have done in a twelvemonth. ' ' Forgive me, friend ;
spoke because of the great difference 'twixt Sarah and the itch,
tut you are right, for the itch lives the longer. Proceed with your
tory and I promise not to interrupt again. ' ' I was about to say,
ny dear sir, that in our village dwelt a farmer even richer than
Ihrisostom's father, one Guillermo, to whom in addition to his
reat wealth God gave a daugHter. The mother, who died at her
lirth, was the most esteemed woman in these parts. I seem to
ee her now with a face that on one side had the sun and on the
ther the moon. She was diligent above all and a friend to the
loor, so I am certain her soul is enjoying God in the other
(^orld. Her husband, Guillermo, from grief at the loss of such a
i^ife, died soon after, leaving his daughter Marcela, rich and very
oung, in the protection of an uncle, a priest of our village.

' The girl grew in such beauty as to remind us of her mother,
or though the latter's charm had been extreme, 'twas thought
twould be surpassed by her daughter's. Wh«n she reached the
ige of fourteen or fifteen, none saw her but blessed God that had
nade her so fair ; and most were left irretrievably in love. Her
incle kept her in close seclusion but the fame of her great beauty
o spread, that for it as well as for her large fortune men not
ilone of our village but for many leagues around, and the best
»f them, prayed, importuned, begged the uncle for her hand.
Jut being a Christian to the back-bone, albeit he wished her to
narry, now she was of age, he wouldn't have her do so against
ler will, and in this had no eye to the income afforded him by

XII CHRYSOSTOM 59

the girl's estate while she remained single. By my faith this was
conceded in more than one gossiping village-group to the praise
of the good man, fori want you to realise, sir errant, that in these
dull places naught escapes being talked about and censured, and
rest assured as I am that he must be an uncommonly good priest
whose parish, especially in the country, speak well of him. '
' True, ' assented his listener, ' but continue, for the story is
excellent, and you, my good Pedro, tell it with rare^race. '

' May that of our Lord not fail me, for his is the grace that
counts. "Well then, you must be told that the uncle represented
these things to his niece, telling her the particular qualities of
each suitor and urging that she make her choice and marry. But
always the girl answered that she had no inclination and being
young didn't feel capable of undertaking the burden of matri-
mony. In view of these apparently reasonable excuses the uncle
desisted from urging, trusting that as she grew older she would
choose to her taste. He said, and said well, that parents shouldn't
marry their children against their will. But one day, lo and
behold, when least we expected, the dainty Marcela makes her
appearance as a shepherdess, and despite her uncle and towns-
people that did their best to dissuade her, she takes to the fields
with other village-maidens to tend her flock. And as she moved
among folk and her beauty became manifest, it naturally fell
out that numberless rich young men, country -gentlemen and
peasants, put on the garb of Ghrysostom and went a- wooing her
through these fields. Among them, as has been said, was our
lamented friend, of whom 'tis rumoured that he had ceased to
love and now truly adored her.

' But do not think that in choosing this freedom and inde-
pendence and a life of little or no restraint Marcela permits the
faintest suspicion to arise that might result to the disparagement
of her reputation and virtue. Rather, the vigilance wherewith
she looks to her honour is so continuous, that of the many who
court and solicit her not one has boasted or can boast that she
has given him the slightest hope of attaining his end. Though she
doesn't eschew the company and conversation of the shepherds,
whom she treats with courtesy and even friendliness, the moment

J DON QUnOTE DE LA MANCHA 1

ne of them discovers his purpose, though it be the pure and
oly one of matrimony, he's shot as from a catapult. With this
Dnduct of hers she does more harm in the country hereabouts
iian the plague, for her kindness and beauty cause all hearts to
3ve and court her, while her disdain and open censure drive
lem in the end to despair, and they knovsr not what to say to
er, unless to cry her cruel and ingrate and similar epithets to
haracterise her nature. Were you here in the daytime, sir, you'ld
ear these mountains and valleys resound with the laments of
16 rejected suitors of Marcela.

' Not far hence are grouped some two dozen beech -trees and
n the soft bark of every tree is inscribed this maiden's name,
ibove some is carved a crown, as if the lover would declare that
larcela possessed and deserved the crown of human beauty,
[ere a shepherd is sighing, there one is lamenting, yonder may
e heard love-ditties and hard by dirges of despair. This one
its the whole night through at the foot of oak or cliflF and
i^ithout once closing his tearful eyes, lost and transported in
is thoughts, is found by the morning sun. Another, giving no
espite to his plaints, stretched on the burning sand in the heat
f the most oppressive summer noontide, sends forth his appeal
3 the compassionate heavens. And over this one, over that, over
11, the fair Marcela holds free and careless sway. All are won-
ering how her pride will end : who will be fortunate enough to
ame a nature so terrible and enjoy beauty so rare.

' All that I tell being true, I can easily believe that what our
id reports concerning the death of Ghrysostom is the same, and
advise you, sir, to be present at his burial. 'Twill be worth
eeing, for Ghrysostom had many friends and the spot isn't half

league distant. ' ' I have in mind to do so, ' answered Don
Juijote, * and I thank you for the pleasure your recital of so
Lvely a tale has afforded. ' ' As for that I don't know half the
hings that have overtaken Marcela's lovers, but very likely we
hall fall in with some shepherd on the road that can tell us.
i'or the present 'twill be well that you turn in, for the night,
ir, might aggravate your wound, though the dressing that was
ipplied is of such virtue that no return of the pain need be

Xm THE TRAVELLERS AMBROSIO 61

feared. ' Sancho Panza, who some time back had given the
goatherd's long tale to the devil, also solicited on his part that
his master enter and sleep in Pedro's hut. This Don Quijote did
and spent the rest of the night in recollections of his Dulcinea,
imitating the lovers of Marcela. His henchman settled himself
'twixt Rocinante and the ass and slept, not like a rejected suitor,
but like a man kicked to death.

CHAPTER Xni

A contiuuation of the shepherdess Marcela story
and other occurrences

THE first streaks of dawn could just be seen through the
balconies of the east when five of the six goatherds arose
and came to waken Don Quijote, saying they were ready to
bear him company did he still wish to witness the much-
talked-of burial of Chrysostom. The knight, who wished for
nothing but that, arose and bade his squire saddle and pannel
at once, which the latter did with diligence and all set off". They
hadn't gone a quarter-league when down a path they saw
approaching six shepherds clad in black skins, crowned with
garlands of cypress and the bitter bay and each bearing a stout
branch of holly. Two mounted gentlemen, well-equipped for
travel, and three foot-servants accompanied them. On meeting,
each parted courteously greeted and enquired the destination of
the other, and finding all were on their way to the burial place,
they rode on together. One of the gentlemen addressing his
companion said : ' Apparently, Senor Vivaldo, we do well to
wait and witness this remarkable ceremony. It can't fail to be
worth seeing according to the reports these shepherds give not
only of their dead friend but of the fatal Marcela. ' ' I agree with
you, ' replied Vivaldo, ' and I should delay not one day but four
if necessary. '

Don Quijote asked what had they heard anent Marcela and
Chrysostom and one of the travellers replied that they had fallen

62 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

in with these shepherds early that morning, and seeing them in
their sad garb, enquired the reason. They then were told of the
eccentricity and beauty of Marcela, the loves of the many that
sought her, together witht the death of Chrysostom, to whose
burial they now were going. In short they were told all that
Pedro had related to Don Quijote. This topic ended, another
was begun by the horseman Vivaldo who enquired of our adven-
turer the reason that impelled him to ride armed through such a
peaceful country. To this Don Quijote responded : ' The exercise
of my profession doesn't permit or allow me to go otherwise.
A life of ease, pleasure and repose began of old for delicate
courtiers, but toil, unrest and arms originated solely for them
whom the world calls knights-errant, of whom I, though- un-
worthy, am the least. ' , , ,, -'^^ ''^ , V • "-.vv-f'

No sooner did the company hear this than they set down the
speaker as mad, but to make sure thereof and in what direction,
Vivaldo asked him what he meant by knights-errant. ' Have
your worships not read the annals and histories of England
wherein are recorded the famous deeds of King Arthur, whom
we in Gastilian call King Artus, concerning wEoill' there's an old
and cormnon"Traditit)n threaghout his kingdom that he did not
die but was by necromancy transformed into a raven, and that
he will return in time and recover his rule and sceptre ? And it
cannot be proved that from that day to this any Englishman has
killed a raven. Now in the reign of this good king was instituted
the famous order of chivalry known as the Knights of the Round
Table. At this time too occured the love 'twixt Ijancelot of the^
Lake^nd Queen Guinevere, precisely as is written in these
books, with The rfusted: dame Quintanona as their confidante
and go-between. Hence arose the familiar ballad so much prized
in our Spain, beginning :

By dames so well watched o'er
A knight was never seen
As, since the Breton shore
He left, has Lancelot been ;

sontinuing with the sweet kindly story of his deeds in love and
war.

XIII THE TRAVELLERS AMBROSIO 63

• This order of knighthood, handed down from that time,
spread abroad through many parts of the world. The valiant
Amadis of Gaul, his sons and grand-sons to the fifth generation,
belonged thereto and became renowned for their deeds ; likewise
the bold Felixmarte of Hyrcania, the never-adequately praised
TirantejtU&^wbite and he whom almost we have seen in our own
days, yea, heard and spoken to, that fearless and invincible
knight, Don BejyLanis-iifjGtreece. This it is, sirs, to be knight-
errant, and such is the order of chivalry which I, though a sinner,
have made my calling. What those cavaliers professed, I pro-
fess, and wonder through these wastes and solitudes in search
of adventures, whereof in the most perilous that chance may
afford with my whole soul I am determined to offer mine arm
and person in behalf of the weak and needy. '

From this discourse of their companion the travellers were
now fully convinced he was mad and of the kind of madness
that swayed him, and the knowledge produced the same aston-
ishment in them as in everyone on first discovery. Vivaldo, a
shrewd and playful person, wished to give him opportunity to
continue his rhapsodies, that they might beguile the short remain-
ing distance, so he said to our knight : ' It strikes me, sir errknf,
that your worship has chosen one of the most austere profes-
sions in the world ; methinks that of the Carthusian monks is [not
so strict, ' ' It may be equally rigid, ' returned the other, ' biut as
necessary to mankind I am but an inch from doubting, for in
truth the soldier executing his captain's order achieves no ess
than the captain giving the order. My meaning is that ecclesias tics
in all peace and comfort seek of Heaven the welfare of the ea th,
but we soldiers and knights bring to pass what they but p 'ay
for, defending the world with might of arm and edge of swoid ;
not under shelter but exposed to the open sky, a target to the
insufferable rays of the summer sun and the chilling winter
frosts. Thus are we the servants of God — the arms where&y
J^Sie brings his justice to pass~on the earth.

' But inasmuch as war and the things pertaining thereto cannot
be carried on without extreme sweat and toil and travail, its
followers unquestionably work harder than they that in quiet

64 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

ease and repose beseech God to succour the unfortunate. I don't
for a moment say nor does it come to my mind that the actual
condition of the errant knight is as enviable as that of the
cloistered priest ; mine only inference from what I myself have
suffered is that 'tis certainly more laborious and rib-roasted,
more hungry and thirsty, more miserable and in rags, and more
subject to lice. For the knights before me certainly experienced
rough-and-tumble times, and if some through valour of arm
came to be emperors, in faith it cost them dear in sweat and
blood, and had no wizard or warlock helped them to their high
places, they'Id have been defrauded of their desires and utterly
deceived in their hopes. '

' So it always seemed to me, ' broke in the traveller ; ' and
another thing to which 1 take exception in knights-errant is that
when about to engage in some grand and perilous adventure,
wherein is evident danger of losing life, at the moment of onset
they never think to commend their souls to God as is the
bounden duty of every Christian at such times. Instead they
commend themselves to their lady-loves with as fervent will and
devotion as if they were their gods — conduct that to my mind
savours of paganism. ' ' This could on no account be different,
sir, ' explained Don Quijote ; ' ill would fare the knight that did
otherwise. It has ever been an observed custom of our order that
everyone of us, undertaking some great feat of arms, must turn
his eyes softly and lovingly toward his lady, should he find her
before him, as if beseeching her help and favour in the impend-
ing crisis. And where no such fair one is at hand, none the less
lie is supposed to say something between his teeth by way of
entrusting his whole heart to her. We have countless such in-
stances in the histories. But not for this is it to be understood
that they may omit the committal of their souls to God, for
which there will be ample time and occasion in the course of
the adventure. '

' One scruple yet remains, ' replied the traveller ; ' I have^
aften read how words pass 'twixt two errants, with the result
that both become incensed, turn their steeds about, get some
iistance between them and then without more ado rush against

XIII THE TRAVELLERS AMBROSIO 65

each other at full tilt, in the midst of the onset commending
themselves to their lady-loves. Now in the shock it commonly
befalls that one of the knights tarns a somersault over his horse's
crupper, passed clear through by the lance of his adversary, who
likewise would have come to the ground had he not held on by
his horse's mane. My doubt is as to how the dead knight found
time to commune with God when all occurred so suddenly.
Better had he devoted the words wasted on his lady to his dluty
and obligation as a Christian, especially since not all knights-
errant, in my opinion, have ladies to whom to commend them-
selves, for not all are enamoured. ' ' Impossible, ' protested the
champion ; ' no knight-errant can be without lady fair : 'tis as
natural for them to love as for the sky to have stars. Most
certainly no history was ever seen that told of a knight-errant
devoid of the tender passion, for the simple reason that should
one be discovered, 'twould be held he wasn't an out-and-out
errant but a bastard — that he entered the fortress of said chivalry
not by the gate but over the wall like a footpad and robber. ' ' All
may be true, ' said the traveller, ' yet, if my memory serve me,
I once read that Don Galaor, brother of the valiant Amadis, had
no special lady to whom to commend himself, yet was held in no
less esteem — was, in fact, a most bold and renowned cavalier. '
To this Don Quijote replied : ' One swallow doesn't make a
summer; the more that this knight, as I happen to know,
was secretly very much in love. His natural tendency and a thing
beyond his control was to desire every woman he deemed fair.
It is equally certain however that there was but one he made
mistress of his will ; to her he commended himself often enough,
though in secret, for he prided himself on his furtiveness. ' ' If
it's essential, then, that every knight-errant be in love, ' pursued
the traveller, ' it's fair to presume that your worship is, being of
that profession. And if you don't pride yourself on being as
furtive as Don Galaor, I earnestly request that for the sake of
this company and for mine own you tell us the name, country,
rank and appearance of your lady, who will count herself
fortunate that all the world knows she is loved and served by
such a knight as your worship appears. '

5

66 DON QUIJOTK DE LA MANCHA I

Upon this the other gave a deep sigh and said : ' I cannot tell
whether or no my sweet enemy would relish that the world
should know I serve her, but in reply to your most courteous
inquiry let me say that her name is Dulcinea, her native district
el Toboso, a La Manchan village, her station at least that of
princess, since she is my mistress and queen, and her appearance
above that of woman, for in her are realised all the extravagant
impossible attributes bestowed by poets upon their fair ones.
Her tresses are of gold, like the Elysian fields her forehead, her
eyebrows like the arcs of heaven, suns are her eyes, her cheeks
roses, coral her lips, pearls are her teeth, her neck alabaster and
her bosom marble. Her hands are as of ivory and her fairness
is like the whiteness of the snow. The parts -mch modesty veils
from human eyes are such, so I give myself to understand, that
shrewd conjecture may praise but not compare. '

' Her race, lineage and descent we would know as well, ' said
Vivaldo. And to this Don Quijote replied : ' She is not descended
from the ancient Curtii, Gaii or Scipios of ancient Rome, nor
from the more modern Golonnas or Orsini, nor from the Mon-
cadas or Requesenes of Catalonia ; nor yet does she trace ber
descent from the Rebellas. or Villanovas of Valencia, the Pala-
foxes, Nuzas, Rocabertis, Gorellas, Lunas, Alagones, Urreas,
Foces or Guerreas of Aragon ; nor is my love of the line of the
Gerdas, Manriques, Mendozas or Guzmans of Castile, nor of the
Alencastres, Pallas or Meneses of Portugal ; nay — but of those
of el Toboso of La Mancha, a line so modern that it can give an
honourable ancestry to the most illustrious houses of the future.
And let none dispute me in this, save on the terms that Zerbino
placed at the foot of Roland's arms :

Let none these arms remove
That cannot his deserts with Roland prove. '

' Though my family is the Cachopines of Laredo, ' returned
the traveller, ' I shouldn't venture to compare it with that of el
Toboso of La Mancha, though to tell the truth this is the first
time the name has reached mine ears. ' ' Extraordinary, ' was all
our knight could say. The rest of the party listened to this

XIII THE TRAVELLERS AMBROSIO 67

dialogue with eager attention and by it even the goatherds and
shepherds perceived our knight's delusion. Sancho alojie^thought
true what Jiig^master said, having known him .from birth. Th<
wonderful DulcineaTel Toboso was the only thing he doubted^
for such a name and princess had never come to his notice,
though her village lay so near his own.

The two were still conversing when in a gap ahead between
two high cliff's they saw some twenty shepherds, clad in skins
of black wool and crowned with garlands some of cypress, some
of yew. Six carried a litter covered with a great variety of
leaves and flowers, and on seeing this one of our goatherds said :
' They carry the body of Chrysostom and the base of that mount
is where he asked to be buried. ' Accordingly they hastened and
arrived soon after the others had laid the stretcher down, while
four with sharp picks were already digging the grave close to a
hard rock. Each party courteously saluted the other and Don
Quijote and his fellow-travellers straightway moved toward the
litter. They beheld the body of a youth, apparently of some thirty
years, covered with flowers and clad like a shepherd. Even in
death it showed that when alive he had possessed a lovely
countenance and pleasing bearing. Round about him lay a few
books and many papers, some loose, some tied together.

Not only the spectators of this scene but the diggers of the
grave were perfectly silent; till one of the bearers said to
another : ' Are you sure this is the spot Chrysostom meant,
Ambrosio ; you wished his request in the will satisfied to the
letter ? ' ' I am sure, for oft in this very place my friend re-
hearsed to me the story of his misfortunes. 'Twas here he first saw
that fatal enemy of the human race ; 'twas here too he first told
her of his love, pure as it was deep ; and here Marcela finally
rebuked and disdained him, putting an end to the tragedy of his
wretched existence. In testimony of these many miseries he
desired to be buried here in the depths of oblivion. ' Then turning
to Don Quijote and the travellers Ambrosio continued : ' This
body, sirs, whereat you gaze with pitying eyes, was the dwelling-
place of a soul in whom Heaven lodged a great proportion of her
riches. This is the body of Chrysostom, a youth of rare fancy, of

68 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

unique courtesy, of extreme delicacy ; a phoenix in friendsllip,
liberal beyond measure, serious without pride, jocund without
vulgarity ; the first in all that is good and without second in all
that is unfortunate. He loved devotedly, was hated in return ;
he adored but was disdained ; courted a wild beast, solicited a
statue, pursued the wind, spake to the wilderness, served ingrat-
itude and as reward became death's spoil in the prime of life,
murdered by a shepherdess whom he would immortalise, as
these papers could reveal had he not ordered them to be given
to the flames as soon as his body had been given to the earth. '

' You'll be showing greater severity toward them than did their
owner, ' protested Vivaldo ; ' 'tis wicked to comply with a
request that's beyond all reason. Augustus Csgsar certainly
would have sinned had he permitted the divine Mantuan's wish
to be effected, and with his example before you, though you bury
your friend's body in the earth, give not hi^ writings to oblivion.
If he in a fit of spleen so bade, 'tis not for you iHTa. moment of
folly to obey. Preserve the papers that the tale of Marcela's
heartlessness mlfy~liTe for ever that others-may 'thtrs-eseape
fallingTJVer tHe"^ine precipice. I and my companions know the
story of your loving and despairing friend ; we know too of the
fellowship between you, the occasion of his death and his final
prayer. 'Tis easy to gather how great has been Marcela's cruelty,
Ghrysostom's devotion, your loyalty and the end that's in store
for all that ride recklessly along the path of immoderate love.
Last evening we were told of Ghrysostom's death and burial
here, and from curiosity and compassion we turned aside to see
what we had heard with so much regret. In return for this our
sorrow and our desire to lessen yours if we may, we ask you, most
sensible Ambrosio, at least for myself I beg of you, to hand me
some of these writings and that you on no account burn them. '
Without waiting for reply Vivaldo reached down and picked
up some of the papers lying nearest him ; observing which
\mbrosio said : ' Out of courtesy, sir, I grant your desire so
[AT as it relates to the manuscript already in your hand. But 'tis
irain to think I shall not burn the rest. ' Vivaldo, eagerly opening
3ut one of the papers, said its title was A Lay of Despair. Upon

XIV

MARCELA

this Ambrosio observed : ' 'Tis the last piece the poor fellow
wrote. That you may see, sir, the pass to wliich his misfortunes
brought him, read it aloud ; you'll have time while they dig the
grave. ' ' I shall be only too glad to comply, ' said the other ; and
as all present desired to hear it, they gathered about him and
Vivaldo in a clear voice read the lay.

CHAPTER XIV

Unexpected occurrences following on the despairing verses
of the dead shepherd

THOSE that heard Chrysostom's lay approved it, but its reader
thought it fitted ill with what he heard of the purity and
goodness of Marcela, since in the verses Chrysostom complained
of jealousy, suspicion and neglect, all to the prejudice of the
girl's good name and honour. To this answered Ambrosio, as one
that knew well his friend's most secret thought : ' To free
yourself of this uncertainty, sir, you must realise that when the
poor fellow wrote the poem he was absent from Marcela, from
whom he banished himself to see whether or no separation would
affect him as it has others. But inasmuch as there's naught that
doesn't distress an absent lover and no fear that doesn't haunt
him, so Chrysostom was as much beside himself with suspicions
and imaginary causes of jealousy as though they had been real.
This however doesn't lessen the truth of what is said of the virtue
of the girl, in whom envy itself cannot and should not find
fault, save that she is cruel, a little arrogant and more than a
little contemptuous toward lovers. ' ' You have spoken well, '
acknowledged Vivaldo.

The latter was about to read another paper he had saved, when
he was prevented by the appearance of a marvellous vision (for
so it seemed) that presented itseJ^lf above them. Upon the large
rock where the grave was being dug came into view the shep-
herdess Marcela, beautiful beyond all they had heard. Those
that had never seen her gazed at her speechless, nor were the

70 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

Others less astounded. Scarce had Ambrosio realised her presence
when he said with manifest indignation : ' O relentless basilisk
of these moutains, you are here perchance to see if the wounds of
this poor creature, slain by your heartlessness, will bleed afresh
at your coming. Is it that or do you wish to glory in your cruel
deeds and look down from on high upon the burning of your
enkindled Rome, like another pitiless Nero ? Belike you would
haughtily trample under foot this ill-used body, as Tarquin's
daughter did his ? At once tell us your mission and pleasure, for
knowing as I do that Ghrysostom's thoughts never failed you in
his life, I shall see that all his friends obey you now that he is
dead. '

' I come not, Ambrosio, for any of the purposes you have
named. Rather I come in mine own defence, to show how unreas-
onable are they that blame me for their trials and Ghrysostom's
death. I beseech you all to give ear, for little time and few words
will win men of understanding to the truth. Heaven made me
fair you say and so fair that in spite of yourselves my beauty
moves you to love me, and you insist that I in return am bound
to love you. With the perception given me of God I realise that
all beauty is lovable, but I do not feel that because it is loved it
must of necessity love in return, especially as it might well be
that the lover of beauty was himself ugly, and since ugliness is
displeasing, how idle would it sound to say : ' I love you for
your beauty : you must love me though ugly. '

' If on the other hand the man and woman were equally
comely, it doesn't follow that they should equally love, since
certain kinds of beauty do not excite the affections but merely
gratify the eye. Indeed if all beauties inspired love, one wouldn't
know where to rest ; but even as lovely things are without
nhmber, so is there infinite variety in tastes. Moreover have I
heard say that true love is single-minded and acts of its own free
will, and if this be true, as I think it is, why wish my affections
to be forced ? is it merely because you love me deeply ? Tell
me, had Heaven made me ugly instead, would I be right in
complaining that you loved me not ? Furthermore you must
consider that I didn't choose my beauty, but Heaven of its

XIV

MARCBLA 71

bounty bestowed it unsought upon me, and even as the serpent
is not to be rated for its poison, though he kill with it, since it's
a gift of nature, so should I not be censured, being fair. Beauty
in a good woman is like a distant flame or sharp sword : it
neither burns nor cuts those that stand apart. Honour and virtue
are not only adornments of the soul, but without them the
body too, though it appear beautiful, shouldn't be esteemed so.
And if purity is one of the virtues that most adorn both body
and soul, why should she that is loved for beauty, sacrifice
her purity by yielding to the wish of one that simply for his
seltish pleasure seeks with all means at his command that she
do so ?

' Free was I born, and that I might continue so to live, I chose
the solitude of the fields. The mountain-trees are my companions,
the clear waters of these brooks my mirror, to the trees and the
brooks I communicate my thoughts and my beauty. I am a fire
removed and a sword afar off. Those in whom I have aroused
passion by my countenance, I have disdained by my word. If
desire feeds on hopes, none have I given Ghrysostom or another,
and if any have died therefrom, his own obstinacy, be it said,
and not my cruelty, killed him. But if it be charged against me
that his purpose was honourable and that therefore I should
have yielded, I can only say that when first on this spot where
now they dig his grave he made known the seriousness of his
intent, I told him that mine held to live singly all my life and
that only our mother -earth should enjoy the fruitage of my
chastity and my beauty's spoils. If on top of all this plain-speak-
ing he hoped against hope and tried to sail against the wind,
what wonder if he perished in the maelstrom of his own
recklessness ?

' Had I encouraged Ghrysostom, I had been false ; had I
gratified him, 'twould have been against my better instinct and
intent. Though refused he persisted, not hated he despaired.
Consider now if I am to blame that he suffered. Let him that
has been deceived complain, let him despair whom promised
hopes have failed. Let him take courage whom I shall invite and
let him whom I admit rejoice. But let him not cry me cruel and

72 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

fatal whom I neither promise nor deceive, neither invite nor
admit to my company. Heaven has not yet ordained mine a fated
love and 'tis vain to think I shall love from choice.

' Let this serve inclusively for all that for their several ad-
vantages importune me. Henceforth let it be understood that if
any die for me, 'twas not from jealousy, and frankness should
never be interpreted as rebuke. He that calls me wild-beast, and
basilisk, let him quit me as a wicked, baleful being ; he that
calls me ungrateful, let him not serve me ; or hateful, let him
not know me ; or cruel, follow me. For this wild-beast, this
basilisk, this cruel and hateful ingrate, will not seek, serve, know
or follow them, they may rest assured. If his impatience and
unbridled passion caused Chrysostom's death, what blame can
be attached to mine open conduct and withdrawal ? If I preserve
my purity in the company of trees, why does he that would
have me preserve it among men exert himself that I may lose it ?
I, as you know, have riches and covet no man's. I delight in
freedom and would not subject myself. I neither love nor hate.
Neither do I deceive this man and solicit that, nor scoff at one
and favour another. Natural companionship with these village-
maidens and the care of my goats engage me. My wishes are
bounded by these mountains, and if they soar beyond, 'tis but
to contemplate the beauty of Ihe sky — steps whereby the soul
journeys to its first abode. '

With this and without waiting for reply Marcela turned and
disappeared into the depths of the neighbouring wood, leaving
them all as struck with admiration for her understanding as for
her beauty. Some of the shepherds, wounded by the keen arrows
of light from her beautiful eyes, made as if to follow, ignoring
her plain prohibition. When Don Quijote observed this, thinking
his chivalry as champion of maidens would be well employed,
he clapped hand to sword-hilt and said in loud and unmislake-
able tones : ' Let none of whatever condition or estate dare follow
the fair Marcela on pain of falling under my wrath. She made
clear to you the little or no blame attaching to her for Chrysos-
tom's death and how far she is from yielding to the desires of
any lover. Instead of being followed and persecuted, she

^^V MARCELA 73

should be prized and respected by all good people of this
world, for she alone therein purposes to live with these pure
desires. '

Owing either to these threats or to Ambrosio's saying they
should first finish their duty to their good friend, not a shepherd
moved or left the spot till the grave was dug, tlie papers burned
and the body lowered to its resting-place amidst the tears of
all. They covered the grave with a huge boulder till such time as
a slab could be made wliereon Ambrosio purposed to have cut
the following :

Beneath this sod has lain

A lover's body cold —

A shepherd of the fold

That died through love's disdain.

Who killed the luckless swain ?
A maiden fair but rude,
By -whose ingratitude
Love amplifies his reign.

They then strewed many leaves and flowers, and expressing
their last sympathy to Ambrosio, the company dispersed. Don
Quijote took leave of his hosts and the travellers, who sought his
company to Seville as a city rich in adventures, where every
street and corner offered more than any place he could find. The
knight thanked them for their good-will but he couldn't and
wouldn't go till he had rid these mountains of banditti, in whom
report said they abounded. Seeing his good and firm intent the
travellers didn't press further and taking leave anew continued
on their journey ; during which was no lack of matter for discus-
sion regarding both Marcela and Ghrysostom and the frenzy of
the knight. He on his part decided to seek out the shepherdess
and offer his services. But it fell out other than was expected, as
is related in the course of this faithful narrative.

74 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XV

The calamity that overtook our knight in connection
with certain heartless Yanguesans

THE sage Gid Hamet Benengeli relates that after Don Quijote
took_leave of his- hosts T[nd~th«"^est of the company at
Ghrysostom's burial, he and squire entered the wood into which
the shepherdess Marcela had disappeared. After wandering for
more than two hours in vain search, they came out upon a grassy
green meadow bordered by a cool and pleasant stream, so that
they could not but pass there the siesta, already very warm. They
dismounted, and letting the ass and Rocinante feed at large on
the abundant pasturage, themselves plundered the saddlebags,
and waiving ceremony ate of their contents in good peace and
fellowship. Sancho had not taken the trouble to fetter Rocinante,
thinking him so gentle and dispassionate that not all the mares
of the Cordovan mead could lead him astray. But fate and the
devil, who doesn't always sleep, ordained that a number of
Galician ponies,, the property of Yanguesan carriers, should be
feeding in that same pasture, it being the fashion of such gentle-
men to pass the siesta with their teams in watered grassy places
such as this. Now Rocinante took it into his head to disport
himself with these lady-ponies, and having once scented them,
departing from his usual procedure, went at very brisk trot and
without his master's leave to tell them of his pleasure.

The ponies however apparently preferred feeding to aught else
and received their caller with heels and teeth so forcefully that
they soon had broken his girth and clean rid him of his saddle.
But what must have still more displeased him was that the car-
riers, seeing the violence offered their thoroughbreds, hastened to
the spot with loading-sticks and gave him such a rib-roasting as
to level him, considerably damaged, with the ground. The knight
and squire, witnessing this punishment, came running up out of

XV THE YANGUESANS 73

breath, the one saying to the other : ' Methinks, friend Sancho,
that these are not knights but a low-lived worthless rabble, and
you therefore may lawfully aid me in wreaking deserved ven-
gence for the insult offered my steed before my very eyes. '
' What devils of vengeance have we to wreak, ' gasped the other,
' when they are more than twenty and we but two, or maybe one
and a half?' ' I am a hundred, ' cried his master, who without
more ado now clapped hand to sword and charged the mob,
followed by his squire, whom his example incited.

With his first sword-cut Don Quijote opened the lealhern
jacket of one of the Yanguesans, together with a good bit of his
shoulder, but his friends, seeing themselves abused by two only
and they so many, grasped their stakes, surrounded the pair and
began to baste them with most determined fury. The result was
that their second blow felled squire and master together, for the
latters's skill and courage proved but vain, and he lay at Ihe feet
of his good steed, who had not yet risen. From this may be
gauged the pounding force of stakes when wielded by rustic and
wrathful hands.

Seeing the mischief they had wrought, the carriers with all
possible speed loaded their ponies and went their way, leaving
the two adventurers a sad sight and in sorrier mood. The first to
show his displeasure was Sancho, who, on discovering his master
hard by, called in weak, pitiful accents : ' Senor Don Quijote,
ah, Senor Don Quijote ! ' ' What do you want, brother Sancho ? '
came from the other in the same feeble aggrieved tone. ' If possi-
ble, I would your worship gave me two gulps of that Feo (ugly)
Bias' balsam, if you have some handy. It may be good for broken
bones as for wounds. ' ' Ah, had I but that here, what more
should we need, ill-fated that I am ! But I swear to you, Sancho
Panza, on the faith of a knight-errant, that, provided fortune do
not order otherwise, I'll possess that treasure (or my hand has
lost its cunning) ere two days are passed. '

' And how many do you think 'twill be ere we can move our
feet ? ' ' I for myself cannot guess, ' replied the cudgelled knight ;
' but the blame for this is mine, since I shouldn't have fought
with men not dubbed as I. Verily I believe that as penalty for

76 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA l

this trespass the God of battles allowed our chastisement. Where-
fore, brother, 'twere well that you be warned of what I am about
to tell, for it deeply concerns the welfare of both. It is that when
you see such riff-raff working us harm, don't wait till I draw
sword sgainst them, for I shall refrain. But do you draw yours
and lay on to your heart's content. Should knights come to their
aid and protection, I shall be ready to oppose them and defend
you with all my power ; and you've had a thousand proofs of
how far the might of my strong arm availeth ; ' so inflated had the
poor gentleman become through his triumph over the gallant
Biscayan.

This suggestion didn't strike Sancho favourably enough to let
it pass without saying : ' Senor, I am law-abiding, gentle and a
lover of ease, and I can overlook any injury whatsoever, for I
have a wife and children to feed and raise. In return let this be
my suggestion (it cannot be a command) that on no account
shall I draw sword against countryman or cavalier : before God
I henceforth forgive all scath that has been or shall be done me,
whether he that has done, does now or shall do it be high or
low, rich or poor, noble or commoner, no rank or condition
excepted. ' To which his master replied : ' I would I had breath
enough to speak with a little ease and that the pain in this rib
would lessen, that I might make clear to you, Panza, your error.
For look here, sinner, if the wind of fortune, which till now
has blown dead against us, should suddenly shift in our favour,
bellying the sails of our desires, so that safely and freely we
reach our port in one of the promised isles, how will you fare,
if on winning it I make you its lord ? Why, you'll bring all to
naught, because you're not a knight nor wish to be one, and
have no courage, nor care to avenge your injuries and protect
your realm. You must realise that in kingdoms and provinces
newly conquered the subjects are never so content or so much
their new lord's partisans that he needn't fear their springing a
revolution, trying to see what fortune will do for them as they
say. The new incumbent must, necessarily, be wise enough to
govern and valiant enough to fight and defend himself in every
emergency. '

XV

THE YANGUESANS 77

' In this last one, ' replied Sanclio, ' I would I had possessed
the wisdom and valour your worship mentions. But I swear to
you on the faith of a poor man that for the present I'm more in
need of plasters than palaver. Try your worship to rise, and let
us help Rocinante, tiiough in truth he doesn't deserve it, being
the cause of all that drubbing. I never would have believed it of
Rocinante, whom I took for a chaste person and as great a lover
of the peace as myself. 'Tis a true saying that it takes a long
time to know people and that in life nothing's certain. Who'ld
have thought that on the heels of those heavy whacks your worship
gave that unlucky knight -errant, would come post-haste such a
tempest as but now fell on our shoulders ? ' ' Yours, Sancho,
should be accustomed to such squalls, but mine, acquainted
with soft cloth and fine linen, naturally feel the pain of this
mishap more acutely. And did I not imagine, imagine do I say,
did I not know as a fact, that all these discomforts are closely
affiliated with the practice of arms, I should be ready to die on
the spot from pure exhaustion. '

Again the squire made answer : ' If these humiliations be the
natural harvest of chivalry, tell me, sir, are there many in a year
and do they come at certain seasons ? for methinks with two such
reapings we should be no good for a third, unless God of his
infinite mercy come to our aid. ' ' Be assured, friend Sancho, '
responded the other, ' that though the life of knights-errant is
exposed to a thousand perils and reverses, equally is it in their
power to become kings and emperors — as experience has shown
with many knights whose histories I know from beginning to
end. I now could tell you, pain permitting, of some that have
risen solely through valour to those high stations, yet found
themselves, both before and after, in divers miseries and vicissi-
tudes. Amadis, for example, fell into the power of his mortal
enemy the magician Arcalaus who, it is asserted, tied him to a
pillar in the court-yard and with his horse's reins applied more
than two hundred lashes. Moreover there's an unknown but
reliable author relates how the Knight of Phoebus, falling through
a trap-door at a certain castle, straightway found himself tied
hand and foot in a cavern, where they injected into him a certain

78 DON QUIJOTK DE LA MANCHA I

thing called a clyster, made of snow and water, which nearly
proved his finish ; had not a sage and great friend rescued him in
his jeopardy, the poor fellow wonld have fared ill indeed.

' I, therefore, being in such good company, can well bear my
sufferings, the better that the calamities that overtook them were
worse than ours. Fori must enlighten you, Sancho, that wounds
given with instruments already in the hand are no humiliation,
as is expressly set down in the law of the duel. For example, if
a cobbler strike another with a last, the recipient of the blow is
not said to have been mauled thereby. This I say lest you think
that, pummeled as we were, we were also in some degree
insulted. The arms those men ca/ed and wherewith they basted
us were merely pack-staves — not a rapier, as I remember, or
sword or dagger among them. '

' They gave me no time to observe, sir, for hardly had I
grasped my good weapon, when their sticks or whatever they
were signed the cross on my shoulders in such a way as to
deprive me of eye-sight and the use of my legs, fetching me
where now I lie, and were it gives me no concern whether stakes
made it an insult or not. The pain of the blows does interest
me, since they're as likely to remain as deeply impressed on my
memory as on my shoulders. ' ' Still, brother Sancho, you must
bear in mind there's no memory time does not obliterate, no
suffering death doesn't consume. ' ' But what worse luck can
there be than that which must wait for death to obliterate, or
time to consume. Were our disaster of the kind that a couple of
bandages could cure, 'twouldn't be so bad, but I am beginning
to think the plasters of a whole hospital won't straighten us out.'

' Enough of this, my son ; pluck strength out of weakness and
I'll do the same. Let us first look to Rocinante, since it appears
that not the least part of this misfortune fell to him. ' ' What
wonder, master, since he too is an errant. The astonishing thing
is that while we three came off without a rib, mine ass escaped
without a rub. ' ' In reverses, my son, fortune ever leaves one
door open for their relief; even as now, when this little beast,
relieving Rocinante, can carry me hence to some castle where
my wounds may be healed. I shall the less consider such a mount

XV THE YANGUESANS 79

dishonour in thai I remember how the good old Silenus, tutor to
the merry god of laughter, entered the hundred-gated city riding
very pleasantly a fine-looking ass. '

• Maybe he did, ' said the squire ; ' but there's big dilTercnce
between going mounted like a gentleman and slung across like a
sack of sweepings. ' To this the master replied : ' Battle-wounds
augment not lessen honour ; so speak no more, Panza friend.
Rise, I say, as best you can, and place me on your ass however
you think well, and let us depart lest night overtake us in this
wilderness. ' ' I have heard you tell, ' ventured the other, ' that
it's quite the thing for knights-errant to sleep on heaths and
deserts most of the year and that they considerer it good-luck. '
' That is when they cannot do better, or when they're in love.
There have been knights that, unknown to their ladies fair,
remained two years on a cliff exposed to the sun and the dark-
ness and the sky's inclemency. Such an one was Amadis, who
under the name of Beltenebros abode on Peiia Pobre eight years
or months — I am not sure which. Be that as it may, he did
penance there for some fault or other wich the princess Oriana
took exception to. But let us drop this, boy, and make haste ere
some disaster befalls the ass similar to the one that overtook
Rocinante. '

' Here would the devil be then, sure, ' quoth Sancho ; and
with thirty ohs, sixty sighs and a hundred and twenty curses
and plagues on the creature that had brought him to this pass,
he raised himself, but only part way, unable to stand upright,
bent like a Turkish bow. Yet with all this distress he managed
to pannel his ass, who in the immoderate license of that day as
well had gone astray. He then helped to his feet Rocinante, who,
had he possessed a tongue wherewith to complain, would cer-
tainly not have lagged a whit behind master or man. Last of all
Sancho laid his lord athwart the smaller beast and tying the horse
on behind took his ass by the halter and set out toward where
he thought the high-road lay. As chance guided their affairs
from good to better, he had gone less than a short league when
he discovered the road and on it an inn, which to his sorrow
and the other's joy must needs be a castle. Sancho insisted

80 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA ■•■

'twas an inn and his master 'twas certainly a castle, and the
dispute was still on when they reached it, at the gateway of
which without further argument the squire entered, himself
and all his retinue.

CHAPTER XVI

Of all that befell our imaginative gentleman in the inn
supposed to be a castle.

THE landlord, on seeing our knight slung across the ass,
asked the squire what was the trouble. The latter replied
'twas nothing, only his master had fallen from a ledge and
bruised his ribs a bit. The innmistress, unlike most of her kind,
felt for the misfortunes of her neighbours and made haste to
attend to this one, making her comely young daughter assist.
The only servant at the inn was an Asturian lass, one with
broad face and flat head behind, snub-nosed, asquint of one
eye and not cock-sure with the other, though certainly the
litheness of her body balanced these shortcomings, for her
height was not above seven palms, and her shoulders, being a
trifle heavy, made her scan the ground more than she liked.

This graceful creature helped the daughter prepare a bed in a
loft that in its day had evidently served many years for straw.
Here too a carrier had taken up his rest a little beyond our
knight. Though his bed was made of packsaddles and mule-
blankets, it took the shine out of Don Quijote's, consisting of
four rough boards on two rickety horses, a mattress like a quilt
for weight, full of little knobs shown by rents to be of wool but
to the touch seeming small cobbles ; and on top of all two sheets
of shield-leather and a blanket everyone of whose threads could
have been numbered. On this wicked shakedown the knight
reclined while wife and daughter plastered him from top to toe,
aided with a light by the Asturian wench Maritornes. In applying
the plasters the innmistress couldn't but notice how black and
blue he was and said it looked more like a felling than a fall. ' It

XVI MARITORNES 81

wasn't, ' said Sancho, ' but the ledge had lots of little points and
projections, each one of which left its mark. And please, lady,
leave a few cloths, for there won't lack one to use them — my
loins as well pain a bit. '

' So you too had a fall, did you ? ' ' Not exactly a fall, but I
got such a shock from seeing master go over that my body aches
as though it had received a thousand bastings. ' ' That may well
be, ' vouchsafed the daughter, ' for oft have I dreamed I was
falling from a tower and never reaching the ground, and when
I awoke Fid find myself as bruised and shaken as if it had really
happened. ' ' But the funny part of my fall was that without
dreaming and more awake than I am now, I find myself with few
less bruises than my master Don Quijote. ' ' I didn't catch the
name, ' said Maritornes. ' Don Quijote de la Mancha, knight-
adventurer and one of the best and bravest seen for many a
day. ' ' And what's a knight- adventurer ?' queried the wench.
' Are you so fresh in the world as not to know vhat a knight-
adventurer is ? Then let^me tell you, sistgc^that he's something
that in two words is cudgelled and a ki^g. To-day he's the
unluckiest beggar alive but to-morrow he'll have two or three
crowns to throw away on his squire. ' ' Then how does it
happen, ' said the innmistress, ' that you, being squire to a good
master, haven't even a countship apparently ? ' ' It's too early
yet ; we've been out less than a month and so far haven't run
across any ; it sometimes happens you look for one thing and
find another. But if my master gets well of his felling or fall, and
if it doesn't leave me hunchback, I wouldn't exchange my hopes
for the best title in Spain. '

Don Quijote lay attentive to this colloquy, but now sitting up
as best he could he took his hostess ' hand and said : ' Believe
me, fair lady, you may call yourself fortunate in having sheltered
in your castle a person whom if I do not praise, 'tis by reason
of the common saying. Self-glorification doth make vile. But my
shield-bearer will tell who I am. For myself let me add that I
shall ever keep writ in memory the service you have rendered,
that I may thank you for the same while I live. Would to Heaven
love held me not subject to its laws and to the eyes of the fair

6

82 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■■■

ingrate whom I name between my teeth ; else those of this
lovely girl would rule my liberty. ' The innmistress, her daughter
and good Maritornes were dumfounded by this speech, since
'twas so much Greek to them ; but they gathered that he offered
his service and attentions. Unused to such language, they stared
at him in astonishment as at a different order of being. At length
they got out their thanks in tavern fashion and departed, leaving
Maritornes to care for Sancho, who was in as dire straits as his
lord.

Now it chanced that the carrier had arranged with this Asturian
lass to be together that night, she having given her word to come
when the household had retired and do his pleasure. And 'tis
said of this good woman that she always kept an oath though
'twere given in the woods and without witnesses, for she prided
herself on being gently-born, considering it no disgrace to be
serving at an inn for, she said, misfortune had brought her there.
The hard, narrow, stingy and treacherous bed of Don Quijote
came first, near the centre of this starlit stable. Next came
Sancho's, consisting of a rush-mat and a blanket plainly not wool
but threadbare canvass ; and just beyond these two beds was
heaped the carrier's, made of the packsaddles and trappings of
his best two mules. He had twelve in all it seerns, every one
sleek, shiny and in prime condition, for their master was one of
the richest carriers in Arevalo. At least so says the author of this
history, who makes particular mention of him, being his close
acquaintance and even distant kinsman, they say ; and Gid Hamet
Benengeli was most diligent and exact in all things, as may be
seen by his not passing in silence even the merest trifles, afford-
ing an example to certain grave historians whose accounts of
incidents are so abbreviated that we scarce get a taste of them,
while the essential part of the story, either from carelessness or
malice or ignorance, is left in the ink-pot. A thousand blessings
on the author of Tablante de Ricamonte and the narrator of the
deeds of Count Tomillas ! with what pains is every smallest
detail dwelt upon !

Our historians says, then, that after the carrier had visited his
team and given their second feed, he stretched himself over his

XVI MARITORNES 83

packsaddles and waited for the punctilious Maritornes. Sancho
in plasters had already accommodated himself and was even
trying to get sleep, despite the pain in his ribs, while Don Quijote
with the pain in his had his eyes wide open as a hare's. The inn
was all silent and dark, save for a lantern that hung in the middle
of the outer gate. This marvellous stillness, added to memories
of situations so scrupulously recorded in the books that proved
his undoing, brought to our knight's fancy one of the strangest
delusions that well can be conceived. Having arrived at this
famous castle, as he took this inn to be, he imagined the keeper's
daughter the daughter of the lord of the place, and represented
to himself that she, overcome by his graces, had fallen in love
and had promised that unknown to her parents she'ld spend a
good part of the night in his society. Holding this chimera as
downright truth he began to be restless, reflecting on the dan-
gerous crisis his virtue was about to face. Yet in his heart he
resolved to commit no treason to his lady Dulcinea del Toboso,
though Queen Guinevere herself with her duenna Quintaiiona
placed themselves in his power.

In the midst of this fantasy arrived the fatal hour of the quest
of the Asturian who, clad in a smock, bare-footed, her hair caught
up in a fustian net, with silent cautious steps entered the room
where the three lay. Hardly had she gained the door when Don
Quijote heard her and sitting up in bed maugre plasters and
pains stretched out his arms to receive so much beauty, that
stooping went quietly feeling her way toward her desired object.
She thus was bound to come in contact with the arms of our
knight, who seized her firmly by the wrist, drew her toward
him and without her daring utter a syllable made her sit upon
his bed. First he felt her smock which, though nothing but
sackcloth, seemed to him the finest and most delicate silk. The
glass-beads on her wrists sparkled like oriental pearls ; her hair
(more or less resembling a horse's mane) he pictured of the most
dazzling Arabian gold, obscuring the sun itself in splendour,
while her breath, reeking of the stale meat-salad of the night
before, came to his nostrils like sweet aromatic fragrance.

In short our knight's imagination pictured this wench in

84 DON QUIJOXB DE LA MANCHA ■•■

semblance of the other princess who, smit with love, came to
attend the sorely wounded cavalier : to his senses this one had
all her adornments of person. Such was the poor man's blindness
that neither touch nor breath nor aught else undeceived him,
though enough to make any but a carrier sick at the stomach.
Rather he believed he had the goddess of beauty herself in his
arms, and still clutching her wrist in low and amorous accent
thus began : ' Would that I were in the way, fair and noble
creature, to requite the favour thou hast done me in the dis-
closure of thy great beauty. But fortune, never weary in the
persecution of the good, has seen fit to place me where I lie so
battered and broken that even were my will ready to yield to
thine, such a thing could not be. But on top of this impossibility
is another still greater — the faith sworn to the peerless Dulcinea
del Toboso, sole mistress of my secret thoughts. Were this not
the state of things, I should not be such a ninny of a knight as
to let slip the opportunity thy great bounty has placed in my
hands. '

The lass was in mortal sweat and agony at finding herself so
tightly held by this gentleman, and without comprehending or
even hearing his talk and without saying a word in reply
she struggled to get free. The good carrier, whom evil desire
had kept awake, from the time he heard his courtesan enter
listened to all Don Quijote said, and anxious lest the Asturian
prove false, stole up to the other's bed, waiting to discover what
these unintelligible words portended. But when he saw the lass
struggling to get free and the man doing his best to restrain her,
he no longer fancied the joke and raising his fist on high dis-
charged such a truly terrible blow on the lantern-jaws of the
enamoured knight as to bathe his mouth in blood.

But not content with this the carrier mounting his ribs started
a quick trot, till the weakly-supported bed, unable to bear this
fresh weight, came to the floor and with such a crash that it
wakened the innkeeper, who sodn guessed that Maritornes had
a hand in the trouble, since he called her and received no answer.
In this suspicion he arose and lighting a lamp hastened to the
scene of disaster. The wench, seeing him come and knowing his

•^VI MAMTORNES 8S

temper, was scared out of her wits, and taking refuge in the bed
of Sancho Panza, who had fallen to sleep, rolled herself up like
a ball. The innkeeper entering called out : ' Where are you, you
trollop ? this is some of your doings, I'll wager. ' Upon this
Sancho awoke, and finding a large swelling on top of him, he
look it for a nightmare and began to lay about on all sides, any
number of which blows fell on Maritornes. She, feeling the pain
they gave, dropped her gentility and delivered so many in return
that in spite of himself Sancho quit the idea of nightmare. Find-
ing how he was treated and by he knew not whom, he got up
as he could and closed with the other, and then and there ensued
the stormiest and most comical scuffle in the world.

The carrier, seeing by the light of the innkeeper's lamp how
his lady faired, left Quijote and hastened to give the much-needed
aid. The innkeeper made haste as well though with a different
intention, for he meant to punish the woman, believing her the
sole cause of all this harmony. As the saying is, the cat to the
rat, the rat to the rope, the rope to the stick : even so the carrier
made at Sancho, Sancho at the wench, the wench at him, the
innkeeper at her and all let fly so briskly as not to grant a
moment's respite. And the best of it was that the lamp went out
and in the dark they struck so indiscriminately and so without
pity that wherever fists lit, there was damage done.

Now chance quartered in the inn that night an officer of the
ancient and holy Toledan Brotherhood, who, hearing an extraor-
dinary commotion, seized his staff and tin box containing
warrants, and entering the dark room called out : ' Hold, in the
name of justice ! hold, in the name of the Holy Brotherhood ! '
The first person he laid hands on was the belted knight, lying
senseless on his demolished bed with mouth in air. Catching
hold of his beard as he groped about, the officer ceased not to
cry : ' Help for the police ! ' but finding his victim didn't struggle
or even stir, he called still louder : ' Close the inn-gate that none
escape, for here's a man murdered ! '

Every one in a fright quit sparring instantly. The keeper fled
to his room, the carrier to his packsaddles, the woman to her
cot — the unlucky knight and squire alone couldn't move from

86 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA A

where they lay. The officer now let go the former's beard and
went to get light whereby he might seize the delinquents. But no
light was to be found, for the inn-keeper took care to blow out
the gate-lantern as he fled to his chamber, and the officer was
forced to hunt amid the hearth-ashes, where he at last found flre.

CHAPTER XVII

A succession of the countless troubles that brave knight

and trusty squire experienced in the inn that to his sorrow

the former took for a castle

BY this time Don Quijote had come to and in the same
aggrieved tone used by him when speaking to his squire
the previous day, stretched out there in the Valley of the Stakes,
he now addressed him : ' Sancho friend, are you sleeping ? are
you asleep, Sancho friend ? ' ' Curses on me, ' quoth Sancho in
pain and displeasure, ' how can I be when 'tis clear all the
devils of hell have this night been after me ! ' ' You have reason
to think so, ' assented the other, ' and either I know very little
or this castle is enchanted, for I must tell you — but first you
must swear to keep it secret till I am dead. ' ■ I swear it. ' ' I ask
this, ' continued Don Quijote, ' since I'm no friend to anyone's
losing his or her good name. ' ' I say I swear to keep it dark as
long as your worship lives. God grant I may out with it to-
morrow. ' ' Do I work you such harm, Sancho, that you wish
me that soon dead ? ' ' It isn't that, but I'm no friend to keeping
secrets and don't want them to go rotting in my insides with
too long holding. '

' Be that as it may, ' said his master, ' I have. sufficient confi-
dence in your affection and respect to tell you that this night has
befallen me one of the rarest adventures in the world, and trust
me I shall know how to make the most of it. To be brief, a short
time back there came to me the lord of the castle's daughter, the
fairest and most refined maiden to be found in the wide universe.
What shall I say of her apparel 1 what of her brilliant under-

XVII THE BALSAM THE BLANKETING 87

staading ! what of hidden things which, to guard my fealty to
my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, I shall pass over untouched and in
silence. This only I may reveal that, either because Heaven was
jealous of the boon fortune placed in my hands or perhaps, and
this is more likely, by reason that this castle is enchanted even
as I said, in the midst of most sweet and loving audience with
her, without my seeing it or knowing whence it came, the fist of
a monstrous giant dropped such a blow on my jaws as to bathe
them in blood, followed by such a rib-roasting as to leave me
worse than yesterday, when by reason of Rocinante's license
we were insulted by the carriers. 1 gather from all this that some
bewitched Moor must guard the treasure of the maiden's beauty
— that it cannot be for me. '

' Nor for me, ' said Sancho, ' for over here more than four
hundred Moors let fly, in comparison wherewith the stake-
drubbing was but cakes and cookies. But tell me, senor, what
sort of an adventure do you call this fine rare one that has left
us where we are ? Your worship to be sure is less to the bad
than I, since you had hold of that incomparable beauty, while I,
what did I get but the heaviest slam-banging I think to receive in
all my life. Unlucky Sancho and unlucky the mother that bore
him, since to him, though no knight-errant and never hoping to
be one, most of the hardships fall. ' ' So you were basted too ? '
' Didn't I say I was, curses on my line ! ' quoth the squire. ' Be
not troubled, ' said the other reassuringly, ' for now I'll make
the precious balsam, which will cure us in the twinkling of an
eye.'

The officer having lighted his lamp now came to look after the
man he supposed dead, and Sancho seeing the ugly-looking fellow
enter in shirt and night-cap whispered to his master : ' Can this
be the enchanted Moor, senor, returning to administer punish-
ment in case any be left in the ink-pot?' ' No, for bewitched
persons are never visible. ' ' Not visible perhaps but feelable
certainly, or let my shoulders speak a word or two. ' ' Mine also
could talk, but that wouldn't be suffice to prove this the enchant-
ed Moor. ' The constable drawing near was greatly surprised to
hear them talk so cheerfully, especially as Don Quijote still lay

88 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

there on his back, unable to stir as a result of poundings and
plasters.

The officer was the first to speak : ' Well, how goes it, old
fellow ? ' ' rid speak more respectfully, were I you ; is it usual
in this country so to greet knights-errant, fool ? ' The other
finding himself abused and by such a sorry object lost his tem-
per, and raising the lamp brought it down on Don Quijote's
head, leaving its mark there. Then, as all was dark again, he
beat a retreat. Sancho spoke up and said : ' There can be no
doubt, master, that he is the bewitched Moor, with treasures to
look after for others, but for us only fisticuffs and lamp-rubbings. '
' It is ever so, and no notice can be taken of these enchantments,
nor is it of any use to be put out by them, for, invisible and
imaginary as they are, we could never find one on whom to
avenge ourselves, however much we tried. Rise, my son, if you
can, and calling the commander of this fortress, see will he give
us a little oil, wine, salt and rosemary, wherewith to concoct the
curative balsam. Verily methinks I have dire need thereof, since
blood is flowing copiously from that spectre's wound. '

With plenty of aches in his bones Sancho lifted himself
and going in the darkness for the innkeeper stumbled on the
officer, who had been listening to his enemy's plans. Sancho at
once spoke out saying : ' Senor, whoever you are, be so kind as
to give me a little rosemary, oil, salt and wine needed to cure
one of the best errants in the world, who lies on yon bed sore
wounded by the enchanted Moor living at this inn. ' The officer
took him for frenzied, but now that day was approaching, he
opened the door and calling to the innkeeper told what was
wanted. The latter soon produced the articles, which Sancho
then carried to his master. He found him with hands to head groan-
ing from the pain of the lamp-blow, which had done no more
than raise two fair-sized weals — what he called blood proved
to be sweat caused by the agony of the late tempest. He received
the ingredients and after mixing boiled them till of the proper
consistency. He then asked for a phial to pour the stuff into, but
18 the inn furnished none, he decided to entrust it to a tin cruet,
freely contributed by the landlord. And over it all he said more

XVII

THE BALSAM THE BLANKETING 89

than eighty pater-nosters and an equal number of ave-marias,
salves and credos, accompanyng each word with a cross by way
of benediction. Present at the ceremony were Sancho, innkeeper
and constable — the carrier had quietly gone off to look to his
mules.

The moment all was said and done, the knight, wishing to
test the virtue of the precious drug, tossed off near a quart that
remained in the pot after the cruet had been filled. Scarce was
it down when he began to vomit with a violence that clean
emptied his stomach, and along with the pains and spasms of
the puking he perspired most freely ; so he bade ihem cover him
and leave him alone. After a sound sleep of above three hours
he wakened, feeling such renewed life in his whole system and
seeming so much better of his bruises that he deemed himself
quite well, attributing all to Fierabras' balsam. Henceforth, with
that remedy at hand, he persuaded himself he could engage
without fear in disasters, wars and scuffles, it mattered not how
perilous.

Sancho regarded his master's restoration as nothing short of
miraculous and asked if he might drain off what still remaind in
the pot — not a little. The knight gave consent and the squire,
holding the receptacle with both hands, in good faith and better
will poured down not much less than had Don Quijote. But his
stomach must by nature have been more hardy than his lord's for
ere he vomited he suffered such pain and nausea, such sweatings
and swoonings, that he thoughfchis hour was come. He cursed
the balsam and the rogue that had given it, but the latter, observ-
ing his state, remarked : ' I must believe, Sancho, that all this
annoyance springs from not being knighted and I begin to think
that this beverage cannot help those that are not. ' ' Why did
you so much as let me taste it then ? curses on me and all my
kinsfolk ! ' The medicine however now began to act and the poor
squire got relief both ways and at such a rate that the rush-mat
on which he had thrown himself together with the canvass
blanket were put out- of business. He sweated and resweated
with such fits and paroxyms that not alone he but every one
thought he was done for. This bad weather and going lasted

90 DON QUnOTE DE liA MANCHA I

upwards of two hours and even in the end he didn't come out
as his master did, but too wasted and weakened to stand.

As has been said, our knight felt himself again and was ready
to sally forth on his adventurous quests, since it seemed to him
that time spent there was depriving the world and its needy of
his favour and assistance. His confidence in the balsam made
him feel this even more strongly, so he now saddled Rocinante
and panneled the ass of his squire, whom he helped to dress and
mount. He then got upon his own steed and going to a corner
seized a pike standing there to serve him as lance. More than
twenty persons, all that were at the tavern, stood watching and
among them the innkeeper's daughter from whom Don Quijote
didn't remove his eyes, now and again heaving a sigh, uprooted
from his lowest bowels, but supposed by every one to proceed
from the pain in his ribs — at least by those that had seen him
plastered the night before. Now that both were mounted, the
knight in calm and serious voice called from the gateway : ' Many
and great, sir governor, are the favours received in this your
castle, and I shall remain under the greatest obligation to your
worship all the days of my life. If I can repay by taking vengeance
on some coxcomb that has harmed you, know that my sole pro-
fession is to help those that cannot help themselves, to avenge
the wronged and to punish perfidy. Ransack your memory, and
should you find aught of that character to give into my hands,
say the word and I promise by the order of chivalry I have
received to procure you reparation to your heart's content. '

The innkeeper with the same tranquil air replied : ' Sir knight,
there's no occasion to avenge grievance of mine — I know
how to do that myself the moment I suffer any. My sole request
is that you pay me the night's reckoning, both for the straw
and barley of the two beasts and for your and your squire's
supper and beds. ' ' Is this an inn, then ? ' ' Yes, and a most
respectable one. ' • Till this moment, sir, ' replied the guest,
' I laboured under a delusion, for I honestly supposed it a most
respectable castle. Now that it proves an inn, all you have to do
is excuse the payment, for under no circumstances may I violate
the rules of errant knights who, I am certain, having never read

XVII THE BALSAM THE BLANKETING 91

anything to the contrary, not once paid for lodging or aught alse
at the inns where they put up. There's owing them by inalienable
right whatever good accommodation is provided, in return for the
insufferable hardships they undergo, seeking out adventures by
day and night, summer and winter, mounted and afoot, in hunger
and thirst, in heat and cold, exposed to all the uncertainties of
the weather and all the certain woes of the world. ' ' I can see
nothing in all this, ' returned the innkeeper ; ' pay me what you
owe, and drop your fairy-tales and chivalries. All I care about is
to get what's due me. '

' You are a fool and an ostler, ' came from Don Quijote ; and
putting spurs to steed and brandishing lance he galloped off
through the gate before anyone could stop him, and, not looking
to see if his squire followed, soon had left the place a consider-
able distance behind. The innkeeper was greatly incensed and
threatened, if Sancho refused to pay, to take it out of him in a
way he wouldn't relish. To this the other made answer that by
the law of chivalry received of his master he wouldn't pay a
farthing though it cost him his life. Good old usages of knights-
errant shouldn't fall into contempt through him, nor were future
squires to blame him for having overstepped this most just
provision. But the evil star of the unfortunate squire ordained
that there should be stopping at the inn four wool-carders of
Segovia, three needle-makers of the Colt-Quarter in Cordova and
two lodgers from the Market in Seville — jovial, good-hearted
rogues, up to all kinds of tricks, and these, as if moved by a
common impulse, coming up to Sancho, removed him from his
ass. One led the way in, seeking mine host's bed-blanket, but
when they had thrown the squire into it, raising their eyes they
marked that the ceiling was a trifle too low and decided to go
out into the yard whose only upward limit was the sky. There
they began to toss poor Sancho from the centre of the blanket
and sport with him as with a dog at Shrovetide.

The cries of the blanketed wretch were so loud they reached
the ears of his master, who, checking his horse that he might
listen to better advantage, imagined some new adventure on
the wing. But at last realising 'twas his squire that yelled, he

9Z DON QUUOTE DE LA MANCBA 1

turned and rode back at a painful gallop to the inn and finding
the gate shut, encircled the place in the hope of entrance. But he
got no further than the yard- wall when he caught sight of the
dirty trick they were playing. He saw his squire rise and fall,
and with such grace and agility that had his rage allowed him,
verily methinks held have laughed. He first tried to mount the
wall, but, bruised and battered, he couldn't even dismount from
his horse, and so sat there hurling such insults at the blanketers
as cannot be repeated. But not for this did they cease their
laughter or their labour, nor the flying Sancho his complaints,
mingled now with threats, now with entreaties, which availed
him little, nor at all until from pure weariness his persecutors
let him go.

They brought the poor man his ass and mounting him drew
his long cloak over his shoulders. The compassionate Maritornes,
seeing him so far gone, thought to relieve him with a jug of cold
water straight from the well. Sancho took the jug and was raising
it to his mouth when he was checked by cries from his master :
' Son Sancho, touch not that water, drink it not, my son, for
'twill kill you. Look, ' he shouted, producing the cruet, ' here is
the blessed balsam ; with two drops you'll certainly be cured. '
Sancho eyed him askance and called out still louder : ' Can you
have forgot, sir, that I am no knight, or do you wish me to
vomit what bowels are left from last evening. To the devils with
your liquor and leave me alone. '

The end of this speech and the commencement of the draught
coincided, but finding that water it truly was he halted at the
first swallow and called to Maritornes to fetch him some wine.
This she did most graciously, paying for it herself; for 'tis said
that though serving in that humble appointment she dimly and
distantly resembled a Christian. "When Sancho had done with
his draught, he dug his heels into his ass and since the inn-gate
was open sallied forth, tickled to death at having gained his
point of paying nothing, though at the expense of his usual
bondsmen, his shoulders. It is true the landlord relieved him of
his saddlebags but in our squire's hurried departure these were
not missed. Now that he was gone, the keeper would bar the

XVIII THE FLOCKS OF SHEEP 93

gate securely, but the tossers wouldn't hear of it, for they were
of the kind that wouldn't have cared two coppers for Don Quijote
had he been of the Knights of the Table Round.

CHAPTER XVIII

The conversation that passed between Sancho Panza and his
master Don Quijote, together with a few adventures worth

recording

SANCHO reached his master so wan and weary he could scarce
urge his ass. On beholding his condition the other said :
' Now am I sure, Sancho, that yon castle or inn is enchanted, for
they that made sport of you so outrageously, what can tbey have
been but plantoms and inhabitants of another world ? I was
confirmed in this- by observing that when I looked over the
yard-wall at the acts of your woful tragedy, I could in no way
climb thereon, and still less was I able to dismount from my
steed. They certainly must have bewitched me, for I swear to
you by the faith of what I am that could I have climbed up or
down, I should have avenged you in a way to have made those
rogues and robbers remember their joke ever after ; though in
doing so I should have known I was transgressing the laws of
mine order, which prohibit a knight's fighting with him that
isn't one, as I have often told you, except it be in defence of
his own life or person, and only then in cases of great and
instant need. '

' Had I been able, I likewise would have avenged me, dubbed
or undubbed, but it didn't lie in my power, ' the squire pro-
tested ; ' yet of one thing I'm certain, and that is that they that
sported with me weren't phantoms or enchanted beings as your
worship says, but of flesh and bone likp ourselves ; and all had
names, for I heard them call to one another during the tossing.
One was named Pedro Martinez and another Tenorio Hernandez,
and the innkeeper they called Juan Palomeque the left-handed.
Therefore, senor, your inability to leap the wall and to climb

94 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

down from Rocinante was caused by something other than
enchantment. What I conclude from all this is that these
adventures we are in search of will end in such misventures that
we shan't know our right foot from our left. 'Twould be better
and more to the point, according to my little understanding, to
return home, now that it's harvest time, and mind our own
affairs, and give over wandering from Zeca to Mecca, from
smoke to smother, as the saying is, '

' How little, how little, Sancho, do you appreciate the ways of
chivalry ! But peace, and have patience, for the day will come
when your own eyes shall see how honourable a thing it is to
exercise this my profession. If not, tell me what greater pleasure
in the world can there be than winning a battle and triumphing
over one's enemy ? none certainly. ' ' Maybe so ; I cannot say.
All I know is that since we have been knights -errant, or rather
since your worship has been, for I have no right to reckon
myself of that honourable order, not a solitary battle have we
won, unless you count that with the Biscayan — even there your
worship came out poorer by half an ear and helmet. Since that
affair it has been naught but raps and more raps, punches and
more punches, I being one ahead with the blanketing, admin-
istered by enchanted persons on whom I cannot avenge myself,
deprived therefore of that pleasure of which your worship speaks,
of triumphing over one's enemies. '

' That is a drawback which I too have to put up with ; but in
future I shall try to have on hand a sword of such cunning that
no kind of spell can bind its wielder. It even might be that
fortune presented me with the weapon used by Amadis when
called he of the Flaming Sword. 'Twas one of the best ever knight
brandished in the world, since it also had the virtue of cutting
like a razor, and no armour however strong or enchanted was
proof against it. ' ' But my luck is such, ' said Sancho, ' that
even should your worship find this blade, like the balsam
'twould serve and protect dubbed knights only — the squires
would still have to swallow their groans. ' ' Fear it not, for
Heaven will treat you more kindly. '

The two were thus in chat when Don Quijote noticed a great

XVIII THE FLOCKS OF SHEEP 95

cloud of dust rolling toward them, and turning to Sancho said :
' This is. the day, O my squire, on which is to be seen the
blessings fortune keeps in store for me. This is the day I repeat,
on which as on any other is to be revealed the valour of mine
arm, since on it am I destined to perform deeds that shall be
writ in the book of fame and abide there for the rest of time.
You see yon dust-cloud, Sancho ? 'Tis churned up by a vast
army of countless peoples in battle-array. ' ' Then there must be
two armies, ' observed the other, ' for opposite rises another
dust-cloud just as thick. ' The knight, turning his eyes in that
direction, saw that he spake true, and rejoiced immeasurably,
believing that two hosts were about to battle on that wide level
before them. At all hours and moments his head was full of
the broils, enchantments, occasions, extravagances, amours and
challenges recorded in the books of chivalry, and all his thoughts,
words and deeds flowed in that channel.

Now these dust-clouds actually arose from two large flocks of
ewes and rams coming from opposite directions. By reason of
the dust they couldn't be seen, and Don Quljote insisted with
such ardour on their being war-hosts that Sancho came to believe
it saying : ' But what are we to do, senor ? ' ' What but lend a
hand and side with the weak and helpless. You should be aware,
Sancho, that the force facing us is led by the great emperor
Alifanfaron, governor of the large island Trapobana. The other,
on our left, is the army of his foe, the king of the Garamantans,
Pentapolin of the Sleeveless Arm, who enters every fray with
his right arm bared. '

' But what are these gentlemen fighting about ? ' ' Their quarrel
is that this Alifanfaron, a choleric old pagan, has fallen in love
with Pentapolin's daughter, a most graceful and beautiful girl
and a Christian, but the father is unwilling to bestow her on a
pagan king unless he renounce the false prophet Mahomet and
adopt his own.' ' By my beard, ' quoth Sancho, ' Pentapolin does
quite right and I shall help him all I can. ' ' In doing so, you'll
do your duty, for one needn't be a knight in order to participate
in combats of this kind. ' ' Glad am I of that, ' returned the
squire, ' but where shall we leave mine ass that I may find him

96 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

when the thing is over ? to enter a battle on such a mount has
not so far been the practice, I believe. ' ' True, and what you
Ban do is to leave him to his chances, whether he come back or
not, for we shall possess so many steeds when we issue victor-
ious that even Rocinante risks being swapped. But listen now
to what I say and use your eyes at the same time, since I would
indicate the more important of the knights that accompany the
l;wo hosts. And that you may the better see and note them, let
as retire to yon hillock, whence both armies should plainly be
in view. '

The pair accordingly mounted a rise of ground, whence easily
;hey could have seen the two flocks of sheep, represented by
;he knight to be armies, had not the dust they raised still
blinded the eyes and obscured them. But since our hero saw in
Taney things invisible to sight and without corporeal existence,
'aising his voice he began ; ' Yon knight in yellow armour,
s^hose shield-device is a crowned lion crouching at a maiden's
'eet, is the valiant Lauralco, lord of the Silver Bridge. The other,
mth golden flowers on his armour and three crowns argent on
lis shield, is the greatly dreaded Miccolembo, grand-duke of
Juirocia. The one on the right with the giant limbs is the ever-
launtless Brandabarbaran de Boliche, lord of the three Arabias,
vho comes armed in a serpent-skin and carries a gate for his
icutcheon — a gate, 'tis said, of the temple destroyed by Samson
vhen, at the cost of his life, he took vengeance on his foes.

' Now turn your eyes in the other direction and at that army's
lead you'll see the ever-victorious, never-vanquished Timonel
le Garcajona, prince of New Biscay, whose armour is quartered
izure, green, white and yellow and on whose shield is a golden
sat on a tawny field and a motto reading, Miau — that being the
irst half of the name of his lady who, according to report, is the
)eerless Miaulina, daughter of the duke Afeiiiquen of Algarve.
The other with arms white as snow and shield white and no
levice, that presses the loins of his powerful steed, is a novice
might of France, Pierre Papin, lord of the baronies of Utrique.
iLnd the one beyond, that with iron heel digs the flank of a
>articoloured zebra and carries azure cups as his coat of arms,

XVIII THE FLOCKS OF SHEEP 97

is the mighty duke of Nerbia, Espartifilardo of the Wood. On
his shield is depicted the asparagus plant with the motto in
Castilian, My fortune trails. '

In like vein Don Quijote continued improvising names for the
numberless knights of first this and then the other squadron, his
imagination supplying arms, colours, devices and mottos. Swept
on in his outrageous frenzy, without pause he explained : ' Folk
of divers nations compose this squadron in our front. These are
they that drink the sweet waters of the famous Xanthus ; moun-
taineers that tread the Masilian fields ; they that sift fine gold in
Araby the blest ; that rejoice in the far-famed green riversides of
the clear Thermodon ; those that drain by many and devious
ways the golden Pactolus ; Numidians, unstedfast of promise ;
Persians, renowned in archery ; Parthians ; Medes that fight on
the wing ; there too the nomadic Arabians ; Scythians cruel as
they are fair of face ; Ethiopians with pierced lips ; and other
countless peoples, whose faces I see and know, but whose
names have slipped me.

' In the other host march men that drink of the sparkling cur-
rents of olive-bearing Betis ; that wash their shining faces in the
ever-fruitful Tagus ; that delight in the bountiful waters of the
divine Genii ; that roam the pasture-abounding Tartesian plains ;
that take their pleasure in the Elysean meadows round Jerez ;
Manchegans, rich in fields crowned with ruddy ears of maize ;
they that are encased in iron, ancient remnants of the Gothic
blood ; those that bathe in the Pisuerga, famed for its gentle
current, that feed their flocks in the wide pastures of the tor-
tuous Guadiana, celebrated for its hidden course. On this side
too are they that shiver in the cold of the wooded Pyrenees and
amid the white snow-flakes of the lofty Apenines ; in short,
there you may survey as many nations as all Europe holds
within its borders ! ' God help me ! now many provinces did he
name, how many peoples did he designate, assigning their attri-
butes with incredible ease, saturated as he was with his fabulous
lore.

Sancho Pauza heard him in silence, turning his head this way
and that, hoping for a glimpse of the knights and giants his

7

98 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■!■

master was describing. But seeing none he said : ' Senor, the
devil take it ! not one of those men, giants or knights is any-
where about ; at least I cannot see one. Maybe it's all enchantment
like the spectres of the inn. ' ' How can you say such a thing ?
don't you hear the steeds neighing, the trumpets sounding and
the rolling of the drums ? ' ' I hear but the loud bleat of ewes
and rams, ' replied Sancho, and indeed the two flocks could now
be heard close at hand. ' In your fear, my son, you neither see
nor hear aright. One of the effects of fear is to confuse the senses,
blinding them to realities. If you be that frightened, go one side
and leave me to myself, for I alone suffice to render victorious
the side I favour. '

Saying this the knight clapped spurs to Rocinante and with
couched pike dropped down the hillside like a thunderbolt.
Sancho called after him : ' Come back, come back, Seiior Don
Quijote, for I swear to God 'tis rams and ewes you charge. Gome
back I say, cursed be the father that begat me ! see for yourself
there's neither giant nor knight nor cats nor arms nor shields,
quartered or whole, nor cups azure or bedevilled. Sinner 'fore
God that I am, what is this ye do ! ' His master did not turn but
kept straight on, shouting : ' So ho, knights ! ye that follow and
fight beneath the banner of the bold Pentapolin of the Sleeveless
Arm ! follow me and see how promptly I shall avenge him on his
foe, Alifanfaron of Trapobana. ' With this he dashed against the
ewes and commenced to lance them with as determined courage
as if mortal enemies. The herdsmen cried to him to quit, but
finding him unmoved, preparing their slings they began to play
upon his ears with pebbles the size of one's fist. These too the
knight heeded not, galloping in all directions and calling :
' Where are you, haughty Alifanfaron ? stand forth ! for I am
alone and wish to test your might and work your death, in
return for the scath you do the bold Pentapolin the Garamantan. '

At this point a sugar-plum struck him in the ribs, burying'a
couple in his body, and finding his thoughts in utter confusion,
he believed himself dead or at least terribly wounded. Recollect-'
ing his balsam he raised the cruet to his mouth and began to
load his stomach. But scarce had he swallowed what he deemed

XVIII THE FLOCKS OF SHEEP 99

sufficient, when another almond hit his hand with such force
that it smashed the cruet to smithereens, sending three or four
front teeth flying along with it. Two fingers were badly bruised
besides ; and such impetus had the first blow and such the second
that succumbing at last the poor man dropped from his horse.
The shepherds, thinking him killed, speedily herded their flock,
picked up more than seven dead and left in a hurry.

The squire all this time stood upon the hillock watching the
other's frenzies. He pulled his beard and cursed the hour and
moment that fortune first brought them together. Seeing at last
that the other lay stretched to earth and that the shepherds had
fled, riding down he found his master badly off though still in
his senses. ' Didn't I tell you to turn back, Senor Don Quijote ?
and that those whom you attacked were not armies but flocks
of sheep ? ' ' How that thief of a sorcerer, mine enemy, ' sighed
the other, ' can transform things for purposes of concealment !
Know, Sancho, that they can change you and me as they list,
and my especial persecutor, envious of the glory he forsaw I
should enjoy, changed these opposing armies into flocks of sheep.
If you don't believe it, that you may be disillusioned and find
that what I say is true, I swear you must mount your ass and
stealthily follow them. A short space hence you'll see them
change back again and from sheep become bona fide men, even
as I described them. But don't go yet awhile, friend — I have
need of your service. Kneel down and see how many front teeth
and molars I lack. It feels as if not one were left. '

Sancho bent so close as almost to put his eyes into the mouth
of his master, whose stomach, where the balsam had been fer-
menting, took this chance to discharge more instantly than a gun,
all onto the beard of the compassionate squire. ' Santa Maria !
and what has happened to me ! this sinner is vomiting blood
and must be wounded to death. ' But further observation of the
colour, savour and smell told him 'twas no blood but that old
balsam he had seen him drink; and his disgust thereat was
strong enough to turn his stomach, making him vomit back
onto his master, till both were a sight to behold.

Sancho ran to the saddlebags for something wherewith to

100 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

clean himself and bandage his master, and not finding them he
almost lost his wits. He cursed himself all over again and in his
heart resolved to quit the business and go home, even though he
forfeited wages and all hopes of the government of the promised
isle. Don Quijote had now risen, and putting his left hand to his
mouth to keep in the remaining teeth and with the other taking
the bridle of Rocinante (who not once had moved from his mas-
ter's side, so loyal was he and well-bred) he went to his squire,
leaning there against his ass with hand to cheek like a man in
affliction. Seeing him with such a show of sorrow, the knight
said : ' Learn, my son, that one man is no more than another
save as he achieves more. All these squalls that struck us of late
are but signs of fine weather and fair fortune. Neither evil nor
good can last for ever, and evil having continued long, good
must be near at hand. So take not my humiliations to heart
since none of them falls to you. '

' How not to me ? belike him they tossed in the blanket was
not my father's son ? And perchance the saddlebags with all my
valuables that have taken wing belonged to another than myself? '
' What, the saddlebags are gone ? ' ' Thou sayest, ' answered the
squire. ' We have naught to eat, then ? ' ' That would be true
were there no herbs in these meadows known to your worship
as those the knights-errant like yourself are wont to use in place
of food. ' ' Be it so, ' replied the other, ' though just now I'ld
sooner have a quarter-loaf or a whole and a couple of pilchards'
[leads than all the herbs described by Dioscorides, even with the
annotations of Doctor Laguna. But mount your ass, my good
Sancho, and follow me, for God, the Provider of all things, will
not fail us now, especially as we do toil in his service. Mosqui-
toes of the air He fails not, nor worms of the earth, nor tadpoles
of the water, and is so merciful that He maketh his sun to rise
on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the
unjust. ' ' Your worship, ' said Sancho, ' would make a better
preacher than knight-errant. ' ' Knightly adventurers knew and
still must know all things. In days gone by there were those as
ready to deliver a sermon or oration on a battle-field as though
graduated from the University of Paris : whence can be seen that

XVIII THE FLOCKS OF SHEEP 101

lance never blunted pen nor pen lance. ' ' So be it, just as your
worship says, ' agreed the squire ; ' but let us out of here and
find where we can pass the night.' 'God grant it in a spot
without blankets or tossers or phantoms or bewitched Moors,
else the devil take the whole concern. ' ' Ask it of God, my son,
and guide us whither you will : this time I leave the lodging to
you. But first feel with your fiuger and see how many front teeth
and molars are missing from my right upper-jaw — 'tis there
I feel the pain. '

The other obeyed and said while feeling : ' How many molars
did your worship formerly have on this side ? ' ' Four beside the
wisdon tooth — all in first-class condition. ' ' Hear what you say,
senor. ' ' Four I repeat or even five — in all my life not one has
fallen out or been drawn, nor have any been lost through rheum
or decay. ' ' Well, ' reported the squire, • on this lower side your
worship has just two molars and a half, but up-stairs not half
an one. 'Tis as smooth as the palm of my hand. ' ' Woe's me ! '
groaned the knight at this sad news ; ' I'ld rather they lopped
me an arm, provided 'twere not my sword-arm. You must know,
friend, that a mouth without molars is a mill without stones —
a tooth is more to be prized than a diamond.

' But to all this are they subject that profess the rigid order of
chivalry. Mount, Sancho, and lead the way — whatever pace you
set, I follow. ' The other did so, leading whither he hoped they
might find accommodation without forsaking the main road,
there much frequented. The pain on Don Quijote's jaw gave him
considerable trouble and kept them from making haste, and as
they slowly plodded on, Sancho thought to divert his master
with talk and so said to him among other things what will be
set down in the next chapter.

IQ% DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XIX

The savoury converse Sancho had with his master,
the adventure of the corpse and other noteworthy incidents

"Tt seems to me, sir, ' began the squire, ' that all these mishaps
■ befallen us of late must have come as chastisement for your
sin against the order of chivalry in breaking the vow not to eat
bread off a cloth or lie with the queen or any of those other
things until you got possession of the helmet of Malaudrino or
whatever the Moor's name is. ' ' You are half-right, Sancho, and
to tell the truth, it had slipped my mind. Doubtless your negli-
gence in not having brought it to my attention in time occasioned
the blanket-episode. For myself I shall make amends, since
chivalry possesses ways to smooth out all things. ' ' And did I
perchance also swear to something ? ' ' The fact that you didn't
actually take oath doesn't matter ; enough that I consider you not
wholly free from complicity in my fault, and 'twill be as well
that we both look to our reparation. ' ' See then that your wor-
ship doesn't forget this time also ; it might please the spectres to
make further sport of me, or even of your worship, if they find
you so heedless. '

While thus in converse and ere they reached or discovered a
lodging-place, night overtook them. The worst of it was they
perished of hunger, for the loss of the saddlebags meant the loss
of their pantry and provender. To add to this untowardness
occurred an adventure that without make-believe truly appeared
one. The night grew darker but they plodded on, Sancho thinking
all the while that on this the highway they were likely to find
an inn after a league or two. But now, the night black, the squire
famished and the master ready to eat, they suddenly saw ahead
of them a multitude of waving lights, like stars in motion. Sancho
lost breath and the knight was not without fear. The one drew
his ass's halter, the other his nag's bridle and together they
awaited the issue.

XIX ADVENTURE OF THE CORPSE 103

The nearer the lights came the larger they appeared, where-
1ipon Panza began to tremble like a man dosed with mercury, and
Quijote's hairs rose like bristles, till gathering a little courage he
said : ' This must needs be a great and hazardous adventure —
one wherein I shall be forced to display all my might and
valour. ' ' Woe' me ! ' cried Sancho ; ' if this one be concerned
with spectres, as methinks looks likely, where will be found
ribs to suflFer it ? ' ' However spectral they may be, ' asserted the
other, ' I'll not allow them to touch a thread of your coat. If once
they abused you, 'twas because I couldn't climb the wall. Now
we're in the open, where my sword has free play. ' ' But if they
bewitch and paralyze you a second time, what will the open
country avail ? ' ' Nevertheless, ' returned the other, ' let your
heart be brave and the event will show what mine is. ' ' Please
God and so I shall. '

The pair, standing a little off the road, anxiously awaited to
see what this advancing illumination might portend. Soon they
distinguished some twenty men in long flowing shirts, and the
sight of them completely razed to the ground the courage of
Sancho Panza, whose teeth began to chatter like those of a man
with the four days ague. And the chattering increased when they
saw them mounted and carrying flaming torches, and that behind
them came a litter covered with mourning, attended by six
other mounted men clad in crepe down to the feet of their mules,
whose slow gait showed them clearly not to be horses. All these
mourners were chanting in low and sorrowful tones, and their
extraordinary appearance, the unseasonableness of the hour and
the isolation of the spot, were indeed enough to fill Sancho's
heart with terror and his master's as well and, save in Don
Quijote's case, they did, for Sancho at once gave himself up for
lost, himself and all his good resolves. His master however
experienced just the reverse, for at that moment it flashed
before his imagination that here indeed was an adventure right
out of his books : the litter was a bier whereon lay some dead
or sorely wounded knight whose revenge was reserved for him
alone. Without a word he couched pike, secured himself in the
saddle and with intrepid air and countenance took his stand in

104 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

the road along which the mourners were sure to pass. And when
they were now near at hand, he raised his voice and cried :

' Attend knights, whoever ye may be, and account for your-
selves — whence ye come and whither bound, and name him
ye carry on that bier. It looks as if either ye or he were guilty of
knavery, and 'tis fitting and necessary that I know which, that I
may chastise you for your crime or avenge you for the evil ye
have suffered. ' ' We are in haste, ' answered one of them, ' the
inn is far and we have no time to answer all those questions ; '
and pricking his mule he passed on. This of course greatly
incensed our knight and seizing the man's bridle he cried :
' Stay, I tell you, and be more courteous. Ye shall answer
mine inquiries or fight me, one and all. ' The mule was shy and
finding herself held up so abruptly, took fright, throwing her
rider back over her haunches. Afoot-servant, seeing him thrown,
began to revile the occasioner, who now in livid rage with pike
on rest fiercely threw himself against one of the mourners and
brought him to the ground sorely wounded. He then turned
himself loose upon the others and the speed wherewith he
attacked and routed them was wonderful to behold. It seemed
for the moment as if wings had been lent Rocinante, so lightly
and swiftly did he move.

All the shirted fraternity, being cowards and without arms,
found it easy quickly to leave the fray and in a second were
running with their torches over the plain, like masqueraders on
a night of festival and rejoicing. On the other hand they that were
enveloped in skirts and gowns, moved less nimbly, and our
knight without danger to himself was able to drub them and
drive them all off, though much against their wills, for they
supposed him not man but devil come to rob them of the corpse.
Looking on in amazement at his lord's exploits, Sancho mur-
mured : ' Truly this my master is as valorous and valiant as he
says. ' The master now observed the man that had been thrown
[for his torch lay burning at his side), and riding up pointed the
pike at his face, calling on him to surrender, else he would
pierce him through. To this the fallen one replied : ' I am surren-
iered enough as it is, since my broken leg will not let me move.

XIX ADVENTURE OF THE CORPSE 105

If you be a Christian knight, I beseech you to spare my life, else
you will commit a great sacrilege, I being a licentiate of the first
orders. ' ' What in the devil brings a churchman here ? ' ' What
but mine ill-luck, sir ? ' ' Then a second time and more harshly
I threaten you, if you don't answer mine every question. '

' Your worship will be promptly satisfied,' began the mourner,
' for I shall tell you that though I said I had taken the licentiate
degree, I am in fact but a bachelor, by name Alonso Lopez and
a native of Alcobendas. I am on my way from Baeza with
eleven other priests (they that fled with the torches) as escort to
the body that lies on that litter — a gentleman that died and was
buried in Baeza, whose bones we are carrying to their final
resting-place in Segovia, his home. ' ' And who killed him ? '
' God, by means of pestilence. ' ' In that case the Lord has
relieved me of avenging his death, which I should have done had
another slain him. Since it was He, there's naught to do but
shrug my shoulders and be silent, the same as though He had
slain me. I am a knight of La Mancha, Don Quijote hight, I
would have your worship know, and mine office and profession
is to go through the world redressing injuries and making
crooked things straight. ' ' I dont't know how that can be, ' said
the bachelor, ' since from straight you have turned me crooked,
leaving me with a broken leg that won't straighten all the days of
my life ; and the injury you have redressed in my case is to
leave me injured in such a way that I shall remain so for ever.
Disaventure rather it has been to meet with one so daft on
adventures. '

' Different things have different issues, ' replied Don Quijote ;
' the mischief, senor bachelor Alonso Lopez, lay in your coming
by night, with chanting, mourning surplices and torches burning
like things evil and of the other world. I couldn't but fulfil mine
obligation to attack you, for had you been very devils of hell, as
indeed I from the first supposed you were, still should I have
thrown myself upon you. ' ' Since thus my fate willed it, '
returned the other, ' prithee, sir errant, that have erred so toward
me, help me from under this mule, where one of my legs is
pinned 'twixt stirrup and saddle. ' ' How long did you think to

106 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

wait before telling me ? I might have talked on till to-morrow. '
Sancho was now summoned but didn't sweat himself for he
was busy plundering a sumpter-mule laden with provisions.
First he turned his long cloak into a sack and putting therein all
it would hold, he placed it on his ass and hastened, presently, to
his master's call. Assisting the bachelor to extricate himself, he
mounted him on his mule, handing him his torch. Don Quijote
told the poor unfortunate to follow the retreat of his companions,
of whom on his part he must ask pardon for the wrong which he
couldn't have helped doing them. To this the bachelor replied :
' But let your worship take notice that you are excommunicated
for having laid violent hands on sacred things, according to the
canon : Si quis suadente diabolo, etc. ' ' I know not this Latin,'
returned his victor, ' but I know well that strictly speaking
'twas not my hands but this pike. Secondly I was not aware that
I was offending priests and things of the church, which I regard
and revere like the Catholic and faithful Christian that I am.
From the first I took you for phantoms and monsters of the
other woi-ld. But even so, I cannot but recall what befell Gid Ruy
Diaz what time he broke the royal ambassador's chair in the
presence of His Holiness the Pope : he was excommunicated —
yet the good Rodrigo de Bivar bore himself like a noble cour-
ageous knight that day. ' And Sancho added : ' Would you and
your friends know who is the dauntless one that made them
what they are, inform them he's no less than Don Quijote de La
Mancha, otherwise known as the Knight of Sorry Aspect. ' With
this the bachelor rode away.

Don Quijote asked his squire what had moved him at this
particular time to call him the Knight of Sorry Aspect. ' I'll tell
you, ' said Sancho ; ' as I stood looking at you a space by the
light of your victim's torch, truly your worship had the sorriest
aspect ever I beheld — owing no doubt to the exhaustion of this
fight or maybe to the loss of so many teeth. ' ' To neither, but
probably the sage, whose duty it shall prove to be the chronicler
of my life, thought it well that I take a professional name, like
all the knights of the past. One called himself the Knight of the
Flaming Sword, another the Unicorn Knight, a third he of the

XIX ADVENTURE OF THE CORPSE 107

Maidens. This one was known as the Knight of the Phoenix, the
next he of the Griffin and still another tlie Knight of Death.
By these names and their appropriate insignia their fame was
blown throughout the world. Likewise this sage of mine must
have put it on your tongue and in your thought to call me the
Knight of Sorry Aspect, by which name 1 think to designate
myself from this day forth. The better to square with it I purpose
at the earliest opportunity to have depicted on my shield a
perfect scarecrow of a figure. ' ' 'Twould be a waste of time and
money, ' counselled the other, ' for without shield or figure
they'll call you he of the Sorry Aspect just the same. Believe
that I speak the truth, sir, for I promise your worship (and in
jest be it spoken) that hunger and lack of molars offer such a
speaking likeness that the other may be spared. ' The knight
smiled at Sancho's pleasantry, yet resolved to have that emblem
as soon as was permitted and thereafter to call himself by that
name.

Our champion was anxious lo see if the body on the litter
were a skeleton as the bachelor had said, but Sancho protested :
' Your worhip has just finished one the most to his safety of all
the adventures I have seen. These gentlemen, though beaten and
put to flight, may come to reflect how they were routed by a
single hand, and in their shame may rally and give us a good
deal to think about. The ass is as he should be, the mountains
are near, hunger presses. There's naught to do but retire with a
graceful measure of the feet and. The corpse to the crypt and the
living to the loaf, as the saying is. ' Driving his ass before him he
called to bis master to follow, and the other obeyed without a
word, thinking his leader in the right.

After journeying awhile 'twixt two low mountains the pair
found themselves in a wide though sheltered valley and here
they made their rest. Sancho at once lightened the ass's burden,
and stretching on the green, with hunger as sauce, they break-
fasted, dined, tead and supped in one meal, satisfying their
stomachs with more than one of the panniers of cold meat that
the priests, who seldom restrict their rations, had brought on
their sumpter-mule. But now another misfortune overtook them.

108 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA I

by Sancho considered the worst one of all, and this was they
had no wine to warm their hearts, nor even water to moisten
their lips. But seeing that meadow covered with young green
grass, the squire, thirst compelling him, said what will be told
in the following chapter.

CHAPTER XX

The never-seen and unheard-of adventure that Don Quijote

brought to an end with less danger to himself than ever

did famous knight in the world

' ^ LL this grass, sir, ' began the squire, ' betokens a spring or
t\ brook hereabouts that keeps it green. 'Twill be well
therefore that we move a bit further till we come to where we
may slake this awful thirst of ours ; 'tis certainly harder to bear
than hunger. ' This counsel prevailed with Don Quijote, who
leading Rocinante by the bridle and Sancho by the halter his
ass, on which had been placed the remnants of their meal, felt
their way slowly up the meadow, for the darkness prevented
their distinguishing anything. They had not gone two hundred
paces when they heard water falling as if from a great height.
Their hearts greatly rejoiced but as they halted to get the direc-
tion, a hideous clangour smote their ears, dampening their
pleasure, especially that of Sancho, who was by nature timid.

This sound consisted of a regular thud, thud, thud, mingled
with the grating of iron and chains, which with the loud roar of
the falling water would have inspired fear in the heart of any
man, were he not Don Quijote. They had passed into the midst
of a grove of tall trees, whose leaves now made a doleful sighing
in the wind, and this soughing and the sounds, the darkness
and the desolation, made their flesh creep, especially when they
found that neither the thuds ceased nor the wind slept nor
morning came. But Don Quijote, accompanied by his intrepid
heart, leapt upon Rocinante, and embracing his buckler, inclined
his lance and said : ' Sancho friend, you must know that by the

XX THE FULLING-MILLS 109

the will of Heaven I was born in this our iron age lo restore the
age of gold or golden age as it is called. I am he for whom are
reserved dangers and great and valiant deeds. I am he, I repeat,
that is to revive the Knights of the Round Table, the Twelve of
France and the Nine of Fame ; that is to efface the memory of
the Platirs, Tablantes, Olivantes and Tirantes, the Phoebuses
and Belianises, together with the whole herd of famous knights-
errant of former times, by achieving, in this mine own, feats of
arms so mighty and marvellous as to eclipse the most brilliant
of theirs.

' Mark well, faithful and loyal squire, the gloom of this night,
its extraordinary stillness, the muffled soughing of the trees, the
frightful sound of that water we are seeking, which plunges, one
might think, from the lofty mountains of the moon, and lastly
that ceaseless thnd, thud, thud, that so wounds and afflicts our
ears. These all together and each by itself are enought to inspire
fear and cowardice in the breast of Mars himself — how much
more in that of one unused to such hazards and adventures. But
these dangers I depict are but incentives and incitements to my
courage, for even now my heart bursts in my bosom with desire
to close with this one, however difficult it may prove. So tighten
Rocinante's girth a bit and God be with thee. Wait for me three
days, no more ; if I am not here by that time, returning to our
village do me the kindness and favour to go thence to el Toboso
and say to that incomparable lady Dulcinea that her captive
knight died in attempting things to make him worthy to be called
hers. '

When Sancho heard these his master's words, he began to
weep with the deepest, tenderest feelings in the world, but at
length managed to say : ' Senor, I cannot see why your worship
would engage in this dreadful adventure. It is night now, none
sees us, we can easily turn aside and avoid this peril, even if we
shouldn't drink in three days. As there is none to observe us,
the less will there be any to call us cowards. Besides, I've often
heard our priest, well known to your worship, say in his ser-
mons that he that seeks danger, perishes therein. 'Twould be
foolish to tempt God by engaging in this intemperate enterprise.

110 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

from which you can survive only by a miracle, and Heaven has
surely performed enough for you lately, in letting you off from
being blanketed as I was and in bringing you forth victor, hale
and whole, from amongst the many foes that followed the corpse.

' Should this not move or soften your heart, let it relent in
the thought and knowledge that scarce will you pass out of sight
when I from pure terror shall deliver my soul to whoever will
take it. I left my country, my children and my wife to come and
serve your worship, hoping to be worth more, not less ; but as
covetousness they say breaks the sack, so has it broken all my
expectations. Just as they were highest about getting that wretch-
ed benighted isle, so often promised of your worship, I find
that by way of pay and in exchange for it you are ready to leave
me in a place miles away from human traffic. By the only God,
master, do me not this scath. If you still persist in engaging in
this affair, at least put it off till daylight, which the science
I learned when a shepherd tells me can't be more than three
hours away, for the Horn's mouth is over the head and shows
midnight in the line of the left paw. '

' When the night is so black that not a star shines, how can
you see where this line runs or where the head and mouth are ? '
' Fear has many eyes, ' explained the other, ' and if it can see
things under the earth, how much more things above in the sky.
Moreover, common sense tells us it must lack little of day. '
' Lack what it may, my son, it shan't be said of me now or any
other time that tears and entreaties swerved me from the duty
of a knight. I beg you be still therefore, since God, having put
in my heart to engage forthwith in this frightful and unparalleled
exploit, will see to my safety and console your sadness. All you
must do is tighten Rocinante's girth and abide where you are,
whither I am sure to return, dead or alive. '

Seeing his master's resolution and how little his own tears,
advice and entreaties availed, the squire decided to employ his
cunning and, if possible, compel the other to wait till morn. And
so, while tightening the horse's girth, skilfully and unobserved
he wound the halter round the fore-feet, so that when his rider
stirred him, the beast only moved by jumps. Seeing the success

XX THE FULLING-MILLS HI

of his trick, Sancho said : ' Mark, senor, how Heaven, touched
by my tears and prayers, ordains that Rocinante shall not budge.
If you persist in spurring and striking, you'll oflfend fortune and
kick against the pricks, as they say. ' The knight was indeed
dismayed, for the more he spurred, the less the nag moved, till
his rider, not suspecting a ruse, decided to be patient, waiting
for morn or at least till the beast would travel. ' Since Rocinante
can do naught but stand still, ' he remarked, ' I am content,
Sancho, to wait till dawn smiles, though I weep that she so long
delays. '

' There's no reason to weep, ' responded the other, ' for I'll
divert your worship till daylight by telling stories, unless you
prefer to dismount and, lying on the grass after the manner of
knights-errant, snatch a wink of sleep. You will then feel restored
when the time comes to enter on the mad feat that awaits you. '
' Whom do you urge to dismount and sleep ? am I perchance of
those knights that take a siesta in the midst of perils ? Sleep
you, that were born to sleep, or do what you please, for I shall
do whatever most accords vdth mine aim. ' ' Be not vexed, sir,
for I didn't mean to anger you. ' And coming close the squire
laid one hand on the pommel of the saddle and the other on the
cantle, thus embracing his master's left thigh. Nor did he thence-
forth dare move a finger's breadth from him, so thoroughly
shaken was he by the ceaseless thud, thud, thud.

The knight now called on his henchmann to tell him a tale or
two as he had promised, and the other said he would if only
his fear at the noises would die down. ' But in any case, said
he, ' I'll pluck up spirit enough to tell a certain tale which, if
I can manage to relate it and it doesn't get away, is the best
story in the world. And let your worship attend now, for here
I begin. What was, was, and may the good that is to come be for
us all, and the evil for him that seeks it. Your worship must
know, my lord, that the beginning given by the ancients to their
fables was not by chance, but was always a certain maxim of
Gato the Roman Qenser, which says. Evil for him that seeks it ;
which fits our present strait as a ring the finger, to show your
worship you should quiet yourself, nor go in search of evil in

112 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

any quarter, but quit this place by some other road, since no
one forces us to follow this where so many fears assault us. '

• Continue your story, Sancho, and leave the road to me, '
commanded his master. ' I say then, ' again began the squire,
' that in a village of Estramadura dwelt a goatherd, that is to
say, he tended goats, the which shepherd or goatherd, as the
story goes, was named Lope Ruiz, and this Lope Ruiz was in
love with a shepherdess by the name of Torralva, the which
shepherdess Torralva was the daughter of a rich grazier, and this
rich grazier...' ' If that's the way you tell it,' interrupted the
other, ' saying everything twice over, you'll not have done in
two days. Give in without these interruptions, like a man of
sense, or drop it entirely. ' ' I tell it in the manner all stories are
told in my country, ' replied Sancho, ■ and I know no other
way. Nor is it fair to expect me to introduce new customs. '
' Tell it as you please, ' returned his master, ' and proceed, for
fate wills that I must hear you out. '

' So it came to pass, lord of my soul, that, as I have already
said, this shepherd was in love with Torralva the shepherdess
— a wild, buxom lass with something mannish about her ; in
fact she had little moustaches. I seem to see her now. ' ' Then you
knew her ? ' ' Nay, but he that told me this tale said it was so
absolutely true that when I related it to another, without the
slightest hestitation I could affirm and swear I had seen it all.
Well then, as the days came and went, and the devil, who
entangles all things, was not sleeping, this time he entangled
them so badly that the love the shepherd bore the shepherdess
turned to loathing and ill-will, and the reason, according to evil
tongues, was that she played him little tricks that crossed the
line and trespassed on forbidden ground.

' So strong was the shepherd's distaste that, to get out of her
sight, he resolved to leave the country and go where his eyes
might not rest on her again. Finding herself disdained by Lope,
Torralva straight began to love him more than ever. ' ' 'Tis
woman's disposition to disdain those that love them and love
those that despise them. Pass on, Sancho. ' ' It came about then
that the shepherd carried out his resolve, and driving his goats

XX THE PULLINGS- MILLS H3

before set out through the plains of Estramadura bound for Por-
tugal. Learning of this, Torralva followed at a distance on foot
and barefoot with staff in hand and scrip round neck, and in the
scrip she carried, according to report, a piece of looking-glass
and a broken comb and some little bottle or other of paint for
her face. But let her carry what she did : I shan't set about to
prove it.

' All I shall affirm is that they tell how the shepherd and his
flock arrived at the river Guadiana, which at that season of the
year was swollen and peeped over its banks. Now at the spot
where he stood was neither ferry nor boat nor anyone to carry
him and his flock to t'other side. He was considerably distressed
at this, since he saw Torralva coming nearer and nearer and
knew she would pester him with tears and entreaties. So he
kept up his search till he found a fisherman and boat, but the
boat was too small to hold more than one person and one goat.
Nevertheless Lope bargained with its owner to carry over the
entire flock of three hundred. The fisherman stepped into the
craft and rowed across with the first goat. Then he returned and
took another ; again came back and again went to t'other side
with a goat. Let your worship keep count of the number of cross-
ings, for if you miss a single one, the story will come to an end
and it will be impossible to relate another word of it. I proceed
then and I say that the landing across the river was muddy and
slippery, and the fisherman lost a good deal of time every trip.
Yet he returned for another goat and another and another. ' ' Call
them all over, ' suggested Don Quijote ; ' don't keep going and
coming in this fashion or you won't have finished in a year. '
' How many are over there now ? ' asked Sancho. ' How the devil
do I know ? ' exclaimed the knight.

' There it is, just as I told you, ' complained the squire ;
' I asked you to keep an exact account, and now by God I've
ended the story and there's no more to be told. ' ' How can that
be ? is it so essential to know just how many goats have crossed,
that if one be skipped, you cannot proceed ? ' ' Yes, senor,
quite impossible, for when I questioned your worship as to how
many goats were on the further side and you answered you

8

114 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■•■

didn't know, instantly quitted my memory whatever remained
to be told ; and on my faith 'twas most excellent and pleasing. '
' Then the story is really ended ? ' ' As ended as my mother, '
replied the squire. '.Of a truth then, you have told the rarest
tale, story or history ever man conceived in the world, and such
a manner of relating and concluding it won't be seen again nor
ever has been seen till now, though I should have expected no
less from your sure understanding, somewhat excited doubtless
by this unremitting clangour. ' ' Maybe so, ' rejoined Sancho ;
' I can only say there's nothing more to tell, for the tale always
ends just where the mistake in the toll begins. ' ' Let it end
where it will and welcome. And now let us see if Rocinante can
move. ' Don Quijote clapped spurs but the beast only gave a
jump and stood still, so firmly was he tied.

Whether 'twas the cold of the morning now approaching, or
biecause he had supped on laxatives, or else, and this seems the
likelier, 'twas simply nature, the desire and inclination came to
Sancho just then to do what no other could do for him, but so
large was the fear that had entered his heart, he dared not budge
from his master's side by so much as the black of his nail. Yet to
think of leaving undone what he so much longed to do, was
equally out of the question. So what to keep the peace he actually
did was to drop his right hand from the back of the saddle and
deftly and cautiously loosen the single running cord that held up
his breeches, which at once fell to the ground, binding his feet like
Rocinante's. He next raised his shirt as best be could, exposing
his buttocks, no smallish ones, to the night air. And now he
trusted that the worst of escaping from his agonising cramps
was over. But at once a greater difficulty arose : it seemed to
him he couldn't get relief without a loud report, and in fear
thereof he gritted his teeth, contracted his shoulders and held
his breath all he possibly could. In spite of these precautions
however, his ill-luck was such that there escaped a little low
noise, quite different from the thunderous one that was causing
their great terror.

Nevertheless Don Quijote heard the sound, and said : ' "What
rumbling is that, Sancho ? ' ' I cannot tell, sire ; something new

XX THE FULLING-MILLS 115

I guess, for adventures and disaventures never come singly. '
Again the sufferer tried his luck and this time fared so well that
without further sound he was delivered of his woful burden.
But as his master's sense of smell was no weaker than his sense
of hearing, and as Sancho was tightly sewed to him and the
vapours mounted well-nigh straight up, some must necessarily
have reached his nostrils. Scarce did they arrive when the knight
came to the rescue by pressing with his two fingers, and then, in
rather nasal tones, addressed his squire ; ' Methinks you are
hugely frightened, boy. ' ' I am indeed, but why does your
worship notice it now more than formerly ? ' ' Because you
smell worse, and not of amber. ' ' Maybe I do, but the fault is
not mine but your worship's, in dragging me about after hours
and at this unnatural pace. ' ' Remove yourself a few steps, ' my
friend, quoth the knight, still holding his nose, ' and hereafter
bethink you more of your own person and what is due mine.
Your constant companionship with me has engendered this
over-familiarity. ' ' I'll wager your worship thinks I have done
something with my person I should not have. ' '[Talking will
only make it worse, ' replied the other. I

In these and similar colloquies master and man spent that
night, and when Sancho saw morning approach, with great
circumspection he untied Rocinante's feet and retied his own
breeches-cord. As soon as the horse found himself free, though
nothing spirited himself, he apparently received new life from
some outside source, and commenced to paw for, begging his
pardon, to caper he knew not how. When his rider perceived
him stir, he took it for good omen, thinking he should at once
undertake the dread enterprise. As it was day now and objects
showed distinctly, he observed that 'twas among tall umbrageous
chestnuts they had been enshadowed. He marked as well that
the thumping did not cease and as its cause was till not appar-
ent, without further detention he made Rocinante feel the spurs.
Before going however, he turned and commanded Sancho to
abide there three days at the outside as previously bidden,
adding that if at the expiration of that time he hadn't returned,
he would know God had been pleased that he should end his

116 DON QTJIJOTB DE LA MANCHA I

days in that perilous exploit. He again charged his squire with
the embassy and message to Dulcinea ; as to pay for services he
need not fear, for in a testament drawn before their last setting-
out he would find himself amply rewarded for the period of his
office-tenure. But if, on the other hand, God delivered him from
this forlorn hope safe and scot-free, the other might think of the
promised isle as more than a certainty.

Sancho wept anew at these moving words of his good master
and resolved in his heart not to leave till the end and conclusion
of the whole affair. From this regret and honourable resolution
of Panza the author of this history infers that he came of good
family, must at least have been full-blooded Christian. His ten-
derness softened his master somewhat but not so much that he
showed hesitancy toward what lay before him. Dissimulating his
feelings as he could, he rode in the direction of the sounds.
Sancho followed on foot, as usual towing the ass, his constant
fellow in both good and evil times. When the procession had
proceeded some distance through the chestnuts and other umbra-
geous trees, they came to a ravine at the foot of a high cliff, over
which plunged a mighty rush of water, and near where it fell
stood a few rude buildings. 'Twas from these ramshackle affairs
the incessant grinding and thumping proceeded. Rocinante taking
fright balked, but his master quieted him and little by little rode
nearer and nearer, commending his whole neart to his lady,
imploring her favour toward this dread act and enterprise, and
by the way also commending himself to God not to forget him.
Sancho did not quit his side but with outstretched neck kept
peering 'twixt Rocinante's legs, to discover if possible what it
was that held them in such uncertainty and fear.

They thus had advanced perhaps a hundred paces further
when, on doubling a corner, they saw unmistakeably the certain
cause of the hideous and to them frightful sound that had kept
them in terror and anxiety the whole night through. O reader,
if you'll not be aggrieved and annoyed, 'twas naught but six
fuUing-hammers, pounding away, one after the other. Our knight,
on realising this, was overwhelmed, and when Sancho looked
up, his head was lowered on his breast in mortification. In turn

XX THE FULLINGS- MILLS 117

he looked at Sancho and saw cheeks puffed out and a mouth full
of laughter, almost on the point of bursting. His own feelings
had no such sway over him that at the sight of his squire he
could refrain from laughter himself, and when the other heard
him begin, he broke forth into such a fit of roaring that lie had
to hold his sides lest they split. Four times he stilled himself and
as many burst forth again with the same violence as before. At
this the knight wished himself to the devil, especially when he
heard his servant mock him saying : ' You must know, O Sancho
friend, that I was born by the will of Heaven to revive in this
our iron age the golden or age of gold. I am he for whom are
kept dangers, deeds and mighty feats of arms...' repeating all or
nearly all the speech his master had delivered when first they
heard those fearsome blows.

Finding himself made a fool of, our knight felt so choleric and
chagrinned that, raising his pike, he dropped two such whacks
that had Sancho caught them on his head instead of on his
shoulders, his master would have been released from any wage-
settlement, unless with his heirs. When Sancho found how
heavily he was paying for his fun, fearing lest his master wouldn't
stop there, in real humility he thus pleaded : ' Calm yourself,
senor ; I was only jesting. ' ' And because you were, I am not.
Tell me, merry lad, had this been an adventure of wild peril,
instead of fuUing-hammers, think you I should not have shown
courage enough to attack and achieve it ? Being the gentleman
I am, am I perchance supposed to recognise and distinguish
noises, and be able to tell whether fulling-mills or not ? Much
less should I, that never have seen them in my life, which is the
truth, than you, churlish peasant, that were born and brought
up among them. Or come, cause these six hammers to be
changed into as many giants and let them attack me, one by
one or all together, and if I don't send them head -over -heels,
mock me as you choose. '

' Let it be quits, master, ' urged the squire ; ' I confess I went
a little too far. But tell me, now we're friends, and from all
adventures may God deliver you as hale and whole as He has
from this, was there naught to laught at ? Wouldn't it make a

118 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

good story, when you think of the great fear we were or at least
I was in ? as to your worship methinks you neither feel nor
know fear or fright. ' ' I won't deny that what occurred was fit
subject for laughter, but 'twas certainly not good matter for a
story, though all persons are not shrewd enough to know just
where to place things. ' ' At any rate your worship knew where
to place that pike, aiming at my head but, thanks to God and the
agility wherewith I dodged, striking my shoulders. But all will
come out in the washing, so let that pass. As I have heard say.
He loves thee well that makes thee weep ; the more, since a
master, after harsh word to a servant, is wont straightway to
hand him a pair of breeches. What they hand after blows is
beyond me, unless knights -errant give them isles, or kingdoms
on the mainland. '

' The dice can easily fail in such a way, ' said Don Quijote,
' that all you say will come true. Forgive me the past for you
are wise enough to know that a man's first action is beyond his
control, and for the future, that you may check and restrain
yourself from overmuch speaking reflect on this one thing : that
in all the books of chivalry I have read, and they are legion,
I never met with a squire that gossiped as much with his master
as you gossip with yours. And truly I hold this large fault both
in you and in me : in you that you hold me so cheap ; in me that
I inspire so little reverence. Think on Gandalin, squire to Amadis
and count of Insula Firme. One reads that he spoke to his master
cap in hand, inclining his head and bending his body Turkish
fashion. What, too, shall we say of Gasabal, squire to Don
Galaor, who was so little given to speech and so self-effacive
that the whole history, as tedious as true, mentions him but
once ?

' You must see from what I say, my son, there's need to
distinguish 'twixt master and man, lord and servant, knight and
squire. Henceforth we must act with greater respect and not
give ourselves rope ; for however I may vent my wrath, 'tis
bound to go hard with the pitcher. The rewards and benefits
I have promised will come in due course, and should they fail,
you are sure to receive wages in the manner already outlined. '

XXI MAMBBINO'S HELMET 119

' All you say is well and good, ' responded the other, ' but in
case the season for the rewards didn't arrive and it became
necessary to apply to the wages, how much did a squire to
knight-errant earn in the old days ? and was his salary reckoned
by the month, or by the day as with hod-carriers. '

' My impression is that squires never really were on a salary
but looked rather to favours for a living. If I remembered you in
the sealed testament at home, 'twas with a sense of the precar-
iousness of this mode of life, for as yet I'm not sure chivalry
will succeed in these calamitous times. You yourself should know
ere this that there's no more hazardous existence in the world
than that of adventurers, and I wouldn't have my soul for petty
omissions suffer in the next. ' ' What you say of adventurers
must be true, ' remarked the other, ' since merely the sound of
fuUing-hammers can startle and confuse the heart of no less
valiant an errant than your worship. But henceforth rest assured
I shall never open my lips to make light of your affairs but ever
to honour you as my master and natural lord. ' ' By so doing
you shall live long upon the face of the earth, for masters are to
be respected only second to parents and like unto them. '

CHAPTER XXI

The noble venture and rich reward of Mambriuo's helmet,
along vidth other things that befell our invincible knight

AT this juncture it began to rain slightly and Sancho moved
that they pass under cover of the fulling-mills, but these
were invested with such abhorrence by Don Quijote that this
plan was the last to which he would consent. Instead they took
a road leading to the right out onto to another like the one they
had travelled the day before. In the near distance Don Quijote
descried a man, mounted and wearing on his head something
that shone like gold. Scarce had our knight sighted him when he
turned to Saneho and said ; ' Methinks there's no refrain that
hasn't some element of truth, since all are maxims hewn from

120 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

experience, the mother of all knowledge. And especially true is
the one that says, When one door closes, another opens. My
drift is that if last evening fortune slammed in our faces the
door of the adventure we were on the track of by putting us
off with fulling-mills, she now opens wide another portal to a
better and surer one, which if I fail to pass through, mine the
blame, since I cannot lay it to mine ignorance of hammers or the
darkness of the night. All this I say because, if I mistake not,
yonder approaches one that wears the helmet of Mambrino
concerning which, you remember, I took a certain oath. '

' Look well to what you say and better to what you do ,'
counselled Sancho, ' for I wouldn't have other mills finish the
fulling of us and knock us out of our wits. ' ' The devil take you,
man ! what have fulling-mills to do with helmets ? ' ' Nothing,
so far as I know, ' replied Sancho ; ' but by my faith if I could
talk as I used to, I might say such words that your worship
would see you are mistaken. ' ' How can I be, malignant traitor ?
tell me, see you not yon cavalier approaching on a dapple-grey
steed and on his head a golden helmet ? ' ' "What I see and
discern is naught but an ordinary man riding a grey ass like
mine own with something on his head that glistens. ' ' Well, that
is Mambrino's helmet ; retire and leave him to me and you'll find
how without saying a word, to save time, I shall conclude this
adventure, and the long-coveted helmet will be mine. ' ' I'll
attend to the retiring, ' rejoined the squire, ' but please God,
[ say again, that the adventure prove sweet marjoram and no
mills. ' ' I've already asked you, brother, not to mention even by
a thought those fulling-mills, or I swear, and I say no more, to
Full the very soul out of you. ' Sancho held his peace, lest his
master make good an oath which he had hurled at him so roundly.

Now these are the facts regarding the helmet, the horse and the
cavalier seen of our Don Quijote. In that district were two
villages, one of which was so small that it had neither apothecary
nor barber, and since its neighbour had, the barber of the
larger served the lesser ; in which at this time was a man that
[lad need to be bled and another that had need to be shaved,
and the barber-surgeon was on his way thither. He carried his

XXI MAMBRINO'S HELMET 121

brass basin with him and, since it rained and he would not spoil
his hat (which must have been new), in its stead he wore the
basin, which being burnished shone for half a league. He rode a
grey ass, as Sancho said ; and thus it was that Don Quijote
pictured a knight, a dapple-grey steed and a helmet of gold,
accommodating everything, as he did, to the ill- starred wan-
derings of his unbridled thoughts.

So it befell that when the poor knight was at hand, our
champion without stopping to parley put Rocinante to a gallop,
lowering his pike wiih the evident purpose of driving it straight
throu^ him. In mid-career and without slackening the speed of
his onset he cried : ' Defend yourself, base creature, or at once
deliver of your free will that which is so justly my due. ' The
barber, beholding this sudden apparition descending upon him
before he had the least thought or suspicion thereof, saw no way
of avoiding the pike save by fallling from his ass. Scarce had he
reached the ground when he leapt to his feet more nimbly than
a buck, and more fleetly than the wind vanished over the plain.

In his harried departure Mambrino left his helmet on the
ground, whereat Don Quijote was wholly satisfied, declaring
that the pagan had with sound judgment imitated the beaver
who, on finding himself hard pressed by hunters, bites off that
for which his natural instinct tells him he is pursued. He ordered
Sancho to pick up th^ casque, in handing which the squire said :
' By God, 'tis a good basin all right enough : worth eight reals if
a farthing. ' The knight, placing it on his head, turned it around
to find the visor, but as his search was unrewarded, he observed :
' The first paynim to whose measure this famous helmet was
forged, must have boasted an uncommonly large head, but
worse than that it lacks a face-guard. '

When Sancho heard him speak of the basin as a helmet, he
couldn't restrain his laughter, but bethinking him of his master's
wrath he stopped in the midst of it. ' Why do you laugh,
Sancho ? ' ' I was thinking what a whopping head he must
have had, the pagan owner of that helmet, which looks for all
the world like a barber's basin. ' ' Do you know what I fear ? it
has struck me that this famous piece of enchanted helmet by an

laZ DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

extraordinary accident fell into the hands of some unappreciative
person who, seeing it of purest gold, ignorantly melted one half
that he might realise on it, and with what was left made what
looks, as you say, like a barber's basin. For all that, its meta-
morphosis can make no difference to me that know its true
value, and in the first village that boasts a smithy I'll so rehabil-
itate it that the helmet made by the god of smithies for the god
of battles won't surpass, nay, touch it. Till then I shall wear it
as best I can; a half- loaf is better than none and even such an
helmet will protect me from a random stone. '

' Unless, ' excepted Sancho, ' 'twere thrown from a sling with
the force of those thrown in the battle of the two armies, what
time they signed the cross on your worship's molars and smashed
the cruet containing that blessed balsam that made me vomit
my insides. ' ' The loss of the balsam doesn't much worry me, '
returned the other, ' since as you are aware I have the recipe in
my memory. ' ' So have I, but if ever I try to make or taste it
during the rest of my life, may this be my last hour. More by
token I very much doubt whether I shall be placed in a situation
to need it, for with all my five senses I intend to keep from
wounds or wounding another. As to being tossed in a blanket
I've naught to say, for such accidents are not easily prevented,
and if they come, all you must do is tuck in your shoulders,
hold your breath, close your eyes and let yourself go whither
fate and the coverlet send you. ' ' 'Tis a poor sort of Christian
my Sancho makes, never forgetting an injury. Learn that 'tis the
part of noble and generous souls to overlook trifles. What foot
was lamed as a result of that incident ? what rib was broken or
head pounded that you forgive not this jest ? Jest it was, seen in
the proper light, pleasant fun, and had I not so regarded it,
I should have returned and wrought greater havoc in your ven-
geance than did the Greeks for the rape of Helen ; of whom, were
she living now or my Dulcinea then, less would be heard ; ' and
here he drew a sigh and breathed it toward heaven.

' Let the tossing be set down as fun, ' retorted the other, ' since
the vengeance cannot be as fact, but I know the kind of fun and
fact it was. I know too it can't be erased from my memory any

XXI MAMBRINO'S HELMET 123

more than from my shoulders. But bidding this farewell, tell
me, your worship, what are we to do with this dapple-grey
steed that looks so uncommonly like a common grey ass, left
here to shift for itself by that Martino you unsaddled ? From the
way he made the dust fly and took the hose of Villadiego,
methinks he'll never come back, and by my beard the grey is a
good one. ' ' 'Tis not my practice to despoil my victims, nor is
it knightly to deprive them of horse and mounts, save where the
victor, having lost his own, appropriates that of the vanquished
as lawful prize of war. This being the rule, Sancho, 'twere better
not to take this horse or ass or whatever you choose to call him,
for, as soon as his owner sees us gone, he'll return for him. '
' God knows I should like to steal the brute, ' complained the
servant, ' or at least exchange him for mine, which seems to me
the poorer of the two. Truly how strict are the laws of chivalry
that don't allow the swapping of one ass for another ! Might I at
least swap trappings I wonder. '

' As to that I cannot advise with certainly, but in case of doubt
and until better informed, I should say you might make the
division were the need extreme. ' ' So extreme, that were they
trappings for my person, it couldn't be greater. ' And sanctioned
by this permission Sancho at once changed hoods, as the saying
is, decking his beast out in a thousand ways till he made another
ass of him. This done, they breakfasted on the remnants of the
sumpter-mule's larder and drank of the brook of the fuUing-
hammers, not looking that way in their loathing of them for the
terror they had inspired. And now, all melancholy and angry
passions gone, they mounted and rode forth, taking, as mark of
chivalry, no particular way. They followed whither led by
Rocinante's will, which controlled the wills of Don Quijote and
the ass, always trotting after in friendship and good company.
They soon were back on the highway and pursued it without
aim or object, but as they rode the squire said to his master :

' Senor, is your worship willing that I talk a little ? Since
yon laid that harsh ban of silence upon me, more than four
things have rotted in my stomach, and I don't wish the same fate
to overtake one that I now have on the tip of my tongue, ' • Out

124 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

with it then, but be quick, for speech to be spicy must be brief. '
' Well, what I want to say is that for some days past I've been
considering how little is gained by wandering in search of
adventures out on these deserts and cross-roads where, though
the most perilous occasions are met and surmounted, there's
nobody around to see or learn of them. Thus are they sure to
sink into everlasting silence, to the hurt of your ambition and
the worship they deserve. It strikes me, saving your better judg-
ment, 'twould be more profitable to hire out to some emperor or
other or a prince with a war on his hands, in whose service you
could show the puissance of your person, your great prowess
and greater understanding. When these are seen by our lord, of
necessity he'll enrich us, each according to his merits ; nor will
there be lacking one to set down in writing your worship's
deeds as a memorial for ever. Of mine I say nothing, since they
never pass scjuirely bounds ; though let me state right here, that
were it chivalry custom to describe the deeds of the shield-
bearers, mine I believe would not be passed in silence. '

' You say not ill, Sancho ; but before things come to this head,
'twill be necessary by way of probation to wander the world
over on adventurous quest, for then the knight by his occasional
victories may win such name and fame that when he repairs to
the court of some great monarch, his works will have gone
before, and scarce will the children see him enter the city's gate
when all will surround him shouting : ' All hail to the Knight of
Phoebus or the Serpent ! ' (or any other device beneath which he
has achieved his great feats of arms) ; ' this is he, ' they will cry,
' that single-handed vanquished the huge giant Brocabruno of
migty power ; that delivered the great mameluke of Persia out
of his heavy enchantment lasting nearly nine hundred years. '
And so from youth to youth will be blown the praise of his
deeds, and the king, hearing the outcry, will step to the window
of the royal palace, and seeing and recognising the cavalier by his
armour and the device on his shield, he is sure to cry : ' What
ho ! ye knights of the court ! sally forth to receive the flower of
chivalry, yonder approaching. ' Thereupon all will issue forth,
and the king, receiving the heroic adventurer half-way down the

XXI MANBHINO'S HELMET 126

Staircase, will closely embrace him and wish him peace, kissing
him on the forehead.

' His Highness will then lead him to the apartment of the queen,
whom he will find with her daughter the infanta, who must
needs be one of the most beautiful and discreet maidens that with
difficulty can be found in the larger part of the known world.
And now 'twill come about that, instantly their eyes meet, each
will appear to the other a thing more divine than human, and
without knowing how both will be entangled in the inextricable
net of love. Dire distress will reign in their hearts, at a loss as
to how to communicate and make known their pains and desires.
Thence they doubtless will lead him to soihe richly adorned
chamber where, having stripped him of his mail, they'll fetch
a rich scarlet mantle and, looked he well in armour, how much
finer in his doublet must he now appear !

' When evening draws nigh, he sups with the king, queen and
princess, from whom he never takes his eyes, stealing glances
at her ; and she does likewise for, as I have said, she's most
discreet. The tables being removed, there enters unannounced an
ugly little dwarf, and behind him, between two giants, a beau-
tiful duenna. This turns out to be an adventure arranged by a
most ancient sage, wherein whoever succeeds will be accounted
the foremost knight in the world; The king will command the
company to make trial of the same, but none is successful save,
to the great increase of his renown, this unknown stranger ;
whereupon the infanta will be overjoyed, considering herself
more than rewarded in having raised her thought so high. But the
best of it is that this king or prince or whoever he may be is
engaged in war to the death with another as powerful as him-
self, and the stranger-knight, after he has been at court a few
days, asks leave to serve him in that strife. The king gives his
sanction, in acknowledgment whereof the knight will kiss his
hand.

' That same evening he bids farewell to his love the infanta
through the barred gate of the garden that lies off her bed-
chamber (and here ere this he has often spoken with her), with
a much-trusted maid-in-waiting as go-between. At this leave-

lab DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 1

taking he sighs, she swoons, the maid fetches water, frightened
almost to death since morn approaches and for the sake of her
mistress's good name she would not be discovered. Bat the
infanta now comes to and through the grating stretches forth her
lily-white hands, which the knight kisses a thousand and a thou-
sand times, bathing them in tears. The pair will then plan how
they are to inform each other of their good and evil fortunes,
and the princess will plead with him not to be absent longer
than there is absolute need, which the lover will promise with
many vows. He kisses her hands again and takes leave with such
deep eniotion that he is like to expire.

' Repairing to his chamber he throws himself on his bed, but
cannot sleep from sorrow at parting. At an early hour he goes
to take leave but is told, when he has bidden king and queen
farewell, that the princess is indisposed and cannot receive him.
The knight imagines that she has been made ill by his going :
his heart is pierced and he all but betrays his anguish. The con-
fidante, being present, notes all and hurries to tell her mistress,
who weeps but recovers sufficiently to confess that as much as
anything her anxiety is caused by ignorance of her lover's ident-
ity, whether he be of royal house or no. The confidante assures
her that such courtesy, valour and gentle bearing could obtain
only in a noble and princely personage. The child is eased of her
burden and endeavours to rally that she may not arouse her
parents ' suspicions, and at the end of the second day she again
appears in public.

' The knight in the meanwhile is off to the wars. He fights and
conquers the king's enemy, sacks many cities, is victor in
countless battles ; returns to court, sees his lady-love by the
same means as before, and together they agree he shall ask her
in marriage as reward for his services. Alas, the king refuses
because he is a stranger. By stealth, however, or otherwise the
infanta comes to be his bride and in the end the father considers
it a lucky strike, since he hears that the knight is the son of a
valiant king of I know not what realm, for it hardly can be on
the map. The father dies betimes, the infanta inherits the throne,
in two words the knight is crowned king. And now comes the

XXI MAMBRINO'S HKLMET 127

rewarding his squire and all others that have helped him rise to
liis present eminence. He marries off the former to one of the
maids-in-waiting, the same, doubtless, that served as go-between
in their intrigue, the daughter of a noble duke. '

' That would suit me, ' broke in Sancho ; ' fair play say I and
no favour. I'll bank on that, for it's to your worship, that styles
himself the Knight of Sorry Aspect, that all this is going to
befall. ' ' Have no doubt if it, my son, for precisely in that way
and by those very steps errants have mounted and still mount to
be kings and emperors. Our only need is to find the Christian
or pagan king with a war and a lovely daughter on his hands.
But there will be time to attend to that afterwards for, as I said,
one must achieve fame in out-of-the-way parts first. This too is
to be considered : supposing such a king to be found and granting
that I have achieved incredible fame throughout the universe,
I still don't see how it can be made to appear that I am of the
line of or even second cousin to royalty, and the king will be
loth to surrender his child till satisfied on this point, howewer
much my deeds of fame deserve her. Indeed I fear that through
this lack I may come to lose what mine arm has richly earned.
True, I am a gentleman and of known family. I possess landed
property and am of the rank that entitles me to five hundred
pence in case of injury. And it is quite possible that the sage-
author of my life may clear up mine ancestors and find that I am
fifth or sixth in descent from a king.

' For I would have you know, Sancho, that lineage is of two
kinds. One class in this world derives itself from princes and
monarchs but lessens and lessens with time and ends in a point
like a pyramid. The other class is composed of those that from
obscure beginnings step by step mount to be great lords. The
result is that the former were what now they are not and the
latter are now what they were not at first. I, perchance, am of
those whose origin will prove upon investigation to have been
great and renowned, and with this the king, my future father-
in-law, must rest content. In any case the infanta will he so far
gone in love that despite her father and though she knew me
the son of a water-carrier, she'll be sure to take me for lord

.^

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 1 128

and husband. And if not, then comes the stealing and carrying
her whither I please, since time or death will reconcile the
parents. '

' At this point also, ' suggested the other, ' would come in the
advice given by certain sharpers. Never seek as a favour what
you can seize by force ; though even more pat woult be the saying.
Better a leap o'er the hedge than the prayers of good men. I say
this because, in case your father-in-law refuse to hand over my
lady the princess, there's naught to do but steal and away with
ler, as your worship plans. But the deuce of it is that till peace
is made and you enjoy the quiet possession of your kingdom,
;he poor squire will have to whistle for the go-between, unless
jhe sally forth with the infanta. In that event, and until Heaven
}rdains some other thing, they can weather the hard times
;ogether, since his master at the very start will, I take it, offer her
IS his legitimate spouse. ' ' There's none to prevent it, ' replied
he master.

' Well then, if that's th£ scheme, there's naught to do but
;ommend ourselves to God and let fortune run what road it
vill. ' ' God guide her as I wish and you require, ' said Don
Juijote, ' and low let him lie that will not rise. ' ' Low let him
n God's name, ' echoed Sancho ; ' as for myself, I'm an old
^Ihristian, and to rise and be a count is all my shoulders will
)ear. ' ' And more, ' added the other ; ' but even so it matters
lot, for I, being king, can give you the rank I please, without
ervice or purchase by you. Once a count, ever a gentleman, let
hem say what they will, for by my faith they'll have to address
ou as Your Lordship, whether they like it or not. ' ' What's
aore, ' said Sancho, ' I shall know how to support the tittle. '
Title is the word, not tittle, ' suggested his master. ' That let it
•e, ' accepted the squire ; ' I shall fill the bill all right, since
mce on a time I served as beadle to a fraternity, and the gown
at on me so well everybody said I had carriage enough for a
teward. What will it be when I put a duke's robe on my should-
rs or dress myself in gold and pearls like a foreign count ?
'11 wager they'll come a hundred leagues for a look. ' ' You'll
ertainly be a fine sight, but you'll have to shave often, for your

XXII THE GALLEY-SLAVES 129

beard grows so tangled and unkempt that unless it feel the razor
every other day at least, your origin will discover itself a bow-
shot off. '

' What does that signify, ' returned the squire, ' except that I
must keep in my house a salaried barber, who, if needful, can
follow me round like a nobleman's equerry. ' ' And how do you
chance to know that noblemen have equerries to follow them
round ? ' ' That I shall tell you. In years gone by once, upon a
time I spent a month at the capital and there I noticed that when-
ever a certain very little lord, said to be a very great one, took
a turn in the streets, a fellow on horseback traipsed after him :
wherever he went the other followed like a tail. I asked them
why he always went behind rather than before and they an-
swered he was an equerry and that was how equerries rode. And
then I learned it so well that I never forgot it. ' 'I believe you're
right, ' admitted Don Quijote, ' and that you can have your
barber just as he did his equerry, for customs didn't originate
all together nor were they established in a day. You can be the
first count always to have a barber in his wake, since to shave
one's beard is surely a graver trust than to saddle one's horse. '
' Leave the shaving to me, ' said the squire, ' and do you attend
to the kingship and making me a count. ' ' Agreed, ' said his
master who, raising his eyes, saw what will be described in the
following chapter.

CHAPTER XXII

The liberty given a number of luckless louts that against
their wills were being taken vi^here they had no wish to go

Cm Hamet Benengeli, the Arabic and Manchegan author,
relates in the course of this weighty, high-flown, minute and
cheerful fiction of his, that when the famous Don Quijote and
his squire Sancho Panza ended the conversation reported at the
close of the twenty-first chapter, the former lifted his eyes and
saw on the road ahead near a dozen men afoot, strung together

130 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

on a chain like beads on a rosary, each one handcuffed besides.
Two men on horseback and two on foot formed their escort, the
former with firelocks, the latter with javelins and swords. As
soon as Sancho descried them he said : ' Here comes a chain of
prisoners on their way to the galleys by force of the king's
orders. ' ' By force, do you say ? is it possible the king employs
force against any man ? ' ' I didn't say just that, but that this
gang as penalty for their crimes are bound to serve the king in
the galleys perforce. ' 'Be that as it may, these persons, however
taken, are taken by force and not of their volition. ' ' Well,
what of it ? ' ' 'Tis the entering wedge whereby the chance is
given me to exercise mine oflBce, which is to redress wrongs and
succour the oppressed. ' ' But consider, sir, that justice, which
is the king's self, isn't wronging or injuring these rascals, but is
merely giving them their due.'

The chain-gang was now before them and in most courteous
terms Don Quijote asked their custodians that they be pleased to
tell him the cause or causes inducing them to lead these persons
in that manner. One of the horse-guards replied they were
galley-slaves, subjects of the king, on their way to the galleys
— that was all he had to say and all his inquisitor had a right
to know. ' None the less, ' asserted our champion, ' my intention
is to hear the cause of each one's disgrace ; ' and to this he
added other polite phrases that he might move them to tell
what he desired. At length the second mounted guard spoke
up : ' Though we have the register and warrant for each of these
wretches, this is no time to produce and read them. Gome and
question the men themselves — they'll tell you if in the mood,
for fellows of this stripe love naught better than speaking and
acting with double tongue. '

With this permission, which he'Id have allowed himself had it
not been granted, Don Quijote rode up to the leader of the line
and asked for what sins he was cutting so sorry a figure. The
fellow answered, for being in love. ' And for that alone ? if they
lead one to the galleys for being in love, I should have rowed in
them years ago. ' ' My affection was not of that order but for a
washwoman's basket of clean linen, which I embraced so tightly

XXII THE GALLEY -SLAVES 131

that, had not justice forced me to drop it, 'twould still be by me.
But I was caught in the act, they needed not the rack, the case
was done before begun, they stripped my clothes for a hundred
blows, to the tubs they cried, for three years beside. ' ' And what
are the tubs ? ' ' The galleys, ' returned the prisoner — a young
chap of not more than four and twenty, who declared himself a
native of Piedrahita.

The knight moved on and interrogated the second, who, sad
and melancholy, had naught to say for himself; so the first
answered for him : ' He goes as a canary, sir ; in other words as
a musician and singer. ' ' And do musicians and singers also
have to go to the galleys ? ' ' Yes, sir, for there's naught worse
than singing in the throes. ' ' On the contrary I've heard that he
that sings scares away trouble. ' ' With us 'tis the reverse, for he
that sings once, weeps all his life.' ' I don't follow you,' confessed
Don Quijote. At this point one of the guards broke in, saying :
' Sir knight, to sing in the throes is the phrase of this godless
people for confessing in the rack. Under such persuasion this
fellow acknowledged he had been a cattle-stealer and was sen-
tenced for six years in the galleys, besides two hundred stripes
which he now wears on his back. He goes ever troubled and
despondent because other rogues, both these and those left
behind, taunt and humiliate him, holding him of no account
because he came out with it and didn't have the stuff to say nay,
which has no more letters than yea, they tell him, adding that the
culprit that holds his life and death on his tongue and not in
proofs and witnesses has an easy chance. And I must think
they're somewhere near right. ' ' I too, ' remarked Don Quijote.

The third man of the crew was now applied to and at once in
care-free manner he answered : ' I am to be five years with Iheir
ladyships the tubs because I lacked ten ducats. ' ' I'll gladly give
you twenty, ' offered the knight, ' if that will get you out of your
trouble. ' To this the galley-slave replied : ' This case is like that
of a man starving at sea, who has money enough but no place
where he may buy food. My meaning is that had I had these
twenty ducats at the right time, I could have greased the notary's
pen and sharpened the lawyer's wits in such a way that now I

132 DON QUWOTE DE LA MANCHA A

should be sunning myself in tiie Plaza de Zocodover in Toledo,
not travelling this road like a leashed hound. But great is God !
patience and that is enough. '

Don Quijote now passed on to the fourth, a man of venerable
aspect with white beard that fell below his breast. He wept when
he heard the question and answered not, but the fifth criminal,
serving him for a tongue, said : ' This honoured sire will spend
four years in the galleys, having already gone the rounds clothed
in pomp and on horseback. ' ' By that, ' suggested Sancho Panza,
' you mean he has been exposed to public shame. ' ' Just so,
and they gave him this punishment by reason of his having been
an ear-agent, a body-agent in fact : all of which simply means
that this gentleman goes as a pimp and for having the points and
marks of a sorcerer about hin. ' ' Had you omitted the points
and marks, ' declared Don Quijote, ' the mere pimp of it wouldn't
have warranted his being sent to row in the galleys ; rather he
should have been sent as their admiral to command them, for
the office of pimp is no common one but properly the business
of discreet persons, is entirely necessary to a well-ordered
community and shouldn't be engaged in save by those of birth.

' Moreover they should have a supercargo and examiner as do
other offices, and a registry of them should be kept as of stock-
brokers. Many evils would thus be prevented that will continue
so long as the business is in the hands of foolish and ignorant
persons — low women with little or no wit, pages and jesters of
slight standing and experience, who, when an important affair
arises requiring the most delicate handling, permit the crumbs
to freeze ere they reach the mouth and know not their right hand
from the left. I should like to say more on this subject, showing
why they that hold this office under the republic should do so
by special apppointment. But this is no place to enlarge there-
upon ; some day I hope to speak to One that can look to and
remedy the trouble. Finally let me say that though it pains me
to see these white hairs and venerable visage suffering oppression
as a pimp, the fact that he was also a sorcerer reconciles me, for
certain I am there are no occult powers in the world to move
and influence the will, though simple folk think so. All that

XXII THE GALLEY-SLAVES 133

these silly women and cunning charlatans do is to prepare certain
poisonous concoctions wherewith they turn men mad, and then
say they've forced them to desire, which would be equivalent to
exercising power over their wills. '

' No different, ' assented the old good-fellow, ' but as a matter
of fact, though I can't deny I was employed as a pimp, a sorcerer
I never was. And in my pimpery I didn't know I did harm.
My sole aim was that everyone should enjoy himself and live in
peace and tranquillity without strife or sorrow. Yet this good-
will hasn't prevented my going whence I cannot hope return,
such my years and a bladder-trouble that gives me to rest. ' So
saying he wept anew and Sancho felt such compassion that pro-
ducing a four-real piece from his bosom he gave it the old man
out of charity. Passing to the next Don Quijote was answered
With no less but rather more gaiety than before. ' I am here, '
said he, ' because I fooled overmuch with two cousins of mine
and two not my cousins, as a result of which playing I had
such a tribe of kinsfolk on my hands they were past counting.
The evidence was all against me, I lacked money and favour,
I nearly lost my windpipe, they sentenced me for six years,
I agreed, 'tis the punishment of my fault, I am still young, let
life last and all will come straight. If your worship, sir knight,
have aught wherewith to help us poor wretches, God will repay
you in Heaven, and on the earth we in our prayers will ask Him
for your life and health that they may continue as long and good
as your presence deserves. ' This speaker was dressed after the
manner of a student, and one of the guards informed them that
besides being an easy talker he was a very fine scholar.

Behind all these came a good-looking, cross-eyed fellow of
thirty years, fastened somewhat differently from the others.
A long chain wound around his body from one foot to a ring
about his neck, about which was another ring, nicknamed keep-
friend or friend's foot. From this hung two irons with two
handcuffs attached to his waist, in which by means of a heavy
padlock his hands were so tied that they couldn't reach his mouth
nor could he lower his head to them. Don Quijote asked why
this one had so many more shackles than the others. The

134 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

gaard replied that he had committed more felonies than all the
others combined ; indeed such and so bold a scoundrel was
he that even now they were in continual fear lest he give them
the slip.

' What such dreadful crimes can he have committed, ' enquired
the other, ' if they have merited no greater punishment than
being sent to the galleys ? ' ' His sentence is for ten years, which
amounts to civil death. As to his crimes, you need only be told
that this good-fellow is the notorious Giqes de Pasamonte, alias
Ginesillo de Parapilla. ' ' Mister deputy, ' interposed the prisoner,
' let's go slow, and not try to refine on names and surnames.
Gines is mine and not Ginesillo, and Pasamonte is my family,
not Parapilla as you say. Let every man first look to himself and
all will be well. ' ' Speak with less impudence, you arch-thief,
or I'll hush you in a way that won't please you. ' ' Man pro-
poses, but God disposes, ' returned the slave, ' yet sometime
some one will know whether my name is Ginesillo de Parapilla
or not. ' ' Don't they call you that, you liar ? ' ' They do now,
but I shall see to it that they don't, or I'll pluck their — but never
mind. Sir knight, if you have aught to give us, out with it and
God be with you for you bore me with all your questions into
other persons' lives. Would you know mine, that of Gines de
Pasamonte has been written by his own thumbs. '

' The fellow says true, ' offered the guard ; ' he has written a
biography that leaves naught to be desired ; the manuscript is at
the prison in pawn for two hundred reals. ' ' And I should hope
to redeem it though it stood at as many ducats, ' said its author.
' Is it as good as all that ? ' asked Don Quijote. ' So good, that
deuce take Lazarillo de Tormes and all books of that kidney
that have been or ever shall be. Mine rehearses facts, I want you
to know, and facts so pleasant that fictions couldn't match them.'
' What is the title of the book ? ' again enquired Don Quijote.
' The^LifejoJLfiinfiaji© Pasamonte. ' ' And is it finished ? ' ' How
can it be when I am not ? it covers the period from my birth
down to the time I was last up for the galleys. ' ' So you've
been there before ? ' ' For four years, in the service of God and
the king. But though I know what hardtack and courbash are,

XXII THE GALLKY- SLAVES 135

I don't mind going again, since there I shall have ease wherewith
to finish my booli. In the galleys of Spain there's leisure and to
spare. I shan't need much however, for though there's plenty
to tell, I know it by heart. '

' You seem clever enough, ' ventured Don Quijole. ' And
cursed ; but ills ever follow on the heels of genius. ' ' And of
vice, ' the deputy tacked on. ' I urged you, mister deputy, to go
slow. The governors didn't give you that staff to maltreat poor
fellows on the road but to lead us whither His Majesty com-
mands. If you think not, by the life of me ! but stay — for some
fine day the stains you got at the inn yonder will come out in the
washing. Let everybody hold his tongue, live well and speak
better, and let us jog on, for we've had enough of joking. ' The
deputy lifted his staff and was about to give Pasamonte an
answer to his threats when Don Quijote rode between them,
bidding him withhold, since it was natural that one with hands
tied should have tongue loose. And now turning to the line of
prisoners he said : ' From what you have told me, my dear
brothers, I have at least gathered this, that though you are being
punished for crimes, the trials you are to undergo are little to
your taste and that you go to them with no pleasure, in fact
quite against your wills. Moreover, most likely 'twas the cow-
ardice of this one on the rack, the want of money on the part of
the second, the little favour possessed by the third, in each case
the perverted judgment of the magistrate, that caused your
downfall and failure to obtain the justice that was yours.

' Now all this memorialises itself and keeps petitioning, nay,
forcing me to exemplify through you the purpose for which
Heaven launched me in the world, making me profess the order
of chivalry which I now profess and take the vow I have now
taken — the vow, namely, to champion the needy and those
oppressed by the stronger. But as it's a mark of prudence not to
force matters that may be settled peaceably, I am about to ask
these custodians that their pleasure may be to unchain and set
you free, for there'll not be wanting other men to serve the king
and on better occasions, and it seems unjust to make slaves of
those God and nature made freemen. How much more does this

136 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA •••

appear, gentlemen, if you stop to consider 'tis not yourselves
these poor fellows have harmed. Let each answer for his sins
in the hereafter. God's in his Heaven and forgets not to punish
the wicked and reward the good, nor is it fitting that just men
lay heavy hands on those that have worked them no injury.
I speak with this assurance since if you comply, I shall have
cause to thank you, while if you don't of your own free will, this
lance and sword with the valour of mine arm will lead you to do
so under pressure. '

' A fool's jest ! ' laughed the deputy ; ' a fine piece of pleas-
antry is this he has delivered himself of at last. He wants us to
leave him the king's prisoners ; as if we had the authority to
free them or he to order us ! Let your worship go your way and
God be with you. Straighten that basin on your head and don't
go looking for three feet on a cat. ' ' 'Tis you are the cat, the rat
and the rascal, ' was hurled the reply, and combining action with
word Don Quijote closed with him so instantly that he had no
chance to defend himself and one pike-stroke sent him flying.
There the fellow lay sorely wounded and fortunately for his
opponent 'twas the one that bore the musket. The other guards
were completely taken aback by this sudden assault, but the
mounted ones, gathering their wits, clapped hand to sword and
those on foot clutched their javelins, together making at our
knight, who awaited them in perfect composure. And now surely
'twould have gone hard with hiiii, had not the prisoners availed
themselves of this opportunity to break the chain that strung
them together ; and in attending now to them and now to their
attacking foe, at no point were the guards effective. Sancho on
his part helped Gines de Pasamonte, who, being the first to be
rid of his chains, immediately made for the fallen deputy. Snatch-
ing his sword and musket, by aiming at this one and pointing
at that without once pulling the trigger, he left not a guard in
all the countryside. Every one of them sought safety in flight, as
well from Pasamonte's firelock as from many stones hurled at
them by the others, now no longer prisoners.

This outcome was not to the taste of Sancho, who feared the
guards would notify the Holy Brotherhood to come, at the sound

XXII THE GALLEY-SLAVES 137

of the tocsin, and look for the delinquents. This fear he com-
municated to his master, advising that they clear out at once and
hide in the neighbouring hills. ' You are right, ' said Don Quijote,
' but I know of something that should be attended to before
that ; ' and calling the galley-slaves, who by this time had
eagerly stripped the remaining deputy to the skin, he addressed
them as follows : ' 'Tis a mark of good birth to render thanks for
benefits received, for ingratitude is one of the sins that most
offendeth God. I say this since you yourselves, gentlemen, by
actual experience can bear witness to the favours received at
my hands, and in their requital I wish and 'tis my will that,
taking up the chain I loosed from your necks, you walk to the
city of el Toboso, and presenting yourselves before the lady
Dulcinea and saying that by these her Knight of Sorry Aspect
commends himself, proceed to give her a detailed account of this
famous adventure and of how it gave you your desired freedom.
You then may go where you will and good-luck attend you. '

To this Gines de Pasamonte replied for them all, saying : ' 'Tis
not in the region of the possible to comply with your request,
sir liberator, for we must not be seen on the road in company.
Each must take a different way and conceal himself in the
bowels of the earth if he can, for the Holy Brotherhood will
unquestionably come in our search. What your worship may
and fittingly should do is to change this toll and service on behalf
of the lady Dulcinea into a certain number of ave-marias and
credos, which we will repeat with your worship in our thoughts.
They are a thing that can be executed by night or day, at rest or
flying, in peace or war. But to imagine that we shall willingly
go back to the flesh-pots of Egypt, take up our chain in other
words, and set out for el Toboso, is to think it night when it
isn't yet ten in the morning : to ask this of us is to ask pears of
the elm. '

Don Quijote waxed white with rage at this speech and in
reply called out : ' Don Ginesillo de Paropillo, or however you
style yourself, you son of a bawd, I swear by all, that I'll make
you go alone with chain upon back and tail between legs ! '
Pasamonte had already gathered that Don Quijote was not

138 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

overshrewd, else he'Id not have attempted giving them liberty,
and naught too patient himself he gave thew^ink to his comrades,
who dropping back a little began to rain so many and such large
pebbles that the knight's shield was of slight protection, especially
as poor Rocinante gave no more response to the spur than as if
bronze. As for Sancho, he fortified himself behind his ass, which
served as a bulwark against this driving hail-storm.

The knight shielded himself so poorly indeed that innumerable
little crystals struck his body with sufficient force to knock him
overboard. Scarce had he touched the ground when the student
was upon him, giving him with the basin.three or four rat-a-tat-
tats on the shoulders and as many more on the ground with it
till 'twas nothing but bits. They as well relieved him of a jacket
from over his armour and would have appropriated his hose had
not the greaves prevented. They then stripped Sancho of his long
cloak, leaving him fairly trimmed, and dividing the other spoils
of battle made off each in a different direction, more eager to
escape the Holy Brotherhood than to take up chains and present
themselves before Dulcinea at el Toboso. None but the ass,
Rocinante, Sancho and Don Quijote remained : the ass crest-
fallen and sad, turning his ears from time to time lest the squall
of stones might not be over ; Rocinante lying at full length beside
his master — the horse too having been bowled over ; Sancho
disfurnished and in terror of the Holy Brotherhood, and lastly
the knight himself, hotly incensed that those on whom he had
showered favours, upon him should have showered stones.

XXIII THE GOLD CROWNS 139

CHAPTER XXIII

Don Quijote's sojourn in the Sierra Morena, affording one
of the rarest adventures of this truthful history

OUR hero, marking Ihe sorry plight he was in, thus addressed
his trusty squire : ' I have always heard, Sancho, that to
do a rogue kindness is to pour water into the sea. Had I listened
to what you said, I had avoided this declension, but it's over
with now, so patience and heed for the future. ' ' Your worship
wiU as much take heed as I am a Turk. But since you say this
trouble would have been avoided had you listened to me, escape
a greater one by listening now. I want you to realise that the
Holy Brotherhood have no use for chivalries and wouldn't give
two coppers for all the knights-errant in the world, and even
now I seem to hear their darts whizzing past mine ears. ' ' You
are a coward by nature, Sancho, but lest you say I am stubborn
and unheeding, this once am I willing to follow your advice,
getting out of the range of the vengeance whereof you stand in
such terror, on the condition that never in life or death you say
to anyone that I retired from this imaginary danger for other
reason than to still your entreaties. Should you ever put another
face on the matter, you will lie, and once for all I denounce and
call you liar every time you think or speak it. Not a word more,
for the very suggestion of my intentional withdrawal before a
supposed peril, especially one that like this may have something
back ot it, tempts me to remain and take my stand not merely
against this bugaboo of a Holy Brotherhood but again%/ the
brothers of the Twelve Tribes of Israel and the Seven Maccabees,
against Castor and Pollux, indeed against all the brothers and
hoods there are in the world. '

' Master, to retire is not to flee, nor is delay prudence when
the danger outweighs hope. 'Tis the mark of wisdom to take
thought to-day for the morrow and not risk all on an hour. And

140 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

since I have a little of what they call circumspection about me,
though but a countryman and boor, repent lio more of taking
my advice, but mounting Rocinante if you can (and if you can't,
I'll help you), follow whither I lead, for a little bird tells me feet
will be more useful now than hands. ' Without a word the
master mounted and with the squire on his ass in the lead they
entered the neighbouring Sierra Morena. Sancho intended to
pass through between the hills and coming out on the other side
at the village of el Viso or Alraodovar del Gampo, hide some
days amid the crags thereabouts, thus escaping detection. His
resolve was strengthened by finding that the provisions on the
ass had come ont unharmed from the recent fracas with the
galley-slaves ; which he took for a miracle when he considered
how they pillaged right and left.

Don Quijote was all happiness at finding himself in the midst
of the hills, for such places seemed to invite the adventures he
rode in search of — there came to his memory the marvellous
occurrences that had overtaken knights-errant in similar wild
solitudes. Musing on these things he rode along, so intoxicated
and transported that he was oblivious of all else, nor did his
squire, now they were out of harm's way, have any care save
that of satifying his hunger with what was still left of the clerical
store. Seated sideways on his ass woman-fashion he jogged on
after his master, emptying the sack and filling his paunch ;
while thus employed he wouldn't have given a sou to find
another adventure be it what it might. But happening now to
raise his eyes he saw that the other had halted and was trying to
raise something from the ground with the point of his pike.
He made haste to help him and as he came up discovered 'twas
a saddle-cushion with a large valise attached, half-rotten, in fact
quite in pieces from decay ; together they weighed so much that
it became necessary for Sancho to dismount and give his master
a lift. He was told to look and see what the valise contained, and
obeying with alacrity, though it was bound by chain and padlock,
through the rents and holes soon espied four soft holland shirts,
together with other pieces of linen no less delicate than clean,
and a little heap of gold crowns tied in a kerchief.

XXIII THE GOLD CROWNS 141

When Sancho beheld these last, he exclaimed : ' Blessed be
Heaven that has furnished us with an adventure worth some-
thing ! ' Examining further he found a richly bound note-book,
which Don Quijote at once demanded, telling his squire he could
keep the crowns. Sancho in gratitude kissed his hands and
emptying the valise stored the linen away in his pantry-sack.
His master on seeing the quantity of things observed : ' It looks,
indeed I do not think it can be otherwise, as if some traveller
had lost his way in these hills and having been attacked and
killed by robbers, was brought to this remote spot for burial. '
' That cannot be, ' replied the other, ' for thieves wouldn't have
left these crowns. ' ' True, ' agreed the knight ; ' and indeed
I can't make out how it happened ? But stay ; belike there's
something in this little book will tell. ' He opened it and found
the first draft of a sonnet, which he read aloud.

' The verse shows nothing, ' declared the squire, ' unless by
the clue mentioned there the whole reel of the matter may be
discovered. ' ' What clue do you mean ? ' 'I thought your
worship spoke of a clue.' ' Ghloe, I said, which is the name of
the lady of whom the poet complains, and indeed he is something
of a poet or I am no judge of the art. ' ' Does your worship
know about rimes too ? ' ' Yes, and more than you think, as
you'll see when you carry a letter all in verse to my lady
Dulcinea. I'ld have you know, squire, that all or most errant
knights of former times were great musicians and troubadours,
and that these two gifts (or graces 'twere fitter to call them) are
bred in the bone of lovers-errant, though I confess their rimes
breathe more passion than true poetry. ' ' Read more, sir, for
you may yet find something to satisfy us ? ' ' This next is prose,
a letter apparently.' ' The kind you post?' enquired Sancho.
• From the way it begins I should judge it a love-letter. ' ' Then
let your worship read it aloud, ' asked the squire ; ' there's
nothing I like better than these love -doings. ' ' Willingly, '
replied his master and read as follows :

' Thy broken promises and my broken hopes have led me to
a region whence the news of my death will reach thee ere the
words of this complaint. O ungrateful heart, thou didst leave

142 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA i

me for one richer, not more virtuous, than I, though if virtue
were the kind of riches that could be valued, I know I should
not envy another's fortune nor weep mine own disgrace. "What
thy beauty exalted, thy works have cast down : by that I felt
thee an angel, by them I know thee for a woman. May peace
pursue thee, prompter of my war, and may Heaven grant that
thy husband's guile remain unrevealed that thou mayst not
repent thee of thine action and that uncoveted redress may not
be mine. '

Don Quijote on finishing said to Sancho : ' There is even less
to be gathered from this than from the verse : merely in fact
that the writer is a disdained lover. ' He now turned nearly all
the leaves, some of which were decipherable and others not, but
met with nothing but plaints, lamentations, misgivings, fancies
and disaffections, favours and discouragements, some ecstatic,
others sad. As he ran through them, his squire ran through the
valise : not a corner of it or the cushion he didn't rip open, or
tuft of wool he didn't comb, lest something escape through want
of care or pains — such was the covetousness awakened by the
discovery of the crowns. These amounted to over a hundred, and
though these were all, Sancho considered himself more than
even with the blanket- tossings, balsam-vomitings, stake-bene-
dictions, carrier-cuffs, loss of saddlebags, stripping of his cloak,
and all the hunger, thirst, weariness, suffered in the service of
liis worthy lord.

(Gardenio, a rejected and despairing young suitor, here comes
on the scene and tells his story, in the course of which he makes
a slighting reference to a certain character in the books of
chivalry. Thereupon ensues a scuffle 'twixt him and Don Quijote,
Gardenio runs back into the mountains and the main narrative
opens again at chapter twenty- five. Here and in a few places
still to be met with Gervantes breaks the flow of his history by
the introduction of short tales, thinking possibly that they would
help float the longer one. They pro'ved, however, a weight and
an interruption, as he himself practically acknowledges in the
second part, chapters three and forty-four).

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 143

CHAPTER XXV

Rare things that overtook the valiant knight of La Mancha

in the Sierra Morena, together with his imitation of the

penance of Beltenebros

THE pair advanced slowly into the mountain wilderness.
Sancho was dying to talk but wished his master to say the
first word in order not to override his injunction of silence.
At length, unable to suffer the stillness longer, he said to his
leader : ' Senor Don Quijote, may your i^orship bestow upon
me your blessing and my discharge. I wish to go home to my
wife and children, with whom I at least can talk and gossip all I
please. To want me to follow you through these solitudes night
and day without speaking when I have a mind to, is to bury me
alive. If fate pleased to have animals talk these days as they did
in the time of Aesop, I could converse with mine ass, saying to
him whatever came into my head, and so make the best of it.
But 'tis poor business and cannot be borne with patience, this
seeking adventures all one's life and finding naught but kicks,
blanketings, brickbats and rib-roasts, one's mouth sewed up all
the while, not daring to say what a fellow has in his heart, just
like a dumb man. '

' I catch your meaning, my son. You are dying to have raised
the embargo I placed upon your tongue. Consider it raised then
and out with what you please, on condition that this immunity
only obtains during our passage through these hills. ' ' Very
good, and I will begin at once, for God knows what will be.
Taking advantage of my passport I ask your worship why in
speaking with that fellow we just met you stood out so for
Queen Magimasa or whatever her name. What was it to you if
the abbot was her lover or not ? Had you but let that pass (and
your worship was no judge), the mad one would have continued
with his history, and we should have escaped the pebble -tattoo,
the kicks and more than a half-dozen of the back-handers. '

144 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA *

' Ah, if you but knew as I know, Sancho, how high and
honourable a lady Queen Madasima was, I'm sure you'ld say
I displayed great forbearance in not smashing the mouth uttering
such blasphemies ; for greatly he blasphemes that says or thinks
a queen is intimate with a surgeon. The truth is that the leech
Elisabad was a most prudent and wise man that served as coun-
sellor and physician to her highness, and to think she was his
leman is falsehood deserving severest chastisement. Would you
be further convinced that this fellow knew not what he said,
remember that he was in a frenzy. ' ' Exactly my point, ' said
the other; ' it was foolish to heed the words of a madman. For
hadn't fortune favoured you, and had the pebble instead of land-
ing on your breast dropped on your head, sweet fellows we
should have been to stand up for my lady, confound her, while
he of course would have been acquitted as a lunatic. ' ' Against
the mad or the sober, ' answered the don, ' every knight-errant
is bound to defend the reputation of women whoever they be,
especially of queens of the station and character of Madasima,
whose excellent qualities lead me to hold her in the greatest
esteem. She possessed not alone beauty but wisdom, and forti-
tude under adversities. Of these she had many and the surgeon
Elisabad's counsel and society were of immense help to her in
supporting them with reason and resignation. This has led the
ignorant and low-minded to think her his leman, but I say again
they lie and they will lie two hundred times all that think and
say so. '

' I neither say nor think it, ' Sancho responded ; ' let themselves
look out yonder ; with their bread let them eat it. They have
rendered account to God ere this whether they loved or no. From
my vineyards I come, I have no information ; others' lives are
not my concern. He that buys and lies, feels it in his purse.
Naked I was bom, I am naked still : I neither win nor lose.
Suppose they were lovers, what is that to me ? Many think there
are flitches where there's not even a hook. Who can put gates to
the open country ? What's more, they said of God...' ' May He
help me ! ' cried Don Quijote ; ' what stufl" is this you roll off ?
what have these refrains to do with the subject ? Peace, man, on

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 145

your life ; prod your ass and henceforth don't mix with what
doesn't concern you. Understand with all your five senses that
everything I have done, am doing or shall do is wholly within
reason and in perfect accord with the rules of chivalry, of which
I have more knowledge than all the knights that ever professed
them. ' ' Is it a good rule, then, that lets us wander bewildered
through these mountains without road or path, hunting for a
crazy man, who when caught will most likely wish to finish what
he has begun, and that not his story but your head and my ribs,
breaking them to pieces ? '

' Again I say hold your tongue, ' quoth the knight ; ' for Fid
have you know 'lis not so much to find the madman that brings
me here as that I would perform a certan exploit to win me per-
petual fame and worship throughout the world : a performance
that will set the seal on all that can make a knight-errant perfect
and renowned. ' ' And is it very perilsome ? ' ' No, though we
may throw a blank instead of sixes ; it all depends on your
diligence. ' ' On my diligence ? ' questioned Sancho. ' Yes, ' said
the other, ' for if you return quickly from where I think to send
you, straightway my griefs will end and my glory begin. And
since 'tis not fair to hold you longer in suspense, I'M have you
know, boy, that Amadis of Gaul was one of the most perfect of
all knights-errant. I wrong him in saying one ; he stood alone,
the peerless, the lord of the knights of his time. A lean year and
month for Don Belianis and all others that say or think that in
certain respects he was Amadis' equal, for on mine oath they
deceive themselves.

' Now when a painter wishes to achieve fame in his calling,
he strives to imitate the originals of the most skilful masters he
can find, and the same holds true for all the more important
crafts and professions that serve to adorn the state. Thus he that
would be deemed prudent and long-suffering must and does
imitate Ulysses, in whose person and labours Homer gives us a
living example of those qualities. Likewise Virgil in the character
of Aeneas showed the goodness of a pious son and the sagacity
of a brave and masterly captain. They did not describe them as
they were but as they should have been, that we coming after

10

146 DON QUIJOTE DE LA. MANCHA ■••

might emulate their virtues. Amadis similarly was the north, the
morning star, the sun, of brave enamoured knights ; and all that
fight beneath the banners of love and chivalry must follow his
lead. This being the case I consider that the knight-errant imi-
tating him most closely will be surest of reaching chivalric
perfection.

' Now one of the circumstances wherein this knight's prudence,
might, valour, patience, fortitude and love appeared to advant-
age, was when, disdained by the lady Oriana, he banished
himself to Pena Pobre to do penance under the name Beltene-
bros — certainly a suggestive title and eminently suited to his
chosen life. And since 'tis easier to imitate him in this penance
than in cleaving giants, decapitating serpents, slaying dragons,
putting armies to flight, scattering armadas and breaking up
enchantments, why should I, especially as this region is em-
inently fitted for penances, let slip an occasion that lays its
forelock in my hand. '

' In a word what is it your worship has a mind to do in this
God-forsaken spot ? ' ' Haven't I this minute told you that I wish
to imitate Amadis and play the victim of despair, the wild, the
furious lover, like the worthy Roland what time he discovered
at the spring the marks that compromised Angelica the fair with
Medoro. His grief addled his wits and in his frenzy he uprooted
trees, roiled brooks, slew shepherds, destroyed their flocks,
burned their huts, levelled houses, dragged mares after him and
worked a hundred thousand other infamies worthy of record and
eternal fame. Though I look not to imitate Roland or Orlando
or Rotolando (he was known by the three names) in all his mad
acts, words and thoughts, as far as I am able I shall fill out the
sketch in the essentials. It may be that in the end I shall content
myself with Amadis, who, though mad merely to the extent of
tears and wild talk, and not to the point of deviltry, achieved as
much fame as the best of them. '

• According to my way of thinking, ' said the other, ' the
knights that performed these tricks had some sort of provocation
for working penances and pillages, but your whorship, what
reason have you to turn stark mad? what fair one has scorned

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 147

you or what marks have you found that lead you to think Lady
Dnlcinea del Toboso has been trifling with Moor or Christian ? '
' Just there lies the beauty of it, for no thanks or value attaches
to a knight when actually driven to insanity. The thing is to go
mad of myself, making my lady wonder, if so I act when dry,
what will I do when drenched. Besides, my long separation
from her is cause sufficient, since an absent lover, as the shep-
herd Ambrosio was telling us the other day, fears and experiences
every evil. So, friend Sancho, don't waste time in vainly per-
suading me to abandon so singular, lucky and unheard-of an
imitation as I am about to observe.

' Mad I certainly am, mad I shall continue until you return
with reply to the letter I purpose to send by you to my gracious
lady. If the answer be worthy my constancy, instantly cease my
wildness and penance, but if not, mad then in earnest I shall not
know I suffer. So in either case only good can result from the
dire struggle wherein you leave me, for if in my right mind,
I shall enjoy the good you bring, but if bad, I shall not feel it
being mad. But tell me, Sancho, have you Mambrino's helmet
well in your care ? I saw you pick it up when the ingrate
was trying to break it in pieces but could not, so fine its
temper. '

' By the living God, Sir Knight of Sorry Aspect, no longer
can I suffer patiently or in any way put up with certain things
your worship says. Through them indeed I come to think all you
say, whether of chivalries, getting kingdoms and empires or of
bestowing isles and other favours and dignities after the manner
of knights-errant, is naught else but wind and whoppers, or an
airy or a fairy-tale or however they are called. For who could
listen to your worship calling a barber's basin the helmet of
Mambrino for more than four days running, and not think that a
man that says such a thing and sticks to it has his brains musty ?
The basin is here in my sack, considerably dented to be sure,
but I hope to round it out at home and shave me the beard in it,
if one of these days God shall let me find myself with wife and
children. '

' By the same oath wherewith you began, my son^ take note I

148 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA '■

swear in return that yours is the dullest understanding ever
squire owned or owns in the world. Is it possible, long as you
have served me, that you have failed to notice how all an errant's
affairs look chimerical, stupid and wild and how with him every-
thing goes by contraries ? Not that things are really so, but ever
in our midst flits a host of magicians, to alter, disguise and
tranform onr effects, as their pleasure and inclination are to
favour or destroy us. Thus what appears to you a barber's basin
to me appears Mambrino's helmet and to another some other
thing. Indeed the sage my champion showed rare forethought in
making what really and truly is his worship's headpiece look to
all save myself like a vessel for shaving. Otherwise they'ld hunt
me down and rob me of it, such is its value. Taking it for a
common copper bowl, what do they care, as shown clearly
enough when that fellow left it on the ground after trying to
smash it, which surely he'ld not have done had he known what it
was. Guard it, friend, though at present 'tis superfluous, since I
am soon to strip me of all armour, standing naked as I was born,
if in the penance my pleasure prove to copy Roland rather than
Amadis. '

Late in the evening they reached the heart of the Sierra Morena,
and there Sancho resolved to pass that night and other succeed-
ing days as long as their stores held out. They therefore took
up their rest between two cliffs and amid a grove of cork-trees.
But necessity, which, according to those that lack the true faith,
guides, adjusts and orders things at will, brought it about that
Gines de Pasamonte, notorious rogue and thief, having escaped
his chains by the might and madness of our champion, was also
led by proper fear of the Holy Brotherhood to bury himself in
these hills, and his fate and fear guided him to the very region
whither Sancho and Don Quijote had been led by theirs, and
early enough for him to recognise them just as they were falling
to sleep. The wicked are ever ungrateful, need furnishes them
with temptations, present advantage veils all thoughts of the
future. Gines therefore, being neither appreciative nor prin-
cipled, ventured to steal Sancho Panza's ass, considering
Rocinante worthless equally for pawn or sale. Sancho slumbered,

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 149

the thief moved quietly and before daylight was miles away.

Aurora dawned, bringing gladness to the countryside and
sadness to Sancho, who, not finding his mount, began the most
pitiful weeping and lament in the world. Don Quijote awakened
at the sound in time to hear him cry : ' O child of my bowels,
born in my very house, plaything of my children, pride of my
wife, envy of my neighbours, easer of my burdens, indeed the
support of half my person, since with the twenty-six farthings
you daily earned me I replenished half my store ! ' Seeing the
weeping and hearing the cause, his master endeavoured to
console him with the best reasonings at his command, telling him
to have patience if he could and promising to make out a bill of
exchange, ordering that three ass-colts of the five he had at home
be given him. Comforted by this the grateful Sancho dried his
tears, choked his sobs and assumed his beast's burden.

They soon had reached the foot of a high and somewhat isolated
mountain, at whose base a gentle rill watered a meadow rich and
green and enchanting to the eye, while round about were groves
of forest trees, and plants and flowers that made the spot all-
beautiful. This the Knight of Sorry Aspect chose as his penance-
place. Beholding it outspread before him, in the high-keyed voice
of an idiot he cried : ' This is the spot I commission and choose,
O heavens, for weeping the outcast state wherein you have
placed me. Here shall the water of mine eyes increase that ot
yon little brook, and my deep unending sighs unremittingly stir
the leaves of this wildwood, in token of the pain of my per-
secuted heart. O ye rural deities, whoever ye be that in this
uninhabitable wilderness have dwelling, listen to the plaints of
a spurned lover, whom long absence and imagined causes of
jealousy lead hither to decry the cruel nature of that fair ingrate,
the crown and limit of all human grace. Wood-nymphs and
dryads, whose lot it is to abide in these mountain-fastnesses
with gay and wanton satyrs by whom ye are vainly beloved, let
them not trouble your sweet repose, that ye may be unwearied
in your attendance.

' And thou, O Dulcinea del Toboso, day of my night, glory of
my grief, north of my wandering, star of my fortune, so may

150 DON QUIJOTE DE tA MANCHA I

Heaven grant all thou seekest, bethink thee of the place and
point to which thine absence has brought me, and bestow some
favour commensurate with my deserving loyalty. O ye solitary
trees, that now shall keep me company in my loneliness, let your
boughs manifest by gentle motion that my presence is not distaste-
ful. And do thou my squire, welcome comrade alike in fortune
and misfortune, fix well in thy memory what thou seest me do,
that thou mayst relate and report it to its cause.' After the delivery
of this speech the knight dismounted from Rocinante, in a moment
had bridle and saddle off, and giving the beast a slap on the
croup said to him : ' Liberty he gives thee that lacks it himself,
thou steed consummate in feats as thou art cursed in fortune.
Begone where thou wilt, for on thy forehead is writ that neither
Astolfo's hippogriff nor the renowned Frontino that cost Brada-
mante so dear, could have equalled thee in speed. '

Observing this last action Sancho said : ' Good-luck to him
that saved us the trouble of unpanneling my Dapple, or there
would not be lacking little slaps and things to be said in his
praise. But were he here, I shouldn't allow the pannel to be
removed : the practices of love and despair don't apply to him,
since they do not to his master, which I was while it pleased
God. But in truth. Sir Knight of Sorry Aspect, if my journey and
your jeopardy are surely to occur, it might be as well to resaddle
the horse, in the absence- of the ass, and shorten the time of my
trip. If I go afoot, I don't know when I shall arrive or return,
for, to tell the truth, I'm not much at hoofing it. '

' I promise it shall be as you wish, ' replied the other, ' and
I think well of the plan, Sancho friend. Three days hence you
shall start out and in the meantinie I want you to note the things
I say and do on her account, that you may relate them precisely
as they occurred. ' ' What have I to witness more than what I've
seen already ? ' ' How much you know about it ! ' returned
Don Quijote ; ' why, I have yet to rend my garments, scatter
mine armour and bruise my head against these rocks, with more
of that stripe that will set you gaping. ' ' In God's love, take care
how you give those bruises ; 'tis possible to knock your head on
such a rock and at such a point that with the very first bruise

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 131

this business of the penance will come to a stand-still. Indeed
I am almost of the opinion that since these head-raps seem to
you essential for the perfecting this exploit, you should be content
to give them against water in the brook or something soft like
cotton, since the whole affair is make-believe and jest. Leave me
the burden of it, for I shall tell my lady that you knocked
your head for her on the point of a rock harder than diamond. '

' I appreciate your though tfulness, Sancho friend, but these
actions of mine are no jest, I'M have you know, but sober
earnest, else I should be overriding the rules of mine order,
which tell us not to lie under pain of apostacy ; and to do one
thing in place of another is the same as lying. Nay, my head-
knocks must be genuine and hard, without air of sophistry or
pretence. And 'twill be necessary that you leave thread to sew
wounds, now that fate has lost us the balsam. ' ' The ass was
the greater loss of the two, since with the ass went thread and
all. And I must beg of your worship not even to suggest that
cursed potion, the bare mention of which turns my soul, not to
say my stomach. Furthermore I ask that we consider the three
days allotted to my viewing your idiotic pranks as past and over,
for I shall take the pranks as seen and judged and tell wonders
to my lady. Write the missive and send me off, for I long to
return and deliver you from this purgatory. '

' Purgatory ! say hell rather, or worse if such there be. ' ' But
in hell, ' said Sancho, ' there's no retention, at least so have
I heard. ' ' I don't catch your meaning. ' ' No retention, ' explained
the squire, ' means that a body once in there can never get out,
which won't be true in your worship's case or little shall I have
plied my feet, supposing I have spurs to revive Rocinante. Once
set me down in el Toboso and before my lady Dulcinea, and I'll
give her such reports of your follies and frenzies (for they're all
one) that, though I find her tougher than a cork-tree, I'll make
her softer than a glove, and with her honey-sweet answer return
through the air like any wizard, setting you free from this purg-
atory, that seems a hell but is not, since there's hope of escape,
which there isn't from hell, even as I have just spoken. And your
worship will, I think, agree with me in all. '

152 DON QUIJOTK DE LA MANCHA I

' True, ' said he of Sorry Aspect, ' but how shall we manage to
write the letter ? ' ' And the warrant for the ass-colts, ' added the
other. ' All will be included. It might be well to write after the
manner of the ancients on the leaves of a tree or on tablets of
wax, only wax is as scarce as paper hereabouts. But now I have
something just as good or even better — the mad -man's note-
book ! You can get it copied on writing-paper in the first village
that boasts a schoolmaster, or if not he, any sacristan will do. On
no account give it to a notary — that class write a law-hand that
Satan himself couldn't decipher. '

' What about the signature ? ' enquired Sancho. ' Amadis '
letters were never signed. ' ' Maybe so, ' admitted the squire,
' but the warrant must be, and if it be copied, they'll say the
signature is false and I shall have no ass-colt. ' To this his master
replied : ' The warrant will be written and signed in the book
itself, and on seeing it my niece will put nothing in the way of its
execution. Touching the love-letter, have my signature read thus :
Thine till death. The Knight of Sorry Aspect. 'Twill matter little
if it's writ in a strange hand, for Dulcinea, if my memory serve
me, can neither read nor write, nor has she ever seen letter or
handwriting of mine. My love and hers has been ever of the
Platonic order, amounting on my side to no more than a virtuous
glimpse now and then, so seldom indeed that I dare swear to
the truth of what I now say, that in the twelve years I have loved
her more than the light of these eyes which some day will close
in the earth for ever, not four times have I seen her, and I very
much doubt if once she was aware of my gaze — such the
seclusion wherein her father Lorenzo Gorchuelo and her mother
Aldonza Nogales have reared her.'

' Ah ha ! ' exclaimed Sancho ; ' and is Lorenzo Gorchuelo's
daughter, the one they call Aldonza Lorenzo, the same as my
lady Dulcinea del Toboso ? ' 'She is,, and she deserves to be
mistress of the universe. ' ' I know the wench well, ' affirmed
the squire, • and let me tell you she can pitch the bar with the
lustiest swain in the village. Giver of all good, but she's a lass to
be reckoned with — sound as a roach, tough as a nut, and can
pull the beard out of the mire of any knight-errant now or to

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 153

come that wants her for wife. O the baggage, what marrow she
has ! and what lungs ! One day, they tell me, she climbed the
village-belfry to call her father's labourers who were sowing in
a field half a league off, and they heard her as plainly as if right
at hand. But the best of her is there's nothing overnice about
her : she has plenty of the coquette and jokes with everybody —
there's nothing from which she doesn't get gaiety and a grin.
Indeed, Sir Knight of Sorry Aspect, not only can and should your
worship play the idiot for her, but with good reason you can
be desperate and hang yourself, since all that hear of it will say
you did better than well, though the devil come to fetch you.

' I'm eager to be off, for 'tis many a day since I saw the wench
and by this time she must be changed — a woman's face loses
its freshness if she's always in the fields, exposed to sun and
weather. To be honest with you, Senor Don Quijote, till this
moment I stood in grave ignorance, thinking all the while that
the lady Dulcinea was some great princess — at any rate a per-
son of suflBcient quality to deserve the valuable presents you
have sent her, the Biscayan for instance and the galley-slaves,
with many others necessarily, since many must have been your
victories ere I became your squire. But all things considered, what
good can it do Aldonza Lorenzo, the lady Dulcinea del Toboso
I mean, to have the vanquished you send, now or in future,
come and bend the knee before her? It might be they'ld find
her combing flax on threshing in the barn — they would be
mortified and she take them for a huge joke and poke fun at
your gift. '

' More than once have I called you a great babbler, Sancho ;
and your wit, though dull, bites sharply enough at times. That
you may see however what a fool you are and how wise am I,
listen to this little tale. A certain widow, fair and free, above all
wealthy and winsome, fell in love with a fat young lay-brother,
whose superior, hearing of it, said to the good woman by way
of pastoral remonstrance : ' Madam, I am astonished and not
without reason that a lady of your rank, so rich and so beautiful,
should be enamoured of so wortless low-lived an ass, when
many masters are there in this community, graduates and stu-

154 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

dents of theology, among whom your ladyship could choose as
among pears, saying. This and not that I prefer. ' With great
spirit and candour she replied : ' Your reverence, my dear sir, is
behind the times and much mistaken if you think I have made
a bad choice in that fellow, fool as he seems. For the purpose
I wish him he knows as much philosophy as Aristotle, and
more. ' Likewise, Sancho for the purpose I wish Dulcinea del
Toboso she's worth as much as the greatest princess living.

' Moreover, 'tis not not to be supposed that all the poets that
have praised women under fictitious names, had these women as
loves. Think you the Amaryllises, Phyllises, Silvias, Dianas,
Galateas and the rest, with whom books, ballads, barber-shops
and theatres are crammed, were truly women of flesh and bone,
sweethearts of those that praise them now and of old ? Certainly
not, for the poets created them to give body to their verse and
that themselves might pass for beaux, that could inspire the
tender passion in others. Ergo, 'tis enough that I think the
deserving Aldonza Lorenzo fair and chaste — her lineage matters
little, for none will investigate it with the view of conferring an
order upon her and personally I regard her as the most exalted
princess in the world. For you should know, squire, if you don't
already, that two things above all incite affection : great beauty
and good name — which attributes are conspicuously exempli-
fied in Dulcinea, for none is her rival in beauty and in virtue
few approach her.

' To sum up then once for all, I make myself believe that all
I say of her is gospel, neither more nor less, and I paint her as I
picture her both as to beauty and rank. Helen does not equal her
nor Lucretia come near, nor any other of the famous women of
olden times, Greek, Roman or barbarian. Let men say. what they
please — if my idealising of Dulcinea shall be censured by
simpletons, I shan't be condemned by just judges. ' ' Your
worship is right, ' declared Sancho, ' and I am the ass — ass did
I say ! alack that I should put the word in my m6uth — never
mention rope in a hanged man's house. But now for the letter,
and then good-bye, I am off. '

Don Quijote produced the memorandum book, and going

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 155

aside he calmly began to write. When he had done, he called'
his squire and told him he would read the missive aloud that the
other might be able to repeat it from memory in case he lost it
by the way — such was his ill-luck, anything might be feared.
To this Sancho responded : ' Write it two or three times there
in the book and give it me. I'll take good care of it, and it's a
mistake to suppose that I can keep the letter in my memory,
which is so poor that now and again mine own name slips me.
Tell it all the same, since I should like first rate to hear ; it must
read as good as print. ' ' Listen then, ' said Don Quijote, ' for
this is what it says :

Missal of Don Quijote to Dulcinea del Toboso

Serene and sovereign lady :

The pierced by the dart of absence, the wounded to the heart's
core, sends thee, sweetest Dulcinea del Toboso, the health
himself possesses not. If thy beauty disdain me, if thou be not
for me, if thy scorn be still to persecute me, though I be as
patient as patient can be, hardly shall I bear up under this
affliction, both heavy and prolonged. My good shield-bearer
Sancho will give thee, O fair ingrate, fond enemy, full account
of what for thy sake I am come to. Shall it please thee to deliver
me, I am thine; if not, do what thou wilt, for by my death I
shall satisfy thy cruelty and my desire.

Thine till then.

The Knight of Sorry Aspect. '

' By the life of my father, ' exclaimed Sancho, ' but that is the
loftiest thing I ever heard. Body of me, how you say just what
you wish, and how neatly you tuck in The Knight of Sorry
Aspect. Verily I believe your worship is the devil himself and
that there's nothing you don't know. ' ' My profession is all-
exacting, ' assented the other. ' Now then, ' said Sancho, ' let
your worshijJ write on the other page the order for the three
colts, signing in a clear hand which they will recognise at once. '
' That I will, ' said the knight. And when he had it written, he
read it to his squire :

156 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

' My dear niece :

By this first of ass-colts please deliver to my squire, Sancho
Panza, three of the five I left in your charge, which three colts I
promise shall be duly delivered and paid for by the like number
received here, and this with his receipt shall be your quittance.
Done in the heart of the Sierra Morena, this twenty-second day
of August of the present year. '

' Good, ' said Sancho ; ' now sign it. ' ' That is superfluous
for three ass-colts, or for three hundred indeed were that the
number : my flourish is as good as my signature. ' ' I leave it to
your worship ; and now let me saddle Rocinante and give me
your blessing. I am off at once without seeing those mad capers,
for I shall say I saw you do so many that she'll have her fill. '
' This one thing I desire, Sancho, indeed I must ask and com-
mand that you see me perform a dozen or two naked. I shall
have done with them in less than a half-hour, and when you
have seen some with your own eyes, you can safely swear to as
many as you wish. I am certain you'll not describe as many as I
think to do. '

' By the love of God, master of mine, let me not see you un-
clothed ; 'twould grieve me sorely. I shan't be able to check the
tears and I have such a headache from weeping for Dapple last
night that I'm in no shape for another outburst. If you insist
that I see some of your capers, cut them with your clothes on,
and make them brief and to the point, especially as they'll be
wasted on me, and their omission would hasten my return,
which must be with the news your worship desires and deserves.
If her answer be not as it should be, let the lady get ready, for I
swear as solemn an oath as I know that I'll fetch a good one out
of her stomach with kicks and buifetings. For how is it permitted
that a knight-errant as famous as your worship should lose his
wits without rime or reason for a... ; let the lady not force me,
for by God I'll rattle on and out with it though it spoil the sale.
I am a great hand at calling names, though she little knows it or
she'ld fear me. '

' Upon my soul, boy, one would think you more crazy
than I. ' ' Not so crazy but more cross. Bat setting that aside,

XXV THE LOSS OF DAPPLE 157

what's your whorship going to live on while I'm gone ? will
you leap out on the road and rob shepherds like that madman ? '
' Rest easy on that score, ' replied the master ; ' though I had
else, I should eat naught but fruits and herbs afforded by this
meadow and these trees, since fasting and like austerities are
proof of my profession. ' Sancho now asked : ' Does your wor-
ship know what I fear? it is that I can't find my way back again,
this spot is so hid. ' ' Fix it well in your memory, for I shall
make a point of staying where you see me, ' answered Don
Quijote ; ' or better still, I'll climb yon height to watch for your
return. To make it even more certain that you don't miss your
way, cut some of the many reeds growing hereabouts and drop
them at intervals till you come out on the open plain. They'll
serve like the thread in Theseus' labyrinth for your home-
journey. '

' That I will, ' assented the squire ; and cutting a few he asked
his master's blessing, and not without tears each bade the other
farewell. Mounting Rocinante, whom the knight strongly com-
mended to his care, saying he should look out for him as for his
own person, Sancho set out for the plain, strewing the reeds as
advised. And so he was gone, though his master importuned him
to delay and witness a couple of capers if no more. But now,
when he had travelled a hundred paces or so, the squire returned,
saying : ' I see, sir, you were right : in order that I may swear
with a clear conscience that I observed you act the fool, 'twill
be well for me to see you throw a fit or two, though one of the
worst is your being here. ' ' What did I tell you ! wait, boy,
and I'll do them in the saying of a credo ; ' and dropping his
breeches, in naught but skin and shirt, the penitent twice kicked
his hands in the air, following these with two somersaults and
such'adTsplay that, to avoid a second, Sancho turned Rocinante,
fully satisfied he could swear to his master's idiocy. So shall we
part with him until his return — which was not long delayed.

158 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XXVI

Further antics of the knight, playing the lover in the Sierra

Morena

COMING to relate what he of the Sorry Aspect did when he
found himself alone, the story says that as soon as Don
Quijote, clad from the waist up and naked from the waist down,
had ended his somersaults and tumblings, finding that Sancho
tarried not to see more, he climbed a high cliff, where on the
top he stayed to consider the matter that had so often occupied
his thoughts, though to no conclusion : namely, whether or no
'twere more feasible and fit to imitate Roland in his lawless
vagaries than Amadis in his temperamental ones. In this debate
with himself our knight reasoned as follows :

' Granting that Roland was the valiant and worthy cavalier
they say, what wonder since he was enchanted and none might
put an end to him save by sticking a pin through the bottom of
his foot, and he all the time wearing seven iron soles ? Yet how
slightly his charm availed when Bernardo del Carpio, seeing
through all, strangled him at Roncesvalles. But setting aside the
question of his courage, let us pass to his loss of reason, for he
surely did lose it, as a result of the evidence he discovered at the
spring, and the news the shepherd brought him that Angelica
had slept through more than two siestas with Medoro, a little
curly-headed Moor, page to Agramante. But if he were con-
vinced of this, 'twas no great shakes to lose his head.

' And as regards myself, how can I imitate him in his frenzies,
unless I share the occasion ? For I am ready to take oath that
my Dulcinea del Toboso in all the days of her life has not so
much as laid eyes on a Moor as he is in the garb of his race, and
is this day as her mother bore her. Obviously I should wrong her
if, imagining otherwise, I became demented like the furious
Roland. I find tiiat Amadis of Gaul, on the other hand, without
going mad or behaving outrageously, acquired as great reputation
as a lover as the best of them. Rejected by his lady Oriana, who

XXVI THE PKNANCE SANCHO'S EMBASSY 159

enjoined him not to appear in her presence till she willed,
according to his history all he did was to hie to Pena Pobre in
the company of a hermit and there have his fill of weeping, till
Heaven finally came to his rescue at the height of his great grief
and need.

' If this be true, and it is, why should I go to the trouble of
divesting myself farther, or why should I harm these trees that
have done me none, or muddy the clear water-brooks that at
any time will slake my thirst ? Long live the memory of Amadis !
let him be the pattern, so far as is possible, of Don Quijote de La
Mancha, of whom 'twill be said what was said of another, that
if he failed to achieve great things, he died attempting them. And
if I have not been scorned or rejected by my Dulcinea, it is
enough, as I said before, that I am absent from her. Gome then,
all hands to work ! let the deeds of Amadis leap to memory and
teach me how I may begin their imitation. I recall that his chief
employment was to pray : even so shall I, but what am I to do
for a rosary ? '

But it occurred to our knight how to make one : by tearing off
the tail of his shirt and tying eleven knots in it, one larger than
the others. This served him during his sojourn in the wilderness
and on it he repeated countless ave-marias. But he was still sore
troubled for want of a hermit to confess him and give him con-
solation. He solaced himself however by strolling about the little
meadow and writing numerous verses on the barks of trees and
in the fine sand, some in praise of Dulcinea and all appropriate
to his sorrow. In this exercise, in sighing and in calling on the
fauns and satyrs of the wood, the nymphs of the water-brooks
and on plaintive tearful Echo, to listen and answer and console
him, and in seeking out herbs for his bodily sustenance, he
managed to beguile the time of the absence of his squire. But
had the latter tarried three weeks instead of three days, the
Knight of Sorry Aspect would have grown so unlike himself in
appearance, his own mother would have passed him by. Envel-
oped in poetry and sighs he may safely be left that we may
relate what befell his errant squire.

On reaching the high road Panza set out for the one leading to

160 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■••

el Toboso and the next day arrived at the inn where he had met
with tlie blanket-declension. On sighting it he again felt himself
sailing through the air, and therefore did not choose to enter,
though 'twas an hour when he naturally could and would, being
dinner-time, and he longed to taste something hot, it having been
cold comfort for many days. This drew him nearer, doubtful
whether to enter or not, and at that moment, two persons,
coming out, recognised him, and one of them said : ' Tell me,
seiior licentiate, isn't that fellow on horseback the Sancho Panza
that, according to our adventurer's housekeeper, went off with
her master as squire?' ' It is, and that is our Don Quijote's
nag. ' They knew the man this well because they were the village-
priest and barber, the same that examined and passed judgment
upon the books. They immediately came forward, eager to learn
of Don Quijote, and the priest, calling the squire by name, said :
• Friend Sancho Panza, where did you leave your master ? '

Sancho, at once recognising them, decided to conceal the place
and plight of him for whom they asked, so said in reply that his
master was engaged in a certain place on certain business of
importance, which he couldn't discover for the eyes in his head.
' Nay, nay, Panza, ' replied the barber, ' if you refuse to tell us,
we shall think, as we do already, that you have murdered and
robbed him, since you ride his horse. In short, if you don't
produce the nag's owner, it's all up with you. ' ' Threats are of
no use with me, ' said Sancho ; ' I'm no man to rob or murder.
Let each meet his death through his fate or the God that made
him. My master does penance in the heart of these mountains
and all very much to his liking ; ' and without a stop Sancho
rattled on about the knight's present condition, his past advent-
ures and how he, the squire, was carrying a letter to the lady
Dulcinea del Toboso, Lorenzo Gorchuelo's daughter, with whom
his master was in love down to his lights.

The two were amazed at all this news for, though aware of
their friend's perversion they were ever taken aback when they
heard of it anew. They asked his squire to produce the letter.
The other said 'twas written in a note-book but that his master
required him to get it copied on plain sheet at the first place he

XXVI THE PENANCE SANCHO'S EMBASSY 161

came to. The priest said to show it them and himself would
copy it in a fair hand. Sancho searched his bosom bat in vain,
nor would he have succeeded had he sought till now, for 'twas
still with his master. "When he found he hadn't it his face took
on a deathly hue ; again he felt quickly all over his body, and
finding it nowhere about him, clutched his beard with both hands
and after plucking out half thereof gave his nose and face six
punches, batheing them in blood.

The priest and barber asked what had occurred that he treated
himself thus cruelly. ' What has occurred but that I have lost in
a trice from one hand to t'other three ass-colts, each worth a
castle ! ' ' How have you ?' enquired the barber. ' I've lost the
note-book that contained Dulcinea's letter and an order signed
by my master in which he directed his niece to give me three of
the four or five ass-colts he has at home to make up for the loss
of my Dapple. ' The priest tried to comfort him, saying that on
meeting with his master he would have him reissue the warrant,
this time on paper as was customary and proper ; warrants writ
in memorandum-books were never honoured.

With this Sancho took heart and said that in that event the
loss of Dulcinea's letter didn't worry him, since he knew it almost
by heart and they could transcribe it when and where they chose.
' Repeat it, then, ' said the barber, ' and afterwards we'll put it
on paper. ' Panza stopped to scratch his head in order to recall
the letter ; first he stood on one foot, then on the other, one
moment gazing at the ground, the next at the sky, till at last,
having bit off half his finger and kept them long in suspense, he
said : ' My God, senor licentiate, the devil take me if I can
remember the thing, but it began : ' Serene and scrubbing lady. '
' Not scrubbing surely, ' said the barber ; ' superhuman perhaps
or sovereign. ' ' Sovereign it was, ' answered Sancho, ' and then
if I recollect rightly and my memory serve me not ill, it proceeded
with : ' The wounded, the wanting of sleep and the pierced
kisses your ladyship's hands, hateful and ungrateful one ; ' and
then it said something about sickness and health he was
sending her and went sliding along till it ended up with, Thine
till death. The Knight of Sorry Aspect. '

11

162 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA i

The two listeners were not a little amused at the squire's
excellent memory and gave it generous praise. They asked him
twice more to repeat the letter that they might get it by heart
and transcribe it at leisure. Sancho thrice repeated it and uttered
three thousand new absurdities in the process. He then went on
to tell them of their fortunes, keeping quiet however about the
blanketing at the inn he now declined to enter. He confided to
them also that provided a favourable answer came from el
Toboso, Senor Don Quijote was going to put himself in the way
of becoming an emperor or at least a monarch — it had all
been arranged between them, as a thing easy of accomplishment,
such the worth of his master's person and the might of his arm ;
and that when that far, the knight was to make a marriage for
him his squire, who would in the course of events by that time
be a widower, and his new wife was to be a maid-in-waiting to
the empress, heiress to a large and rich estate on the mainland,
without isles or islands — he had had enough of them.

Sancho said this with so much seriousness, wiping his nose
from time to time, and with so little sense, that they marvelled
anew : how violent must be the madness of the master to draw
in its wake the wits of the man. However, they cared not to
free him of his delusion, feeling that so long as it didn't hurt
his conscience, 'twere better to leave him where he was, espec-
ially as their pleasure in listening to his credulous talk would be
so much the greater. They told him to pray God for the welfare
of his master, who feasibly and deservedly might become an
emperor in course of time, as he had said, or at least an
archbishop or like dignitary.

Upon this Sancho replied : ' My masters, if fortune so whirls
things round that my sire prefers to be archbishop rather than
emperor, I should like to ask what archbishops-errant are in the
habit of giving their squires. ' • Usually, ' the priest answered,
' some simple benefice or cure, or post of sacristan, which affords
a good fixed income plus altar -fees, which commonly bring in
as much again. ' ' The squire must be unmarried then and should
know enough to help read mass ; worse luck to me that am
married and don't know the first letter of the ABC. What will

XXVI THE PENANCE SANCHO'S EMBASSY 163

become of Sancho, should his master take it into his head to
turn archbishop, and not emperor as is the habit and custom of
all errant knights ? '

' Don't worry, Panza friend, ' said the barber ; ' we shall ask
and advise your master, nay, we shall lay it before him as a
matter of conscience, not to be an archbishop but an emperor,
which will come easier to him being more the soldier than the
student. ' ' So it would seem to me, ' agreed the squire, ' though
I vow he's qualified for any office under the sun, and my prayer
with our Lord will be that He shall send him where he can best
serve himself and win most favours for his henchman. ' ' You
talk like a man of sense, ' said the priest, ' and you will be
acting like a Christian. But first we must devise how to deliver
him from his present bootless penance. That we may better
consider the modus operandi, let's enter the inn, the more that
it's dinner-time. ' Sancho said they might enter but he would
remain outside, telling them afterwards why he refused to go in
and why it wasn't fitting that he should. He added a request for
something to eat, hot if possible, and barley for Rocinante. They
left him and entered, and the barber shortly brought him a
smoking-hot dinner.

The two long consulted within as to how they might accom-
plish their purpose, and at last the priest thought of a plan
admirably suited both to the knight's humour and their own
scheming. He himself was to go dressed as a maid-errant and the
barber was to try and pass himself off as her squire, and so
goingjo their friend, he should represent himself as an afflicted
damsel that sought of him a boon, which, as a gallant knight, he
could not deny her. This was that he should follow her whither-
soever she led, in order to right a wrong done her by a certain
treacherous cavalier^ She would beseech him as well not to ask
her to lift her veil or enquire aught as to her rank in life till he
had avenged her on that scoundrel. The priest felt sure Don
Quijote would respond to such a call, and thus they would
deliver him from his present plight and taking him home see if
his aberration admitted of cure.

164 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XXVII

The success the priest and barber met with in their plan,
together with other things worthy to be set down in this

great history

THE barber did not think ill of the priest's idea ; indeed it so
much pleased him that at once they proceeded to execute
it. They begged a gown and head-dress of the innkeeper's wife,
giving her the priest's new cassock as security. The barber made
himself a beard out of a red and grey ox-tail, which served the
landlord as holder for his comb. The wife questioned their wish
for the use of these things and in few words the priest described
the hallucination from which their friend suffered and their plan
for getting him away from the backwoods where now he was.
The keeper and his wife immediately recognised in this mad
person their guest of the balsam, the master of the blanketed
squire, and they thereupon related to the priest their experiences
with him, not suppressing what Sancho had been so careful to
conceal.

The wife then dressed the priest in a manner that left nothing
to be desired. She put on him a slashed cloth petticoat with
black velvet bands a palm wide, together with a bodice of green
velvet bound with white satin, looking, both it and the petticoat,
as if made in the time ofKingWamba. The priest refused to wear
a woman's head-dress, and instead donned his own little quilted
night-cap, slipping one of his black silk garters round his forehead
and veiling his face and beard with the other. On top of all he
placed his hat, which was broad enough to serve for parasol, and
wrapping his cloak about him, seated himself woman-fashion
on his mule. The barber likewise mounted his, with his red and
grey beard reaching to his waist, the beard being nothing more
or less, as I have said, than the tail of a pied ox.

The two then bade farewell to all, not forgetting Maritornes,

XXVII THE PRIEST AND BARBER 163

who promised though a sinner to pray a rosary that God would
grant success in their arduous and Christian enterprise. But
scarce had they quit the inn when it struck the licentiate that
'twould not become him as a priest to be seen in such a guise,
however much depended upon it. He therefore asked the barber
to swap rigs, since it was fitter that he, the barber, should play
the afflicted damsel, and himself the squire, which would less
profane his office. He added that were the barber averse to the
change, he was determined not to proceed, though the devil
fetched Don Quijote, for he saw that Sancho, whom they now
approached, couldn't check his laughter. The barber finally
agreed, and when the swap had been made, the priest undertook
to tell his friend how he should conduct himself and what to say
in trying to induce the knight to quit the wild haunt of his
fruitless penance. The barber informed him he could act his part
well enough without coaching, and not caring to don the costume
till they drew near the knight did it in a bundle. The priest put
away the beard and the pair followed the lead of Sancho Panza.
The latter told them about the mad lover they had met in these
mountains but said nothing about the discovery of the valise of
precious contents, for simple as he was, the fellow was a little
covetous. The following day they arrived at the spot where
Sancho had deposited his last reed, marking the route to his
master, and on meeting with it Sancho told them this was the
approach, advising them to assume their disguises if they were
really necessary for his master's deliverance. The rescuers had
previously informed their guide that the reason of their novel
dress was that they might liberate their friend from his miserable
mode of life, carefully warning him not to disclose to Don
Quijote who they were, nor that he knew them, and that should
he question, as he was sure to, whether or not the letter had
been handed Dulcinea, he must answer yes, it had, but that as
she didn't know how to read, her answer was by word of mouth,
saying that she charged him, on pain of her displeasure if he
failed, to appear before her instantly. They urged this upon
Sancho as most important to him, for by his so speaking and
with what they thought to say themselves they felt sure of

166 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

returning their friend to a better life and inducing him to put
himself in the way of becoming an emperor or monarch of some
kind ; that he would ever become an archbishop, his squire
needn't have the shadow of a fear.

Sancho heard them through, committing all to memory, and
replied that he was grateful for their intention to urge his master
to become emperor and not archbishop, for in his opinion the
former really could do more than the latter in the bestowal of
favours. He suggested that he go first and give Senor Don Quijote
his mistress's answer, which alone might be enough to get him
out of there. The others thought well of this and agreed to wait
till he returned. So the squire plunged into the mountain-gorge,
leaving the priest and barber in a smaller ravine where flowed a
gentle brook, for which rocks and trees made a cool and pleasant
shade.

(Cardenio, the rejected suitor, again appears, and later a maiden
Dorothea, whose tale of misplaced affection continues to the
middle of chapter twenty-nine).

CHAPTER XXIX

The happy method hit upon for releasing our enamoured
knight from his harsh though self-imposed penance

A shout was now heard and the priest and barber recognised
the voice of Sancho, who, not finding them in the spot
where he left them, was hallooing. They went to meet him and
in answer to their inquiries the other described how he had found
his master in his shirt, pale, emaciated, dying of hunger and
sighing for his love, and that though he had delivered her summons
to leave there and visit her at el Toboso, he had answered he
should not appear before her beauty till he had done deeds to
make him worthy of her favour. The squire now counselled that
if this sort of thing went on, his master ran the risk of never
becoming emperor, as was his duty, or even archbishop, the

XXIX THE RESCUE 167

least to be expected of him, and his friends should see what was
to be done about it. The licentiate told Sancho not to worry —
they would rescue him despite himself. He then related to the
young man and woman they had met with during Sancho's
absence their plan for restoring the errant knight to his right
mind, or at least getting him home. The maiden Dorothea said
in reply she could act the afflicted damsel better than the barber,
particularly as she had a costume exactly suited to the purpose.
They could leave it all to her, for many a book of chivalry had
she read and knew well how unfortunate maidens bore themselves
when begging boons of errant knights. ' Then there's naught left
but to set about it, ' declared the priest ; ' fortune is certainly in
our favour, since when least you hoped for it, the door at the end
of your troubles swings open, and the path of our enterprise
becomes smooth. '

Dorothea then produced from a pillow-case a petticoat of fine
woolen cloth, a green mantle equally good, and from a small box
she brought forth a necklace and other ornaments. With these
she decked herself out till she had all the appearance of a rich
and grand lady. She explained how she had brought these things
and more from home for emergencies, but that this was her first
opportunity to use them. Her high spirits and extraordinary
beauty delighted them in the extreme, and they set her lover
Don Fernando down as a simpleton for rejecting such charms.
The one most intoxicated was Sancho Panza, who thought he
had never seen such beauty in all the days of his life — which
was true. He was quick to ask the priest who she was and what
she did in that God-forsaken country. ' To say the least of her,
brother Sancho, this fair maid is heiress in direct male line of the
great kingdom of Micomicon, and her mission is to crave of your
master a boon, namely, that he avenge her a wrong or outrage
done her by a naughty giant. By reason of the renown Don
Quijote has gained as a knight throughout the known world this
princess has travelled all the way from Guinea to seek him out. '

' A good seeking and a lucky find, ' declared the squire ; ' the
more if my master be fortunate enough to avenge this outrage and
right this wrong by killing that jade of a giant, and kill him he

168 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■•■

will, if he come up with him, unless he be a phantom — against
phantoms my master's no good at all. But one thing amongst
others I wish to ask of your worship is that in order to check any
inclinations which I fear he may have for an archbishopric, you
advise him to marry thisprincess on the spot. That would prevent
his taking orders and thus can he easily come to his throne and
I to my wishes. I've studied the whole matter in my mind and
can see 'twill be far from well for him to turn archbishop on
account of me alone, who am no man for the Church, being
married. Now that I have wife and children, 'twould be an
endless task for me to try to get dispensation to hold office.
So, please your worship, it all comes to this : that my master
must at once tie up with this lady. As yet I haven't met her grace
and cannot refer to her by name. '

' Princess Micomicona is her name, ' the priest informed him.
' Naturally, ' echoed Sancho, ' for many have I known that took
their family-name from the town where they were born, calling
themselves Pedro of Alcala, Juan de Ubeda or Diego de Valla-
dolid. The same custom must hold over there in Guinea : queens
must take the names of their kindoms. ' ' Quite so, ' said the
priest ; ' and as to your master's marriage, I shall do all I can to
hasten it ; ' and with this the squire was well content. The other
was more than astonished at the man's simplicity, seeing that
his master's illusions were so fixed in his mind that he honestly
thought the knight would become an emperor.

By this time Dorothea had seated herself on the priest's mule,
the barber had fastened on the ox-tail beard and the two bade
Sancho lead them to Don Quijote and to remember not to speak
to him of his friends, for in secrecy lay the only chance of his
ever ascending a throne. Neither the priest nor the young man
Cardenio cared to accompany them : Gardenio that Don Quijote
might not recall their quarrel, and the priest lest he be in the
way. They let the others go ahead, and themselves followed on
foot at some little distance. The priest did not forget to instruct
Dorothea as to her actions, but she told him not to worry, since
all would be done according to the descriptions and require-
ments of the books of chivalry.

XXIX THE RESCUE 169

The first group had advanced three-quarters of a league when
they discovered the Knight of Sorry Aspect amid his rocks and
crags, clothed but not yet in his mail. As soon as Dorothea sav*^
him and was informed by Sancho it was he, she whipped up
her palfrey, followed by the well-bearded barber. Reaching the
spot, her squire sprang/rom his mule to receive the maid in his
arms, but she in sprightly manner alighted of herself and kneel-
ing before her avenging knight (though he begged her to rise)
addressed him in this fashion : ' I will not rise, O doughty
knight and bold, till thy goodness and courtesy grant me a
certain boon, which will redound to thine honour and the glory
of thy person. The boon is in behalf of the most aggrieved and
disconsolate maiden ever sun shone upon, and if the might of
thy strong arm match the lustre of thy immortal fame, thou
canst not but favour the unfavoured Ihat has sought thee out,
following from afar the scent of thy great name. ' ' I will not
speak with thee, fair lady, ' replied the penitent, ' nor will I hear
more of thy condition, till thou dost rise. ' ' I cannot rise till the
boon I beg is promised of thy courtesy. ' ' 'Tis both promised
and granted, ' said Don Quijote, ' provided it be neither to the
detriment nor disparagement of my king, my country or her
that holds the key to my heart and liberty. ' ' 'Twill be neither
to the one nor to the other, my good lord, ' promised the unhappy
maid.

At this point Sancho, coming close, whispered in his master's
ear : ' Your worship, master mine, can safely grant the lady's
boon, since all it is is to slay a big giant and she's the mighty
Princess Micomicona, queen of the great realm of Micomicon
in Ethiopia. ' ' Let her be who she may, ' returned the other,
' I will do my bounden duty and what my conscience tells me
is conformable to the order I profess ; ' and turning to the maid
he said : ' Let thy beauteousness arise, since I grant thee thy
boon. ' ' Then what I ask is that thy magnaminous person come
at once whither I lead, and that thou pledge me to embrace no
other demand till thou hast avenged me on the traitor that,
against all justice human and divine, has usurped my kingdom. '
' I agree to all, ' replied Don Quijote, ' and from this day forth

170 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

thou canst dispel the melancholy that oppresses thee ; thy wilted
hopes can revive, for by God's aid and mine own arm thou'lt
find thyself restored to thy throne, seated once more in the
saddle of thy great and ancient realm despite and in defiance of
the villains that would keep thee from it. All hands to work,
since danger, the proverb tells us, lurks jn delay. '

The afflicted damsel tried repeatedly to kiss his hands, but
Don Quijote, ever courteous and considerate, would not admit
of it. Rather he made her rise and embraced her with much
gentleness. He ordered Sancho to arm him at once and look to
Rocinante's girth. The squire took down the armour, which hung
from a tree like a trophy, and having seen to the girth armed his
master in a trice. When the knight found himself in readiness,
he said : ' In the name of God let us go hence in behalf of this
high lady. ' The barber, on his knees all this time, with diflficulty
tried not only to conceal his laughter but at the same time keep
his beard on, for if that fell, all their hopes fell with it. But
seeing now that the boon was granted and observing the eagerness
of the knight in setting out on his quest, he arose, and taking one
hand of the maiden and Don Quijote the other, they seated her
on her mule. Lastly the knight mounted Rocinante, the barber
his pack-mule and the party was off.

Sancho was obliged to follow on foot, which renewed in him
the sense of the loss of Dapple, yet he bore it with good grace,
since he must think that his master was now in the way, and on
the point Indeed, of becoming emperor, confidently believing he
would marry the princess and become king of Micomicon at
least. The only thing that really troubled him was the consid-
eration that as this kingdom lay in the country of the blacks, all
his subjects would be of that kidney. But he soon hit on a good
offset, as he talked the matter over with himself, saying : ' What
do I care if my subjects are all black? can't I pack them off to
Spain in a ship, and selling them there for cash buy some title or
office and live at mine ease all the days of my life ? Certainly you
can, unless you are asleep or haven't the knack to drive a bar-
gain and sell thirty or ten thousand slaves as quick as a flash.
My God but I'll make them fly, little or big or as I may ; be they

XXIX THE RESCUE 171

ever so black, I'll turn them into whites and yellows. Gome now,
bjit I was a fool ; ' and Sancho trudged on so busy and happy in
his thoughts that he quite forgot the labour of the road.

Gardenio and the priest were watching behind some bushes,
not knowing how to join the procession, till the priest, great
schemer that he was, hit upon this plan. First quickly cutting
Gardenio's beard with some scissors he chanced to have, he next
dressed him in his own grey Jerkin and black coat, leaving only
doublet and breeches for himself, till Gardenio was so trans-
formed he wouldn't have recognised himself in a mirror. The
others had now passed them but the two easily reached the high
road first, for the brambles and roughness made it harder going
ahorse then afoot. They waited in the road at the foot of the hill,
and when Don Quijote with his company appeared, the priest
stood and stared at him in half-recognition, then came rushing
up with open arms, exclaiming : ' In happy hour artfthou found,
O mirror of chivalry, my good compatriot Don Quijote de la
Mancha, flower and cream of gentility, saving strength of the
needy, quintessence of knighthood ! ' with this embracing his
friend's left knee. But the knight, marvelling at what he heard
and saw, gazed attentively at this man, no less marvelling when
he recognised him as the priest. He was about to dismount and
when the other wouldn't consent, said : ' Senor licentiate, permit
me ; 'tis not fit that I go mounted and your reverence afoot. '

' I shall in no wise yield, ' answered the priest ; ' remain
seated, for 'twas in the saddle your excellency achieved the
greatest feats and adventures our age has seen. I, a priest and an
unworthy one, am well -enough off in mounting the haunches
of one of the mules of these gentlemen that journey with you,
if they have no objection. I'll pretend I am seated upon Pegasus,
or upon the zebra or charger that bore the famous Moor Muza-
raque, who to this day lies enchanted in Zulema, the high mount
near the great Gomplutum. ' ' That didn't occur to me, my good
father, but I am sure my lady the princess for my sake will be
pleased to bid her squire offer your worship the saddle of his
mule. He can ride behind, if the beast will allow. ' ' It will, I am
certain, ' the princess replied, ' and I'm equally certain there'll

172 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA • *

be no need to ask my squire, who is too courteous to suffer that
an ecclesiastic go afoot when there's a chance of his riding. '

' Nor will he, ' spake up the squire, who instantly dismounting
offered the saddle to the priest, who took it without more ado.
When the barber came to mount its haunches the mule, which
to be plain was a hired one, raised her hind-quarters slightly,
giving two kicks in the air with such energy that had her heels
landed on the head or breast of Master Nicholas, he'ld have given
this relief-expedition to the devil. Even as it was he was so taken
by surprise that he turned a back- somersault, paying little heed
to his beard, which fell from his face. His only hope now was
quickly to cover his chin with both hands, complaining his molars
were smashed. When the knight observed that amount of beard
lying, without jaw or blood, far from the face of the fallen
squire, he exclaimed : ' My God, what miracle is this ! the beast
has whisked the beard from his face as clean as if it had been
clipped. ' The priest, seeing they risked discovery, promptly
seized the ox- tail, and running up to the moaning barber took his
head in his lap and clapped the beard on again, muttering certain
words over him — a charm for the sticking of b'eards he said, as
they would see. He gave another tightening to the ox-tail and the
barber was as well bearded and sound as before. Don Quijote
was amazed beyond measure and prayed the priest sometime to
teach him those words, since they must be good for other things
as well : the fellow's jaw could not but have been lacerated and
now it was whole again. ' You speak reason, ' the priest assented,
promising to teach him the spell at the first opportunity.

All agreed that for the present the priest should ride the mule
and that later the two others should take turns, since the inn
might still be nearly two leagues. The procession moved again,
three mounted, Don Quijote, the princess and the priest, and
three afoot, Gardenio, the barber and Sancho Panza. The knight
turned to the princess and said : ' Let your highness take the
lead whither most it gives thee pleasure. ' Ere she had time to
reply the licentiate interposed : ' Toward what realm would
your ladyship direct our course if not toward the kingdom of
Micomicon ? Methinks it must be so or I know little of king-

XXIX * THE RESCUE 173

doms. ' The princess, ready for all things, understood what her
answer was to be : ' Yes, seiior, 'tis toward that kingdom my
journey lies. ' ' In that event, ' the priest continued, ' we shall
pass through my village, from which your highness will find a
road leading to Cartagena where, God willing, you'll find a ship,
and if the wind sit fair and the sea be calm and tranquil, in
rather less than nine years you'll come in sight of the great lake
of Meora, Meotis I should say, which is not much more than a
hundredndxrys^-jouwiey from your highness' kingdom. '

' Your worship is mistaken, sir, for 'tis not two years since I
issued thence, with foul weather all the way, yet have I this
early attained the goal of my desires, the lord Don Quijote de La
Mancha. The bruit of him reached mine ears the moment I set
foot in Spain, and thereby was I moved to seek him, that I might
commend myself to his regard, trusting the justice of my cause
to the power of his invincible arm. ' ' No more, ' broke in the
knight at this point ; ' an end to my praises I say. I am foe to
every form of flattery and though your words be not such, yet
do they oflfend my chaste ears. I mean by this, dear lady, that
whether mine arm be mighty or no, whatever strength it has or
has not, all shall be given thy service to the very end. But leaving
this to its own fit time, I pray the licentiate tell what brought
him to these parts alone, without attendants and so lightly clad
that it shocks me. '

' As to this I can satisfy you in few words, ' replied the priest ;
' you must be told that I and Master Nicholas, our friend and
barber, were on our way to Seville to receive certain monies sent
by a kinsman that has been many years in the Indies ; no trifling
sum either — no less than sixty thousand dollars of tried weight.
Well, yesterday as we rode along here, four footpads pounced
upon us, stripping us to our beards and bereaving us of those to
the extent that the barber was obliged to get a false one and
even this youth, ' pointing to Gardenio, ' was made a new man.
But the interesting thing about it was that, according to report,
they that trimmed us were galley-slaves, recently set free almost
on this spot by a man so valiant that he routed the commissary
and guards. Methinks he was certainly out of his head, else he

174 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

was as great a rascal as they, without soul or conscience, since
he deliberately loosed the wolf among the ewes, the fox among
the hens and the fly amid the honey. He would defraud justice,
go against his king and natural lord (for he went against his just
commands), rob the galleys of their feet and stir up the Holy
Brotherhood, which has lain at its ease these many years. In a
word he would do a deed whereby he may lose his soul without
help to his body. '

It seems Sancho had told the priest and barber of the advent-
ure of the galley-slaves, achieved by his master with such great
glory, and the priest censured it in these strong terms to observe
the effect on Don Quijote. But all our knight did was to change
colour at every word, nor had he the pluck to acknowledge
himself liberator of the ungodly crew, ' These were the ones
that robbed us, ' concluded the priest, ' and may God of his
pity pardon him that let their going to well-deserved punishment. '

CHAPTER XXX

Dorothea's adroitness and other things capable of affording
pleasurable diversion

THE priest had scarce ended his story when Sancho exclaimed :
' And faith, senor licentiate, he that did the deed was my
master, though I warned him to mind what he was about and
that it was a sin to give liberty to men that were being sent up
as the worst kind of crooks. ' ' Busybody ! ' cried Don Quijote ;
' 'tis no affair of knights-errant to find out whether the afflicted,
enchained and oppressed we encounter on the road, suffer
humiliation because of vices or of virtues. Our sole care is to
aid them as persons in distress, having an eye to their pain, not
to their perfidy. I met with a string, a rosary I might call it, of
unfortunate malcontents and I did with them what my religion
bade me. Let it be settled yonder, for whoever thinks ill of it
here, saving the honoured person and sacred dignity of our
friend the priest, I declare he knows little of the idea of chivalry,

XXX DOROTHEA DAPPLE RECOVERED 175

that he lies like a whoreson dog and that I'll make him aware
thereof -\Vith my sword, wherein 'twill be more fully set forth.'

With this our knight braced himself in stirrup and clapped on
his head-piece, the barber's basin in other words, which as
Mambrino's helmet he carried hung from saddlebow, hoping some
day to repair the damage received at the hands of the galley-
slaves. Upon this, Dorothea, being a cunning and rather waggish
person, fully aware of Don Quijote's fatal humour and that the
others save Sancho made merry over it, didn't wish to be behind
in the fun, and seeing the knight all wrought up, she said to
him : ' Sir knight, let thy worship bear in mind the boon thou'st
pleged me, and how in persuance thereof thou canst not engage
in other adventure however urgent. Quiet thy breast, sir, for had
the licentiate known 'twas thine ne'er-conquered arm that freed
the galley-slaves, he would have put three stitches through his
lips and thrice bit his tongue rather than say a word to your
worship's disparagement. ' ' I swear the same before God, ' quoth
the priest, ' and what's more, I'M have clipped my moustache. '

' I shall be silent, lady, ' responded Don Quijote, ' repressing
the just rage that had arisen in my breast, continuing in calm-
ness till I render thee thy promised boon. Rewarding me for my
good-will, prithee tell me, if it harm thee not, what thy trouble
is, and how many, who and what are the persons on whon I
must give the deserved and entire vengeance. ' ' Gladly, ' replied
Dorothea, ' if 'twill not weary thee to listen to cares and crosses.'
' In no way, ' returned the knight. ' Attend then your worships
to my story. ' The words were not out of Dorothea's mouth when
Gardenio and the barber drew up to her side ; likewise Sancho,
as much taken in as his master. Having seated hferself well in the
saddle, with a cough and a few other helpful preliminaries she
began in lively manner to tell the following tale :

' First of all I wish your worships to know that my name is' —
she hesitated a moment, having forgotten what name had been
assigned her by the priest, who came to her rescue by saying :
' 'Tis not at all strange, madam, that your highness is confused
and embarrassed in retailing misfortunes, which are frequently
of a nature to deprive persons of memory till they can't recall

170 DON QUUOTE DE LA MANCHA I

their own names, even as now when your ladyship forgets that
hers is Princess Micomicona, lawful heiress to the great kingdom
of Micomicon. With this reminder you can easily call to your
suffering mind all that you would tell us. '

' True, ' replied the maiden, ' and I believe that henceforth it
won't be necessary to prompt me and that I shall reach a safe
port with my true story. Well, the king my father, Tinacrio the
wise, was deeply versed in the so-called art of magic. He thereby
discovered that my mother Queen Jaramilla, would die before he
did, but that he too shortly would be obliged to quit the world,
leaving me an orphan. Yet this, he said, didn't worry him so
much as his certain knowledge that a towering giant, lord of a
great island close to our kingdom, who is known as Pandafilando
of the Sour Look — though his eyes are normal and are set
properly, he always leers as if squinting, and this he does from
pure deviltry, to scare people — my father knew, I say, that on
hearing of mine orphanage this giant would overrun my kingdom
with a powerful host and despoil me of everything, not leaving
so much as a little hamlet for my refuge. I could escape all this
ruin and disaster by marrying the beast, but so far as he could
tell, I would never consent to such an enormity. And therein he
spake true — not for a moment has yoking with this giant seemed
possible to me, nor with any giant however huge or hellish he
should prove.

' My father also warned me not to try to defend myself, even
though I saw Pandafilando preparing this invasion ; he urged
me rather to abandon the country, would I save my good and
loyal vassals : opposition to this giant's diabolical power would
be vain, he declaTed, and mine only hope lay in setting out with
a few subjects for Spain, where I should find the end of my
troubles in the person of a certain knight-errant, whose fame by
that time would have extended troughout the country under the
name of Don Azote or Gigote, if my memory serve me. ' ' Quijote
you mean, lady, ' suggested Sancho Panza ; ' otherwise known
as the Knight of Sorry Aspect. '

' The same, ' said Dorothea ; ' my father described liim as tall
of stature, lean visaged and with a grey mole with hairs like

XXX DOROTHEA DAPPLE RECOVERED 177

bristles on his right side beneath his left shoulder or thereabouts.'
The knight on hearing this said to his servant : * Gome, Sancho
son, and help me strip. I would see whether or no I am the knight
of whom this all-knowing king prophesied, ' ' Why would your
worship strip ? ' asked the maiden. ' To see if I have the mole
your father made mention of. ' ' No need ', said Sancho, ' for I
know your worship has such a mole in the middle of your back ;
'tis a sign of strength. ' ' Proof enough, ' declared Dorothea, ' for
among friends one can overlook trifles, and whether on back or
shoulder is of no consequence. Wherever it is there's a mole
somewhere, and being all one flesh, that is surely enough. Well,
truly my father has proved a good prophet and I certainly have
done right in entrusting myself to Senor Don Quijote, who must
be the knight the king had in mind, since the marks of his face
tally with those of the fame he enjoys, not alone in Spain but
throughout La Mancha. Indeed scarce had I landed at Osuna
when I heard tell of such deeds that then and there my spirit
told me he was my man. '

' How, ' questioned Don Quijote, ' did your worship land at
Osuna, dear lady, when it is no port. ' Ere she could reply the
priest took the wheel saying : ' The princess meant us to under-
stand, I think, that after she had landed at Malaga the first
place she got wind of your worship was Osuna. ' ' That was
the meaning I intended to convey. ' ' 'Tis clear enough now, '
said the priest ; ' please, your majesty, continue. ' ' There's no
more to tell, save that already I think of myself as queen and
mistress of my realm, since this knight of his courtesy and
munificence has pledged himself to accompany whither I lead,
which will be straight against Pandafilando of. the Sour Look,
that my champion may slay him and restore me to that of which
I was so unjustly deprived. I am sure that all this will come to
pass exactly as we wish since my good father Tinacrio the wise
foretold it. Also he left written in Chaldean or Greek, neither of
which I can understand, a memorial to the effect that should the
predicted knight, after he has beheaded the giant, desire my hand,
I should at once offer myself as his lawful spouse, giving him
possession of my person along with that of my kingdom. '

1!3

178 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

' How do things look now, friend Sancho ? ' called Don Quijote
at this point ; ' do you hear what is being said ? what did I tell
you ? haven't we a kingdom to govern and a queen to marry as
I foretold ? ' ' I believe you, ' replied the squire, ' and the devil
take him that refuses to tie up with this one after he has
pricked Senor Pandahilado's wind-pipe. My, but isn't she ill-
favoured though ! would that the fleas in my bed were like
her ! ' and with this in great glee he cut a couple of capers in the
air. He then clutched the bridle of Dorothea's mule, bringing it
to halt, and kneeling before the lady prayed her stretch forth
her hands for him to kiss, in token that he acknowledged her
his queen and mistress. Who of those, observing the man's sim-
plicity, could refrain from laughter ? The girl gave her hands and
promised to make him a great lord of the realm when Heaven
so far favoured her as to restore it to her possession and enjoy-
ment ; for all whereof the squire thanked her in words that
again caused merriment.

' This, ' concluded the afflicted damsel; ' is my story. It alone
remains to inform you that of the persons that escorted me from
home none remains save this bearded squire, the others having
perished in a violent tornado that swept upon us when already
in sight of land ; by a miracle he and I on two planks were washed
ashore. Indeed, as you have seen, a miracle and mystery is the
whole course of my life. If in telling of it I 've laid undue stress
on any one point or haven't been deflnite enough at another, set
it down to the fact that, as the licentiate said, a series of excessive
mishaps weakens the memory. '

' They shall not weaken mine, brave and noble woman, '
declared Don Quijote, ' however many I endure in thy service,
however great and unparalleled they may prove. Let me confirm
afresh the boon I have promised, taking mine oath to go with
thee to the end of the world, or until I meet with thy rude perse-
cutor, whose haughty head by God's aid and mine own arm I
purpose to strike off with the edge of this, I cannot call trusty,
sword, thanks to Gines de Pasamonte who carried off mine ; '
this last was said 'twixt his teeth, but he again spoke out : ' And
after the giant has been decapitated and thou hast been put into

XXX DOROTHEA DAPPLE RECOVERED 179

peaceful possession of thy realm, 'twill be left to thy choice to
dispose of thy person wherever most will give thee pleasure, for
while my memory is filled, my will enslaved, my mind enthralled
by her — I say no more — not for an instant can I contemplate
marriage though with a phoenix. '

This decision of his master's so provoked the squire that with
loud voice and deep feeling he cried : ' Seiior Don Quijote, I
swear your worship is out of your head, or how can you hesitate
to marry so noble a princess as this ? think you fortune offers
snch a chance behind every little stone ? Does my lady Dulcinea
chance to be more beautiful ? far from it — not by half ; nay, I'ld
swear she doesn't come up to this princess's shoe. If, master,
you go looking for dainties in the bottom of the sea, it's all up
with my county. Marry her I say, marry her at once in the
devil's name ; take this kingdom that comes to your hand free
gratis for nothing, and when you are king, make me marquis or
governor, and then let the devil take all. '

The knight could not listen unmoved to such blasphemy of his
lady Dulcinea and raising his pike without saying so much as.
This mouth is mine, gave Sancho two such whacks as to bring
him to the ground, and had not Dorothea called to him to quit,
he certainly would then and there have made an end of his
squire. After a pause- he said : ' Do you think, you carle, that
you are to insult me for ever; and that the sinning is always to
be on your side and the pardoning on mine ? Don't imagine it
for a moment, you excommunicated wretch, which is what you
are, disparaging the peerless Dulcinea. Didn't you know, you
farm-hand, you drudge and vagabond, that I couldn't kill a flea
save by the might she infuses in mine arm ? Tell me, viper-
tongued scoffer, who has won this kingdom, think you, and cut
off the giant's head and made you marquis, all of which I consider
as good as accomplished, who but the dauntless one of elToboso,
using mine arm as the instrument of her deeds ? She fights and
conquers in me and I live, move and have my being in her. O
whoreson scoundrel, what an ingrate you are when, seeing
yourself raised from the dust to be a titled lord, in return you
speak ill of her that brought it about ! '

180 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

Sancho still had life enough to hear all his master said and
rising rather nimbly fortified himself behind Dorothea's palfrey.
From his new position he thus addressed his chider : ' Tell me,
sire, if your worship has determined to forego this great princess
and her kingdom, what favours will you have to bestow ? that
is my grievance. In my opinion 'twere better for the present to
pair off with this queen, now she's here as though the sky rained
her, and later return to my lady Dulcinea — there must have
been kings in the world that kept mistresses. As to beauty, I've
naught to say : it must be confessed that I like them both, though
Dulcinea I've never seen. ' ' How never have seen her, blasphe-
mous traitor? didn't you but now bring me her message?'
' I mean I've never seen her long enough to note particularly
her beauty and her good parts piece by piece, though I approved
of her in the lump. '

' Then I forgive you, ' said Don Quijote, ' and do you forgive
the injury I offered, for our impulses are not in our hands. ' ' So
I see, ' replied the other ; ' with me ever the impulse is to talk :
I can't help saying once at least whatever comes to my tongue. '
' But hereafter, my son, you must mind your words, since the
pitcher can go to the well so often — I say no more. ' ' Good, '
said the squire ; ' God's in his Heaven seeing our tricks, and
He'll judge as to which does the greater wrong, I speaking or
your worship doing it. ' ' Gome, no more of this, ' said Dorothea ;
' run, Sancho, kiss your master's hand and crave pardon. Hence-
forth be more careful with your praise and dispraise, speaking
no ill of this lady Dulcinea, of whom I know naught save that I
am her servant. Trust God and you'll not fail of a situation
where you can live like a prince.' Sancho with bowed head
begged the hand of his master who calmly gave it and after it
was kissed added his blessing.

The knight now said they should go a little in advance of the
others, for he must question and converse with him on matters
of moment. Sancho followed and when the pair were by them-
selves, Don Quijote began : ' Since your return, my son, I've
had neither time nor opportunity to hear particulars of your
errand and the message you brought back. But now that fortune

XXX DOROTHEA DAPPLE RECOVERED 181

has granted both time and place, do not refuse me the pleasure
of hearing good news. ' ' Let your worship ask anything you
please, for I'll give everything as good exit as it had entrance.
But I must beg of you, master, that in future you be less vin-
dictive. ' ' Why do you call it that. ' • Because these last blows
were due more to the quarrel the devil stirred up between us the
other night than to aught I said just now against my lady
Dulcinea, whom I love and reverence like a relic ; not that
there's aught of that about her, only as a thing belonging to your
worship. ' ' Drop that on your life, ' commanded Don Quijote,
' for it offends. I have pardoned you once and you know the old
saying. New sin, fresh penance. '

While thus in converse, they saw approaching on ass-back a
man that, as he drew near, looked like a gipsy. Sancho Panza,
whose eyes and heart were ever with asses, had scarce descried
the fellow when he knew him for Gines de Pasamonte, and by
the thread of the gipsy got at the reel his ass. Sure enough
Dapple it was that Pasamonte rode. Not to be recognised and
that he might sell the beast, Gines had assumed the garb of a
gipsy, for he knew their language and many more as well as his
own. Sancho, seeing and knowing him, at once cried out : ' Hi
there, Ginesillo you thief, drop my treasure, leave me my life,
meddle no more with my peace, return me mine ass, come here
with my comfort, fly, you devil, clear out of here, you sharper,
and give back what is not yours. ' There was no need for these
vituperations for with the first Ginesillo jumped down and
running as in a race was gone in a second. Sancho ran up to the
ass and putting his arm about his neck said : ' How hast thou
fared, my darling, thou Dapple of mine eye, my comrade ? ' and
with this he kissed and caressed the beast as if it were a human
being. The ass held its peace and suffered these kisses and
caresses without answering a word. The others came up and
congratulated Sancho on his find, especially Don Quijote who
said that the order for the three ass-colts would hold just the
same ; for which the squire showed himself most grateful.

While master and man had been talking together, the priest
told Dorothea that she had been very clever both with the

lOa DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

brevity of her narrative and its likeness to those in the books of
chivalry. She said she had often beguiled her leisure by reading
them, but not knowing the different provinces and seaports, at
random had made her landing-place Osuna. ' So I observed, '
said the priest, and that was why I broke in as I did, hoping to
set things right. But is it not surprising to see how credulous
this unfortunate man is toward all such stories and lies, simply
because they conform to the style and manner of the nonsense in
his books ? ' ' It is indeed, ' said Cardenio, ' and so strange and
unparalleled that I doubt if there be wit keen enough to create
the character in fiction. ' ' Another curious thing about it, ' con-
tinued the priest, ' is that, notwithstanding the absurdities this
gentleman utters in connection with his craze, if other matters
be introduced, he speaks most rationally, which argues a clear
and temperate understanding. Provided his chivalry be not
touched upon, he would pass for a man of sound intelligence. '

While these were engaged with their conversation, Don Qui-
jbte proceeded with his, saying to his squire : ' Touching our
quarrels, Panza friend, let's cast the little hairs into the sea, and
tell me now, without thought of grudge or grievance, where,
when and how you found Dulcinea ? What was she doing? what
did you say and what did she reply ? what her expression when
reading the letter ? who copied it for you ? Tell me all you think
worthy to be known, asked and answered, not adding and per-
verting to give me pleasure, nor abbreviating and so depriving
me thereof. '

' If the truth must be told, sir, ' began the squire, ' nobody
copied the letter for I had none. ' ' Alas, too true ; two days after
you left I found the little note-book still in my possession, which
considerably concerned me, not knowing what you'ld do when
you found you hadn't it, though I expected you to return as soon
as you discovered our oversight. ' ' That I should have done had
I not noted the letter down in my memory as your worship read
it aloud, so I was able to repeat it to a parish-clerk, who copied
it so accurately that he said that, though he had met with many
letters of excommunication, this was the fanciest missive he had
seen in all the days of his life. ' ' And have you it still in your

XXXI SANCHO AND DULCINEA 183

memory? ' ' Nay, sire, for the moment I gave it him, I set about
forgetting it, seeing it had no further use. If I recall any, it is
the Scrubbing, I mean, Sovereign lady, with which it set out,
and there at the end, Thine till death. The Knight of Sorry
Aspect. Between these I placed more than three hundred my
loves, my lifes and mine eyes. '

CHAPTER XXXI

The delightful conversation 'twixt Don Quijote and his squire
Sancho Pauza, together vdth other episodes

* AT AUGHT of what you say displeases me, Sancho, so talk
X\ on. You arrived at el Toboso and what was the queen of
beauty doing ? Very likely you found her stringing pearls or
embroidering some device in golden thread for this her captive
knight. ' ' No, not these ; she was winnowing two bushels of
wheat out in the corral. ' ' Then depend upon it, at the touch of
her hand the grains of wheat changed to pearls. Did you notice,
friend, whether 'twas white wheat or brown ?' ' 'Twas red, '
affirmed the squire. ' Then rest assured that when winnowed by
her hands the bread made from this wheat was of the whitest ;
but pass on. When you handed her my missal, did she kiss it,
or place it on her head, or perform other ceremony befitting such
a letter ? or what did she do ? '

' When I arrived, she was hard at it with a sieveful of the
wheat ; she said to me : ' Lay the letter on yon sack, friend ; I
can't look at it till I have done here. ' ' ' Gunning woman ! she
wanted to pore over it word by word by herself. More, Sancho.
While at this employment what words did she pass with you ?
did she enquire about me, and you, what did you reply ? come,
out with everything ; don't leave a drop in the ink-well. ' ' She
asked me nothing, but I told her all about your worship doing
penance for her sake, naked from the waist up and roaming these
wilds like a savage, sleeping on the bare ground, not eating off

184 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

a table-cloth nor combing your beard, but just weeping and
cursing your luck. '

' You did wrong in saying I cursed my luck : I bless it all the
days of my life, since it has made me worthy of loving so high a
lady as Dulciuea del Toboso. ' ' So high is she, ' offered Sancho,
' that believe me she beats me by more than a hand. ' ' And how
did you come to measure with her ? ' ' It was this way : as I
helped her with a bag of wheat onto an ass, we stood so close
I couldn't help but notice she was the taller by more than a
palm. ' ' And did she not adorn and unite her stature with a
thousand million graces of person ? or at least you'll not .deny me
this, Sancho, that while standing there you perceived a Sabaean
odour, an aromatic fragrance, an impossible somewhat, difficult
to describe, a fume, an exhalation, like some dainty glove-shop,
is it not so ? ' ' What I can vouch for is that I sniffed an odour
rather strong and goaty ; it must have been because she was all
in a glow from constant exercise. ' ' 'Tis impossible ; you had a
cold in the head peihaps or smelt yourself, for I know what
would be the scent of that rose among thorns, that lily of the
field, that liquid amber. ' ' Maybe you're right, for often I have
noticed the odour on myself that then methought proceeded from
her worship the lady Dulcinea. But that's nothing so wonderful,
for one devil is like another. '

' Tell me, ' continued Don Quijote ; ' now that she has sifted
her wheat and carried it to the mill, what happens when she
reads the letter ? ' ' She didn't read it, for she didn't know how
to read or write, she said. Instead she took and tore it into bits,
saying she didn't want another to read it for her, lest the whole
village know her secrets ; it was enough that I had informed her
by word of mouth both of the love you felt for her and of the
outlandish penance you were here undergoing. In the end she
told me to say to your worship that she kissed your hands and
that she desired more to see you than to write. So she begged and
commanded by these presents that you quit your brambles and
monkey-shines and at once set out for el Toboso, barring aught
else of greater importance, for she longed greatly to see you. She
laughed a good deal when I told her how you called yourself the

XXXI SANCHO AND DULCINEA 185

Knight of Sorry Aspect. I asked her if that chap the Biscayan had
put in an appearance. Yes, she said, and was a very decent sort
of fellow. But, she added in answer to mine inquiries, none of
the galley-slaves had shown up as yet. '

' So far, so good, ' declared the knight ; ' but tell me, Sancho,
what jewel did she hand you as you took leave, as reward for the
news you brought her ? 'Twas the use and honoured custom
among knights and ladies-errant to give their squires, maids or
dwarfs, that carried news from their damsels to them or from
the knights to their ladies, some precious jewel as thank-offering
for the message. ' ' That may well be and a good custom I call it,
but all that must have been ages ago, for nowadays it seems to be
the thing to bestow upon them bread and a little cheese, which
was what my lady Dulcinea handed over the corral-wall as I was
leaving ; and more by token the cheese was made from goats'
milk. '

' She is liberal in the extreme, and if she didn't give you a
golden jewel, it must be that she hadn't one handy. Sleeves are
good after Easter, and when she and I meet, I'll make everything
right. But do you know what I wonder at ? I feel as if you must
have come and gone through the air : you were but a trifle over
three days and yet it's more than thirty leagues from here to el
Toboso. I fancy that the sage magician, he that is my friend and
watches over mine affairs (for of necessity there is and must be
one, else I shouldn't be an out-and-out errant), I imagfine that
this fellow helped you on your way without your knowledge.

' Indeed wizards are there that will take a sleeping knight from
his bed and, without his knowing how, he awakes next day
more than a thousand leagues from where he fell asleep. Were it
not for this, adventurers could not aid one another, as they are
wont to do. A knight for example is fighting a dragon or other
fierce monster, or another cavalier, in the wilds of Armenia, and
is getting the worst of it, is on the point of death in fact, and
then, when least he looks for it, there dawns over against him on
a cloud or chariot of fire another knight his friend, who a short
time before had thought himself in England. He succours his
friend and rescues him from death, and the latter that very

186 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

evening finds himself home again with good appetite, though the
two places are often as much as two or three thousand leagues
apart — and all made possible through the zeal and science of the
cunning warlocks that keep watch over valiant knights-errant.
I do not find it hard to believe therefore that you actually went
and returned in this short time, since, as I have intimated, some
friendly necromancer could have carried you by flights without
your perceiving it. '

' That might well have been, ' said Sancho, ' for to tell the
truth Rocinante travelled like a gipsy's ass with quicksilver in
its ears. ' ' Quicksilver there was without a doubt, ay, and a
legion of devils besides, for devils are a tribe that travel them-
selves and make others travel, just as they please and without
weariness. But dropping this for the moment, where do you
think my duty lies with respect to my lady-love's command that
I go and see her ? I feel I am bound to comply with her request^
yet find myself handicapped by the boon promised to the prin-
cess here, for the law of of chivalry bids me consider my pledge
rather than my pleasure. On one hand my desire to see my lady
fair besets and beseiges me, and on the other my given word and
the glory of the achievement incite and summon. What I really
think to do is to hasten by forced marches against this giant, cut
his head off and establish the princess in the peaceful possession
of her kingdom, and then at once return to behold the light that
illumines my existence. I shall make such explanations that she
will come to approve of my delay, seeing that it redounds to
her greater glory and fame, inasmuch as all that I have achieved,
am now achieving and shall achieve by arms in this life, is alone
made possible by the favour she extends to me and by my being
hers. '

' Alas, ' cried Sancho, ' how damaged is your worship's nod-
dle ! Tell me truljy, sire, do you mean to take that long trip for
nothing and let such a fine rich marriage slip between your
fingers when they give you for dowry a whole kingdom, which
they tell me is more than twenty thousand leagues around, pro-
duces in abundance all the necessities of life and is bigger than
Portugal and Castile combined ? Peace, for the love of God, and

XXXI SANCHO AND DULCINEA 187

blush for what you said ; take my advice aad (forgive me) get
married at the first village that boasts a priest, or better still
here is our licentiate who will do as fine as can be. Remember
I am old enough to give counsel, and this that I now give is
right to the point, for better a sparrow in the hand than a
vulture flying, and he that has good and chooses ill, 'twill never
come again, complain as he will. '

' See here, Sancho, if you are urging me to marry, that, being
made king after killing the giant, I may have the chance to bestow
the promised reward, I would have you know that without
marrying I can as easily satisfy your longing, for before entering
the fight I shall particularly stipulate that when I issue victorious,
they shall give as my fee, even if I don't marry, a certain part of
the realm, and this I can pass on to whomever I please. And
whom but you would you have me hand it to ? ' ' Now you are
talking ; sire ; but see to it please that your portion lies along
the coast, so that, if the life don't agree with me, I can ship off
my black subjects and turn them into what I said. As to your
worship, don't bother for the present about seeing my lady
Dulcinea. Make haste instead to kill the giant : let's round up
that business first, for my God but I cannot but think 'twill
yield honour enough and considerable profit. ' ' I believe you're
right, Sancho, and so far as you exhort me to champion the
princess before seeing my sweetheart I shall obey. But take care
you tell no one, not even those with us here, of what we have
treated and conversed, for if Dulcinea is so modest that she
would not have her thoughts known, 'twould not be fitting that
I or another for me disclosed them. '

' Then why, ' asked the other, ' do you require all those
conquered by your arm to go and present themselves before my
lady, when this is as good as your signature that you love and
wish her well, since they are supposed to knuckle down before
her and say they come from your worship to render her obe-
dience ? How then can the thoughts of either of you be hid ? '
' How silly and simple you are, Sancho ! can't you see that all
this redounds to her greater exaltation ? You must know that in
this our style of chivalry 'tis deemed great honour for a maiden

188 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

to have many knights-errant in her service simply for her being
what she is, without hoping for other reward for their many and
worthy desires than that she shall deign to accept them as her
knights. ' ' With that manner of love, ' said Sancho, ' the preach-
ers tell us we should serve our Lord, for his own sake, moved'^
neither by hope of glory of fear of punishment. But I would
love and serve Him for what He can do for me. ' ' The devil
take you for a clown, Sancho, but what shrewd things you say
at times ! one would think you had studied somewhere. '
' I cannot even read, ' said the other.

They now heard Master Nicholas calling, for they were going
to lay by and drink at a little spring. The knight accordingly
drew rein, to the no small relief of his squire, o'er worn with his
many lies and fearing lest his master at any time trip him, for
though the rogue knew of Dulcinea as a peasant of el Toboso,
never had he seen her face to face. They found Gardenio in the
clothes Dorothea wore when first met with, and though little to
brag of, they cast into the shade those he had shed. All having
dismounted, they appeased their hunger to a limited extent by
partaking of what the priest had snatched up at the inn.

While thus they were seated about the spring, a boy coming
up stopped and looked at them rather curiously, and then rushing
up to Don Quijote embraced his legs, beginning to weep and
whimper in a very knowing manner : ' Senor, senor, doesn't
your worship remember me ? look again. I am that boy Andres
your worship set free from the holm-oak to which I was tied. '
The knight knew him and taking him by the hand turned to his
companions saying : ' That your worships may see how requisite
knights-errant are in the world to redress the wrongs and injuries
worked by the wicked and insolent that dwell therein, allow
me to relate how as I passed through a wood the other day I
heard loud screams and most pitiful cries as of one in great
distress. Driven by my sense of duty I hastened to the spot
whence the cries proceeded and found tied to an holm-oak this
boy, who now stands before you I rejoice to say, for not in a
single point will he as a witness let me lie.

' The lad was, I repeat, tied to an oak, naked to the waist.

XXXI SANCHO AND DULCINEA 189

and a farmer, his master as I afterwards learned, was scourging
him with the reins of his mare. I immediately asked the cause of
this outrage. The boor replied that the lad was his servant and
certain acts of carelessness on his part bespoke the thief rather
than the fool. To this the youth made answer : ' He Avhips me,
sir, because I want my wages. ' The farmer blurted out some kind
of pompous excuse, by me heard but not entertained. In short I
made him untie the lad and promise to pay him real for real and
all perfumed. Is not this true, Andres my son? Didn't you observe
with what authority I commanded and with what humility he
promised to carry out all I signified of my wishes and all I
imposed upon him as demands ? Speak out, hesitate at nothing ;
tell the gentlemen what occurred, that it may be seen and believed
what a God-send errants are along these roads. '

' All that your worship has said is true enough, ' the boy
replied, ' but the end of that business was very different from
what you imagine. ' ' How different ? didn't he pay you at once ? '
' He not only didn't pay me but as soon as your worship was
out of the wood and we were alone, tying me again to the oak
he gave me another belting, which this time left me like a flayed
Saint Bartholomew. And at every stroke he made a fool of your
worship, uttering some jest or pleasantry that would have made
me laugh had I been less in torture. In fine he used me so ill
that ever since I have been in a hospital, trying to recover from
the effects of his cruelty. For all of which your worship may be
thanked, for had you kept your road and not come where you
weren't wanted, my master would have been content to give me
a dozen lashes or so and then paying my wages let me go free.
But when your worship abused him without reason, calling him
those names, his wrath was roused, and as he couldn't take it
out of you, the storm burst upon me to such an extent that I fear
I shall never be a man again as long as I live. ' ' My leaving you
before you were paid was the cause of the trouble, ' apologised
jDon Quijote ; ' long experience should have taught me that no
boor keeps his word, unless he sees 'tis to his advantage. But
remember this, boy, that I swore to hunt this fellow out though
he hid in the hollow of a whale. ' ' Which is of no help to me, '

190 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

whimpered Andres. ' You shall see whether 'tis of help or not ; '
and saying this the knight rose, ordering Sancho to bridle
Rocinante, who was off feeding while they were at their meal.

Dorothea asked her champion what he was preparing and
received the answer that he was about to run that farmer down
and punish him for this devilish turn, seeing to it that Andres
was paid to the uttermost farthing, in spite and in the teeth of
all the farmers of the world. Dorothea urged him to forget not
that in compliance with his pledge he could not engage in any
project till he had settled her little affair, and as he knew this
better than anyone, he should calm himself till his return from
Micomicon. ' You are right, ' acknowledged her protector, ' and
Andres shall have to be patient till then as you say, but I again
promise and swear I'll not stop short of seing him paid and
avenged. ' ' These oaths are naught to me, ' returned Andres ;
' the wherewithal to take me to Seville would mean more at
present than all the vengeance in the world. If you have aught
that I may eat and take with me, give it and God be with yout
worship and all knights-errant, and may they be as erring toward
themselves as they have been toward me. '

Sancho drew some bread and cheese from his store and giving
to the lad said : ' Take this, brother Andres, for to all of us falls
a share in your misfortune. ' ' And what share falls to you ? '
' This share of the bread and cheese, for God knows whether I
shall miss them or not. I'M have you know, friend, that we
squires of errant knights are exposed to biting hunger, bad luck
and a thousand other things more easily felt than imparted.'
Andres seized the bread and cheese and finding that was to be
all, lowering his head took the road in his hands. It must be
stated however that at parting he called to Don Quijote : ' By
the love of God, sir knight-errant, should you run across me
again, though I am being hacked to bits, don't come to my
rescue : leave me to mine evil fate, which won't be so bad but
'twill be made worse by any interference from your worship,
whom may God confound with all the errants that ever were
born in the world. ' Don Quijote rose to chastise this insolence,
but the lad took to his heels with sufficient nimbless to discour-

XXXII THE innkeeper's reading 191

rage any pursuit, Our adventurer was not a little chagrinned ;
that he might not be utterly discomfited, the others, though with
real difficulty, controlled their amusement.

CHAPTER XXXII
Don Quijote and his company at the inn

THEIR welcome repast ended, the company saddled and
mounted, and with naught occurring worth the mention,
the next day found them at that inn so especially dreaded
and detested of Sancho Panza who, though now loth to enter,
couldn't well escape it. The keeper, wife, daughter and Mari-
tornes, on seeing Don Quijote and his squire approaching, with
manifest pleasure came out to greet them. The knight, receiving
their welcome a little coldly, bade them prepare a better bed
than last time. The wife replied that, if paid better, she'ld prepare
one fit for a prince. Her guest promised and they got him a
reasonably good one, up there in the straw-loft. He immediately
retired, being fairly used up both in mind and body. No sooner
was his door shut than the wife made for the barber and seizing
him by the beard cried : ' Gome, by the Gross, off with my tail ;
it's an outrage the way my husband's comb goes kicking about
the floor. ' But the barber wouldn't relinquish it till the priest
had told him there was no need of further disguise : the barber
could tell Don Quijote that when those rogues the galley-slaves
trimmed him, he fled to this inn. Should he ask after the prin-
cess's squire, they'ld say she had despatched him in advance to
notify her subjects of her return with their common liberator.
So the beard was restored, together with the other borrowed
trappings.

The inn-folk could not but marvel at Dorothea's beauty and the
youth Gardenio's noble bearing, for whom and all the priest bade
them serve as good a meal as their stock allowed, and the keeper
in hope of better pay prepared a tolerable dinner. The knight
was still sleeping, and 'twas thought better not to waken him.

192 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

since sleep just Ihen was a better restorative than food. At their
meal, with the inn-folk present, they discussed their friend's
derangement and the exigency wherein he had been found. The
wife, to balance that, described the scuffle 'twixt him and the
carrier and, seeing that Sancho wasn't about, followed with a
full account of the tossing, which diverted not a little. The priest
chanced to remark that it was his reading books of chivalry had
so turned Don Quijote's brain, which caused the innkeeper to
reply :

' I don't see how that can be ; in my opinion there's no better
reading in the world. I own two or three of these books along
with some other writings, and they have been the breath of life,
not alone to me, but to many others. In harvest-time during the
siesta the reapers are wont to gather here, and as there's always
someone that can read, he takes up one of those volumes, while
more than thirty of us sit round listening with such pleasure that
it keeps off a thousand grey hairs. At least for myself I can say
that when they tell about those furious frightful blows the knights
deliver, I am seized with a longing to do the same, and I could
hear about them night and day. ' ' And I no less, ' chimed in his
wife, ' for I never have a quiet moment in the house except when
you are so absorbed in listening that you forget to scold. ' ' True, '
volunteered Maritornes, ' and faith I myself like the dainty
things, most of all when they tell about a lady in her knight's
arms under the orange-trees, and the duenna standing guard,
dying with envy and fright. 'Tis as good as honey to me. '

' And how do these books impress you, young lady, ' said the
priest, addressing the innkeeper's daughter. ' On my honour, sir,
I can't say. I don't understand much of what they're about.
However I listen and to tell the truth like them pretty well. I
don't care for the blows my father sets such store by ; give me
instead those laments the knights drop into when absent from
their lady-loves. Indeed I sometimes weep with compassion for
them. ' ' Then would you console them, were it you they wept
for ? ' asked Dorothea. ' I don't know what I should do. I only
know that some of their sweethearts are so cruel that they call
their cavaliers tigers, lions and a thousand other not nice names.

XXXII THE innkeeper's reading 193

Jesu, what kind of folk can they themselves be, so without soul
or conscience that they'll let an honest man die or go mad rather
than look at him. I don't know why they should be as prudish
as all that. If it's for their honour's sake, let them marry them,
which is all the knights are after. ' ' Hold your tongue, chit, '
interrupted the mother ; ' you don't seem ignorant of these
matters and girls shouldn't know or say so much. ' ' As this
gentleman asked me, ' the daughter murmured, ' I couldn't but
answer him. '

' Gome then, ' said the licentiate to his host, ' fetch me those/
books — I want to see them. ' ' With all my heart, ' replied the
other, who soon returned from his bedroom with a small valise
and some neatly written manuscript. The first book chanced toi
to be Don Cir^ongilio of Thrace. Felixmarte of Hyrcania was thel
next and 'tEe^ third the History of the Great Captain Dpnjjqnzalol
Hernandez of Cordova together with the Life of Diego ftarcia.de
PafSdesTDn reading the first two titles the priest remarked to the
barber : ' Our friend's housekeeper and niece should be here. '
' I shall do as well for carrying them to the corral, ' replied the
other, ' or better still we can throw them onto the hearth where
burns a good fire. ' ' Would your worships burn my books then? '
demanded the innkeeper. ' Only these two, ' answered the priest,
' Don Cirongilio and Felixmarte. ' ' Is it because they are heretics
and phlegmatics that you'ld have them go to the fire ? ' ' Schis-
matics you should say, friend, ' volunteered the barber. ' You
are right, ' accepted the host ; ' but if you burn any, let it be
the Lives of the Great Captain and Diego Garcia ; I'd rather
they burn a child of mine tham either of the others. '

' But, my dear brother, ' counselled the priest, ' these books
steeped in falsehood are really the worst kind_of trash, while the
history of the great captain is a true account of events in the_life
of G6nzalo Hernandez of Cordova, who for his many and great
deeds was everywhere deservedly known as the Great Captain —
an illustrious epithet and rightly applied to him alone. And this
Diego Garcia de Paredes was a gentleman of note of the city of
Trujillo in Estramadura, a most valiant soldier and possessing
such strength that with one finger he checked a mill-wheel in full

194 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

course. Again, when posted with a two-handed sword at the
entrance of a bridge, he kept an immense army at bay, and per-
formed other feats which, had another than himself related them
with glowing pride in place of the modesty of a gentleman that
is his own historian, would have put the Hectors', Achilleses' and
Rolands' noses out of joint. '

• Go talk with my father, ' replied the innkeeper ; ' what is
that to marvel at — the stopping of a mill-wheel ? My God, sir,
you ought to read what I read of Felixmarte of Hyrcania, how
with a single back-stroke he cut five gialilb in two a* pleasantly
as though they had been the bean-pod friars little children make.
And another time he hurled himself against a prodigious army
numbering one million, six hundred thousand fighting men, all
armed cap-a-pie, and sent them flying like a flock of ewes. And
how shall I praise Don Cirongilio of Thrace,, who was that bold
and reckless the book says, that once as he was sailing up a
river and a fierce serpent leapt from the water, he jumped on its
scaly back, squeezing its neck so tightly that the dragon's only
hope was to drop to the bottom, carrying the determined knight
along with it. When they arrived down there, he found himself
mid palaces and gardens wondrously beautiful. The serpent was
straightway transformed into an old greybeard, who told him
things as were never heard. Why, sir, should you listen to this
book, you'ld go mad with pleasure. Two figs for your Great
Captain and Diego Garcila. '

On hearing this Dorothea whispered to Gardenio : ' Our host
lacks little of making an under-study to the Knight ot" Sorry
.AsgegtT' ' So it seems tOTner^-assea^ed-Gai'denio ; ' ills clear he
believes that all in these books is truth and barefoot friars
couldn't persuade him otherwise. ' ' Be assured, brother, ' the
ptiest now ventured to the innkeeper, ■ there never in the
world existed a Felixmarte of Hyrcania, a Don Girongilio of
Thrace- or any of the knights tKe books"of chivalry" gfattle of.
'Tis all the idle creation of wits with time on their hands, hatch-
ing these stories that others like your reapers may be amused?^
I am willing'to take^mine oath that such knights never lived and
such feats and follies never happened. ' ' To another dbg with

XXXII THE innkeeper's reading 195

that bone ! as though I didn't know how many make five and
where the shoe pinches. Don't try to feed me with pap : I am Ao
chicken. A^,g5oa'joke,j^sn't it, for youtojjrge that everything in
these books is either false~orftre11iHrwhenthey^ii^ul^^ with
the license of tRe~Ttryat-€qqucii — as th'ougJTjEey'werB-perso is
to leTuiIeap~ornes~l3Bqprmted7^ith battles and encKaiitihents
enoagh to ^rije-ysu out of your senses J^^_, \

' 1 have Ijefore told yon/ replied the priest, ' that these books
were written for the diversioirr©f^(>u£^idle--lJboiights. Even as;
chess, tennis and billiards are suffered in well-ordered states for
the bene&t of those that either don't "vrish or aren't obliged or are
unable to work, so license is "giYe»~liQE_ the-psinting of these
books, on the perfectly natural supposition that none is so
ignoranTas to4hink them true. Were it fit occasion and did the
present'Bompany demand it^^ I could set forth what decent books
of chivsfcy. should contain if they are to be of profit as well as
of pleasure. I trust the time will come whenj_can Sommunicate
my ideas to «»e in a position to remedy matters. In the mean-
time, jaiat^innkeeper, endeawe«r"to^e persuaded — take your
books^nd resolve whether they be truth or falsehood and much
good may they-da-yott, Grod forbid that you go lame on the same
foot your guest Don Quijote now halts on. ' ' Never that, ' the
innkeeper assured him ; ' I shan't go so far as to turn knight-
errant, for I clearly see that things are not as they were when
those famous knights are said to have roamed the world. '

Sancho had entered the room in the midst of this conversation
and stood puzzled and thoughtful over what he heard, chiefly
that knights-errant were no longer in vogue and that all the books
of chivalry were nonsense and lies. He resolved, however, to
wait and see how his master's present trip resulted, and if
naught like what he expected came of it, he'ld quit him and
return to his old job, his wife and his children.

(The next two chapters are occupied with the novel of The
Impertinent Paul Pry, matter entirely irrelevant to the main
narrative, which gains by its omission).

196 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XXXV

The wild and wonderful battle 'twixt Don Quijote and
some sacks of red wine

THERE still remained a little of the novel to be read when
Sancho Panza burst into the room exclaiming : ' Hurry,
sirs, and help my master, for he's in the midst of the stoutest
and bloodiest battle ever I laid eyes on. By the living God, with
one slash he cut my lady the Princess Micomicona's enemy the
giant's head clean off like a turnip. ' ' What are you talking
about, man?' returned the priest ; ' are you crazy? How the
devil can this be when the giant is two thousand leagues from
here ? ' At this moment they heard a furious noise in the room
above and Don Quijote shouting : ' Hold, thief, brigand ! hold,
scoundrel ! now I have you where your scimetar shall avail you
naught. ' It sounded as if he were making stout hacks at the wall,
and again the squire cried : ' Don't stop to listen, but quick, and
either help my master or break up the fight, though 'twill be
too late — the giant is surely dead by this time all right, giving
account to God for his wicked life, for I saw his blood running
over the floor and his head tumble off as big as a wine-sack. '
' May I die, ' quoth the keeper, ' if Don Quijote or Don the
devil hasn't used his sword on one of the sacks of red wine there
at the head of his bed. This must be the blood the good man
says he saw. '

They all now rushed into the room and found Don Quijote in
the strangest guise in the world. His only apparel was his shirt
which barely covered his thighs in front and was three inches
shorter behind. His legs were lank and long, hairy and none
too clean. On his head perched a little greasy red cap belonging
to the innkeeper and wound about his arm was that bed-blanket
so utterly loathed (for reasons best known to himself) by Sancho
Panza. In his right hand he held his drawn sword, wherewith
he was thrusting in every direction, crying out as though actually

XXXV THE SACKS OF WINE 197

at close-quarters with a giant. The remarkable thing about it was
his eyes where shut : he still slept and was dreaming this battle.
His imagination had become so intoxicated with the forthcoming
adventure, he dreamt he had reached the kingdom of Micomicon
and was already at it with his foe. He had hacked away at the
wine skins, believing them the giant, till now the room was
running over with the ruddy liquid.

The innkeeper in a flaming rage threw himself on his knightly
guest, beginning to pound him so heavily with closed fist that
had not Gardenio and the priest rushed to the rescue, the giant
would have won the day. Yet with all this the poor gentleman
did not waken till the barber threw a large bucket of cold well-
water on his body. Though this brought him to, he still didn't
realise his plight, and Dorothea, be it said, observing how light
and short his garb, of her own accord withdrew from this conflict
'twixt her champion and her foe. As for Sancho, he looked all
over the floor for the giant's head and not finding it declared :
' Now am I certain this place is enchanted from beginning to
end, for once before on the spot where now I stand they gave
me many a thump and jab without my knowing whence they
came nor was anyone visible, and now has disappeared that head
which with these very eyes of mine I saw drop off and the blood
spout from the body as from a fountain. ' ' What blood and what
fountain, you enemy of God and his saints ? ' cried the keeper ;
' don't you see, you rogue, that they're naught but the gutted
sacks with all their wine swimming in this room ? May I see the
soul that gutted them swimming in hell ! ' ' All I say is, ' returned
the squire, ' that through not finding this head my luck will be
that my county will melt like salt in water. ' Sancho awake was
worse than his master asleep, so possessed was he by the
promises" thaTKaii 'b^if15QS3eTrffn! — — — -.

Seeing the Hensity of the squire and the havoc wrought by
his master, the innkeeper despaired, and swore they wouldn't get
off this time without paying the reckoning : that the privileges of
chivalry shouldn't avail them from footing both accounts, even
to the buttons ripped off the damaged skins. The priest took
Don Quijote by the hands, and he believing he had finished that

198 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

adventure and was now in the presence of the princess Micomi-
cona, knelt before him saying : ' Thy majesty, noble and fair
one, can live from this day forth without fear of harm from this
misbegotten monster, and as well am I now free from my prom-
ise, since by the aid of the Most High and the favour of her
through whom I live and breathe, I have fulfilled it. ' ' Didn't I
tell you? ' said Sancho on hearing this ; ' I wasn't so drunk after
all. The giant is salted down all right ; we're safe on the bulls ;
no fears for my county ! ' Who could help laughing at the mum-
meries of master and man? and laugh they did, all save the
landlord, who wished himself to the devil. In the end the barber,
priest and Gardenio managed to get Don Quijote into bed again
and there they left him sleeping, with signs of utter fatigue.

(The novel of The Impertinent Paul Pry is now finished and in
the next chapter Gardenio and Dorothea meet their respective
loved ones, Lucinda and Don Fernando. A general reconciliation
takes place and the history proceeds).

CHAPTER XXXVII

The history of the famous infanta Micomicona continued,
together with other pleasant incidents

SANCHO overheard the foregoing with no slight disappoint-
ment, seeing all his hopes for a title vanish in smoke. The
fair princess Micomicona had changed into Dorothea and the
giant into Don Fernando ; and his master all the while sleeping
the sleep of the jiist. He alone was the wronged, the unlucky,
the sad one, and with heavy heart he repaired to Don Quijote
who was just awakening. ' Sleep on. Sir Sorry Aspect, sleep
all the sleep you will, and take no thought of butchering any
giant or restoring the princess to her kingdom, for all is over
and done. ' ' That I can well believe, for but now I engaged with
the giant in the bloodiest and most outrageous battle ever I hope
to experience in all the days of my life. With one back-stroke,

XXXVII THE SUPPER AT THE INN 199

swish, I tumbled his head to the earth, and so much blood poured
forth that streams as of water ran along the ground. ' ' As of red
wine you might better say, for you must know, master, if you
don't already, that the dead giant is naught but a hacked pig-
skin, the blood twenty-four gallons of red wine from its belly,
the lopped-off head the jade that bore me, and the devil take all.'

' What are you talking so wildly about, you fool ? have you
lost your wits ? ' the other rebuked him. ' Let your worship rise,
and you'll see for yourself the pretty mess you've made, and
what's more we shall have to pay for it. You will see too how
the queen is converted into a private lady called Dorothea,
together with other events which, if you dip into them, will sur-
prise you. ' ' The other time I told you, Sancho, that everything
that happened here was a thing of enchantment, nor would it be
strange if it were the same now. ' ' All of which I could easily
swallow, had my blanketing been of that breed, but instead 'twas
a thing as true as you live. I saw this very innkeeper take hold
of one corner and toss me skywards with much mirth and muscle
and with as much one as t'other. Though simple and a sinner, I
hold that when you recognise people, 'tis Titrt enchantment but a
good deal ofBlack'and btue,-attd hard hrcK'besides. ' ' Enough for
thepresettl,^-^»&Q4Hiote-as9ttred^l!mn7~'for God will bring it all
straight in the end. Hand me my clothes and let me get out of
here ; I would behold these transformations and other matters
you tell of. '

Sancho gave him his apparel, and during the time of his
dressing, the priest was relating to Don Fernando and the other
new comers at the inn the story of his friend's madness and the
artifice they had employed for getting him away from Pena Pobre,
where he imagined the disdain of his lady-love had placed him.
He told them as well of the adventures Sancho had described, by
all of which they were both amazed and amused, for it seemed to
every one the strangest delusion mind distraught could hold.
The priest added that since Dorothea's good-fortune had upset
their former plan, they must think up another that would get
their friend home. Cardenio proposed that instead they continue
with their present scheme with Lucinda in the place of Dorothea.

200 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

' By no means, ' declared Don Fernando ; ' I wish Dorothea to
keep on in her disguise ; this gentleman's village can't be far
and I am anxious to assist in his relief. ' ' 'Tis no more than
two days hence, ' stated the priest. ' And were it more, ' replied
the other, ' I should be happy to travel them with such a worthy
purpose. '

At this moment the knight appeared, in full array of arms,
with the battered helmet of Mambrino on, embracing his shield
and leaning on his pike. Don Fernando and the others were
spell-bound by the extraordinary presence of the man, his pale
gaunt face half-a league long, his job-lot of arms and grave
courtly manner. They silently waited to see what he would say,
and at last, with much dignity and repose, directing his eyes
toward the lovely Dorothea, he began :

' My squire informs me, most fair one, that thy rank has been
reduced and thy identity transformed : in short that from the
^queen and great lady thou wast, thou hast been converted into a
damsel of no degree. If the wizard king thy father be guilty of
this, fearing lest I might not give the due and necessary aid,
believe me he did not and does not know half his art, being little
versed in the traditions of chivalry. Had he studied and examined
them as closely and deliberately as I, he'ld have learned that
knights of less than my renown have again and again achieved
more difficult successes. 'Tis no great feat to kill a paltry giant,
however formidable he may be. Indeed a short time since I
found myself in the company of one, and — but I prefer to be
silent lest they tell me I lie. Time, the revealer of all things, will
say it for me when least we expect it. '

' You found yourself with no giant but with two wine-skins, '
broke in the landlord. But Don Fernando told him to hold his
tongue and not interrupt his guest, who proceeded saying : ' I
beg of thee therefore, noble and disinherited lady, that if thy
father for the reason assigned worked this metamorphosis in thy
person, do thou put no trust in him, since not in the world is
there peril through which my sword won't cleave a way, and
shortly by that stroke whereby I tumbled thine enemy's head to
the ground, shall I place thy country's crown on thine. ' The

^XXVII THE SUPPER AT THE INN 201

knight here made an end, waiting for the princess to reply, and
she, knowing Don Fernando's determination that the trick of
taking the poor man home should be persisted in, with playful
seriousness began :

' Whoever told thee, valiant knight of Sorry Aspect, that
I had been converted and transformed, didn't speak truly, for
I am the same to-day as yesterday. Certain lucky strikes have
made slight variations in me to be sure, for they have given me
the best of all I desire but on no account have I ceased to be
what formerly I was, and I still intend to avail myself of the might
of thy bold invincible arm. And so, my lord, let thy goodness
again honour my father, regarding him as prudent and saga-
cious, since by his science he discovered the right and easy way
to repair my disgrace. I feel however that were it not for thee,
never should I have met with my recent good-fortune. That
I speak the truth, most of the gentlemen here will bear witness.
On the morrow we shall again set forth — to-day we couldn't
get far — and I leave to God and the spirit in thy breast my
further expected deliverance. '

Thus spake the cunning Dorothea, and on hearing her Don
Quijote turned to his squire and said rather bitterly : ' I take
mine oath, Sanchuelo, that you are the greatest rapscallion in
all Spain. Didn't you just tell me, you vagabond thief, that this
princess hadTSSCbme a girl named Dorothea, and that the head
I believed I had cut from a giant was the jade that bore you,
along with a lot of other nonsense that put me into worse con-
fusion than I have known in all the days of my life ? I swear — '
and here he looked upward and gritted his teeth, ' I shall make
such an end of you as will put salt in the brain-pan of all the
lying knight-errant squires that ever will be. ' ' Let your worship
calm yourself, ' replied Sancho ; ' maybe I was mistaken with
regard to the conversion of my lady the princess Micomicona,
but in the matter of the giant's head — certainly in the hacking
of the skins and the blood being naught but red wine — by God
I was right, for the skins still lie there sorely wounded at the
bed's head, and the red wine has made a little pond of the room.
If you don't believe me, wait till the eggs come to be fried, that

202 DON QUIJOTE DK LA MANCHA 1

is when master innkeeper hands in his bill, looking for damages.
For the other I rejoice that the lady queen is as she was, since
my share will come to me as to every neighbour's son. '

To this his master returned : ' Sancho forgive me ; you are
naught but a scatter-brain. But come, enough of this. ' ' Enough,
not a syllable more, ' echoed Don Fernando ; ' we'll pass the
evening in pleasant converse and on the morrow, as the princess
advises, we'll all set out in your company, as we wish to
witness the valiant and unheard-of deeds our knight is to per-
form in the progress of his great undertaking. ' ' It is I that shall
wait upon and accompany you,' replied Don Quijote, ' since I am
more than grateful for the favour shown and the good opinion
entertained toward me, and this shall I endeavour to justify or let
it cost me my life, and more, if more be possible. '

The night had now set in and under the direction of Don
Fernando's attendants the landlord had used his best pains in
preparing a supper. They all sat down to a long table as in a
refectory, since the inn didn't boast a round or square one. The
seat of honour was given to Quijote who, at last consenting,
desired that the lady Micomicona sit by him, her champion and
protector. Lucinda and Zoraida sat next to Dorothea, while
^ opposite sat Don Fernando and Gardenio with the captive and
other gentlemen at their side, and the priest and barber next
the ladies. It was a happy gathering and their pleasure was
heightened when Don Quijote, moved by the same impulse that
occasioned his mid-dinner address to the goatherds, again inter-
rupted his eating and began :

' Truly, friends, if you reflect upon it, great and unbelievable
things do they witness that profess the order of errantry. For who
of living men, entering in at the gate of this castle and beholding
us here, could believe that we are what we are ? who would
imagine that this lady at my side is the great queen we all know
her to be, or that I am that Knight of Sorry Aspect that is trump-
eted abroad by the mouth of fame ? There can be no doubt that this
art and exercise surpasses all that men have hitherto discovered
— and so much the more is it esteemed as it is the more exposed
to perils. Away with all that hold letters more glorious than

XXXVII THE SUPPER AT THE INN 203

arms, for whoever they be, to them I say they know not whereof
they speak. Their main tenet is that the workings of the spirit
are of a higher "order than those ofthe body upon which, they '
say, the calling of arms solely depends — as thougtrTwere a kind
of porter's jotr where great streugttT is tlie only requisite, and as
though in iMs profession which we its followers call arms were
not included such acts of prowess as demand the highest intel-
ligence, or as though the spirit of the warrior that undertakes the
command of an army or the defence of a beleaguered city were
not as actively engaged as his body. Does it perchance perl un to
physical strength to know and conjecture the enemy's iitent,
designs, strategems ; the surmounting of difficulties or Ih 3 pre-
vention of certain ruin ? Surely not, for all those are matt srs of
the understanding, wherein the body plays no part.

' If then we are agreed that arms no less than letters requires
intelligence, next let us see which of the two vocations, that of the
writer or that of the warrior, is tHe^MBce-ac^ous^ which know-
ledge~~we- shalt arrive at by a survey of their several aims. iThat
calling is to be the more highly estemed that has the nobler end as
its moving life. I speak not now of divine letters, whose sole
endeavour is to lead souls to Heaven — such a sublime aim lean
yield to no other. But the end and goal of human letters is to r( gu-
late distributive justice, to give every man his due and to see I a it
that good laws are observed — an object generous and nobh to
be sure and worthy great praise, yet not so glorious as the ; lim
of arms, which is peace — the greatest good to be desired of nen
in this life. Thus the first good- tidings that came to mankind ^ vas
the song the angels sang in the sky that night which is now jur
day, Glory be to God in the highest and on earth peace, go od-
will toward men. And the salutation the blessed Master of
Heaven and earth taught his disciples and chosen few when they
entered a house was. Peace be upon this house, and many
another time He said to them. My peace I give you, or. My peace
I leave with you, or. Peace be unto you — a precious gift
indeed, given by such a hand : a jewel without which there can
be no happiness, neither in Heaven nor on earth.

' This peace is the proper end of war and therefore of arms.

f04 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

Granting this and that thei:fil>y-tibe..aim„of war is higher than the
aim of letters, let us compare the bodily labours -of JJie-w*iter
afTS^oFthe warrior, and see which are the more arduous. ' Oar
knight proceeded in his discourse with such rational sequence
that none of his listeners could have supposed him mad. Instead,
since all were of the rank of gentlemen, who follow arms from
birth, they heard him with entire absorption. So he continued :
' Now the student's trials are, first of all, poverty ; not that all
are poor, but I wish to put their case as forcibly as I can, and
in saying they suffer poverty, it seems to me I couldn't assign
them a harder lot, for he that is poor is denied all the comforts
of life.

' This poverty the student experiences in several forms : to-day
in hunger, to-morrow in cold, again in nakedness and at times
all three together. Yet his hunger is not so great but that he gets
something to eat, though it may come a little later than usual or
from the tables of the rich or, and this is the greatest humiliation
of all, he may have to go to the soup, as they call it. Nor is there
ever lacking a neighbour's fireside or chimney-corner, which, if
it doesn't warm, at least dulls the winter's edge. The night they
pass comfortably enough, sleeping under cover. I need not
mention such trifles as their limited stock of shirts and shoes,
their thin threadbare clothing and their tendency to overeat when
some happy chance sets a banquet before them. For along this
rough uneven road stumbling, falling, rising but to fall again,
they reach their goal at last, and when they have escaped these
Syrtes, Scyllas and Gharybdises, many of them to our knowledge
have been borne on the wings of fortune and set down to rule
and govern the world. Now is their hunger become feasting,
their cold refreshment, their nakedness fair raiment and their
rush-mats damasks and fine linen. All these are rewards due
their stedfastness through trials — trials, however, that seem
small when compared with those of the warrior, as I shall now
proceed to show. '

XXXVIII ARMS VERSUS LETTERS 205

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Don Quijote's subtle discourse concerning arms and

letters

' TT^VEN as in the student's case -^e began with his poverty and
X_J its effects, ' continued Don Quijote, ' let us examine now
whether the soldier as regards worldly goods be any better off.
Instead we shall find him poorer than poverty itself, since he is
dependent on miserable pay that comes late or never, and on
plundering, to the considerable peril of life and conscience. At
times indeed the scantiness of his apparel is such that a slashed
doublet serves for both shirt and uniform, while in mid-winter on
the open plain he must needs protect himself from foul weather
with naught more substantial than the breath of his mouth which,
contrary to all nature in coming from an empty place, comes
forth cold. But let him wait till night comes, atoning for these
discomforts by the bed it allows him. This, if he behave, will
never sin in over-narrowness, for he can quickly measure on the
ground as many feet as required, and without fear of rumpling
the sheets toss to his heart's content.

' And now let us suppose the time come for taking his pro-
fessional degree, in other words the day of battle is at hand
whereon he is to receive his doctor's cap, made of lint to stop a
bullet-hole through his temples it may be or that has crippled an
arm or a leg. Should this luck fail him and merciful Heaven
bring him through well and alive, he finds himself in his old
poverty still and is obliged to engage in several battles more and
be victor in all ere he can better himself — and a miracle of this
kind is rare indeed. For tell me, friends, if you've given it
thought, how many fewer have been advanced by war than have
perished therein ? Surely you'll aver there's no comparison : that
they that have fallen in war cannot be reckoned while they that
have profited thereby can we set down in three figures. The

206 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

reverse is the case with men of letters, who by fees or emoluments
all manage to keep afloat. So then, even as the soldier's toil is the
greater, is his reward distinctly less. Against this it may be said
that it's considerably easier to reward two thousand writers than
thirty thousand warriors : the former can be given offices native
to their profession while soldiers can be satisfied only out of
their lord's treasury. But this difficulty serves rather my side of
the case.

' Leaving this aside however, for egress from such a labyrinth
is difficult, return we to our main thesis, the innate superiority
of arms over letters, a matter still to be proven, so lorcibte are
the arguments luJvanced on" "either Hand. Letters for example
makes this further claim, that without them arms would perish,
for even war bows to laws and laws are of the profession of the
lettered. To which arms makes answer, that letters in return
could not thrive without arms, since by arms are commonwealths
protected, kingdoms preserved, cities defended, roads made safe
and seas swept of pirates. In short were it not for arms, republics,
kingdoms, cities and the paths of earth and ocean would be
exposed to the chaos and savagery incident to war that persists
unchecked in the abuse of its privileges and power.

' Secondly, 'tis a maxim with us, that what costs more is and
should be the more esteemed. To attain to recognition in letters
costs time, vigils, hunger, nakedness, swimmings in the head,
dyspepsia and other allied ailments, already partially referred
to. But gradually to become a good soldier costs all these, and
in so much greater degree there's no comparison, since at every
step he risks his life. What fear of want or poverty can be likened
to the fears of the soldier that, being on guard in the ravelin or
cavalier of some beleaguered fortress, hears the enemy mining
toward him, yet can on no account fly from this imminent peril?
The most he can do is to inform his captain, hoping that he will
countermine, but there in any case must he stand, expecting
any moment to fly without wings sky-high and come willy-nilly
down again.

' If this danger appear but slight, let us see whether it is
equalled or surpassed when two galleys attack prow-on in mid-

XXXVIII ARMS VEBSUS LETTERS 207

ocean. Lashed and locked together they leave but two feet of
beak-head for the soldier to stand upon, but he, though finding
as many ministers of death confronting him as there are cannon
not a lance-length off on the opposing ship, and though conscious
that a slight misstep will land him in Neptune's bottomless
gulph, none the less, impelled by the thought of glory, bravely
attempts to force a passage, making himself target to all that
artillery the while. But what is chiefly to be admired is that
scarce has one fallen whence he cannot be raised till the end of
time, when another takes his place, and should this second like-
wise drop into the jaws that await him, another succeeds and
another, without pause between — spirit and daring unrivalled
in all the exigencies of war.

' Happy and blest were those ages that knew not the dread
fury of those devilish instruments of siege (whose inventor,
I like to think, is in hell, paying the price of his diabolical
creation) that have made it possible for infamous and cowardly
arms to worst a puissant knight. Without his knowing how or
whence and at the very moment when dauntless ardour most
animates his intrepid heart, along comes a random ball dis-
charged by one that mayhap fled in terror at the flash of his infer-
nal machine, whose shot however ends and stills in a second the
intellectual being of one that deserved to enjoy it for years to
come. When I reflect upon such a possibility, I am tempted to
regret that I undertook this calling in an age so despiciable as
this wherein we live : not that I fear hazards, of whatsoever
kind, but it gravels me to think how powder and shot may
remove the chance of becoming famous and renowned by arm
and sword-edge throughout the known world. But Heaven's
will be done, and if I succeed, I shall loom the larger in men?
minds even as the perils to which I exposed myself were more
hazardous than those faced by errants of old. '

Don Quijote delivered this long harangue while the others ate.
Not once did it occur to him tho satisfy his hunger, though now
and again Sancho encouraged it, saying that afterwards would
be time to say all he desired. Fresh pity was awakened in his
audience in observing how one, apparently of fine understanding

208 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

and a clear and fertile reasoner, should go to pieces when he
came to discuss his benighted chivalry.

(Here follows the Tale of the Captive, the Story of the Muleteer
and other inconsequent episodes and not till chapter forty-six is
the narrative proper resumed).

CHAPTER XLVI
The enchantment of our gallant knight

Two days were passed at the inn by this illustrious company,
and now that iA seemed time to depart, they bethought
themselves of a plan that would make it possible for the priest
and barber without troubling Dorothea and Don Fernando to
carry Don Quijote to their village to attempt his cure. Accord-
ingly arrangements were made with an ox-carter that was
passing to carry our knight home and in the following manner.
They first built a cage of wooden poles, large enough comfortably
to hold their friend. Next, at the priest's instance and counsel,
Don Fernando, Don Luis ' servants, the officers of the Holy
Brotherhood and the innkeeper disguised themselves, some in
one fashion, some in another, that the champion might suppose
them persons other than he had seen in this castle. They then
softly stole into the room where he lay sleeping, at rest from his
recent toil. Forcibly seizing him as he lay there all free and far
away from such accident, they bound him hands and feet, so
tightly that when he awoke with a start he could not move or do
aught but be thunderstruck at the many strange faces about him.
He instantly believed the sugestion of his relentless disordered
fancy, which was that these were phantoms of that charmed
castle, and that he too was certainly under a spell, since he could
neither threaten them nor defend himself — precisely as the
schemj^ing priest had anticipated.

Sancho alone of the company was in his right mind and
clothes. Though only a little short of sharing his master's obses-

XLVI ENCHANTMENT OP THE KNIGHT 209

sion, he recognised these counterfeit persons well enough, but
dared not open his lips till he saw the upshot of this seizure
of his lord, who said as little as the servant and for a similar
reason. The upshot of it was that bringing in the cage, they shut
him therein, nailing the bars too well to be loosened, and lifted
the whole upon their shoulders. As they were about to leave the
room, there was heard a soul-subduing voice, at least as much so
as the barber could make it, saying :

' O Knight of Sorry Aspect, let not the prison where thou art
confined disturb thee, being required for the speedier conclusion
of the adventure to which thy great chivalry has committed thee.
All will be accomplished when the raging Manchegan lion and
the white Tobosan dove lie down together, having first bent
their proud necks to the easy yoke of matrimony. From this
rare union shall issue to the light of day brave whelps, to
emulate the ravening claws of their doughty sire. And this shall
come to pass ere the pursuer of the fugitive nymph twice visits
the starry signs in the swift course of nature. And thou, most
noble and obedient squire that ever bore sword or beard or
sense of smell, be not dismayed or concerned at seeing the flower
of knight-errantry borne off before thine eyes, for soon, if so it
please the Moulder of the world, thou'lt be so exalted as not to
know thyself, nor shall the promises made by thy good master
go unfulfilled. I assure thee, on behalf of the sage Fraudiana,
that thy wages shall be paid, even as thou'lt see in the outcome.
Follow in the wake of the spirited and spell-bound knight, for ye
both must go where both shall stay. God be with you, as I may
not say more, returning whither I alone know. '

Toward the end of this prophecy the barber raised his voice to
such a pitch and then lowered it to so soft a piano that even
those party to the trict; began to believe what they heard. The
prisoner was consoled by the special prediction (to him the gist
of the whole prophecy) that he was to be united in the bonds of
holy matrimony with his beloved Dulcinea del Toboso, from
whose happy womb were to leap forth whelps, his sons, to the
everlasting glory of La Mancha. With this firmly fixed in mind
he keyed his voice and with deep sigh complained :

210 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

• O thou, whoever thou art that have predicted such happiness
for me, prithee ask from the sage magician that has my fate in
charge that he let me not perish here ere I see such rare and
blessed promises realised. Gould that but be, I shall count the
pangs of this charnel-house my glory ; these chains shall be as
comfort and this bed not the hard battle-field but a soft and
happy bridal-couch. Touching my squire and his recompense, I
trust to his good nature and conduct not to desert me in good or
evil fortune, for should it come to pass through his or my baleful
star that I had not the power to bestow the isle I promised or
its equivalent, at least his wages shall not fail, for in my testa-
ment I have left written his portion, not becoming his many and
good services but mine own straitened means. ' At this Panza
meekly inclined his head and kissed his master's two hands — he
couldn't kiss one since they were tied together. The phantoms
again raised the cage to their shoulders and marching out placed
it on the waiting ox- wagon.

CHAPTER XLVII

The amazing method of the knight's enchantment, together
with other notable events

WHEN Don Quljote found himself cooped up in a cage and
on an ox-cart, he murmured : ' Many and ponderous are
the histories of knights-errant I have read, but never have I seen
or heard of enchanted knights carried this fashion or at the speed
these lumbering beasts promise. We are wont rather to be shot
through the air with passing swiftness, in a dusky cloud or
chariot of fire, or mounted on some hippogrifif or other. To be
drawn on an ox-cart ! by the living God, it puts me to confusion.
However, it may be that modern chivalries and enchantments
are to take a different road from that followed by the ancient.
As I am a new knight in the, world and the first to revive the
long-since-forgotten exercise of chivalry, belike new modes of
enchantment and new methods of transporting the enchanted

XLlVII THE CANON 211

are come into vogue. How does it strike you, Sancho son ? '
' I don't know how it does, ' replied Sancho ; ' I'm not so read
up in errantry writings as is your worship. Nevertheless I'm
willing to take an oath that not all these apparitions are Catho-
lics. ' ' Catholics, my father ! and how could they be when every
blessed one is a devil fantastically disguised for the pupose of
placing me here. If you don't believe me, touch and feel them,
and you'll find their bodies unsubstantial air. ' ' My God, sir,
but I have touched them and this devil that goes there as fine as
you please is rolling in flesh and has another property quite
unlike a certain one they tell me devils possess. I've^ heard they
all smell of brimstone, sulphur and other vile odours, but this
one smells of amber half a league off. ' Sancho referred to Don
Fernando, who as a gentleman was highly perfumed. ' Don't let
that surprise you, Panza friend, since devils are knowing ones,
you must understand, and though bad odours are ever about
them, they don't smell at all, being spirits. If they do smell, it
must be something pretty rank for, carrying hell with them
wherever they go and having no relief from their torments, inas-
much as sweet odours may be considered pleasant and refreshing,
they connot possibly smell sweet. If this particular one smells
of amber as you say, either you are mistaken or he's putting
you on a false scent that you may not know him for a devil. '

Such was the dialogue that passed 'twixt master and man, till
Don Fernando and Cardenio, apprehensive lest Sancho grasp
their deception, being already at its heels, resolved to shorten
the leave-taking. Calling the innkeeper aside, they bade him
saddle Rocinante and pannel the ass — which was done. The
priest in the meantime had negotiated with the HolyBrotherhopd
at so much per day to accompany them as escort. Cardenio hung
the shield from Rocinante's saddlebow on one side and the basin
on the other, and beckoned Sancho to mount Dapple and lead
his master's steed by the bridle, stationing the officers on either
side with their muskets. But before the ox-cart began its journey,
the innkeeper's wife, daughter and Maritornes came out to bid
Don Quijote farewell, simulating grief at his disgrace ; whereupon
our knight delivered himself of the following :

212 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA •!■

' Weep not, my good ladies ; these calamities are proper
to those that profess what I profess. Had troubles not come
upon me, I should have no fame as an errant. Such crises play
no part in the affairs of knights of little name and fame, of whom
is none to take thought ; in the lives of valiant knights, yes, that
they may be envied of their virtue and valour by many princes
and other cavaliers who by iniquitous means strive to destroy
the good ones. But in every case virtue has such power in herself
that despite all the necromancy known even to Zoroaster its first
inventor she'll come forth triumphant out of every danger and
give forth light in the world as does the sun in the sky. Forgive
me, fair ones, if through heedlessness I've done you aught of
wrong : wittingly and willingly never have I wronged man or
woman. And lastly pray that God draw me from the distress
into which I have been plunged by the instrument of some
crooked- willed magician, for if once I escape this charnel-house,
there shall not escape my memory the favours done me in this
castle, which I shall acknowledge and requite as they deserve. '

While the palace-dames were thus engaged, the priest and
barber bade Don Fernando and his company farewell, and now
mounting they set out after the cart, both wearing masks lest
their friend recognise them. The order of the procession was as
follows : first came the ox-cart driven by its owner with the
armed officers on either side; then Sancho Panza on his ass
leading Rocinante by the bridle; last of all and withicalm and
serious air rode priest and barber with faces covered, on heavy
mules and at a pace no faster than what the slow advance of the
oxen permitted. Don Quijote was seated in the cage, hands tied
and feet extended, resting against the grating, silent and patient
as, not a man of flesh, but a fig^are in stone. Slowly and silently
they journeyed for well nigh two leagues wlien they came to a
dale that seemed to the Jehu an excellent place to rest and feed
his yoke, but on his consulting with the priest and barber, the
latter suggested that they go just a bit further round the hill, where
he knew of a still richer meadow ; and they again moved on.

The priest, turning his head, now noticed that close behind
them rode six or seven well-equipped horsemen. These soon

XIjVII the canon 213

overtook our party, since they did not travel witii tiie ease and
leisure of oxen, but rather like men on canons' mules and with
the intent of passing the siesta at an inn that appeared in the
distance less than a league away. These diligent ones saluted our
snail-paced friends, and one of them, who was in fact a Toledan
canon and master of the others, on seeing the long procession
of cart, constables, Sancho, Rocinante, priest and barber, and
above all the knight encaged and confined, could not but ask
the reason of such transportation, having concluded from the
badges of the officers, that here was some highway-robber or
other culprit whose punishment fell within the jurisdiction of
the Brotherhood. The constable to whom the question was put
replied : ' Ask him, sir, for we cannot satisfy you. ' Don Quijote,
overhearing question and answer, thereupon addresed the new-
comers : ' Your worships, gentlemen, are versed in knight-
errantry perhaps ? If so, I may tell of my undoing ; otherwise
there's no reason why I trouble myself. '

By this time the priest and barber, seeing the travellers in
conversation with their prisoner, came forward that they might
answer inquiries in such a way as to cloak their scheme from
detection. The canon, speaking for the others, was saying to
our knight : ' Indeed, brother, I knowmOTgj)Xbook& of -chivalry
than of Villapando's Elements of Logic. If this be the only
conditiottr-ytm can'safely' tell what yoiSrwish. ' ' God's hand ! '
exclaimed Don Quijote ; ' in thatexent I'ld inform you, sir knight,
that I've been placed enchanted in this cage through the envy
and fraud of scurvy magicians, since virtue is more persecuted
of the evil than beloved of the good. A knight-errant I, none of
those whose deeds fame never troubles to immortalise in her
memory but one of their number rather that despite and in the
teeth of this very jealousy and of as many magi as Persia ever
gave birtly to, in defiance of all the Brahmins of India and the
gymnosophists of Ethiopia, write their names in the temple of
eternity, as pattern and ensample to future knights, that they
may see the steps they must take, would they reach by their arm
the utmost pinnacle of fame. '

' Seiior Don Quijote speaks the truth, ' broke in the priest at

214 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

this point ; ' he goes enchanted in this earry-all not for his own
sins or shortcomings but through the ill-will of those whom
virtue galls and valour chafes. Behold before you, sir, the Knight
of Sorry Aspect, of whom you may have heard, for his great
feats and gallant deeds shall be writ in imperishable brass and
eternal marble — the more because envy wearies herself in
depreciating and malice in effacing them. ' When the canon heard
both the imprisoned and the free man talk in this lofty style, he
was ready to cross himself in wonder, not knowing what had
befallen him, and his whole company were no less amazed. Their
confusion was trebled when Sancho, having drawn nigh to listen,
ventured to add : ' I may please or displease you by what I say,
gentlemen, but the truth of all this is that my master Don
Quijote is as enchanted as my mother. He has his faculties, eats,
drinks and performs the other necessary functions as other men
do and as he did himself yesterday ere they cooped him. Why
would they have me believe him enchanted, when I've heard
plenty of people say that the enchanted neither eat nor sleep nor
talk, and my master, if you let him, will outtalk thirty lawyers. '
Then turning to the priest Sancho continued : ' Tut, tut, father,
do you think I don't know you ? can you suppose I don't see
through these new enchantments ? I know you well enough,
however your face be concealed, and I know what you're about,
however your tricks be disguised. The short of it all is that where
envy reigns, virtue cannot thrive, nor liberality and meanness
travel side by side. Bad luck to the devil ! had not your reverence
come on the scene, by this time my master would have been
husband to the infanta Micomicona and I at least a count, since
naught less could be expected from my master's goodness and
the greatness of my services. Now do I see the truth of what they
say hereabouts, that fortune travels faster than a mill-wheel and
that he that was up yesterday is down to-day. I grieve for my
wife and children, for just when they might and should expect
to see the old man enter the house-gate a governor or viceroy
of some isle or kingdom, here he comes a common postilion. All
this I say, father, merely to bring home to your paternal con-
science the ill turn done my master, that you may watch out lest

XIlVII THE CANON 215

God lay at your door both this imprisonment and the post-
ponement of all the good and helpful things he might be accom-
plishing. '

' Come, snuff me those candles, ' put in the barber at this
point ; ' do you belong to your master's fraternity ? By the
living God, I see you'll have to keep him company in this cage
and be as enchanted as he, since his erring and errantry rub you
a little. 'Twas an unlucky moment when you became impreg-
nated with his promises, an unlucky hour when there entered
your ^oddle the island you set hopes on. ' To this Sancho
returned : ' I am not, nor am I a man to be, pregnant by anyone,
by the king himself whoever he be. Though poor I am an old
Christian and owe no man. If ^^esire islands, others desire
worse. Each is the son of his works and being a man I can come
to~Be^pope ; then why not governor of an isle — the more that
master can win so many he'll be short of persons to whom to give
them. Look how you speak, mister barber ; shaving beards is not
the whole of life, and one Peter differs from another. I say this
since we all know who you are ; 'tis no use to throw loaded dice
with me. As to my master's enchantment, God knows the truth
of the business, so let it rest where it lies ; stirring will only
make it worse. '

The barber preferred not to continue the conversation lest
Sancho by his plain-speaking disclose what he and the priest so
much wished concealed, and in the same alarm the priest
asked the canon to ride ahead a little that he might reveal the
mystery of the cage, together with other things sure to interest
him. The canon assented and he and his party were all ears to
what the priest had to tell of the character, life and obsession
of Don Quijote. In a few words he informed them of the origin
of his craze, the course of events down to his present imprison-
ing and their plan of taking him home in the trust of finding
some remedy. The canon and his followers marvelled afresh at
this aberrant history and the former said in return : ' I certainly
believe, sir, that these so-called books of chivalry are injurious
to the welfare of the state. Led by an indolent showy taste I have,
I confess, read the first few chapters of nearly all printed, but

216 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

I never could get myself to read one through, for they all looked
alike to me — none better than another. In my opinion these
books fall under the categoryofihe so-called Milesian or noTrien^e

fables, whose sole aim is to amuse rather than mstruct, unlike
the apologue fables which boTiregiiyirHd~eTcterta1n:

' McyfeovefTTliougli their jnatnTtntent'is to amuse, crowded as
they are with so many and such inordinate absurdities, I know
not how they can. For all intellectual pleasure arises from the
contemplation of the inherent beauty and harmony of things
placed before one by the eyes or by the imagination : nothing
distorted or inconsequent c'an afford real delight. What beauty
then, I ask, or what proportion of parts to whole or of whole to
parts, can be present in a book or fable wherein a lad of sixteen
uses his sword on a towering giant and cuts him in two as if
of sugar-paste ? Again when they would paint us a battle, they
represent the enemy at a million fighting men with only the
hero of the tale opposing, yet in spite o^ ourselves we are asked
to believe that this solitary gentleman, relying on the valour
of his single arm, carried off the victory.

' What too shall we say of the freedom a queen or empress
hereditary allows herself in the arms of some strange or strolling
cavalier? Again, whose fancy, unless it be utterly unformed and
undisciplined, can be tickled on reading about a great towerful
of knights that sails the seas like a ship under fair wind, this
evening off Lombardy and on the morrow at the shores of Pres-
ter John of the Indies, or some other land untreated of by
Ptolemy and unknown to Marco Polo ? If the apology be made
that the authors of these books are writing fiction' and are there"-
fore riot bound to the letter; irrrneTanwer-is- that- fiction' is fine
in proportion to its semblance to truth — is more^delightful
according as it moves in the realm of the possible.

' Tales of fiction must in other words be wedded to the under-
standing of the reader — should be so constructed as to recon-
cile impossibilities and smooth out rough places, holding the
attention through the elements of surprise, suspense and a
bewitching of the mind. So will admiration and pleasure walk
hand in hand. But failure awaits him that flies verisimilitude.

Xl'VII THE CANON 217

wherein in lit^erature lies perfection. I have yet to see the book
of chivalry whose plot conforms in all parts, the middle corre- 1
sponding to the beginning, and the end the natural issue of both.
Instead they introduce so many unrelated members one might
think they would present us with a chimera or other monster,
rather than with a symmetric whole. Inflexible in style, incred-
ible in story, in love lascivious, in courtesy uncouth, tedious in
battle, childish in prattle, outlandish in travel : in short, devoid
of every artistic excellence, they should be banished from a
Christian state as things of no conceivable benefit. '

The priest listened most attentively to these words of the
canon, who seemed to him in all he said a man of clear under-
standing and sound judgment. In return he informed him how,
having himself an ill opinion and hatred of books of chivalry, he
had burned the many belonging to Don Quijote, namii^g those
he had condemned to the flames and those whose lives he had
spared. This greatly amused the canon, who declared that for
all he had spoken ill of these books, he allowed them one advan-
tage, namely the scope they offered the gifted nature to exercise
itself, printing as >t»py<ii^i~a ^irj^ gnjIjjjpjffpicma-A&kiwhece the
pen might run ad libitum, describing storms and shipwrecks,
skirmtsHes^'andr battks ; portraying a valiant leader with all
appropriate qualities, showing him prudent in forestalling the
wiles of the enemy and eloquent in inciting or restraining his
own troops ; ripe in deliberation, rapid in resolve and brave in
biding his time as in pushing the attack.

' The writer of books of chivalry can depict now a tragic
episode, now a pleasant surprise; on one side a woman mos ;
beautiful, virtuous, modest and wise, and on the other a Christ
ian knight, courtly and courageous. He may contrast a rude and
reckless bully with a well-tutored prince, gentle but firm. H«
may present the humble loyalty of vassals side by side with the
greatness and liberality of their lords. On eae^iage he can show
himself the astrologer, on the next a well-informed cosmog
H?apher, at times a musician, again a statesman, and occasions
there w^ill be where he can even play the necromancer if he
choose.

Ala DON QUIJOIE DE LA MANCHA X

' His narrative may deal with the craft of Ulysses, the piety
of Aeneas, the valour of Achilles, the downfall of Hector, the
treachery of Timon, the friendship of Euryalas, Alexander's
liberality, Caesar's courage, the clemency and truth of a Trajan,
the fidelity of a Zopyrus, the wisdom of a Gato — in fine he may
treat of all the virtues that go to perfect an illustrious man,
attributing them all now to a single character, now portioning
them among many. If in addition the writer have charm of style
and a fertile fancy and aim at the truth, he may well weave a
web of such bright and varied colours that its beauty and per-
fection will realise his noblest dreams, affording both delight
and discipline. The very freedom permitted by these books
allows the author to be tragic and comic, lyric and epic (which
may be written in prose also), enabling him to display all those
qualities that unite in the sweet and winning arts of oratory and
poesy. '

CHAPTER XLVni

The canon pursues the subject of books of chivalry, together
vt^ith other matters worthy of his wit

* X quite agree with your worship, senor canon, ' said the priest,
I ' and the authors of these books are the more to be censured
in that they have written haphazardly, without respect to rules
of art, whereby they might have become as famous in prose as
the two princes of Greek and Latin poetry in verse. ' ' I am bound
to confess, ' said the canon, ' that I was once tempted to write a
book of chivalry that should preserve all the characteristics I
just enumerated, and if the truth must be known, I actually did
write more than a hundred pages. To test the same and see if it
answered my requirements, I showed the manuscript to persons
devoted to this sort of reading, to learned intelligent men as well
as to the ignorant whose only pleasure is in listening to nonsense ;
and from all I received flattering approval. However, I proceeded
no further, both because the tale seemed to accord not with my

XLVIII THE DRAMA THE ENCHANTED 219

calling and because I find there arc more fools in the world than
wise men ; and though the lauding of the few outweighs the
laughter of the many, I was unwilling to submit myself to the
senseless jugment of the giddy crowd that in the main would be
one's reading public.

' But what chiefly stayed me and the idea of ever finishing
the book was an argument drawn from the style of comedies
now in vogue, running something like this : If modern comedies,
whether based onTacFoFon fiction, though acknowledged to be
trash and thTngs"lackifig bolh^head andfeer, are yet relished by the
crowd imd"ttrough faFfrom ^Tng^ so are by If deemed excellent,
till auThors ancT managers alike confess that the reason of their
wortlilessness is solely popular taste ; and if on the other hand
it is true that writers of artistic plays with well-constructed plots
satisfjr a mere handful of critics, failing to reach the masses ; and
granting last of all that 'tis better to earn a living from the many
than reeogaitioft-from the few — thenTsaid T to myself with this
book of mine, it follows that I should scorch mine eyebrows in
folding to the acknowledged rules and in the end be left like
the tailor of el Gampillo. - -

' I have, nevertheless, frequently endeavoured to persuade
authors of the fallacy of such reasoning, telling them they'ld draw
larger audiences and achieve more lasting fame by stageing well-
contrived and not fictitious comedies ; but so case-hardened are
they that neither proof nor reason will deliver them from their i
faith. I remember to have said to one of these obstinate fellows :
' Tell me, can't you recall that a few years back there were pro-
duced in Spain three tragedies written by a well-known poet
of these kingdoms, which held the audience in admiring and
pleasurable suspense, the simple no less than the wise, the vulgar
as well as the educated, and that these three plays netted a larger
sum to the actors than any thirty of the best that have been pro-
duced since ? ' j

' ' Certainly I do, ' replied the manager in question ; ' you refer
to Isabella, Phyllis and Alexandra. ' ' The same, ' I answereid ;
' and granting as you must that they observed the rules of art, jtell
me if by keeping to them they suffered at all or were thereby

ZSO DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

prevented from giving general satisfaction. The fault, ' I went
on, ' lies not with the crowd that it wants rubbish but with
: those that ^now norliow 10 produce"Better; The tirgratttude
; Revenged'v^^aM't rubbish, noTwaTany to be found in Numantia,
The Merchant Lover or The Kind Foe or in many others, to the
fame and renown of their gifted authors and to the pecuniary
advantage of those that presented them. ' I suggested other
considerations and altogether I think I left the fellow a little
disconcerted, though not sufficiently convinced to be delivered
of his error. '

' Your talk, senor canon, ' interposed the priest, ' stirs in me
afresh my disapproval of present-day drama — an animadversion
that is quite equal to mine opposition to books of chivalry.
According to Cicero^ the drama should be a mirror of life, a

pattern of a people s manners,, an image x)f the truth ; whereas
modern comedy is a mirror of absurdities, a pattern of ajgeople's
follies and a picture of licentiousness. What 'greater stupidity
can there be than for a character that in the first scene of Jiie^
first act is but a child in swaddling-clothes, to appear as a
bearded man in the second scene ; or to represent an old man as
in the vigour of his youth, a youth as a weakling, a lacquey as
an orator, a page as a counsellor, a king as a porter and a prin-
cess as a kitchen- wench ?

' And what shall I say of their practice with regard to the time
wherein the action of a piece takes place, save that I've seen a
comedy in which the first act opens in Europe, the second in
Asia and the third closes in Africa ; had there been four acts, the
last would undoubtedly have been set in America, that all four
quarters of the globe might have been cared for ? If the basis
of the drama be the imitation of life, how can a man of even
moderate intelligence be satisfied when in a play of King Pepin's
or Charlemagne's time the leading character is Emperor Heraclius,
who is seen entering Jerusalem bearing the Gross and winning
the Holy Sepulchre like Godfrey of Bouillon — the two events
in reality being centuries apart ? or when, though the play is
supposed to be based on fiction, they introduce historical facts
and episodes in the lives of persons living at different times, not

XLlVIII THE DRAMA THE ENCHANTED 221

With any semblance of nature and with obvious and most unpar-
donable blunders ? And the worst of it is that ignoramuses say
that this sort of thing is perfect — that to ask for else savours of
fastidiouness.

' And if we turn to divine comedies, what do we find ? There
the dramatists represent miracles not only apocryphal but shock-
ingly conceived. They attribute to one saint the miracles of another
and make bold to introduce these marvels as they call them into
the secular drama as well, merely because it suits them or in
order that the know-nothings may gape and come to the perform-
ances. Now all this depreciates truth, belittles history and is
to the disrepute of Spanish genius^; for -foreigners,-who ciareftilly
observe the laws of comedy, regard us as crude and uncultivated,
behbldiiig the aBsiird extravagances" o^a^Ir-9tage, — .. „ ™_~

'.^Nor is it enoagk to answer that since the cliief reason why
well-ordered republics allow the drama is that it affords harm-
less amusement to the community, turning it now and then from
the unhealthy tendencies of idleness, and since this result is
achieved by any play good or bad, there's no occasion for
restraining authors and actors by laws insisting on good plays
only. As a matter of fact, this object would be realised far more
perfectly by good than by bad plays, since an audience that has
witnessed an unified and wholly artistic piece will leave the
theatre delighted by its humour, disciplined by its truth, with
minds enlarged by its issues, wits sharpened by its logic ;
enlightened by the theme, made wiser by example, their whole
moral being will be made militant against vice and at one with
virtue : all of which desirable effects will a good play bring about
in the soul of the spectator, however lifeless and untutored he may
be. Of all impossibilities the greatest is that a well-constructed
play shouldn't give far more pleasure and satisfaction than one
poorly-constructed, which most acted to-day are.

' Yet the fault lies not entirely with the authors, some of whom
know too well their error and how they may be saved, but now
that plays are a commodity, they say and with truth that actors
buy only those of a certain cast, and the poet tries to adapt
himself to what the purchaser demands. That you may be con-

222 DON QUIJOTE DE LA. MANCHA A

Tinced of this, consider the infinite plays a certain most happy
genius of these kingdoms has composed, all with such grace and
spirit, of such elegant verse, clever dialogue and sentiments, and
inally with such lofty periods and general elevation of style, his
•enown fills the world. Yet in his desire to satisfy the taste of
ictors, not all his plays have attained their possible perfection.
A.nd other dramatists are there that write so carelessly that after
the first performances of their compositions the actors are
obliged to leave town in fear of being brought to court, where
indeed many have appeared for offering things prejudicial to
certain crowns and noble families.

' Now all these annoyances, and many others I haven't
named, would cease if there were a sensible intelligent person at
court whose business it was to examine all plays before their
production, not only in Madrid but throughout Spain : no district-
magistrate could permit a play to be given that hadn't his seal
and signature. The players would send the manuscripts offered
them to the capital for license, and if the plays were approved,
they could act them in safety. Authors would write more thought-
fully and with greater pains, knowing that their compositions
must pass the rigid examination of one that knew his business.
We should thus get good plays and their mission in life would
be most felicitously accomplished. The entertainment of the
people would be secured, the good opinions of the wits of Spain,
the interest and safety of the actors and the sparing of legal
procedures. Should another official or the same be asked to
examine new books of chivalry, doubtless some would appear
with the excellences your worship speaks of, enriching our
literature with a deposit of noble sentiments and casting the old
books into oblivion, for the new would afford harmless amuse-
ment not alone to the idle but to the busiest of men — and rightly,
for the bow cannot always be bent nor can weak human nature
sustain itself without a certain amount of wholesome recreation.'

The priest and canon had arrived at this point when the barber
came up and said : ' This is the place, senor licentiate, where it
seemed to me the oxen might find fresh and abiindant cropping
while we took our siesta. ' ' Good, ' replied the priest, and

XL.VIII

TLE DRAMA THE ENCHANTED

turning to the canon he told him of their plan. The canon said
he would remain also : he was attracted by the lovely dale that
opened before them and wished to enjoy further converse with
the priest, toward whom he was greatly drawn, thus learning
Don Quijote's history more in detail. He sent servants on to the
inn, not far from their resting-place, bidding them bring enough
dinner for all. One of them replied that the sumpter-mule, which
must have already reached the tavern, had sufficient, but they
needed barley for their beasts. ' Leave them there then, ' directed
the canon, ' and fetch hither the one with the provisions. '

While the above was passing, Sancho, seizing this opportunity
to converse with his master without constant interference from
priest and barber, whom he regarded in the light of spies, drew
near the cage and said : ' Senor, for the relief of my conscience
I would tell you the truth concerning your enchantment, which
is that these two fellows prowling round here with covered faces
are the priest and barber of our village. What I think is that
they've invented this trick of carting you off from pure envy,
seeing your worship surpassing them in deeds of fame. Regarding
this as true, it follows you're not enchanted but hoodwinked and
made a fool of. As proof whereof I would ask a question, and
should you answer in the way I think likely, you'll be able to
put your finger on this ruse and see you aren't enchanted but
merely upside down in your wits. '

' Ask me what you please, son Sancho, for I'll keep answering
to your heart's content. But as to our escort being the priest and
barber, our fellow- townsmen and acquaintances, though it might
easily so appear, don't for a minute think such the case. What
you must think and realise is, that if they seem what you say,
'tis simply because my enchanters have assumed their form and
semblance (they easily take on any shape they choose) that you
may think as you do and thus be cast into a labyrinth of doubts
from which you can't deliver yourself though you found the
thread of Theseus. A further object would be to confuse my
understanding as well, making it impossible for me also to solve
the difficulty. If on the one hand you say the priest and barber
attend me and I on the other find myself in a coop, knowing as

224 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 1

I do that no human agency, unless 'twere supernatural, has
strength sufficient to confine me therein, what would you have
me say or think, save that the method of my enchantment
transcends all others ever I encountered in histories of errant and
spell-bound knights ? So quickly still that suspicion ; they are
as near to what you say as I am to being a Turk. Touching
your catechism of me say on, since I shall answer from now
till morning. '

' Our Lady bless me ! ' cried the other ; ' can your worship be
such a numskull and lack-wit as not to see I tell the simple
truth : namely that majicehas_a^ larger share than magic in your
enchantment and downfall ? But since you won't take my word
for it, I would prove to your face that you are under no charm.
If not, answer me this, and may the good Lord deliver you from
this pickle and may you find yourself in my lady Dulcinea's arms
when least you expect it. ' 'A truce to your prayers, man. Out
with your question, for I say I shall make answer at once. '
' What I ask, then, and should like to know, is that you tell me
without swelling or smothering any part thereof, but in perfect
truth, as is to be expected and as is the custom of all that profess
arms like your worship under the title of knight-errant — ' ' I
give my pledge not to lie in the smallest particular, ' interposed
the other ; ' out with your question, for you gall me with so
many blessings and prayers and prologues. ' ' Counting then on
my master's truth and consideration, since it bears on the matter
in hand, my question is this (and I ask it in all respect) : Since
your worship was first cast, and as it seems to you enchanted, in
this cage, have you perhaps had the wish to relieve yourself in
greater or less, as the phrase goes ? ' ' "What do you mean by
greater or less, Sancho ? make yOurself clearer, would you have
a direct reply. ' ' Can it be that your worship doesn't understand
greater or less when children at school are nursed on it ? Then
my question is, have you had the desire to do what can't be
helped ?' 'Ah, now I understand, boy, and mine answer is yes,
many times, and this minute too. Get me out of this scrape or
there'll be the deuce to pay. '

XLlIX HISTORY VERSUS FICTION 223

CHAPTER XLIX

The little parley 'twixt Saucho Pauza and his master

Don Quijote

* \ H ah ! now I have you ! ' cried Sancho ; ' that is the thing
i~\ I yearned to discover, though it cost me life and soul.
Gome then, master, can you deny what is said hereabouts when
a person is off the hooks : ' I wonder, ' they say, ' what can be
the matter with so-and-so. He doesn't eat or drink or sleep, or
answer questions intelligently ; the lout must be enchanted ? '
From which one concludes that all that eat, drink and sleep not,
nor perform those functions I referred to above, are enchanted ;
but not so those that have the desires your worship has, who
drink when they offer you, eat when there's food before you and
answer all questions. ' ' Your deduction is allowable, ' replied
Don Quijote, ' but many are the modes of enchantment, as I have
before declared, and it might be that with the years some have
been substituted for others : that to-day the custom holds for the
enchanted to act precisely as I do, though they behaved very
differently of old. There's no disputing of customs and no reli-
able inferences are to be drawn from them. I know for certain
that I am an enchanted being, which is enough to keep my
conscience light. 'Twould indeed weigh heavily upon it did I
think I was letting myself lie in this cage charm-free out of sloth
and cowardice, cheating the many, in sorrow and in want, of
the help and relief of which at this very moment they may stand
in sorest need. '

' For all that,' advised the other, • methinks 'twould be to your
greater use and fruitfulness, did your worship try an escape from
this cell. I guarantee on my part to do all I can to help, mounting
you again on your good Rocinante ; belike he's enchanted loo,
he seems so crestfallen and sad. We can then try our hand at
adventures again, and should we meet with bad luck, there'll
still be plenty of time to return to the cage, wherein by the law

15

ZZb DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 1

of a good and faithful squire I swear to closet myself with your
worship, should you be so unfortunate or I so foolish as to fail.'
' I am happy to do as you suggest, brother Sancho, and when
the critical moment comes for setting me at liberty, shall obey
your every order ; but you then will see how mistaken you are
in your theory of my downfall. '

The errant knight and ill-faring shield-bearer had now arrived
where the priest, canon and barber, having alighted, were
awaiting them. The carter at once unyoked his oxen, letting
them graze over that green and quiet mead, whose freshness
would have bewitched, not persons already so much so as our
errant, but those as knowing and appreciative as his squire, who
now asked the priest to give his master a short recess, otherwise
the cage wouldn't be as sweet as Senor Don Quijote's decency
required. The priiest catching his meaning said he would grant
the desired favour, though he feared the knight on finding himself
free, returning to his old grooves, would be lost to them for
ever. ' ' I'll go bail for him, ' replied Sancho. ' So will I, every
one of us, ' declared the canon, ' especially if he give his word as
a knight not to desert till 'tis our pleasure. ' ' I do so give it, '
said Don Quijote, who had been listening ; ' the rather because
he that is enchanted as I, can't do with his person as he pleases ;
his enchanter may make him like a statue stand for three centu-
ries, and should he start to run, the other will send him back
flying. ' So they could safely set him free, he said, the more that
it was to their advantage. Otherwise, unless they kept their
distances, he could not but offend.

The canon here took Don Quijote's hand, though they were
tied together, and on his good faith and worth they released him,
to his exceeding joy. Hist first move was to stretch himself, the
next toward Rocinante, whose haunches he twice slapped,
saying : ' I still trust in God and his blessed Mother, O flower and
mirror of steeds, that we shall soon find ourselves where we both
long to be, thou with thy master on thy back, and I mounted on
my charger, following the calling for whose sake God sent me
into the world. ' So saying he retired with Sancho to a remote
spot whence he shortly returned much eased and more eager

XLlIX HISTORY VERSUS FICTION 227

than ever to put into practice wiiatever liis squire ordained. The
canon stared at him in amazement, considering the pitch of his
folly — how gallantly he rode in ordinary converse, yet lost his
stirrups the moment they encroached upon the dangerous ground
of chivalry. And so, after all had sate them down upon the green
turf, waiting for the provisions, the ecclesiastic was moved by
compassion to say to our knight :

' Can it be, sir, that the false and foolish stories of chivalry
have so mastered and impaired your reason that you truly
believe yourself enchanted, together with those other things, as
far as is falsehood from fact ? how is it possible that any human
understanding should come to believe there once existed that
swarm of Amadises ; that deluge of famous knights. Emperors
of Trebizond, Felixmartes of Hyrcania, palfreys, maidens-errant,
serpents, monsters, giants, unparalleled adventures ; such a
variety of enchantments, battles without number, terrific encoun|
ters, all manner of garbs ; so many princesses, squires turned
counts, merry dwarfs, love-missals ; all that billing and cooingt
so many valiant women ; in short the whole crazy fabric of ttxj
books of chivalry ? I confess that as long as I forget that taef
are all false and flimsy, I like them well enough, but whei^ i t
comes over me what they really are, I am ready to fling the bes t
of them at the wall or into the fire if one be burning, as cheiqits
and impostors beyond the pale of human tolerance, as propagaw
tors of a new sect and mode of life and as preachers of f8ps|e
doctrines that make the ignorant believe their rubbish. | \j

' Indeed these books make bold to befuddle the faculties of
gentlemen of good birth and intelligence, of whom your worship
is an example, since through them you've been brought to s uch
a pass that it's necessary to carry you caged on an ox-^art, ( ven
as they carry lions and tigers from place to place, exhibiting
them for money. Gome, sir ; take pity on yourself : returi i to
the bosom of discretion and make good use of all Heaven gave
you, employing your happy genius in reading that will redoi md
to the benefit of your conscience and the increase of your hon( ur.
If your nature be wholly inclined to books of action and I rue
chivalry, study the Book of Judges, where you'll find ^eat

228 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

realities, deeds veritable as valiant, Portugal had a Viriatus,
R(^me a Caesar, Carthage a Hannibal, Greece an Alexander,
stile a Fernkn Gonzjilez, Valencia a Gid, Andalucia a G^nzalo
lernandez, Estramadura a Diego Garc|a de Paredes, Jerez a
arci P^rez de Vargas, Toledo a Garcikso and Seville a Don
anuel de Leon — the reading of whose brave exploits can
€ ngage, edify and fill with admiration the finest of intellects. So
i ; it reading worthy the good understanding of your worship
s Ince from it, sir, you will grow learned in history, enamoured
( f virtue, enlightened in all better feelings, bettered in manners,
Irave without rashness, prudent without cowardice. And all

{ill be to God's honour, your own profit and the glory of
a Mancha whence, I am informed, your worship takes birth
5(nd origin. '

Don Quijote listened with fixed attention, and now that he
I saw the canon was done, after regarding him for some time, he
(delivered himself of the following : ' Methinks, sir, that the
father of your discourse was the wish that I believe there never
were knights-errant in the world, that all books of chivalry are
false, offensive and a burden to the state, and that I have done
ill in reading them, worse in believing and worst in emulating
them by undertaking as I have the almost impossible profession
of knight-errantry, the love of which they inculcate. Moreover,
you deny the existence of Amadis of Gaul or of Greece, together
with all the other knights wherewith such books are crammed. '
' Exactly my position, ' nodded the canon. ' Your worship said
further that these books had done much harm in that they had
quit me of my judgment and landed me in a jail ; and that 'twere
better that I face about and shift my reading to books more true,
more delightful and more informing. ' ' I certainly did. ' ' In that
case rny own opinion is that the one bewildered and bewitched
is yourself, since you blaspheme against a thing so universally
accep ed and so implicitly believed in that he that like your
worsl ip denies it deserves the fate you would mete out to these
books when they repel you. To try to persuade us that Amadis
and t le other knightly adventurers never lived, is like arguing
that t le sun gives no light, frost no chill, the earth no nourish-

XLlIX HISTORY VERSUS FICTION 229

meiit. What mind can move another to believe there's no truth
in the story of Princess Floripes and Guy of Burgundy, nor in
that of Fierabras at the bridge of Mantible, back there in the time
of Charlemagne ? To such a man I would swear them as true as
that 'tis now day. If these stories be lies, then there never lived a
Hector or Achilles, the Trojan war is but a myth, the Twelve
Peers of France the same, together with England's King Arthur,
that still lives in the form of a raven and whose return is hourly
expected of his people.

' Indeed they might as well say the history of Guarino Mezquino
is all gossip, along with the quest of the Holy Grail ; that the
loves of Tristan and Isolde are apocryphal ; the loves too of
Guinevere and Lancelot, when persons live that can almost
remember their confidante the duenna Quintanona, the best
wine-mixer in Great Britain. I myself recollect that my paternal
grandmother used to say to me when she saw some dame with
the traditional head-kerchief : ' Yon woman, my child, looks
like the duenna Quintanona ; ' from which I naturally conclude
she must have seen her or her portrait. Then too who can deny,
the truth of the tale dealing with Pierres and the fair Magalona/
when to this day in the royal armeria may be seen the pin
wherewith the gallant Pierres guided his steed through the aivp
it's a trifle larger than a cart-pole, and close to it lies Babiecars
saddle. Again at Roncesvalles may be seen Roland's horn, nig
as a great beam. From all this we may infer that there did once
exist the Twelve Peers, Pierres, the Gid and the other knighis
of the order commonly termed adventurers. j

' I suppose they'll tell me there was no such errant as t^e
valiant Lusitanian, Juan de Merlo, who in the Burgundian city
of Arras fought with Monseigneur Pierres, the famous lord of
Gharny, and later in the city of Basle with Monseigneur Enrique
de Remestan, emerging victorious from both encounters, covered
with honour and renown. They might as well dispute the verity
of the adventures and achievements in war of the valiant
Spaniards Pedro Barba and Gutierre Qui jada (from whose family
I am descended in the direct male line), who in Burguntiy

vanquished the sons of Count of San Polo. I shall hear too that

230 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

Don Fernando de Guevara never went on an adventure-quest to
Geritaany, where he had it out with Messire George, knight of
the ihouse of the duke of Austria. They would try to persuade me
tha| the jousts of Suero de Quinones, of Honourable Passage
fan|e, and the various sallies of Sir Luis de Falces against the
CaiJtilian knight Don G^nzalo de Guzman were practical jokes ;
together with many another deed done by Christian knight in
these and foreign realms, all so well vouched for and to be relied
upon that he that doubts then must be totally bereft of reason
and common sense. '

/ The canon was astounded by this medley of truth and fiction ;
J likewise by the mass of information Don Quijote possessed con-
cerning all things connected with knight-errantry. In reply he
said : ' I cannot deny, Senor Don Quijote, that there may be
some truth in what your worship has maintained, especially as
I regards the Spanish errants. I also grant you the existence of the
* Twelve Peers of France, though I am under no oath to believe
they performed all the exploits ascribed to them by Archbishop
Turpin. They simply were knights selected by the French kings,
called peers because supposed equal in worth, rank and prowess.
They formed a kind of religious order like the modern ones
of Santiago and Galatrava, wherein 'tis assumed that the recipients
are valiant knights of worth and birth. As we speak nowadays
of a knight of Saint John or of Alcantara, so then they spoke
of a knight of the Twelve Peers, because that particular number
of heroic hearts was chosen for this military order.

' That there once lived a Gid and a Bernardo del Carpio there
can be little doubt, but a grave one as to just what they per-
formed. As to Count Pierres ' pin, which you say stands close
to Babieca's saddle in the royal armeria, I confess my sin in that
either from ignorance or near-sightedness, though I saw the
saddle, I failed to notice the pin, large as you say it is. ' ' There
it stands beyond question, ' asserted Don Quijote : ' more by
token they say it is kept from rust by a cow-hide sheath. '
' Maybe it is, but by mine order I don't remember to have seen
it. Granting that it is there however, I still am not bound to
believe the histories of all the Amadises and of the whole mob

AN ERHANT'S life

231

of kaights folk gossip about, nor is it fitting that a man like
your worship, so respected, of such good parts and endowed
with so excellent an understanding, should take stock in so
many extravagant fairy-tales as are recorded in these imbecile
books. '

CHAPTER L

Sharp altercation 'twixt the canon and Quijote, together
'with certain other incidents

aui

Don Quiiote Iflr-the caaonj s
rinted wiUi the royalHaen se

0]:s
oliti

good jest indeed ! ' chuckl&
diatribe : ' books that are
tlje^pp^obation of those to whbm they art submijtted
reqm with pleasure by old and jyoung, ricl and ppor, S'
ana greentJorn, cavalier and comiaoner, by e ^ery class, in
of' whatever rank or/ condition -- these to be lies ! an
though thely bear ev^y mark of probability, givink the
mother, cojuntry, kin(kred, time, place and acliievenients, sjep liy
step and day by day, of every knight they blazon kbroaa. Tut,
tut, sir, speak not such blasphemy, believing! that E advise like a

WMt

./

read them and vou will fine

;^ing than' to

maxof sense when I say,
pleasm-e^u receivfr.

' For teiniie,.,can there
see yonder, stretchii^~BBfui'e us us it weicTir^eat lake of boiling
pitch, with schools of serpents, snakes, lizards and sundry
species of fearsome wild beasts swimming hither and thitlier,
while out of the midst thereof issues a plaintive voice sayi) ig :
' O knight, whosoever thou art that standest gazing on this v ild
water, woulds't thou win the fair fortune that rests beneath,
display the mettle of thy doughty breast, leaping into the bl ick
and fiery cauldron. Else shall thou not be found worthv to
behold the noble wonders hid in the seven castles of the seven
fays lying beneath this murky waste. ' I

' Scarce does the knight hear these stirring words when, without

232 DON QUIJOTE DE I.A MANCHA I

giving tlie matter thought, regardless of the danger, without even
so much as removing his heavy arms, commending himself to
Gq^d and his lady he plunges into the midst of the seething pool,
and when least he expects it, still ignorant of his fate, finds
himself amid flowery fields wherewith the Elysian are not to be
compared. The sky seems more translucent there — the sun to
shine with lovelier radiance. A still forest charms his sight with
its green umbrageous verdure, while the sweet natural song of
tl e many, many little painted birds, hopping among the interlaced
b; anches, delights his ears. Hard by he discovers a gentle brook
wtiose pure crystalline waters murmur over many pearly-white
piibbles and fine sands lying like sifted gold. Above he sees a
fo mtain made of parti-coloured jasper and polished marble ;
be low, another rustically fashioned in studied disorder, composed
of little mussel-shells and the white and yellow spiral mansions
of the snail, mingled with fragments of shining crystal and
en leralds — a composite work of art that seems, in copying
nature, to surpass her.

Suddenly there rises before him an impregnable castle or
go "geous palace with walls of solid gold, diamond turrets and
ja( inthine gates. So wondrous is its structure that, built entirely
of rubies, pearls, diamonds, carbuncles, gold and emeralds, its
w( rkmanship is still more rare. After all this what more could
on ; desire than to see issue from the gate thereof a bevy of maid-
en 1 in gay and gorgeous attire which, if I undertook to describe,
I s hould never have done. Their apparent leader takes the bold
knight by the hand and silently leads him within the splendid
palace or castle. Stripping him as naked as his mother bore him,
si e bathes him with tepid water, anoints him with sweet-
si lelling oils and clothes him in a shirt of softest sendal all
pi rfumed, while another throws o'er his shoulders a mantle said
tolbe worth at the very least a city, or even more.

' What a great thing when they tell how then they conduct him
to another chamber where our knight finds the tables set out so
layishly that it takes away his breath ! how for his hands they
pour water distilled from amber and sweet-scented flowers ! how
they seat him upon marble ! how the damsels in serving him

Jj AN erbant's life 233

preserve aVnarvellous silence ! how they fetch him such a variety
of dainties so temptingly prepared that the appetite is at a lofes
v*rhich to choose ! And then, while he eats, to hear the music and
song that hover about him, proceeding from he knows not
where ! And so, his repast ended and the tables removed, they
leave him reclining on the dais and (as was the custom) picking
his teeth maybe, when lo ! a maid far fairer than any of the first
enters by the chamber door, and taking her seat beside, tells pim
the name of that castle, how she's enchanted there, and oiher
things that hold the knight in suspense and fill the reader with
admiring delight. )

' I don't care to enlarge further, since from what I have said
may be seen how it matters not at what page of what err: nt's
history one opens, one is sure to be diverted and surprised. Let
your worship do as I say : read these books through and y )u'll
find that they banish melancholy and sweeten a soured nal ure.
For myself I may say that since I am become knight-errant, lifind
myself valiant, courteous, noble-minded ; liberal, gracious, bold
gentle, patient ; one that has undergone hardship, duress and
enchantment. Though a short time since I was thrown into a cage
like an idiot, I purpose by mine arm's might and Heaven's
favour, if fortune cross me not, in a few days to find myself King,
where I may manifest the gratitude and liberality courted ip my
breast. For the poor man cannot show himself generous though
he be so in the highest degree. Mere inclination to bestcw fa-
vours is a dead thing, like faith without works, and I the 'efore
could wish that fortune soon offered occasion whereby I might
reveal the goodness of my heart by conferring benefits on my
friends, in particular on my squire, poor Sancho here, th j best
fellow in the world. To him I should give a county, promised
these many days, but which, I fear, he lacks the capacity to
govern. '

Sancho, overhearing these words of his master, at
exclaimed : ' Rest not, Senor Don Quijote, but strive to
this county, as surely promised by your worship as expected by
me, for I give my word there'll be no lack of capacity to govern
the same. And were there, I've heard tell of men in the world

once
win

234 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

that farm lords' estates, at so much a year, taking alll;he trouble
of running things, while the lord sits with outstretched legs
enjoying his rent, and no worry. That's what I shall do, not
stand haggling over trifles : at once get clear of the whole, spend
my rent like a duke and let the world wag. ' ' That would answer
very well, brother Sancho, '^ advised the canon, ' so far as
enjoyment of the revenue is concerned, but the lord of a prov-
ince has also to administer justice, where ability and sound
judgment are needed, and above all a firm resolve to unearth the
truth. If at the beginning these be lacking, the middle and end
fare ill, and God as frequently rewards the honest intentions
of the simple as He frustrates the evil desidgte of the shrewd. '
' I know not these philosophies, ' replied Sancho ; ' I only
know I would I had the county, since I can rule it as soon as I
get it. I have as much soul as the next and as much body as the
best of them. I should be as much king on my estate as every
man on his, and being that I should do as I liked, and doing as I
liked I should do my pleasure, and in pleasing myself I should
be satisfied, and when a man is satisfied, nothing more is wanted,
and there's an end. So let the thing come. God be with you and
let us see ourselves, as one blind man said to another. ' ' These
aren't bad philosophies, as you call them, ' agreed the canon,
' though a good deal still might be said in this matter of counties. '
Here Don Quijote spoke up : ' I know not what more there is to
say : I simply follow the example set me by the great Amadis
of Gaul, who made his squire count of Insula Firme. With no
scruples of conscience therefore, I can bestow the same title on
Sancho Panza, one of the best squires that ever served knight-
errant. '

The canon was left amazed at ail this consistent nonsense
(if nonsense may be so termed), both at the manner in which
Don Quijote narrated the adventure of the lake and at the firm
hold the concerted falsehoods' of his books had taken, and last
but not least he marvelled at the ingenuousness of Sancho Panza
in fixing such eager hopes on the promise of his master. The
servants had now returned with the sumpter-mule, and making
a carpet and the green grass serve for table, in the shade of some

^11 THE PENITENTS HOME-COMING 235

trees they sat them down and there had their meal, that the
carter, as has been said, might not lose for his oxen the advantage
of the grazing.

(There is a short interruption here for the entrance of a goatherd
and his tale).

CHAPTER LII

The rare adventure of the penitents, brought to a happy-
issue by Don Quijote de la Mancha though at the expend-
iture of some sweat

Now this year it so happened that the clouds refused the earth
their wonted showers and all the villages round about
were organising procesions, rogations and penances imploring
God to open the hands of his mercy and send rain. With this
object the people of a hamlet hard by were marching to a shrine
at one side that dale, and as our knight beheld their penitential
garb, not stopping to think of the many such he had seen before,
he imagined here was an adventure that concerned him alone. In
this opinion he was confirmed by his belief that the image draped
in mourning was some lady of rank abducted by these low-lived
brazen-faced cowards.

Thus persuaded our champion promptly seized Rocinante,
who equally with the oxen had been grazing, removed the shield
and bridle fom the saddlebow, had him bitted in a trice, begged
his sword of Sancho, mounted, embraced the target and thus
addressed his companions : ' Now will you see, O worthy com-
pany, how imports it that in the world are men that profess the
order of errant knighthood. Now, I repeat, you will be able to
judge, by the liberation of the good woman borne captive there,
whether or no adventurers should rightly be esteemed.' With this
he dug heels into Rocinante (for just then spurs he had none)
and at full gallop (not once do we read of Rocinante's reaching
a run) rode to meet the penitents. The priest, canon and barber

236 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

did their best to restrain him, but without success. Nor were
more availing Sancho's cries of : ' Whither, whither, Seiior Don
Quijote ? what the deuce drives you to attack our Catholic faith ?
Mind, damn it all, 'tis a procession of penitents and the lady on
the stretcher is the most blessed image of the Virgin without
stain. Mind what you're about, sire, for this time of a truth it
may be said ye know not what ye do. '

Sancho exerted himself to no purpose : so bent was his master
on assaulting these draped figures and releasing the lady in black
that he heard not a word, nor would he have turned for a king's
summons. Arriving before the procession he checked his steed,
already quite willing to subside, and in harsh impetuous manner
called : ' Ye that hide your faces, for no good reason perhaps,
halt and hear what I say. ' The bearers of the image rested, and
one of the four ecclesiastics chanting litanies, observing the
strange visage and sorry get-up of the knight, together with the
leanness of his nag, said in reply : ' If you have aught to say,
brother, be brief, for these in our train are flagellating themselves
by way of penance, and we cannot and must not delay, unless
your message can be told in two words. ' ' In one ; it is this :
that you instantly set free that fair one, whose tears and sad
looks clearly betoken you carry her against her will, after having
done her some scandalous outrage. I, that was born into the
world to redress such injuries, shan't suffer one step in advance
till you have given the desired and deserved liberty. '

All that heard him utter this manifesto, knowing he must be a
madman, burst into laughter, which was as powder in inflaming
the wrath of Don Quijote, who now without another word drew
sword and made for the carrying-frame. One of the bearers,
leaving his share of the load to his companions, seized a brace
upon which the stretcher occasionally rested, and though a
sword-cut from his adversary cut off more than half thereof,
with the remaining third he dropped such a wicked rap on
the shoulder of the knight's sword-arm that, unable to defend
himself with his shield, he suffered a miserable fall. Sancho
Panza, who had now arrived, all out of wind from running,
seeing his master's discomfiture, called to his assailant to stay

IjII the penitents home-coming 237

the blows, since that was naught but a poor enchanted errant
that had never harmed anyone in all the days of his life. "What
stayed the churl however was not Sancho's outcry but the sight
of Don Quijote who moved neither hand nor foot. Supposing
him killed, the fellow hastily tucked up his tunic under his
girdle and fled across the fields like a deer.

By this time the knight's companions came up to where he
lay, and the processionists, seeing them advancing on the run,
particularly the officers with their cross-bows, made a stand
round the image as if expecting trouble. With raised hoods the
penitents with their scourges and the priests with their candle-
poles awaited the attack, fully determined to defend themselves
or even take the offensive if need be. But fortune decreed better,
for our village-priest was recognised by one among the process-
ionists, and thus the panic of the two squadrons was allayed.
Our priest in two sentences explained Don Quijote, whom the
penitents now crowded around to discover if dead. There, on
his master's body, they found Sancho Panza, making the most
pitiful and comical lament ever heard, wailing with tears :
' O rose of chivalry, to think that with just one cudgel-blow
should be ended the course of thy richly employed years !
O honour of thy line, honour and glory of La Mancha, indeed
of all the world, which lacking thee will fill with scoundrels, no
longer in fear of horse-whipping for their deviltries ! O liberal
above all the Alexanders, since for only eight months' service
thou hast given me the best island the sea encircles and
surrounds ! O thou humble with the proud and arrogant with
the humble, thou that takest dangers by storm, acquainted with
humiliation, enamoured without cause, emulator of the good,
thou scourge of the wicked, thou foe of the mean ! in short a
knight-errant, which leaves nothing more to be said ! '

With this his squire's lamentation the knight came to ; his first
words were : ' He that from thee live^^art, sweetest Dulcinea,
endures by that act greater misery than these. Friend Sancho,
help me mount the enchanted cart, for with this shoulder in
pieces I may not press the saddle of my steed. ' ' Here am I, '
responded the other, ' and let us, my master, go to our homes

238 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

in company with these gentlemen who wish you only good, for
there we can plan another sally that will result in greater profit
and greater fame. ' ' You say well, ' sighed his lord, ' and sound
wisdom will it be to let pass the baleful influence of the stars now
in the ascendant. ' The canon, priest and barber seconded this
good resolve and lifted the knight to his old position on the cart.
The processionists formed and took up their pilgrimage ; the
officers not caring to go further, were paid off by the priest. The
canon too went his way, leaving only the priest, barber, Don
Quij'ote, Sancho and the good Rocinante, who had suffered all
things as patiently as his sire.

The carter reyoked his oxen and with our knight resting
against a bundle of hay set out at the usual pace on a road pointed
out by the priest. At the end of six days they reached Don
Quijote's village, which they entered about noon on a Sunday,
with the village-folk all in the plaza through which the cart had
to pass. Every one ran to get a look inside and what was their
astonishment on finding their fellow-townsman there. A small
boy ran to notify the housekeeper and niece of the arrival of
their master and uncle, pale, emaciated, stretched in an ox-cart
on a bundle of hay, and pitiful it was to hear their lamentations,
the buffetings they gave themselves and the curses they heaped
afresh on those abominable books of chivalry — all of which
they repeated when Don Quijote entered at the gate.

Sancho Panza's wife came running at the news of our advent-
urer's return, knowing her husband had accompanied him in the
office of squire. On finding him her first question was was
Dapple well. ' In better health than his master, ' replied Sancho.
' Thanks be to God that has given me this blessing ! But tell
me, friend, what good things have you brought back from your
squiries ? what petticoat for me and what little shoes for the
children ? ' ' Nothing of that, ' replied her husband, ' but things
of greater pith and moment. ' ' Good enough, let's have a look at
them, dearie. I wish to clieer my heart, sad and upset all the
ages you have been away. ' ' Wait till we are home then ; rest
content for tlie present, and should it please God that we take
the road again in quest of adventures, you'll see me made a count

LII THE PENITKNTS HOME-COMING 239

or governor of an isle — not the kind that grow around here
but the best that can be found. ' ' So Heaven grant, for we need
it enough ; but tell me more about them, husband, for isles are
new to me. ' ' Honey is not for the ass's mouth ; in time you'll
see, and won't you be surprised to hear vassals address you as
Your Ladyship ! '

' What are you talking about, man — ladyships and vassals
and isles ? ' enquired Juana Panza — such was the name of San-
cho's wife (they weren't kinsfolk but in La Mancha wives are
wont to take their husband's surnames). ' Don't be in such a
hurry to know everything at once ; it's enough that I tell the
truth and led it rest at that. Only let me say in passing that for
an honest man there's no better sport than being squire to a
knight-errant-seeker-of-adventures. To be sure most of those
they find don't pan out as one might hope : out of every hundred
ninety-nine have a twist on them — in saying which I speak
from knowledge, for from some I have emerged in a blanket, and
knocked out of shape from others. But for all that it's a fine
thing to go looking for experiences, crossing mountains, prying
into woods, climbing over rocks, dropping in at castles and
putting up at taverns at one's will and with devil a farthing to
pay! '

While passed this colloquy, the knight's niece and housekeeper
had received him at his house door, stripped him of clothes and
laid him on his ancient bed, he all the while staring vacantly,
not knowing where he was. The priest charged the niece to spare
no pains in making her uncle comfortable and ever to be on the
alert lest he again escape them. He told the women the story of
the rescue, at which recital they raised anew their lamentation
and a second time anathematised the books of chivalry, imploring
Heaven to plunge the authors of such lies and extravagances
into the bottom of the abyss.

The pair were left on pins and needles lest their master and
uncle give them the slip the moment he found himself better, but
though it fell out as they feared, the present author hasn't
succeeded in finding, at least in authentic writings, record of the
deeds our knight performed on this his third sally, though he has

240 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

sought with pains and diligence. This much only has fame pre-
served in the memories of La Manchan folk — that the third
time their favourite son left home he journeyed to Saragossa, and
there took part in the famous jousts, acquitting himself in a
manner worthy his valour and resolute mind.

PART II

16

PROLOGUE

GOD help me, illustrious or belike plebeian reader, how anxiously
must thou be looking to this prologue, expecting me to abuse,
trim and anathematise the author of the false Don Quijote, him
reputed conceived in Tordesillas and born in Tarragona. Alas,
I cannot give thee this satisfaction for, though injury is v^^ont to
waken wrath even in the meekest breasts, mine must be the
exception. Thou wouldst have' me name him ass, idiot, shameless
creature ; this, however, I am far from doing. Let his sin be his
punishment, with his bread let him eat it and there let it rest. The
only thing I felt was his calling me old and maimed, as though
'twere in my power to stay Time's passing and as though I received
my maimedness in some tavern-brawl and not in the noblest occa-
sion seen of past or present, the noblest .the future e'er may hope
to see. If my scars shine not in strangers' eyes, at least they are
respected by those knowing their origin ; for better looks the soldier
dead in battle than alive in flight. So firmly do I hold this that it
here and now they offered me such an impossibility, rather would
I be found in that mighty action, than not and free of wounds. The
scars a soldier wears on his face and breast are stars rather,
leading others to a heaven of honour and the hope of deserved
praise. Let it be considered too that one writes not with grey hairs
but with the understanding, which is wont to better itself with age.
I also take it ill that he calls me envious and then proceeds to
explain as to a dullard what envy is, when of the two kinds I truly
know only that which is sacred, honourable and pure, and I have
therefore no mind to abuse a priest, especially if he be a familiar of
the Holy Oilice. If he said this on behalf of whom he seems to say
it, he is wholly deceived, since I worship that man's genius and
admire his work and his virtuous unfaltering zeal. Yet am I grateful
to this gentlemanly author for thinking my novels more satirical
than exemplary, while admitting their excellence ; which they would
want did they not partake of the nature of both. I seem to hear thee
say I go gently in this matter and am quite content within the
bounds of my submission, as if concious that afflictions may not be
heaped upon the afflicted. And indeed that which this gentleman

PROLOGUE S43

suffers must be grave, since he dares not appear in the open field
beneath the clear sky, but conceals his name and disguises his
dwelling-place as if guilty of high treason. If thou perchance meet
with him, say I bear no ill-will, knowing as I do the temptations of
the devil and that one of the greatest is believing one can write and
publish a book certain to win as much fame as money and as much
money as fame. In confirmation thereof prithee tell him in your best
wit and manner the following tale :

' In Seville dwelt a certain madman that hit upon the strangest
vagary and notion ever such an one conceived. Every dog he could
catch in the streets or elsewhere, he would hold by its fore-legs
between his own and raising its hind ones would fit a cane-tube
sharpened at the end, and then blow the cur up till he made it round
as a ball. Keeping it in this position he would give it two little slaps
on its belly before he let it go, saying to the bystanders (who were
always many) : ' Your worships see how little it is to fill a dog. '
So your worship may know little it is to fill a book. '

And if that tale please him not, dear reader, tell him this, like-
wise of a madman and a dog ; ' In Cordova dwelt another lunatic,
whose habit it was to carry on his head a marble slab or other heavy
stone. Approaching any heedless cur he would drop it on him,
plump, whereat the dog in his terror would not cease yelping and
howUng for three streets. One day he chanced to approach a pointer,
owned and greatly beloved by a hat-maker. The stone dropped,
struck the dog on the head, the brute gave a howl, his master saw
and felt, and rushing out with a yard-stick left not a whole bone in
the body of the idiot, at whom with every stroke he cried : ' What,
my pointer ? you rascally cur ! Didn't you see, you heartless wretch,
that my dog was a pointer ? ' and dinning the word in his ear he let
him go, pounded to a jelly. The idiot learned his lesson and for more
than a month kept off the streets, but at length appeared again with
his little game and a still heavier weight. He approached the first
dog as usual, but looking him over from head to tail, neither dared
nor cared to drop his burden, saying : ' 'Tis a pointer, go slow ! ' In
short he insisted that every dog he met, though mastiff or terrier,
was a pointer, and so never let fall his stone. '

Thus perchance will it fare with this historian, that he'll no longer
have the effrontery to let fall the weight of his wit in books which,
being bad, are harder than rocks. Tell him too, touching his threat
to rob me of my profits by his book, that I don't care a farthing,

244 PROLOGUE

and I answer in the words of the famous farce La Perendenga :
' Long live the alderman my master, and Christ be with us all. '
Long live the great Conde de Lemos, whose Christian charity and
widely known liberality keep me on my feet against all the blows of
my scant fortune. And long live the supreme benevolence of His
Eminence of Toledo, Don Bernardo Sandoval y Rojas, presses or no
presses and though there be printed against me more books than
there are letters in the couplets of Mingo Revulgo. Without adulation
or flattery from me these two princes have of their own goodness
done me service whereby I count myself richer and happier than if
fortune herself had led me to her summit. Honour is ever possible to
a poor man, but never to a vicious ; poverty may obscure but cannot
efface nobility of nature. Virtue of herself gives light which, though
through vents and chinks of penury it shine, comes to be valued of
high and noble spirits and is by them favoured.

Tell him no more, even as I have no more to tell thee, save that
thou shalt regard this second part of Don Quijote as cut by the same
hand and from the same cloth as the first. In it I offer our hero
continued, concluded and in his grave, lest any dare revive him.
Sufficient is the witness of his past ; sufficient too that a responsible
person should twice have given thee his shrewd foUies, without
asking that they be entered into again. A surfeit even of good things
grows wearisome, while a dearth, though of things bad, wins a
certain esteem. I was forgetting to say that thou mayst soon expect
the Persiles, which I am now finishing, together with the second
part of Galatea.

CHAPTER I

The priest and barber interview Don Quijote with regard

to his infirmity

IN the second part of this history, being the third sally of Don
Quijote, Gid Hamed Benengeli relates that the priest and
barber refrained from calling on our knight for almost a month,
lest they quicken the past in his memory. Occasionally however
they dropped in on the niece and housekeeper, urging that their
master be given nourishing food, such as would benefit mind and
brain, whence, there was reason to believe, proceeded the whole
trouble. The women replied that they would persevere in these
their attentions with all possible diligence and care, for they
could see that their master now and then showed signs of once
more being himself. On hearing this news the visitors were more
than delighted and congratulated themselves on the success of
their plan in carrying him home enchanted on the ox -cart, as
described in the last chapter of the first part of this great as
true history.

So our friends resolved to wait upon Don Quijote and judge
for themselves as to his recovery, though, deeming it hardly pos-
sible in so short a time, they agreed not to refer even remotely to
errant arms, lest they risk reopening a wound that must still be
tender. Accordingly they called and found the knight sitting in
bed, clad in green baize jerkin and red Toledan night-cap so dry
and colourless himself that one might take him for a mummy.
He received them very cordially, and on their asking after his
condition answered rationally with well -chosen words both
with regard to himself and his past illness. In the course of con-
versation they came to treat of ways and means in matters of
state, amending this abuse and condemning that, reforming one
custom and^anishing another, each of the three setting himself
up' as a late-born lawgiver, a modern Lycurgus or brand-new

246 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 11

Solon. In short they remade the republic as completely as if they
had put it in a forge and drawn forth quite another. And upon
all these matters Don Quijote spake with such sense that his
two inquisitors couldn't but believe him again clothed and in his
right mind.

The niece and housekeeper were present at this interview and
could not sufficiently thank their God, when they saw their
master so sound in reason. But the priest, changing the first
intent of not harking back to chivalry, would now make a
thorough test of their friend's recovery, whether apparent only
or real. And thus from one thing to another he came at last to
tell of the news from the capital : among other things how 'twas
considered certain that the Turk was lowering with a powerful
armada, though his designs were not yet known, nor where the
great storm was likely to burst. Almost every year, the priest
explained, this peril calls us to arms ; now all Christendom was
alert, and His Majesty had provided for the defence of Naples,
Sicily and the island of Malta. ' His Majesty, ' remarked Don
Quijote, ' has acted like a politic warrior in fortifying his
dominions aforetime, that the enemy may not find him unpre-
pared. But if my advice were listened to, I could suggest to our
sovereign a certain precautionary measure, at this time furthest
from his thoughts. '

Scarce had these words left his mouth when the priest
exclaimed to himself : ' God hold thee in his hand, my poor
Don Quijote, since surely thou art falling from the height of
madness to the abyss of simplicity ! ' Though sharing the priest's
apprehension, the barber ventured to enquire what was this
measure he deemed so advisable ; belike it resembled other
impertinent counsels so freely offered to princes. ' Mine, goodman
shaver, would not prove impertinent but quite the reverse. '
' I intended no discourtesy, ' apologised the other, ' but experi-
ence shows impossible, absurd or injurious to king or realm all
or most expedients proposed to His Majesty. ' ' My remedy, '
the knight assured him, ' is none of these. Rather 'tis the best,
simplest, most practicable and immediate that any projector
could devise, '

I THE THREE FRIENDS 247

' Your worship is long in declaring it, ' remarked the priest.
' I little care to reveal it now to you two and in the morning
have it whispered in the ears of the royal council and another
gather the fruit and guerdon of my labour. ' ' As for me, ' quoth
the barber, ' I give my word here and before God not to repeat
a syllable of what your worship may say, to king, Roque or
earthly man : an oath I borrow from a ballad belonging to the
priest, in the preface of which the king is informed of the thief
that stole a hundred doubloons and his ambling mule. ' ' I'm not
acquainted with the tale, ' replied Don Quijote, ' but I trust the
oath because I know that senor barber is a man of honour. '
' "Were he not, ' said the priest, '.I'ld go bail and vouch that in
this instance, on penalty of sentence and costs, he'ld not speak
more than a dummy. ' ' And who will answer for you, father ? '
' My profession, which is to keep secrets. '

' Body of me ! ' thereupon exclaimed the knight, ' what has
His Majesty to do but publicly summon on a given day all
knights-errant at present roaming over Spain, for should but
a bare half-dozen appear, amongst them might be one that
single-handed could destroy the Turk's entire armament ! Follow
me, gentlemen, in what I am about to say. Is it perchance un-
heard of for a solitary knight to crush an army of two hundred
thousand men as if of sugar- paste and joined at one throat?
nay, tell me, how many histories abound with these marvels ?
Farewell Quijote, not to mention others, were famous Don
Belianis or any of the innumerable line of Amadis of Gaul now
alive, for were the Turk faced with one of them, I'ld not answer
for the consequences. God however will take care of his people
and send one that, if not so bold as adventurers of old, will
be no less chivalrous. He understands me and that is enough. '
' Woe's me, ' cried the niece, ' may they kill me if mine uncle
doesn't wish to turn knight-errant again ! ' ' Knight-errant must
I die, let the Turk lower or rise when he pleases and powerfully
as he may, but again I say God knows my meaning. ' Upon
this the barber said : ' Allow me, your worships, to relate a
little episode originating from Seville, which I am anxious to
rehearse to you all because it fits the occasiqn like a glove.'

248 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

His host gave permission, the priest and others their attention
and the barber began :

' His kinsfolk placed a certain madman in the Seville madhouse
through his having lost his wits. He was a graduate in common
law at Osuna but many held that though it had been at Salamanca,
none the less held have been crazy. At the end of several years
confinement he made himself believe that he was again in his
right mind and writing the archbishop to this effect craved
release from his present misery. Through God's mercy he had
entirely recovered his former wits, he declared, though his
kinsfolk, to enjoy his property, still kept him confined and even
to his death would insist despite the truth that he was mad.

' Moved by his many and coherent letters the archbishop bade
one of his chaplains learn from the madhouse-superintendent
whether or not what the the lawyer wrote was so ; furthermore
to speak with the inmate himself and if he appeared sane, pro-
cure his release. The chaplain complied and in answer to his
questions the superintendent said the party was certainly still
crazed : though frequently he spoke like a person of considerable
intelligence, at the end he never failed to deliver himself of ideas
that both in quantity and quality equalled in folly his previous
good sense, as by conversing with him would be discovered.

' The chaplain desired to make the test and closeting himself
with the fellow talked with him an hour or more, in all which
time the graduate said nothing vapid or strange ; indeed he spoke
with such perception that the chaplain was forced to believe him
wholly restored. Among other things the latter said that the
superintendent was .against him that he might not lose the hush-
money constantly sent by his kinsmen, that he should still be
reported mad, though with lucid intervals. The curse in his
misfortune was a considerable property, to enjoy the fruits
whereof his enemies wronged him by denying that our Lord had
shown this mercy of turning him from beast to human being. In
short he brought the superintendent under suspicion, made his
kinsfolk appear godless, covetous wretches, and himself so quick
and clever that the chaplain decided to take him along and let
the archbishop himself put his finger on the truth.

THE THREE FRIENDS

' In this good faith the good chaplain asked the superintendent
to see that the man's clothes were returned. The other again
warned him that tlie fellow was still unquestionably mad, but
this advice was wasted on the chaplain, and the superintendent
seeing it was at the archbishop's orders had the lawyer dressed
in his fine clothes. On finding himself in his right mind and rid
of his crazy weeds our friend prayed the chaplain to let him out
of love bid farewell to his companions there. The chaplain said
he would accompany him and see the other inmates, so they and
several others went upstairs to where they were confined. The
graduate first approached the cell of a raving fellow, who chanced
just then to be tractable and quiet, and thus addressed him :
' See if there is aught I can do for you, brother, for I am going
home, now that God through his infinite goodness and mercy
and through no desert of mine has been pleased to restore me to
sanity. Yes, I am myself again, for with Him all things are
possible. Put your hope and trust in the Father, for, even as He
has returned me to my first estate, so will He you to yours,
if you trust Him. I shall make a point of sending you dainties,
which be sure to eat, for I'M have you know what I, that have
been through the mill, think about these matters, and that is
that all our wild ways come from empty stomachs and heads
full of air. Take courage, man, for dejection in misfortune short-
ens life and hastens death. '

' This little lecture was overheard by another inmate whose
cell was just opposite, and this fellow, raising himself from an
old rush-mat where he lay stripped and bare to the skin, in loud
voice now questioned who it was that was leaving so sane and
sound. ' It is I, brother, ' the graduate replied, ' for there's no
need of my remaining longer; for which I give infinite thanks to
Heaven that thus has greatly favoured me. ' ' Take care, sir, and
let not the devil deceive thee, ' returned the lunatic ; ' ease thy
foot : abide here and avoid being sent back. ' ' I'm certain I am
sane, ' declared the graduate, ' nor will there be reasons why I
again should pray for indulgence. ' ' Thou well ! ' quoth the
madman ; ' never mind, let it pass and God be with thee. But I
swear to thee by Jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth,

230 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

that for the crime Seville commits this day in releasing thee as a
man of right mind, I shall heap such punishment upon her that
the memory thereof will abide for ever and ever, amen. Rest
assured that I can do it too, thou miserable grovelling graduate,
for I am Jupiter the thunderer, that hold in my hands the
blasting bolts wherewith I can and am wont to threaten and
devastate the world ! But I purpose to chastise this ignorant
people in quite another way : by not raining hereabouts for three
whole years, counting from the day and hour whereon this curse
is pronounced. Thou free, thou sane, thou cured ! and I mad,
I gone astray, I in confinement ! why, I should as soon think
of raining as of hanging myself. '

' The bystanders listened attentively to these vociferations, at
the end of which our graduate, turning to the chaplain, seized
him by the hands saying ; ' Fear not, sir ; don't attend to what
this fool has spoken, for if he is Jupiter and will not rain, I,
that am Neptune the father and god of waters, will rain as often
as I choose and there's need. ' The superintendent and the others
laughed, to the no small confusion of the chaplain who finally
said : ' For all that. Mister Neptune, 'twill never do to ruffle old
Jupiter. For the present stay where you are and some day with
more time and better opportunity we'll return for you. ' They
stripped the fellow, he remained in the madhouse and my story
is ended. '

' So this is the tale, mister barber, that fitted so like a glove
to the present occasion that you couldn't forbear telling it ! '
exclaimed Don Quijote ; ' well, well, goodman shaver, and how
blind is he that can't see through a sieve ! But can you not have
seen that comparisons 'twixt any two wits or warriors, fair ones
or families, are ever odious and ill received? I, barber friend, am
not Neptune god of the sea, nor do I try to make others believe
me sane when I am not. My sole aim in life is to convince the
world of its error in failing to revive that blessed age when
flourished knights-at-arms. These depraved times however don't
deserve the fortune enjoyed of those days when wandering ad-
venturers assumed the defence of kingdoms, the championship
of maidens, relief of orphans and minors, chastisement of the

I THE THaEE FRIENDS 251

proud and reward of the humble. Nowadays most knights rustle
in damasks, brocades and other rich stuffs rather than in the
mail of their armour. What cavalier now sleeps in the fields
exposed to the rigour of the elements, armed cap-a-pie ? Not
one, nor are there those that, without drawing feet from stirrups,
leaning on their lances snatch but a wink of sleep, like the
errants of old. No, not one that, sallying forth from this wood
say, passes through yon mountain-range, and tliere measuring the
barren shore of the ever-changing tempestuous sea finds a little
bark without oars or sail, mast or tackle, wherein with intrepid
heart he leaps, abandoning himself to the implacable surge, that
now mounts him to the skies and now sinks him low as the
abyss ; but he, facing the almighty storm, when least he expects
it finds himself three thousand and more leagues distant from
where he embarked, and leaping forth on a remote and unknown
shore meets with experiences worthy to be inscribed not on
parchment but on bronze.

' With us, on the contrary, sloth triumphs over industry, ease
over labour, vice over virtue, vanity over valour, and the theory
over the practice of arms, which only in the errants of the golden
age truly lived and were splendid. Or tell me, who more hon-
est and brave than the famous Amadis of Gaul ? more wise than
Palmerin of England ? more reasonable and accommodating
than Tirante the white ? who more gallant than Lisuarte of Greece
or more slashed and a better fencer than Don Belianis ? Who,
pray tell, was more intrepid than Perion of Gaul or better at
facing dangers than Felixmarte of Hyrcania ? who more sincere
than Esplandian or more rash than Girongilio of Thrace ? who
bolder than Rodamonte or more prudent than king Sobrino ?
who ever lived more the dare-devil than Rinaldo or more invin-
cible than Roland? and last of all who more the courteous
gentleman than Ruggiero, from whom the dukes of Ferrara are
descended, according to Turpin in his cosmography ?

'AH these, father, and many another I might name, were
knights-errant, the rose and expectancy of arms. These, or such
as these, I could wish to be they that would answer the sum-
mons, for in that event His Majesty would find himself well

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

11

served and avoid mucfi waste, while the Turk could go pull his
beard. Bui now I'll stay where I am, since the chaplain doesn't
call me. Snould Jupiter not rain however, here am I, that will
rain when I please. I say this that master basin may be sure I
comprehend him.' 'Believe me, Seiior Don Quijote, ' protested
the barber, ' I didn't mean it that way, and since my intention
was good, so may God help me, your worship shouldn't resent
what I said. ' ' I am the best judge as to whether I should resent
it or not, ' the knight returned ; whereupon the priest spoke up :
' Though I've scarce unsewed my lips as yet, I prefer not to
be left with a certain scruple that scratches and gnaws at my
conscience, born of what Senor Don Quijote has just been
saying. ' ' Your reverence, ' replied Don Quijote, ' has leave for
more than that and so certainly may confide your scruple ; a
pricking conscience is no peace. '

' "With this permission then, I'll say I find it impossible to
persuade myself that this motley crew of errant knights referred
to by your worship were truly persons of flesh and bone living
in the world. On the contrary I fear that it's all fiction, fable
and falsehood, dreams told by men awake or better to say half-
asleep. ' ' This is another error many have fallen into, and I have
repeatedly laboured with all sorts of persons and on many and
divers occasions to bring this most general illusion face to face
with the light of truth. Sometimes I have failed, again succeeded,
supporting all I have said upon truth's shoulders. Which truth is
so certain that I am ready to say I have seen Amadis of Gaul
with these very eyes : a man of great stature, fair skin, handsome
though blackish beard, in bearing neither stern nor gentle,
of few words, slow to anger and promptly appeased. In the
same manner, such as I imagine them to have been, I could
paint and describe all the knights-errant that figure in the history
of this world, simply from mine intuition that they were what
their biographies profess. From the deeds they performed and
the natures they betrayed could reasonably be constructed
visages, colouring and statures. '

' How tall do you think the giant Morgante to have been ? '
enquired the priest. ' Opinions diff'er as to whether or no there

I THE THREE FRIENDS 253

ever were giants in the world, but Holy Scripture, which cannot
contain one atom of falsehood, shows there must have been,
giving us the story of the ever-so-tall Philistine Goliath, who
stood seven cubits and a half, an unconscionable height. In
Sicily moreover have been found shank and shoulder-bones
large enough to be fastened upon giants as tall as a tower —
geometry puts this beyond a doubt. Nevertheless I can't state
precisely how tall Morgante was, though I imagine he couldn't
have been colossal, for in the story where particular mention
is made of his deeds I find he frequently slept under cover —
if he could squeeze into a house, obviously his bulk was not
inordinate. '

' That certainly follows, ' assented the priest who, in his
enjoyment of this extravagance, now asked his friend concerning
the features of Rinaldo of Montalvan, and of Don Roland and
the other Twelve Peers of France, all of whom were errant-
knights. ' I should hazard that Rinaldo had broad features, ruddy
complexion, eyes quick and rather prominent, that he was an
excessive spit-fire and a friend of thieves and reprobates. I always
picture Roland, Rotolando or Orlando (known to history under
the three names) as of medium height, broad-shouldered, a trifle
bow-legged, of swarthy skin, auburn beard and hairy body
generally, with a savage look about him and though not much
of a talker, cultured and courteous withal. ' ' If that was his
appearance, ' observed the priest, ' no wonder Angelica the fair
disdained and quitted him for the gentle spirit, gaiety and manners
of the little beard-budding Moorish lad with whom she took up,
showing her good taste in craving Medoro's softness over
Roland's severity. '

' This Angelica, ' explained Don Quijote, ' was a coarse
woman, roving and fickle to boot, and left the world as filled
with her badness as her beauty. She scorned a thousand men of
noble birth, a thousand warriors, a thousand wisemen, putting
up at last with a little smooth-faced page without riches and
with no name other than a reputation for gratitude, entitled
thereto by the loyalty he bore his friend. The great singer of the
girl's attractions, the famous Ariosto, not daring or not caring to

DON QTJIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

sing her lot after her vile surrender, siace they couldn't be things
exceeding in purity, bade her farewell with the lines :

How she obtained the sceptre of Cathay,
Some bard with defter quill will sing the lay.

Doubtless this was a kind of prophecy, especially as poets also
go by the name of seers or diviners. The truth thereof is now
made evident, for since then a famous Andalusian poet has wept
and chanted her tears, and another rare and renowned Gastilian
has sung her beauty. '

' Tell me, Senor Don Quijote, ' here interposed the barber,
• among so many that have praised Angelica, has there been
none to satirise her ? ' And the other said : ' I can well believe
that had Sacripante or Roland himself been poets, she'ld have
had a scrubbing ere now, for it's only natural that poets, dis-
dained and refused by their real or imaginary lady-loves, by
those in short whom they elect mistresses of their thoughts,
should take vengeance in satires and libels ; though such ven-
geance surely is unworthy generous breasts. But so far no
defamatory lines against the lady Angelica have come to my
notice, though she turned the whole world upside down. ' ' 'Tis
very strange, ' said the priest. Just then they heard the niece and
housekeeper (who had left the conversation) making a great to-do
in the corral, and our friends hastened to see what was the
trouble.

CHAPTER II

The notable struggle 'twixt Saucho Pauza on one side and
niece and housekeeper on the other, together with further

rare incidents

THE history goes on to tell us that the outcries heard by Don
Quijote, priest and barber came from the housekeeper and
niece, who were berating Sancho Panza. The squire was tighting
his way in to see the master, while the women were holding the
door against him and calling out : ' What does the vagabond

II KNIGHT AND SQUIRE 2SS

want here ? Go home, thief, since you it is and none else that
steals master away and carries him off into the backwoods I '
And to this Sancho returned : ' Housekeeper of Satan ! the stolen
and carried through the backwoods is I, not your master. He it
is that drags me off through these worlds and you are sadly
mistaken. 'Twas he enticed me from home with catchpennies,
promising me an isle, which still I look for. ' ' May the cursed
thing choke you, mischievous fellow ! ' retorted the niece ;
' what's an isle anyway — something to eat, glutton that you
are ? ' ' Not to eat, bat to rule and govern better than four
cities, and more profitable than four justiceships at court. ' ' All
the same, ' declared the housekeeper, ' you can't get in here,
you sack of corruption and bundle of malice. Go and govern
your house and till your farm, and leave off pretending isles and
islands. '

The priest and barber were delighted by all this, but Don
Quijote, fearing lest Sancho rip open and expose a sack of
mischievous blunders, touching on things not clearly to his
master's credit, called to him, bidding the two women hush their '
racket and let him in. Sancho entered and the priest and barber
took leave, despairing of their friend's recovery, seeing how set
he was in his roving thoughts, how drunk with the folly of his
halting chivalries. In so many words the priest said this to the
barber : ' You'll see friend, that when least we expect it our
gentleman will be off for another flight. ' ' I shouldn't wonder ;
yet I am not so amazed at the madness of the knight as at the
simplicity of the squire, clinging so tenaciously to his island
that I question if any i^ber of disillusions could wrest it from
his skull. ' ' God help them both, ' said the other ; ' let us be on
the watch that we may see what comes of this crazy combination
of master and man. It's as if the two had been cast in one
mould — the lord's infatuation without the servant's gullibility
wouldn't be'worth a sou. ' ' So T tHink,-^»aid the barber, ' and
gladly wdiiim~"know what the pair are treating of at this
moment. ' ' Depend upon our hearing from the niece and house-
keeper, for theirs are not natures to resist eavesdropping. '

Don Quijote shut the chamber-door behind Sancho and himself,

256 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

and when they were alone, the one said to the other : ' Much it
grieves me, Sancho, that you said and still say I was the one that
drew you from your cottage, though knowing I didn't abide in
my castle. Together we sallied forth — we lodged and travelled
side by side ; one luck and one lot pursued us both. If they
blanketed you once, they belaboured me a hundred times. Hence
I carry off the honours. ' ' And rightly, ' said the other, ' for, as
you yourself say, disasters are more congenial to errants than
shieldbearers. ' ' You are mistaken, Sancho, for the saying is,
Guando caput dolet — ' ' I understand no other tongue than
mine, ' interrupted the squire. ' I mean to say that when the head
suffers, all the members suffer with it, and I, being your lord,
am your head and you that are my servant are my body. The ill
I receive must be your pain as well, and your ills will likewise
grieve me. '

' It must be as you say, master, but that time they tossed me,
a member, in a blanket, my head was behind the wall watching
me wing the air and not suffering a twinge. Now since the limbs
• are bound to sympathise with pain in the head, so the head should
feel for pain in the limbs. ' ' Do you mean to suggest that I didn't
suffer when I saw them toss you ? If you do, neither speak nor
think it, for I felt more pain in my spirit on that occasion than
you in your body. But putting this aside, for the opportunity
will come when we can consider and settle it, tell me, friend,
what says the village of me ? in what opinion do the common
people hold their townsman ? in what the hidalgos and in what
the knights ? "What think they of my valour, my achievements
and my courtesy ? What do you hear said anent mine undertaking
to restore to the world its already forgotten order of chivalry ?
In fine, boy, I would that you repeat all that has reached your
ears regarding me, without adding aught to the good or substract-
ing from the evil. 'Tis the part of loyal vassals to represent the
truth to their lords in her own image and person, not letting
adulation add to or foolish awe detract from her proper form.
I would have you know, Sancho, that were the truth presented
to princes stripped of the guises of flattery, the times would be
different and other ages be held more iron-bound than ours.

II

KINGHT AND SQUIRE 257

which I believe the golden of modern times. Profit by what I say,
friend, in order that wisely and well-meaningly you may place
in mine ears the facts concerning which I have questioned you. '

' This I'll do most willingly, master mine, provided your
worship won't take offence at what I say, since you wish me to
repeat things stark-naked, with no more clothes on than when
they came to me. ' ' In no wise shall I take offence, ' promised
the knight ; ' you may speak freely without circumlocution. '
' Then the first thing on my list is that the common folk take
you for an out-and-out idiot and me for no less. The hidalgos
say that, not content to remain among the gentry, you prefixed
the Don and all of a sadden advanced yourself to a cavalier,
though owning but four small vineyards, two yokes of land and
not a whole shirt to don to your name. The cavaliers say they
don't want hidalgos to go rivalling them, especially squireling
gentry that smear their own shoes and stitch their black stockings
with green silk. ' ' This, ' observed Don Quijote, ' cannot apply
to me, who always walk forth in my best of clothes and never
look patched. Shabby I may be, but shabby from the wear and
tear of arms than of time. '

Sancho proceeded : ' Concerning your worship's valour, court-
esy, achievements and general project, opinions differ : some say
mad, but a pretty fancy ; others brave but unlucky ; still others,
courteous but cavalier. Indeed opinion goes knocking at so many
points as to leave neither of us a whole bone. ' ' Observe, San-
cho, ' said the other, ' that where virtue exists eminently, 'tis
persecuted. Few or none of the famous great ones of old escaped
calumny. Julius Caesar, most spirited, wise and valiant captain
that he was, they set down not only as ambitious but unclean
both in dress and manners. Alexander, whose deeds gained him
the epithet of the great, is said to have had marks of the drunk-
ard upon him. They even tell me that Hercules, he of the many
labours, was lascivious and soft. Don Galaor, brother of Amadis
of Gaul, 'tis whispered was excessively quarrelsome and of his
brother that he was a whimperer. Among such scandalous
vilification of good men, that of me may surely pass unheeded,
when 'tis no more than you have mentioned. '

17

268 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA ■"

' That's the deuce of it, body of my father ! ' exclaimed San-
cho. ' Then is there something to come ? ' ' The tail is not
skinned yet, ' said the squire ; ' what I've told so far is but cakes
and cookies, and would you know the rest, I'll straight fetch one
that will tell all without skipping a copper. Last night arrived
Bartholomew Garrasco's son from having received the bachelor's
degree at Salamanca and when I went over to bid him welcome,
he told me that a history of your worship was in print under
the title. That Imaginative Gentleman Don Quijote de LaMancha.
He says I'm mentioned under my real name of Sancho Panza ;
also Dulcinea del Toboso, together with other things that oc-
curred just 'twixt you and me, which makes me cross myself
with wonder as to how the chap that wrote the book could
have known them. '

' I am sure, ' said our knight, ' that the author was some cunning
magician, since from them naught of what they would write is
concealed. ' ' But how can he be cunning and a magician when,
according to this fellow Samson Garrasco, he signs himself Gid
Hamet Berengena (egg-plant). ' ' 'Tis a Moorish name, ' observed
the other. ' I dare say, said Sancho, ' for I've heard that most
Moors are fond of berengena. ' ' You must have mistaken the
surname of this Gid, Gid being as you know Arabic for sir. '
' Maybe I have, and would your worship like me to fetch this
bachelor lad, I'll reach him quickly as a bird. ' ' 'Twill give me
great pleasure, friend. This news holds me in suspense and not
a morsel will agree with me till I am made acquainted with all. '
' I am off then, ' said Sancho ; and leaving his lord, he went in
search of the bachelor, with whom he shortly returned and 'twixt
the three a most diverting colloquy ensued.

in SAMSON CARRASCO 259

CHAPTER III

The diverting interview between Don Quijote, Sancho Pauza
and the bachelor Samson Carrasco

DON Quijote remained gravely pensive, staying the bachelor
Carrasco, from whom he was to hear these tidings of
himself which, according to Sancho Panza, were now printed
and blown abroad. It was difficult to be persuaded that such
things could be : that, ere the blood of his enemies was dry on
his sword, they would have the record of his noble chivalries in
print. Some sorcerer, friend or foe, through his power of
enchantment, might, he fancied, have given them to the press :
if friend, to vaunt them, setting them above the most signal
achievements of errants of old ; if foe, to belittle them, setting
them below the vilest performances ever writ of baseborn squire.
Yet he was forced to confess that deeds of shieldbearers were
never recorded, and in any case, were this story of his life
genuine, as the story of a knight how could it be aught but
high-flown, conspicuous, transcendent and true !

From this our adventurer received a little solace, but the
reflection that an author with the title of Cid must be a Moor
unsettled him again, since no truth could be expected from
Moors, all of whom are charlatans, humbugs and impostors. He
feared lest his love-affair had been treated indelicately, with the
result that his lady's virtue would be questioned and herself
I made light of. He could but hope that the historian had made
clear the loyalty and unselfish love which he, her devoted one,
had ever preserved, rejecting queens, empresses and damsels
of all degree and holding in check his impulses and inclinations.
Rapt and enwrapt in these and other conjectures he was found
by Sancho Panza and Samson Carrasco, who were received
nevertheless with marks of great courtesy. The bachelor, though
Samson in name, was of only moderate bulk, though a good

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

deal of a bully ; colourless in complexion but clever in under-
standing. He boasted some four and twenty years, a round face,
flat nose and large mouth : signs all of a touch of mischief and a
liking for jokes and jests, as was evinced in this visit with Don
Quijote, before whom he now knelt saying : ' Prithee your
grace's hand, Senor Don Quijote de la Mancha, since by the habit
of Saint Peter I wear, though I possess the first four orders only,
your worship is one of the most famous knights-errant that have
been or shall be on all the rotundity of the globe. Blessed be
Gid Hamet, the historian of your heroic exploits, and thrice
blest the scholar that with such pains has translated them from
the Arabic into our vulgar tongue for the general enlightenment
of all people. '

Don Quijote made the bachelor rise, saying : ' Then it is true
there exists a history of me, composed by Moor and sage ? '
' So true, sir, that already more than twelve thousand copies
have, I understand, been issued. Should you deem it impossible,
let Portugal, Barcelona and Valencia speak, for there were they
printed. 'Tis rumored that an edition is soon to appear at
Antwerp and I am persuaded there's not a nation or tongue that
won't have its translation. ' Upon this the knight replied : ' One
thing among others that should content a gifted and virtuous man
is seeing himself with good name in print and volume in the
literatures of the world — I say with good name because with
bad any death were preferable. ' ' If it be a question of report, '
said the bachelor, ' your worship singly bears away the palm
from all knights-errant, since the Moor in his tongue and the
Christian in his take care to depict your gallantry to the very
life : your heroism in facing danger, your patience in adversity,
sufferance in disaster as in wounds, and the purity and restraint
of your highly Platonic courtship of the lady Doiia Dulcinea del
Toboso. '

' Never did I hear the Don given Dulcinea, ' exclaimed Sancho
at this point ; ' she was simply the lady Dulcinea del Toboso ;
already the history is astray. ' ' Not a momentous error, ' returned
Garrasco. ' Certainly not, ' seconded Don Quijote ; ' but tell me,
sir bachelor, by which of mine exploits is most store set ? ' ' On

Ill SAMSON CARRASCO 261

that point, ' the other replied. ' there are as many opinions as
there are tastes. Some cry up the adventure of the windmills
supposed by your worship to have been Briareuses and Gygeses ;
others the adventure of the fulling-mills ; this person swears by
the description of the two armies that later proved flocks of
sheep ; another by the incident of the corpse borne to Segovia
for burial. One tells us that the galley-slave episode bears the
bell, while another stands out for the aifair of the two Benedic-
tine giants, followed by the bout with the doughty Biscayan. '

' Tell me, senor bachelor, ' asked Sancho, ' do they mention
the set-to with the Yanguesans when it pleased our good Roci-
nante to look for tidbits in the see ? ' ' The sage left nothing in
the ink-well : he tells all and touches upon everything, even to
the capers our good Sancho cut in the blanket. ' ' In the blanket
I cut no capers — in the air, yes, and more than I liked. ' ' In
my belief, ' commented Don Quijote, ' not in the world is there
human history without ups and downs, especially those that
treat of chivalries, which can never be a series of uninterrupted
triumphs. ' ' Yet some readers of the book, ' argued the bachelor,
' say the authors would have favoured them had they passed
over a few of the infinite whalings Don Quijote was made to
receive;' ' 'Tis right there the truth comes in,' asserted Sancho.
' In common fairness, however, they might have hushed them
up, ' declared Don Quijote ; ' none is bound to set forth events
that in no way effect the essence of the story, particularly when
likely to bring the hero into contempt. Verily Aeneas stood not
so pious as Virgil paints him, nor Ulysses so cunning as Homer
describes. '

' Of a surety, ' assented Samson ; ' yet 'tis one thing to write
as poet and quite anothet as hi^tociaik- Th«-^)aet ma^^peSfc-or
sing of tfiings hot as they were but as they should have been,
while on the historian 'tis incumbent to present incidents not as
they should have been but as they actually occurred, without
letting the truth suffer one tittle either way. ' ' If then this Mister
Moor was in for telling the truth, ' suggested Sancho, ' we can be
sure that among my master's maulings are to be found some
of mine — they never took the measure of his worship's should-

262 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

ers without measuring me the whole body. But why marvel at
that when, as master himself declares, the members must partake
when head hath any ache. ' ' You sly one ! ' quoth tke head ;
' never to let your memory fail when you don't wish. ' ' Even did
I wish to forget those taps and raps, it wouldn't be listened to
by the weals, which my ribs still preserve fresh and tender. '
' Enough, Sancho ; don't impede the bachelor, whom I crave to
proceed with his account of what this history says of me. ' ' And
of me, ' added Sancho, ' for they tell me I am one of the chief
parsonages therein. ' ' Personages, not parsonages, Panza friend, '
remarked the bachelor. ' What ! another word-tripper ? at this
rate we shan't have done in a life-time. '

' May God blast mine, ' quoth Garrasco, ' if you aren't the
second character in the book, and some there are that count it
more to hear from you than from the finest, though others say
you're altogether too credulous as to the government of that isle,
proffered by Senor Don Quijote here. ' ' The sun still shines on
the wall, ' commented the knight, ' and when Sancho is a little
older, with the experience that comes with age he'll possess
greater fitness and capacity as a ruler than he now commands.'
' By God, sir, the isle that I couldn't govern with my present
years, I couldn't with those of Melhusalem. The mischief is not
that I lack wit to rule the post but that it keeps its whereabouts
unknown. ' ' Leave it to God, ' advised his master, ' and all will
be well and maybe better than you imagine, since not a leaf stirs
save by his will. ' ' True, ' said Samson, ' and if so it pleased
Him, Sancho wouldn't fail of a thousand isles to govern, let
alone one. ' ' I've seen governors not far from here, ' averred the
squire, ' that in my opinion didn't reach the sole of my shoe, yet
are they called Your Honour and are served an silver. ' ' Such,
however, ' reasoned Samson, ' aren't governors of isles but
of much more tractable afi'airs ; they that govern isles must at
least know the cardinal rules of grammar. '

' rid get along with the carding, ' argued Sancho, ' but I pass
on the grammar, for I don't know what it means. But leaving
this government business in the hands of God to send me where
I may best serve Him, let me tell you, senor bachelor, how

Ill SAMSON CARRASCO 263

pleased am I to hear that the author has so spoken of me that
what he relates doesn't give offence, for on the faith of a good
squire had he told things unbecoming the old Christian I am, the
deaf would hear of it. ' ' That would be working miracles. '
' Miracles or no miracles, let every one mind how he speak or
write of his fellow-beings — not dash off the tirst thing that comes
into his head. '

' One of the crimes charged against this history, ' continued
the bachelor, ' is that the author inserts a novel entitled The
Impertinent Paul Pry — not that the story is poor or ill-told,
but because it has nothing whatever to do with the occasion or
with your worship's life, Senor DonQuiJote. ' ' The son of a dog
has jumbled the cabbages and baskets all in a heap, I'll bet, '
swore Sancho. And his master : ' Something tells me that my
historian is no sage but some bungling busybody, that in heedless
haphazard fashion set about writing it, result as it might, like the
Ubedan painter Orbaneja who, in answer to an inquiry as to
what he was painting, replied. Whatever it turns out. Once he
painted such a sorry-looking cock, 'twas fond necessary to sub-
scribe in Gothic, This is a cock. A gloss, similarly, will be found
essential to the elucidation of my history. '

' On the contrary, ' declared Samson, ' 'tis all so obvious as to
present no difficulties whatever. Children turn its leaves, the
young pore over it, men and women conceive and old folk
commend it. In short so well is it thumbed, read and inwardly
digested of all classes that no sooner do they glimpse some lean
nag than they cry. There goes Rocinante. Pages in particular are
its devotees : no lord's antechamber is without its Don Quijote.
If some lay it down, others snatch it up ; some beg, others
battle for it. In fine this history is one of the most pleasurable
and least prejudicial pastimes ever met with, for throughout can
be found neither the suggestion of an obscene word nor a thought
less than Catholic. '

' To write in other fashion, ' observed .its hero, ' would be
writiugnotJruth_butfalsehoiidr^ and historians that jnake-matter
out of lies jhauLd^eJburned at the stake with counterfeiters.
I can't imagine though what moved the author to make copy

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA

II

of novels and irrelevant tales when there was so much of myself
to write of. Doubtless be abided by the proverb, Of straw or
of hay, 'lis a bed either way. But of a truth the bare record of my
thoughts, tears, sighs, my worthy aims and ends would fill a
a tome larger than or at least as large as the writings of el
Tostado. Indeed, sir bachelor, I opine that for composing his-
tories or any other book, excellent judgment and ripe wit are
indispensable : to write with grace and understanding is the part
of genius. The wittiest figure in comedy is the fool, since he that
would act the part cannot be one. History by nature is a thing
divine, for 'tis bound to be true, and where truth is, God is
also. None the less there are those that toss off books like
fritters. '

' There's none so bad but it contains some good, ' observed
the bachelor. ' Beyond a doubt, ' assented the knight ; ' it fre-
quently happens however that authors enjoying considerable and
deserved praise for their writings in manuscript, altogether lose
it, damage it seriously at least, when they.give them to the press.'
And Samson : ' The reason is that printed works can be read at
leisure and the faults stand out. The greater his reputation, the
more closely are an author's writings examined, since recognised
men of genius, great poets and illustrious historians, are always
pr at least usually envied of those that take a special pleasure in
criticising their labours, though nothing have they of their own
to show. ' ' Not strange, ' said the other, ' when we see how
many divines, worthless in the pulpit themselves, are quick to
detect the excesses of other preachers. ' ' Quite true, and I could
wish such censors to be more considerate and less overnice, not
confining themselves to the motes of the bright sun they grumble
at, for though Hoijier does nod at times, it must be remembered
how long he kept awake-thar we might possess the brightness
of his labours with the least possible shade. It may well be,
moreover, that what seem to these critics blemishes, are in reality
moles that heighten the beauty. Truly, he that gives his writings
to the press, incurs a most serious risk, for of all impossibilities
' is most impossible to please every one. '

' That which deals with me must have satisfied few indeed, '

m SAMSON CARRASCO 269

ventured Don Quijote. ' On the contrary, ' explained the bach-
elor, ' there being an infinite number of blockheads in the world,
their name is legion that revel in your history. To be sure some
severely criticise the author's poor memory, forgetting to tell us
who the thief was that stole Sancho's Dapple. No direct informa-
tion is given and that he was stolen is left to be inferred. What's
more, we find the squire remounted on the little beast without
its having reappeared. The point is also made that the chronicler
forgot to tell us what Sancho did with the hundred crowns he
found in a valise in the Sierra Morena. No further allusion is
made and many would like to know what became of them or
how they were spent. This is considered one of the most serious
omissions. '

To these words of the bachelor Sancho replied as follows :
' Senor Samson, at present I am not for going into tales or
explanations, for a spasm in the stomach has overtaken me and
unless I doctor it with two quaffs of old musty, 'twill pin me on
Saint Lucy's thorn. This same musty 1 have at home, mine old
woman awaits me ; dinner ended, I'll be back and answer any
question you or anybijody else may ask, both as to the loss of
the ass and the fate of the hundred crowns ; ' and without another
word or waiting for one he was off. Don Quijote pressed the
bachelor to stop and take penance with him, the other yielded, a
brace of young pigeons was added to the menu, chivalry formed
the topic of discussion, Garrasco followed his host's humour, the
banquet came to an end, they slept the siesta, Sancho arrived
and the previous talk was resumed.

266 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER IV

Sancho Pauza satisfies the doubts and questions of the

bachelor Samson Carrasco, tog^ether with other accidents

worthy to be known and recorded

SANCHO returned to his master's house and taking up the
former thread of discourse said : ' As to that which Senor
Samson was asking, namely that he was anxious to hear by whom,
how or when mine ass was stolen, I reply in these words. The
night we entered the Sierra Morena, when we were fleeing the
Holy Brotherhood after the misventurous adventure with the
galley-slaves and the one with the corpse they were carrying to
Segovia, my master and I hid in a coppice, and there, he leaning
on his lance and I seated on my Dapple, weary and sore from
our recent collisions both of us fell asleep. I in particular slept
so soundly that whoever he was found it possible to come and
prop me up on four stakes, which he placed one at each corner
of my packsaddle so as to leave me riding there while he drew
the ass out from underneath and I not know it. '

' That is simple, ' said Don Quijote, ' nor is it the first occur-
rence, for the same happened to Sacripante when at the siege
of Albraca the famous thief Brunelo led his horse out from under
him. ' ' Morning dawned, ' continued Sancho, ' and no sotner
did I stretch myself than the stakes gave way and I came to the
ground with a mighty fall. I looked around for Dapple but could
not see him. Tears hurried to mine eyes and I uttered a wailing
such that, if the author of our history haven't inserted it, you
may be sure he has omitted a good thing. At the end of I know
not how many days, when riding in the company of her ladyship
Princess Micomicona, I saw mine ass and on it, in the guise of a
gipsy, Gines de Pasamonte, that humbug and vile rascal my
master and I set free from his chain. ' ' The oversight wasn't just
there, ' remarked Samson, ' but before this, before the ass turned

IV ROCINANTE NEICHS 267

up, Sancho is spoken of as mounted upon him. ' ' On that
point,' said Sancho, ' I am at a loss what to say ; either the histor-
ian was deceived or the printer was careless. '

' So it must have been, ' agreed Samson ; ' but what became
of the hundred crowns ? ' ' They vanished : I spent them on
myself, my wife and the children. 'Tis they that make the old
woman bear so patiently the callings and quests I have followed
in the service of my master Don Quijote, for had I come back at
the end of all that long time without Dapple or doit, I could have
looked for rough weather. If there be more to learn, here I am,
ready to answer the king himself, though 'tis nobody's business
whether I took or didn't take, whether I spent or didn't spend,
for were the whalings received by me on these voyages to be paid
for in money, even though valued at only four farthings apiece,
another hundred crowns wouldn't pay for half. Let each keep
his hand in his bosom and not try to make out that white is
black and black white, for every man is as God made him, and
oft times a great deal worse. '

' I'll take care, ' said Garrasco, ' to warn the author, in case he
should print the history a second time, to bear in mind what our
honest Sancho says, for 'twill raise the work a good span higher. '
' Are there other emendations to be made in the text, senor
bachelor? ' enquired Don Quijote. ' Very likely,' was the answer,
' but nothing probably of equal importance. ' ' And does the
author promise a second part perhaps ? ' ' Yes, he promises it,
but says he hasn't as yet found it nor does he know who has it,
so we are uncertain whether 'twill appear, both on that account
and because some say second parts have never been successes.
Moreover, others say enough has been heard of Quijote and his
affairs. So 'tis doubtful if more will come to us, though some,
more sunny than saturnine, exclaim : ' More Quijotedoms ! let
Don Quijote charge and Sancho Panza chat, however it turn out,
we'll be content with that. '

' And where does the author stand ? ' ' Where ? why, imme-
diately he finds the history, for which he is searching with
unusual diligence, he'll give it to the press, moved more by
thoughts of profit than of praise. ' Upon this Sancho exclaimed :

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

' Is it to penny and profit he is looking ? 'twill be a wonder
then if he succeed, for all will be hurry, hurry, hurry, as with
the tailor on Easter Eve ; things done hastily are never done
tastily. Let Mister Moor or whoever he be look to what he does,
since I and master will furnish him with rubble enough by way
of adventures and other turns to make not only a second part
but a hundred. The good man must fancy we're asleep in the
straw here ; let him just hold up our feet to be shod and he'll
see on which one we go lame. My meaning is that if my master
would take my advice, we should this moment be off in the
Qountry, redressing grievances and righting wrongs, as is the
custom and practice of worthy errants. '

Sancho had scarce ended when neighs of Rocinante reached
their ears, whereupon Don Quijote, considering this a good
omen, determined to make another sally in three or four days.
Announcing his intention to the bachelor he sought his advice as
to where his journey should begin. The other's opinion was that
he should go to the kingdom of Aragon, in particular to the city
Saragossa, where at the festival of Saint George was soon to be
held a celebrated tournament, wherein he could gain renown
above all knights of Aragon, equivalent to gaining it above all
knights of the world. He praised his determination as most
honourable and valiant but urged him to proceed with greater
circumspection when it came to engaging in perils, since his life
was not his own, belonging as it did to all that in distress had
need of his aid and protection.

' That is what I say, Seiior Samson, ' averred the squire at this
point, ' for my master attacks a hundred armed men as does a
greedy ragamuffin half a dozen melons. Body of me but you're
right, senor bachelor, for there are times to attack and times to
withdraw, and it needn't always be, Santiago and close Spain !
What's more, I've heard it said, by my master himself I believe,
if I mistake not, that 'twixt the extremes of timidity and temerity
lies the mean of valour. If that be true, I wish him neither to
retire without reason nor charge when the odds urge otherwise.
But above all would I impress this upon him, that if I am to be
his squire, it must be conditioned that he shall attend to all the

IV ROCINANTE NEIGHS 269

fighting and that I shall attend to his person only in the matters
of cleanliness and provision : in these I'll lay tlie dust in his path.
For to think that I shall draw sword against villainous churls
with steel hood and battle-axe, is to think topsy-turvy. I, Senor
Samson, have no hopes of achieving fame as a man of valour, but
solely by proving myself the best and trustiest squire that ever
served knight-errant. And should my master, obliged thereto by
my many and good services, see fit to hand over one of the
many islands his worship says are to be met with hereabouts, t
shall greatly be his debtor. Should he fail me however, I am a?
they bore me and one mustn't live in reliance on other than God.
Moreover, my bread will taste as well or perhaps better without
rule than with, for how do I know but in these governments the
devil may have prepared some catch for me to trip, fall and
break my grinders ? Sancho was I born and Sancho I expect to
die. If Heaven of its own accord and without much risk or soli-
citude on my part should rain an isle or something similar upon
me, I am not so stupid as to fling it away, for as well is it said,
When they hand thee the heifer, hurry with the halter, and.
When good-luck comes, put it in thy house. '

' You have spoken like a professor, brother Sancho, ' declared
Garrasco ; ' howbeit, trust in God, and in your master to give
you not merely an isle but a kingdom, ' ' More is the same as
less, ' replied Sancho ; ' I mean to say to Senor Garrasco that
my master won't be throwing whatever he gives me into a sack
full of holes, for I've taken my pulse and find that for ruling isles
and governing kingdoms I am in perfect health, and he has been
informed of this before to-day. ' ' But look, Sancho ; office
changeth manners and it might be, finding yourself governor,
you wouldn't recognise your own mother. ' ' So it would be
with those born in the marshes, but not with them that have
their souls lined with old Christian fat four fingers deep as I have.
Nay, consider my nature, if it be likely to show ingratitude
toward any man. ' ' God let it rest as it will, ' said Don
Quijote ; ' we shall see when the government comes, which
even now methinks I have between mine eyes. '

He then prayed the bachelor, if perchance he were a poet, to

270 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

favour him with a few lines conveying the farewell he was about
to take of his lady Dulcinea del Toboso. At the beginning of each
line he urged him to place a letter of her name, so that, when all
was written, the first letters should spell Dulcinea del Toboso.
The bachelor replied that though not one of the famous poets
of Spain who, according to account, numbered three and a half,
he would write the verses. One great difficulty stood in his way,
he said, namely that the letters of her name were seventeen, and
if he wrote four stanzas of four lines each, one letter would be
unprovided for, and if of five lines, called decimas or roundelays,
he would be three letters short. However he would endeavour to
tuck in the extra letter the best he could and thus have four four-
line verses include the magic name. ' It must certainly be done, '
said Don Quijote, ' for if it be not there as plain as daylight,
no woman will believe 'twas for her the stanzas were intended. '
This was therefore agreed to ; also that the sally should take
place in eight days. The knight charged the bachelor to keep it
secret, especially from the priest. Master Nicholas, niece and
housekeeper, lest they frustrate his virtuous and valerons resolve.
Garrasco promising took leave, requesting Don Quijote to keep
him informed, so far as he had leisure, of his good or evil
fortunes. Thus they parted and Sancho returned home to make
the necessary preparations for the journey.

CHAPTER V

The wise and witty colloquy 'twixt Sancho Panza and his
wife Teresa, together with other passages worthy of happy

record

COMING to write the fifth chapter of this history, the translator
says he deems it apocryphal, for in it Sancho speaks in a
manner transcending his slender genius, uttering such clever
things that the translator cannot believe he originated them.
Bound however by the obligations of his office, he could not
omit the chapter, and so proceeds as follows :

V ROCINANTE NEIGHS 271

Sancho hurried home so jocund and jubilant that his wife
noticed his pleasure a bowshot off, so clearly that she called :
' What have you, Sancho friend, that makes you happy ? ' And
he answered : ' God willing, I should be glad not to be so happy
as I seem, wifie dear. ' ' I don't understand you, husband, and
I can't guess what you mean when you say that, God willing,
you would be glad not to be happy. Fool that I am, I can't think
who gets pleasure from not having it. ' ' Well then, Teresa,
I am merry because my mind is made to return to the service
of my master Don Quijote. He intends to sally forth a third
time in quest of adventures and I shall sally with him, for so
wills my necessity and the hope that cheers me with the thought
of finding another hundred crowns like those already vanished.
Yet it saddens me to part from you and the children. If God
would only let me eat dry-shod and in my house, and not drag
me over crooked paths and cross-roads — and He could do it at
little cost by merely willing it — my pleasure would naturally be
more lasting and sure ; now 'tis mixed with sorrow at our part-
ing. Rightly therefore did I say that, please God, 1 should be glad
not to be so happy. '

' See here, husband, ' returned Teresa ; ' ever since you became
a limb to a knight-errant, you talk in such roundabout ways
there's no understanding you. ' ' 'Tis enough if God does, wife,
for He's the understander of all things ; so much for that. And
now, sister, look after Dapple these next three days, that he may
be fit to bear arms. Double his ration, see to the packsaddle and
the other tackle, for 'tis not to a wedding we are going but round
the world, to settle little accounts with giants, dragons and other
monsters, and to hear whistles, roars, howls and bellowings.
But all that would be flowers of lavender, were there no set-tos
with Yanguesans and enchanted Moors. ' ' I can easily believe,
husband, that squires-errant dont't eat their bread for nothing
and I shall keep praying our Lord at once to deliver you from
all such misventures. '

' Let me tell you, wife, ' now confided the other, ' that did I
not expect to find myself governor of an island before long,
I should fall dead on the spot. ' ' Nay, nay, husband, let the hen

DON QUWOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

live though it be with the pip. Live on say I and let the devil
take as many governments as there are in the vs^orld. Without
one you came from your mother's womb, without one you have
always lived and without one you will go or be carried to the
grave, when God shall he pleased. How many are there in the
world that live without a government, yet do not cease to exist
and be counted in the number of the living. The best sauce in the
world is hunger, and as that never fails the poor, they always
relish what they eat. But if by any chance you find yourself
with a government on your hands, see to it, Sancho, that you do
not forget your wife and children. Remember that Sanchico has
just turned fifteen, and if his uncle the abbot mean to fit him
for the church, it's time he should go to school. Remember too
that Mari-Sancha your daughter won't die if we make her a wife.
And indeed a daughter ill-wived looks better than one well-kept.'

' By my troth, ' replied Sancho, ' if God get me any sort of
goverment, I mean to marry our daughter so high that they can't
reach her without calling her Your Ladyship. ' ' Not so, Sancho,'
returned Teresa ; ' 'twill be much better to marry her with an
equal, for if from wooden clogs you lift her into high shoes and
out of her hodden-grey petticoat into silk hoop and farthingale,
changing Molly and thou to Madam So-and-so and Your Ladyship,
the child won't be able to find herself, and at every turn will
fall into a thousand blunders, showing the thread of her plain
homespun.' 'Tut, fool; she need only practise two or three
years and after that her rank and dignity will fit her like a glove.
And if not, what does it matter ? let her be My Lady, and let
come what come may. '

' Stick to your station, Sancho, ' advised Teresa ; ' don't hope
to rise higher, heeding the proverb that runs. Wipe your neigh-
bour's son's nose and fetch him to your house. A pretty thing
'twould be, wouldn't it, to marry our Molly to some great count
or cavalier, who, when the humour took him, would set her
down as a greenhorn, calling her bumpkin and daughter of
clodhoppers and spinning-jades. Not while I live, husband, have
I brought up my Molly for this. Bring home the money, Sancho,
and leave the marrying to me. There's Lope Tocho, Juan Tocho's

V ROCINANTE NEIGHS 273

boy, a hale and hearty lad, and we know him, and I am certain he
has no unfriendly eye on the girl. "With him, our equal, she will
be well wived, and we shall always have her under our eyes and
all be like parents and children, grandsons and sons-in-law, and
the peace of God and his blessing shall be in our midst. So don't
go marrying her in those courts and great palaces where they
won't understand her, no^ she know what to make of herself. '

' Come here, fool, ' quoth Sancho, ' you wife of Barabbas.
Why, without rime or reason, would you hinder me marrying
our daughter to a man that will bring me grandchildren they'll
call Don ? Listen, Teresa, I've always heard mine elders say
that he that can't use his luck when it comes, mustn't complain
when it passes him by. Now that it is calling at our door 'twould
be foolish not to let it in, and while the wind blows fair let us
make the most of it. ' (It was for this manner of speaking, as
well as for what Sancho says below, that the translator of this
history holds this chapter apocryphal). ' Tell me, crazy, ' contin-
ued the husband, ' won't it be well for me to slip into some fat
governorship that will lift us out of the mud, and wed Mari-
Sancha with whom I please ? You will see how they address you
as Dona Tereza Panza and how in church you take your seat on
a rug with cushions and hangings, despite and in defiance of all
the born ladies of the village. No, no, stay as you are without
growing bigger or less like a tapestry figure. But let's speak no
more of this ; only Sanchica will be a countess, whatever you
think. '

' Do you know all you say, husband ? I am sure this countship
will be my daughter's ruin. Do what you will, make her duchess
or princess if you please ; only let me tell you once again it won't
be with my consent or wish. I was ever the friend of equality,
brother, and I don't like to see people put on airs for nothing.
Teresa they gave me at baptism, Teresa pure and simple, without
borders or fringes or additions of Don or Doiia. Gascajo was my
father's name, and though through being your wife they call me
Teresa Panza, Teresa Gascajo is what by rights they should call
me. But kings go as laws will, and I am content with my name
as it is without a Don on top of it to make it weigh more than I

18

274 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

can carry. Nor would I give them cause to say, when they see
me tricked out like a countess or governor's wife : ' See what
airs the slattern gives herself. Only yesterday she was not above
spinning her flax and going to mass with the tail of her petticoat
over her head for a mantle, and to-day she struts in her farthin-
gale, with brooches and fine airs as if we didn't know her. ' So
lon^ as God keeps me in my seven or five or as many senses as
I have, methinks I shan't let myself be caught that way. But you,
brother, go and be your government or isle as airy as you please,
for by the life of my mother neither I nor my child will stir one
step from this village. A good wife has a broken leg and stays at
home, and let the girl that would be chaste, by keeping busy
keep the feast. Go with Don Qaijote to your adventures and leave
us to our disaventures, which God will better for us as we are
good ; though I don't know who gave him the Don, which
neither his parents nor grandparents ever had before him. '

' There's a devil in your body, I tell you, ' quoth Sancho ;
• God help you, woman, and how many things have you been
stringing together without head or tail ! What have broken china
(cascajo) and brooches and proverbs and airs to do with what I
am saying? Gome now, stupid blockhead — and that's what you
are, since you don't understand me and run away from good-
luck — had I said that our daughter was to throw herself from a
tower or was to wander through these worlds the way the infanta
Dona Urraca threatened to, you'ld be right in not yielding to my
wishes. But if like a flash and in less than the twinkling of an
eye I get her a Doiia and My Lady for her back, drawing her
from the stubble for you and putting her on a pedestal under an
awning in a room, with more velvet cushions (almohadas) than
were Moors among the Almohades of Morocco, why won't you
consent and agree with me ? ' 'Do you know why, husband ?
Well then, 'tis because of the saying. He that covers thee, dis-
covers thee. Over the poor man all eyes hasten, but on the rich
man they fasten, and if this rich man once were poor, then they
curse and call him boor. There's no stopping these backbiters,
who throng our streets like swarms of bees. '

' Listen, Teresa, and hear what I have to tell, for perhaps you

V ROCINANTE NEIGHS 275

haven't heard the like in all your born days. And now I shall
not speak from myself, but all that I am about to say are
opinions of the father that preached last Lent in this village, who
said, if my memory serve me, that all present things for the
moment before our eyes appear and remain fixed in tlie memory
much more vividly and intensely than things of the past. ' Again
the translator remarks that such words as these lead him to
consider this chapter apocryphal, being beyond our Sancho, who,
however, continued saying : ' "Whence it happens that when we
see someone tricked out in fine attire with a parade of servants,
in spite of ourselves are we moved to respect him, even though
at that moment we recall some former low estate, of poverty or
family, for that is all past and gone and we only think of what is
now before our eyes. Moreover, if he that fortune led from the
gutter of his low degree to the height of prosperity — these were
the father's very words — be well-mannered, liberal and court-
eous toward all and make no attempt to rival born noblemen,
rest assured none will remember what he was, Teresa, since all
will respect him for what he now is — save the envious, from
whom naught that succeeds is safe. '

' 1 know not what you mean, husband, ' declared Teresa ; ' do
what you would and don't break my head with your speech-
ifying and rhetoric. If you are revolved to do what you say — '
' Resolved, you mean, not revolved, ' suggested the other.
' Don't begin to wrangle with me now, husband. I speak as it
pleases God and tell my tale as it comes. All I advise is that you
take your son Sancho along with you, if you've set your heart on
a government, to teach him how to handle the thing, for 'tis
well that sons inherit and know their fathers' trades. ' ' As soon
as I get it, ' promised the other, ' I'll send for him by post and
money to you, which I shall be sure to have, for there's always
somebody to lend to governors when short. Dress the boy up so
as to hide what he is, setting him off for what he is about to be. '
' Do but send the money and I'll dress him like a palmetto. '

' We are agreed then, ' moved the father, ' that our daughter
is to be a countess ? ' ' The day I see her one I shall think I am
burying her. But again I say do what you will, for with this care

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

are women born into the world, to obey their husbands thick-
headed though they be ; ' and with this she began to weep as if
Sanchica lay dead and buried before her eyes. Her husband
consoled her by saying that though bound to make the girl a
countess, he'ld postpone it as long as he could. "With this their
talk came to an end and Sancho returned to Don Quijote to
arrange for their sally.

CHAPTER VI

What passed 'twixt Don Quijote on one side and the niece

and housekeeper on the other, being one of the most

important chapters in the whole history

WHILE the above dispute was waging between Sancho
Panza and his wife Teresa Gascajo, not wholly idle
were our knight's niece and housekeeper, whom a thousand
indications led to suspect that their uncle and master had in
mind to break away a third time and return to the exercise of
his for them disastrous chivalry. They used all means in their
power to dissuade him from such unholy thoughts, but 'twas
preaching in the desert and hammering cold iron. Among other
things the housekeeper represented : ' In truth, master, unless
your worship keep even foot and abide quietly at home, and quit
roaming over mountain and vale like a lost soul in agony,
looking for things they call adventures but 1 calamities, I'll have
to petition and cry to God and the king that some remedy be
found. ' To this the knight responded :

' What God will say in answer to your plaint, mistress,
I have no means of knowing. Equally am I at a loss as regards
His Majesty, though I am sure that were I king I should excuse
myself from noticing the countless impertinent memorials daily
presented. Not the least of the annoyances to which rulers are
put is the need of hearing and replying to each and every one.
I would not that my affairs be added to their burden. ' But again
the housekeeper said : ' Tell us this, master, are there no knights

VI NIECE AND HOUSEKEEPER 277

at His Majesty's court ? ' ' Yes, ' replied the other, ' many and
'tis just and fitting that there should be, both to set off the pomp
of princes and for the glory of royal majesty. ' ' Then shouldn't
your worship be of those that serve their king and lord by
standing and waiting in his court ? '

' No, friend, for all knights cannot be courtiers, nor can or
should all courtiers be adventurers : both must continue in the
world. Though all are knights, great is their difference. Court-
iers, without quitting their chambers or passing the palace-
threshold, range the world over on a map and the devil a farthing
to pay ; neither suffer they heat nor cold, hunger nor thirst.
But we that are out-and-out adventurers, exposed to the sun's
heat, the air's cold and all the weather's inclemencies, by night
and by day, afoot and ahorse, measure kingdoms with our steps.
And not alone painted enemies but those of flesh and blood do
we face, attacking them at every possible danger-point, regardless
of trifles and laws of the duel : whether or no the other's lance
or sword be a trifle too short, whether or no he have relics or
similar concealed fraud upon his person, whether or no the sun
be parted and portioned, together with all other formalities that
are the order in single combat, unknown as they are to you but
not to me.

' You must understand moreover that the good errant, though
he espy ten giants with heads that not alone touch but pierce
the clouds and whose feet are the highest towers, with arms like
masts of great and powerful ammirals and every eye a stupend-
ous mill-wheel only more fiery than a glass-furnace, yet the
knight, I say, must on no account show fear. Rather with easy
bearing and intrepid heart must he hasten to the encounter and
if possible in one little moment vanquish and put them to rout,
though they come armoured with the shells of a certain fish
reputed harder than diamond and in place of swords brandish
trenchant Dasmascus knives or steel-tipped iron clubs, such as
I have observed more than twice. All this have I said, house-
keeper, that you may see the difference 'twixt knight and knight.
And 'twould be well if the prince lived not that didn't set higher
value upon this second or rather first kind of knights-errant

278 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

who, as we read in their histories, number men that have been
the salvation not of one only but of many kingdoms. '

' Ah, sir ! ' here broke in the niece, ' do but bethink you that
all you say of errants is a delusion and a snare, and that their
histories, should they not be burned, deserve at least to have
put upon them a sanbenito or other mark to brand them as
infamous and corruptors of good manners. ' ' By the God of my
life ! ' quoth Don Quijote, ' were you not mine own niece and
very sister's daughter, I'ld give you such a dressing down for
this blasphemy 'twould echo through the world. How do you
say ? can it be that a mere chit scarce equal to a dozen lace-
bobbins dares wag her tongue against and decry the histories
of knights-errant ! What would Seiior Amadis say, hearing such
talk ! He, to be sure, would pardon you, being the most submis-
sive and courteous of his time and a great protector of maidens
besides, but such a knight might have heard you that at his hands
you'Id have fared ill — not all were gallant and gracious. Some
indeed were unpardonably rude and insolent, for not every one
that calls himself knight and gentleman has the truth on his side.
Some are of pure gold and some of alloy, aud though all may
look the part, not all can stand the probing. Base fellows there
are that pride themselves upon presenting the appearance of
gentlemen, while others of noble birth apparently would give
their all to appear of the vulgar. Those rise by ambition or
virtue ; these sink through indolence or vice ; and there's need
of knowledge and discerment to distinguish between them, so
equal in name, so distant in deed. '

' God help me ! ' exclaimed the niece ; ' how do you know so
much, uncle? why, if need and occasion arose, you could mount
a pulpit and go preaching through the streets, and yet you can
fall into a blindness so absolute, an absurdity so apparent, as to
believe yourself stout of heart though aged, forceful though
infirm, rectifier of evil though bending with eld, and above all
a knightly gentleman though not one, for though the gentle can
be knights, how can the indigent?'

' Much reason is there in what you say, niece, and yet I might
tell things, h propos of families, 'twould amaze you. Not to mix

VI NIECE AND HOUSEKEEPER 279

divine affairs with human I refrain ; yet notice this, friends, and
give me strict attention. The families of this world may be
reduced to four kinds : they are these, the first, though of humble
origin, may yet grow prominent even to the height of greatness.
The second, that had good beginnings, have preserved and still
preserve themselves as originally they were. Still others, though
likewise of no mean origin, have ended like a pyramid in a
point, having lessened what they were at first till they come to
naught, as doth the pyramid, whose point as respects its base
cannot be considered. And last of all are those, the common and
plebeian classes, the most numerous of all, who without good
inception or decent middle will continue nameless to the end.
Of the first the Ottoman house may well serve as instance, for
from an humble unknown shepherd, its founder, it has risen to
its present glory. To the second belong the many princes that,
having inherited titles, preserve them as they were, content to
live peacefully within their borders. Of those of ample origin but
final eclipse there are thousands, of examples : all the Pharaohs
and Ptolemys of Egypt, the Caesars of Rome, not to mention
the whole tribe of countless princes, monarchs, lords — Medes
and Assyrians, Greeks and barbarians — all of whom have ended
in nothing, in a point, themselves and their founders. None
of their descendents is now to be found, and if found, 'twould be
among low and humble surroundings. As to the plebeian class I
need only say that they serve to swell the number of the living :
their importance merits no other fame or praise.

' From all this I would have you infer, you children, that
great is the confusion with regard to family lineage, and that only
they are truly great and illustrious that are so by the goodness,
bounty and liberality of their deeds. I insist on goodness, bounty
and a generous mind, because the vicious great man is greatly
vicious while the mean rich man is a niggardly beggar. For the
pleasure of possessions is not in hoarding but in spending, and
that not wilfully but with judgment. To the poor man and gentle
no way is open to reveal his birth save virtue and by being
friendly, well-mannered, courteous, considerate and obliging; not
proud, arrogant, backbiting. Above all must he be charitable.

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

since two farthings gladly given the poor man will show one as
liberal as he that bestows alms to the sound of the bell. There'll
be none, not even a stranger, that seeing him adorned with these
virtues will not regard him as of good estate. Indeed 'twould be
strange otherwise, for praise has ever been virtue's meed, nor are
good men at any time exempt from having good spoken of them.
' There are two ways, daughters, whereby men come to wealth
and honour : by letters and by arms. Born under the planet
Mars I incline rather to the latter — am bound as it were to keep
to that road, though all the world prove adverse. 'Tis vain for
you to weary yourselves attempting to turn me from wishing
what Heaven wishes, fortune ordains, reason demands and above
all my will craves. For though knowing as I do the innumerable
labours attendant upon chivalry, I also know its multitude of
blessings. I am aware that the path of virtue is narrow, and
broad and spacious the highway of vice. But I realise too how
different their goals ! for the way of vice, though wide and easy,
ends in death, but the straight and difficult path of virtue leads to
life, and not the life that perishes but that which is eternal. Hence
the truth of our great Gastilian poet :

By these rough thorny ways
To Heaven's high seat ascend ;
Whoever from them strays
Ne'er sees his journey's end. '

' Alas and alas ! ' exclaimed the niece ; ' mine uncle is poet as
well ; he knows it all, he can do everything. I vow that would
he be a mason, he could build a house like a cage. ' ' I promise
you, niece, that did not these knightly thoughts of mine consume
all my faculties, naught could I not do — no toy, in particular
bird-cages and toothpicks, that could not emerge from my
hands. ' Just at this point they heard someone calling, and on
their asking who it was, Sancho Panza replied 'twas he. At once
knowing the voice the housekeeper ran to hide herself that she
might not see him, such was her abhorrence of that man. The
niece opened the door, Don Quijote received him with open
arms, and when the pair had closeted themselves, there occurred
another colloquy, over which the preceeding has no advantage.

VII A squire's pay 281

CHAPTER VII

The interview 'twixt master and man, together with other
most remarkable occurrences

WHEN the housekeeper saw the door shut behind Sancho
Panza, she immediately surmised what this secret council
portended : she felt sure that thence would issue the plan for a
third sally. Donning her scarf, fall of dismay and with heavy
heart she sought out the bachelor Garrasco, hoping that he,
being a well-spoken man and her master's new friend, might
persuade him to abandon so wicked an emprise. She found him
pacing the patio of his house and approaching fell at his feet, all
in a glow and all in grief. When Garrasco saw her dis-
tress and excitement, he said : ' What is this, woman ? what has
befallen you ? one would think you were about to give up the
ghost. '

' 'Tis nothing, Senor Samson, only my master is breaking
out, he surely is breaking out again. ' ' And where is he breaking,
woman ? has he broken some part of his body ? ' ' He's breaking
through the door of his madness. I mean to say, senor bachelor
of my life, that he's about to sally forth another and a third
time on a world quest of what he calls his good ventures, but
don't ask me why, since the first time they brought him home
slung across an ass, cudgelled to bits ; the last on an ox-cart,
shut and imprisoned in a cage, where he let himself believe he
was enchanted. He looked so woebegone his mother that bore
him wouldn't have known him : gaunt, yellow, with sunken
eyes ; so that to restore him to something like himself I've used
more than six hundred eggs as God knows and all the world and
my hens that will not let me lie. '

' This I can easily believe, ' assented the bachelor ; ' so good,
plump and well-trained are they, they wouldn't say one thing and
mean another though they burst. So then, woman, naught has

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

befallen nor calamity come upon you save that which is feared
Senor Don Quijote is soon to bring about ? ' ' That alone, sir. '
' Then don't worry, but go home in peace and prepare me
something hot for dinner, and on your way repeat the prayer of
Saint Apollonia, if you know it. I shall be there in a trice and
you shall see marvels. ' ' Woe's me ! Saint Apollonia's prayer
say you ? that would serve had master the pain in his grinders,
but 'tis all in his wits. ' ' I know what I say, housekeeper ; go
your way and don't attempt to argue, for I am a bachelor
of Salamanca you know and you can't prattle (bachillear) beyond
that. ' So the housekeeper departed and the bachelor went in
search of the priest, in order to devise what will be told in due
time.

When Don Quijote and Sancho were closeted together there
passed the following conversation, which the history relates
with great fidelity and care. Said Sancho to the other : ' Master,
I have reverted my wife to letting me go whithersoever your
worship would carry me. ' ' Converted you should say, Sancho. '
' Once or twice before, if my memory serve me, have I asked
your worship not to mend my words provided you understand
my matter, and when you don't, call to me and say, Sancho, or.
The devil, I can't understand you. And if I don't at once make
myself clear, then I am fossil enough to let you correct me. '
' Sancho, I don't understand you — I don't know what ' I am
fossil enough ' means. ' ' It means, ' explained Sancho, ' I am
man enough. ' ' Still more am I at a loss. ' ' If you can't under-
stand me, I don't know how to say it differently, and God be
with you ! ' ' Ah ! now I have it. You tried to say you were
docile enough, meaning sufficiently tractable to take what I tell
you and do as I bid you. ' ' I'll wager you understood me from
the beginning — that you hoped by confusing me to hear two
hundred other blunders. ' ' Maybe I did, ' acknowledged the
master ; ' and now tell me what it is Teresa says. '

' Teresa says that I should make sure with your worship : let
papers speak and beards be still, for a bargain's a bargain and
one take better than two I'll give thees. And I say that a woman's
counsel may be poor, but he that scorns it is a boor. ' ' I say so

VII A squire's pay 283

too,' agreed Don Quijote; 'speak on, friend, for to-day you
talk pearls. ' ' It's a fact, as your worship knows better than I,
that all of us are subject to death and that to-day we are and
to-morrow not, and the lamb goes as soon as the ram and none
can count more hours of life in this world than it pleases God to
give him. For death is deaf, and when she knocks at the doors
of this our life, she's always in a hurry : nor prayers nor resist-
ance nor mitres nor sceptres detain her, according to report and
hearsay and what they tell us in these pulpits. '

' All that is true enough, ' assented the knight, ' but I still
can't make out what you're driving at. ' ' My meaning is, '
confessed the squire, ' that your worship should allow me certain
fixed wages every month during the period of my service, said
wages to be paid out of your estate. I am no friend to favours,
which come ill or late or never ; so may God help me with
mine ! In a word I would know just what's coming to me, little
or much though it be. To one egg the hen adds another, and many
littles make a mickle, and while aught is gained, naught is lost.
Of course if it came to pass, though this I neither expect nor
believe, that your worship handed me the promised isle, I am
not such an ingrate or such a stickler but that I'ld let the rent
of such an isle be taken into account and be deducted from my
wages, cat for cat. ' ' Friend Sancho, at times a cat (cata) is as
good as a rat (rata). ' ' I catch your meaning, master. I should
have said rate (rata) and not cat, I'll bet. But what does it matter,
as long as you fathomed me. '

' So deeply did I fathom you friend, that I struck the very
bottom of your thoughts and know the very white you aimed at
with the innumerable shafts or your refrains. Believe me, San-
cho, I should gladly agree to wages for you, had I found in any
of the errant histories one instance that through some little chink
would reveal how much squires were wont to earn per month
or per year. But though I have read all or most of such narratives
I don't remember to have heard of any knight that settled fixed
wages on his squire. Rather their shield-bearers served them in
expectation of favours, and when least they looked for it, if luck
went with the masters, the squires found themselves rewarded

284 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

with an isle or its equivalent, or in any case were given a title
and Your Lordship.

' If with these hopes and inducements, Sancho, you are pleased
to return to my service, well and good, but to think that I shall
remove the ancient custom of errantry from its stays and hinges
is to think topsy-turvy. Take yourself home, my friend, and
declare my resolve to Teresa. If she and you are willing to
depend upon favours, nothing could be better as I say, but if not,
we're friends now as before. If the dovecote lack not grain,
'twill not fail of pigeons, and observe, my son, that a good hope
is better than a bad holding and a good claim than bad pay.
I speak in this manner that you may see how I can rain proverbs
as well as you, Sancho. In fine let me say that if you are not ready
to lean upon rewards and run the same chances that I run, may
God be with you and make you a saint, for I shan't be wanting
squires more obedient and solicitous and not such gluttons and
talkers. '

When Panza heard this firm resolve, his sky darkened and his
heart-wings fell, for he had fully believed that his master
wouldn't do without him for all the fortunes in the world. While
he was thus chap-fallen, not knowing what to think of it all,
entered Samson Garrasco and with him niece and housekeeper,
anxious to hear by what arguments he would persuade their
master to abandon his adventurous quest. The famous wag
approached and embracing the knight as on his first visit raised
his voice saying : ' O flower of knight-errantry ! O resplendent
light of arms ! honour and mirror of the Spanish nation ! may
God Almighty and so forth, as He is elsewhere more particularly
set forth, grant that the person or persons that strive to let and
hinder your third sally lose themselves in the labyrinth of their
desires, and may that which they so wickedly design ne'er come
to pass ! '

And turning to the housekeeper he said : ' The lady here no
longer need repeat Saint ApoUonia's prayer, since I can see 'tis
the definite resolve of the spheres that Seiior Don Quijote again
eff'ect his novel and noble intent. Greatly should I wrong the
dictates of my conscience did I not suggest to and urge upon

VII A squire's pay 285

this knight that he longer stay the power of his puissant arm,
the virtue of his heroic mind, when by delay he neglects the
righting of wrongs, the protection or orphans, the honour of
maidens, the favour of widows and the support of married
women, together with other things of the same stripe, all of
which touch, pertain to, are dependent upon and in keeping with
the order of knight-errantry. Gome, dear Seiior Don Quijote,
beautiful as brave, to-day rather than to-morrow let your worship
and highness set out. Should aught be needed for the under-
taking, here am I with purse and person, and should it be
requisite that I serve you as squire, I should esteem it my great
good fortune. '

Here Don Quijote, turning toward Sancho, said : ' Didn't I tell
you, boy, I should have squires to spare ? Note who offers
himself for that post : none but the extraordinary bachelor Sam-
son Carrasco, unfailing joy and delight of the patios of the Sala-
mancan schools, sound of body, quick of foot, silent, endurer
alike of heat and cold, hunger and thirst, together with all other
qualities desirable in the henchman of an errant knight. Yet
Heaven forbid that I, following mine inclination, shake or shatter
the column of letters and the vase of science, or fell the lofty
palm of the good and liberal arts. Let this modern Samson
remain in his fatherland, and honouring it bring honour on the
grey hairs of his ancestors, while I with some squire or other
will be content, since Sancho does not deign to join me. '

' I do deign, ' pleaded Panza, deeply moved and with eyes of
tears ; ' never shall it be said of me. When bread's all gone the
company's withdrawn. Nay, I come of no ungrateful stock, for
every one, especially my townsfolk, knows who the Panzas before
me were. Moreover I have come to learn and appreciate by good
deeds and kind words the desire your worship has to show me
favour. If I bargained more or less about my wages, it was to
satisfy my wife, for once she takes it into her head to press a
point, no mallet drives the hoops of a cask the way she drives
the doing of her pleasure. But after all man must be man and
woman woman, and since I am a man wherever I please, I please
just now to be one in my house, spite whom it may. So there's

286 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

naught left but for your worship to make your will with the
codicil in such a manner that it cannot be provoked, and begin
our journey at once, that the soul of Senor Samson may not
suffer, who says his conscience prictates to him to persuade your
worship to sally forth through the world a third time, and again
I offer to serve you faithfully and loyally, as well and better
than all the squires that ever served adventurers in past or
present times. '

The bachelor was indeed amazed at Sancho's manner of speak-
ing, for though he had read the first history of his master, he
didn't dream that he was as delightful as there portrayed. But
now when he heard him speak of will and codicil that couldn't
be provoked, he believed every word he had read, admitting
him to be one of the most unconsciously droll figures of our
time. Indeed he went so far as to say that the whole world
couldn't duplicate two such crack-brains as this master and man ;
who now embraced and were friends. With the advice and
approval of the great Garrasco, their present oracle, they decided
to set out in three days, during which there would be time to
prepare for the journey and procure a complete helmet, which
Don Quijote deemed indispensable above all else to their proper
equipment. Samson offered him one (for he knew that a friend
of his who owned one would not refuse it) more dingy from rust
and mould than clear and bright for polished steel.

The curses showered upon the bachelor by niece and house-
keeper cannot be set down. They tore their hair, clawed their
faces and after the manner of hired mourners of old raised a
lamentation over their master's departure as though 'twere his
burial. Samson's purpose in persuading our knight to issue forth
anew was to effect what the history later sets forth, all with the
approval of the priest and barber, in whom he confided his plan.
In short, during those three days Don Quijote and Sancho pro-
vided themselves with what seemed well to have along, and
Sancho having appeased his wife and Don Quijote his niece and
housekeeper, at nightfall, unseen of any save the bachelor, who
desired to accompany them a half-league on their way, together
they set out to el Toboso, Don Quijote on his good Rocinante

VIII THE THIRD SALLY 287

and Sancho on his ancient Dapple, the saddlebags well stocked
with things having to do with provender and a purse filled with
money for emergencies. Samson embraced the knight in bidding
farewell, praying he should send word of his good or evil fare,
that he might cheer himself with the latter or grieve at the former,
as the laws of their friendship did demand. Don Quijote prom-
ised, Samson returned to the village and the pair followed the
road leading to the great city of el Toboso.

CHAPTER VIII

The fortunes of Don Quijote while en route to his lady-love
Dulciuea del Toboso

' ~V\ LGSSED be mighty Allah, ' exclaims Hamet Benengeli at the
_I3 opening of this eighth chapter ; ' Blessed be Allah, ' he
thrice repeats — adding that he utters these thanksgivings
because at last he sees Don Quijote and Sancho out on the plain
and the readers of this pleasant history can now breathe freely,
knowing that the deeds and drolleries of master and man are
about to begin. He urges us to forget the past chivalries of this
imaginative gentleman and turn our eyes toward those to come,
which here open up on the road to el Toboso, as the others on
the plain of Montiel ; nor is it much that he prays, considering
what he promises. And he begins by saying :

Scarce was Samson gone when Rocinante began to neigh and
Dapple to bray, which their owners deemed good sign and
happy omen, though if the truth be told the sighs and brays of
the ass were longer and louder than the neighs of the nag, where-
from Sancho gathered that his fortunes were to surpass and
o'ertop his companion's. Whether he founded his belief on some
judicial astrology known to him, I cannot say, for the history
doesn't declare. Possibly not, for he has been heard to remark,
when he chanced to trip or stumble, that he wished he had stayed
indoors, for naught came of tripping and stumbling but torn

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

shoe and broken ribs ; and fool that he was, in this he wasn't so
far astray.

The errant was the first to speak : ' Friend Saacho, the night
comes on apace and darker than we need, if we are to reach by
dawn the city of el Toboso, whither I am resolved to go before
engaging in further adventure. There I trust to receive the blessing
and godspeed of the peerless Dulcinea, whereby I think and am
certain to master and issue victorious from every perilous occa-
sion, for naught in this life makes errants more valiant than the
favour of their lady-loves. ' ' So I understand, ' replied Sancho,
' but I fear 'twill be difficult to speak with her or see her alone,
at least so as to receive her blessing, unless she chucks it over
the wall of the yard where I saw her when I carried the news
of the monkey-shines your worship was playing up there in the
bowels of the Sierra Morena. ' ' Did you take them for yard-
walls, Sancho, those over or through which you beheld that
never-adequately-praised gentle-breeding and beauty ? They
couldn't have been other than galleries, corridors or porticos, or
whatever you prefer to call them, of rich and royal palaces. '
' Maybe so, but to me, if my memory serve me truly, they looked
like nothing so much as mud walls. '

' Yet let us go thither for, so that I see her, 'tis one to me be
it through walls or windows, chinks or garden-grating : whatever
ray of the sun of her beauty strike mine eyes, 'twill so illumine
mine undestanding and so fortify my heart as to leave me a
paragon, peerless in wisdom and valour. ' ' As to that, sire, when
I beheld this sun of a Dulcinea, 'twasn't bright enough to send
out rays at all. It must have been, since her grace was winnowing
wheat, that the thick dust she raised gathered like a cloud before
her face to obscure it. ' ' What ! ' cried the other ; ' will you
persist in saying, thinking, believing and maintaining that my
lady was winnowing wheat — an employment and exercise so
totally unlike what persons of quality are and should be accus-
tomed to, born and brought up as they are for occupations and
pastimes that declare their noble birth a bow-shot off ?

' Clearly, O Sancho, you forget the poet's line describing the
tasks plied by the four nymphs in their crystal mansions. They

VIII

THE THIRD SALLY

raise their heads above the golden Tagus and seat themselves in
the meadow green to work the rich stuffs there unfolded by the
gifted poet : all are of gold, silk and pearls, wrought and woven
together. Of such sort my lady's task must have been, but the
jealousy harboured toward my fortunes by some ill -minded
enchanter alters and perverts all things that give me pleasure into
shapes unlike their own. Similarly in this narrative of my deeds
now said to be in print, if the author be magician and foe, I fear
he has set down some things for others, mixing one truth with
a thousand lies, rejoicing in incidents that obstruct the flow of
true history. O envy, thou root of countless ills, thou canker
of the virtues ! all other vices carry with them something I know
not what of delight, but thou bringest naught but contempt,
bitterness and rage. '

' I say so too and I fear that in this legend or history of us,
which the bachelor says he has seen, my reputation goes shuff-
ling first this way then that, sweeping the streets as they say ;
though on the word of an honest man I never spake ill of an
enhanter nor have I sufficient goods to be envied. To be sure I'm
a trifle tricky and bear some marks of the rogue, but all is covered
and concealed under the great cloak of my simplicity, always
natural and unaffected. If for naught else than my believing, as
I ever do, firmly and entirely in God and all that the Holy
Roman Catholic Church holds and teaches, and for my mortal
hatred of the Jews, the historians ought to be easy on me and
treat me well in their writings. But let them say what they will :
naked I was born, I am naked still, I neither win nor lose. And
if I find me in a book bandied from hand to hand about the
world, what fig care I ! Let them write of me as they please. '

' What you say, Sancho, puts me in mind of what befell a
famous modern poet that wrote a malicious satire against all the
court courtezans, save one of whose standing he wasn't certain.
But she, finding herself out of it, complained to the author,
asking what he had seen in her that he didn't list her with the
others — let him enlarge the satire, pulling her in the supple-
ment, or look to himself. The poet, obeying, recounted of her
things even duennas wouldn't repeat, but the woman, now that

19

290 DON QUIJOTE DE LA. MANCHA II

she was famous-theagh through infamy, was wholly satisfied. Of
a piece with this is the story of the shepherd that set fire to and
destroyed the famous temple of Diana, accounted one of the
seven wonders of the world, merely that his name might live.
Though it was ordered that none should make mention of him
by spoken or written word, that his aim might be thwarted, 'tis
thought it was one^rostratus.

' The incident of the great emperor, Charles the Fifth, and a
certain gentleman at Rome is another case in point. The emperor
was anxious to see the celebrated temple of the Rotonda, or
temple of all the gods as it was called in ancient times but now,
serving a better use, is known as the temple of all saints. And
indeed of all pagan edifices in Rome it has come to us least
despoiled, more than any other bearing witness to the glory and
grandeur of its builders. 'Tis shaped like a half-orange, is very
large and well-lighted though boasting but one window and that
a round sky-light at the top. As the emperor was surveying the
temple through this opening, the Roman gentleman stood near
indicating the fine points and beauties of this spacious and
wonderful edifice. At last turning from the sky-light he said to
the emperor : ' Sacred Majesty, I was tempted a thousand times
to close with your Royal Highness and hurl us headlong, that
everlasting report of me might stalk abroad in the world. ' ' In
not giving way to so devilish an impulse, ' responded the other,
' you have earned my lasting gratitude, but that your loyalty may
not again be put to test, henceforth never speak to me or appear
in my presence. ' With this he gave the man a handsome present
and sent him away.

' I am trying to make clear, Sancho, how forceful a motive is
this thirst for fame. What was it, think you, that hurled Horatius,
armed cap-a-pie, down from the bridge into the depths of the
Tiber ? what burned the hand and arm of Mutius ? what drove
Gurtius to leap into the boiling gulf that suddenly burst forth in
central Rome ? what was it that, in the face of all auguries,
made Caesar cross the Rubicon ? And in modern times, what
scuttled the ships and left those valiant Spaniards, led by most
courteous Gortez, high and dry in the new world ? All these and

VIII THE THIRD SALLY 291

Other and great deeds are, were and will be monuments to that
fame which mortals thirst for as a reward and as part of the
immortality which their actions deserve, though Catholic Christ-
ians and knights-errant should look more to future glory eternal
in the heavens than to the vanity of fame realised in this present
transitory world, since this latter renown, though it long endure,
must end at last like the world itself at its appointed time.

' Therefore, O Sancho, our labours must not pass beyond the
bounds set us by the Christian religion we profess. In slaying
giants we are to slay pride ; envy must be laid low by generosity
and gentle spirit, and wrath by a calm and quietness of mind ;
gluttony and drowsiness by long vigils and fasts ; lust and
lasciviousness by our faithfulness to those whom we have made
mistresses of our thoughts, and sloth must we leave behind by
travelling through all quarters of the globe, keeping an eye out
for occasions that can and will make us not alone Christians but
famous cavaliers. These are the means whereby is attained that
high praise an honest fame confers. '

' All that your worship has said till now, ' began Sancho,
' I've had no trouble in understanding, but just at this point
arises in my mind a doubt from which I would that you absorb
me. ' ' Absolve, you would say, Sancho ; but tell it cheerfully
and I'll do the best I can. ' ' Then tell me, master, these Julys
and Augusts and other brave gentlemen you named that are
dead, where are they now ? ' ' The pagans in hell no doubt, and
the Christians, were they true ones, are either in Purgatory or
Paradise. ' ' Well and good, ' said Sancho, ' but let me know
this : the tombs where lie the bodies of these fine fellows, have
they silver lamps before them and are the walls of their chapels
adorned with crutches, winding-sheets, periwigs and wax legs
and eyes ? or how are they adorned ? '

' The tombs of the pagans were usually sumptuous temples.
The ashes of Julius Caesar were placed on top a pyramid of
surpassing size, now called Saint Peter's needle. For the Emperor
Hadrian there served as sepulchre a castle as large as a good-
sized village, to which they gave the name Moles Hadriani, now
known as the Castle of San Angelo. Queen Artemisia buried her

292 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

husband Mausolus in a tomb considered one the seven wonders
of the world ; but none of these burial places nor any of the
many other pagan tombs were adorned with winding-sheets or
other offerings and tokens to show that those buried therein
were saints. ' ' To that I am coming, ' replied Sancho, ' but first
tell me which is the greater achievement, to bring a dead person
to life or to kill a giant ? ' ' It goes without saying — to raise the
dead of course. '

' Now I have you, ' chuckled Sancho, ' for the fame of them
that bring the dead to life, that give sight to the blind, straighten
the cripple and heal the sick, and before whose tombs lamps
are burning and whose chapels are filled with devout people
kneeling and worshipping their relics, their fame I say will be
a better kind both for this world and the next than that which is
or may be left by all the pagan errants and emperors that ever
lived. ' ' I grant you that also. ' ' This fame I am speaking of, '
continued the squire, ' these favours, prerogatives or however
you call them, are enjoyed by the bodies and relics of saints, and
they with the sanction and approval of our Holy Mother Church
have lamps, tapers, winding-sheets, crutches, paintings, periwigs,
eyes and legs, to deepen devotion and enhance their Christian
fame. Kings carry the bodies and relics of saints on their should-
ers, kiss scraps of their bones and enrich and adorn their ora-
tories and favourite altars with them. '

' And what would you conclude from all this ? ' ' That you and
I ought to be saints so as the sooner to get this fame we're after.
Why, 'twas only yesterday or the day before, and inded 'twas <
but a short time back, they canonised or beatified a couple of
little barefoot friars, and now 'lis held a great privilege just to
kiss and touch the iron chains wherewith they previously had
been bound and tortured ; they're regarded with deeper venera-
tion so they tell me than Roland's svs^ord that stands in the
armeria of our royal sovereign, God keep him. You can see,
master, it pays better to be a little humble friar, no matter what
you order, than an errant and valiant knight. In other words
two dozen scourges weigh more with God than two thousand
lance-strokes, though driven at giants or monsters and dragons.'

IX EL TOBOSO 293

' All you say is true, Sancho, but not all of us can be friars and
many are the paths whereby God leads his own to Heaven. Chiv-
alry is a religion and saintly knights are there in glory. ' ' True, '
replied Sancho. ' yet have I heard say there are more friars than
errants there. ' ' Because greater their number here below. '
' There are many adventurers. ' ' Many, but few deserving the
name of knight. '

In these and similar conversations they passed that night and
the next day, with naught befalling them worthy of record, which
fact lay lie a great weight on Don Quijote's heart. But at dusk the
second day the great city of el Toboso flashed into view, consid-
erably raising the knight's spirits and casting down those of his
squire, so ignorant of where Dulcinea had her dwelling, having
never in his life seen it, any more than his master. Both therefore
were excited, one at the prospect of an interview, the other at
not knowing what to do when his master sent him ahead. Our
hero planned to enter the place in the dark, so the interval was
spent amid some oaks on the outskirts. When the hour arrived,
they entered the city, where befell them things worthy the name.

CHAPTER IX
Herein is recounted what herein vtrill be read

TTIwAs on the stroke of midnight, a trifle more or less, when
I . Don Quijoteand his squire Sancho left the wooded country
and entered el Toboso. The town was all quietness, since its
inhabitants lay with outstretched leg. The night was somewhat
overcast but Sancho would have preferred total darkness that its
obscurity might serve him as excuse. Nowhere was any sound
save the barking of dogs, which stunned the ears of the knight
and appalled the heart of his henchman. Now and again an ass
brayed, pigs grunted, cats miaued — the various noises being
intensified by the general stillness. The enamoured errant took all
for happy omen, and found heart to say to Sancho : ' Lead on,
son Sancho, to the palace of Dulcinea, for she, it may be, is still

294 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

awake. ' ' By the light of the sun to what palace 8hall I lead ?
when I saw her grace 'twas in a tiny house. ' ' Probably she had
retired for the nonce to a small apartment of the palace to solace
herself with her handmaids as is the use and custom of fine ladies
and princesses. ' ' Master, ' demanded the squire, ' if in spite of
me your worship still would have my lady's house a castle, is
this an hour to find the door open ? or would it be wise to give
loud knockings and put the whole household to confusion and
alarm ? Is it to our mistresses' houses we are going, the way
rough fellows do, who come and call and enter in, no matter
how late ? '

' Let's first make sure of the castle, ' advised his senor, ' and
then I'll say what next will best be done. And look, boy, either
I see poorly or that large mass and shadow yonder is the place. '
' Then let your worship lead ; maybe it is, though were I to see
it with both eyes and touch it with both hands I should believe
it as I believe 'tis now day. ' The knight led the way but having
advanced some two hundred paces perceived the building was
the parish-church and not the castle, and said i ' 'Tis the church,
Sancho. ' ' So I see, and God grant we don't come upon our
burial ; 'lis no good business to be prowling around grave-yards
at this time of night, the more as I told your worship if I mistake
not, that the home of her grace was down a blind-alley. '

' His curses on you, fool ! where have you seen castles or royal
palaces down alley- ways ? ' Senor, to every land its own customs :
maybe it's one in el Toboso to build palaces and other great
buildings down blind-alleys. So prithee let me hunt through
these streets or alley-ways, for possibly at some corner or other
I shall stumble on this castle, which may I see eaten by dogs for
dragging us to the devil this way. ' ' Show respect to the pro-
perty of my lady-love, ' counselled Don Quijote ; ' let us keep
the feast in peace and not throw the rope after the bucket. '
' I'll bridle this tongue of mine, ' promised Sancho, ' but with
what sort of patience can I bear that your worship expects me,
who saw your lady's house but once, to recognise it always
and find it at midnight, the more that your worship too is
helpless that must have seen it thousands of times ? ' ' You'll

IX EL TOBOSO 295

drive me distracted, Sancho. Gome here, heretic ! haven't I told
you a thousand times that in all the days of my life I never set
eyes on the peerless Dulcinea nor once crossed the threshold of
her palace ? that I am enamoured from report only, from her
great reputation for beauty and cleverness. '

' I hear it now, ' replied the other, ' and I say that since your
worship hasn't ever seen her, neither have I. ' ' Impossible ! '
cried Don Quijote ; ' you certainly told me you saw her winnow-
ing wheat, what time you brought her answer to the letter I sent.'
' Don't mind that, sir, for Fid have you know that my sight of
her and the answer I brought were also by report. I know as well
who the lady Dulcinea is as I know how to give a slap to the
sky. ' ' Sancho, Sancho ! ' blazed the knight ; ' there are times for
jesting and times when jests fall flat and loathsome. Just because
I say I neither have seen nor spoken to my heart's mistress is no
reason you should say the same, when you know the reverse to
be true. '

The pair were in the midst of this logomachy when they ob-
served a man approaching with two mules. From the noise made
by the plough dragging on the ground they conjectured it must
be some peasant risen before dawn to go to his work. So it was
and as he trudged along, he chanted the ballad beginning :

111 did ye fare, ye men of France,
In that wild chace of Roncesvalles.

' May I die, if aught good befall us to night, Sancho, ' said
Don Quijote ; ' do you hear what this countryman is singing ? '
' I hear, ' said Sancho, ' but what has the chase of Roncesvalles
to do with our afl'airs ? he could chant the ballad of Lacainos I
and 'twould make no difference, so far as we're concerned. '

The peasant was now at hand and Don Quijote said to him :
' Can you tell me, my friend, and may God give you fortune,
where stand the palaces of the peerless princess. Dona Dulcinea
del Toboso ? ' ' I am a stranger, sir, and have been but a few
days here in the hire of a rich farmer whose soil I till. In this
house opposite live the village-priest and the sacristan, either or
both of whom could inform you, since they keep a list of inhab-

296 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA. II

itants. My impression is that el Toboso doesn't boast a princess,
though there are many ladies of such importance that any of them
may be one in her own house. ' ' Among them it must be I shall
find her concerning whom I ask. ' ' Most likely, but God be
with you for the day is at hand, ' returned the swain, pricking
his mules nor waiting to be questioned further.

Sancho, observing how his master was puzzled and ill at ease,
seized this opportunity for saying : ' Senor, the day comes apace
and 'twill not be prudent to let the sun find us in these streets.
We would better leave the city and when your worship is hid
in a neighbouring wood, I'll return in the daytime nor leave
a stone unturned in my search for the house, castle or palace
of my lady. I should be pretty good-for-nothing didn't I find it,
and when found, I'll communicate with her grace, telling where
and how you bide expecting her, and to you I'll give means
and directions for an interview without risk to her honour and
good name. ' ' In a few words, Sancho, you have spoken a thou-
sand sentences. The counsel you have just given I relish and
acccept. Gome, my son, let's look for my hiding-place, that you
may return to seek out, find and talk with my lady-love, from
whose discretion and courtesy I look for favours more than
miraculous.' As Sancho was only too eager to get out of the town
ere the lie of the letter to his master in the Sierra Morena be
discovered, their departure was immediate. Some two miles out
they found a forest or wood and there the knight hid himself
during his squire's journey to the city, on which embassy there
ijefell things demanding further attention and credulity.

ENCHANTMENT OF DULGINEA

CHAPTER X

The trick devised by Saucho for the enchantment of
Dulcinea, together with other passages whimsical as true

COMING to relate what is told in this chapter the author says
his wish was quietly to omit it lest he be not believed,
since Don Quijote's madness here passes the limit and farthest
bound of the worst imaginable cases — indeed it passes two
bowshots beyond. Nevertheless, though with fear and misgiving,
he transcribes it precisely as things occurred, not adding to or
subtracting from the history an atom of its truth, nor yielding
one jot to the charges of lying that may be made against him.
And he did right, for truth, though finely spun, will never break,
outtopping falsehood as oil does water. Proceeding with the
narrative he says :

As soon as Don Quijote was ensconced in the forest, wood or
thicket outside great el Toboso, he bade his squire return citywards
nor reappear till he had spoken on his behalf with his lady,
praying that she be pleased to let herself be seen of her captive
knight and deign to bestow her blessing, that he might thereby
hope to attain a happy fulfilment of all his engagements and
difficult designs. Sancho promised to obey, bringing him as
good answer as he did the first time. ' Go, my son, ' concluded
Don Quijote, ' taking care lest you be dazzled by the light of that
sun of beauty wherefor you make search, happy above all the
squires of the world ! Note down in your memory and let it not
escape thence, how she receives you, whether she colours when
you state your errand, whether she is quickened and nervous
when she hears my name.

' Note too whether she rises from her ottoman (should you
find her seated in the sumptuous chamber proper to her author-
ity), or, if you find her standing, see whether she doesn't rest
first on one foot, then on the other. Tell me if she repeats her
answer two or three times, if she changes from gentle to severe,

298 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCUA II

from severe to loving ; if she raises her hand to smooth her hair
though not disordered. In fine, my son, observe her every action
and movement ; which if you faithfully report, I shall divine
what's hid in the secret places of her heart, bearing on her
attitude toward my passion, For you should know, Sancho,
if you don't already, that 'twixt two lovers their actions and
motions when the beloved is named are most faithful messengers
of what is transpiring within. Go, friend, and may better fortune
than mine attend you, bringing you more success than I fear
and look for, while I abide in the cruel solitude wherein you
leave me. '

' I'll go and come quickly, ' promised Sancho ; ' let your
worship cheer up this little heart of yours, which can be no
bigger than a hazel-nut. Consider the proverb, A stout heart
breaks bad luck, and. No flitches are, where there are no hooks,
and how also it is said. The hare leaps where least he is looked
for. I mean by all this that though in the night we failed to find
the castles or palaces of Dulcinea, now that 'tis day I think to
find them when least I expect, and when found, leave the lady
to me. ' ' Verily, my son, you are ever so pat with your proverbs,
so may God grant me better fortune in my desire. ' With this
Sancho wheeled about and pricked his Dapple, leaving his
master mounted, braced in stirrups and leaning on his lance, at
bay with sad and troubled fancies. There too we shall leave him
and accompany Sancho Panza.

No less troubled and sad was the squire setting out than the
knight remaining : so anxious was he indeed that scarce had he
left the wood when, turning to see that his master was out of
view, he alighted from Dapple and seating himself at the foot
of a tree began to commune with himself saying : ' Be kind
enough to tell us, brother Sancho, whither your worship is
bound ; look you perchance for some lost ass or other ? ' ' Not
at all. ' ' Then for what ? ' ' To say the least of her I am looking
for a princess and she the sun of beauty and the whole sky
combined. ' ' And where think you to find this wonder of won-
ders ? ' ' "Where ? why in the great city of el Toboso of course. '
' Good ; and on whose behalf do you run this errand ? ' ' On

X ENCHANTMEM OF UULCINEA 299

behalf of the famous knight Don Quijote de la Mancha, he that
redresses wrongs, gives the thirsty to eat and the hungry to
drink. ' ' That sounds very well but know you her house ? '
' My master says 'tis some royal palaces or other, or a haughty
castle. '

' Possibly you've seen the lady once upon a time ? ' Neither I
nor master have e'er set eyes on her grace. ' ' Then wouldn't you
think it well and wisely done if the Tobosans, finding that you
had come to pester their ladies and allure away their princesses,
pounded your ribs with bare sticks till they left no whole bone
in your body ? ' ' They certainly would be right unless they
bethought them in time that I acted under orders and that :

Friend, as a messenger you came

And therefore shall not meet with blame. '

' Don't trust to that, my son, for Manchegans are as choleric
as cunning and take jokes from none. My God, if they scent
you, I promise you hard times. ' ' The devil, man, let the bolt fall
yonder ; not if I know it shall I look for three feet on a cat for
another man's pleasure, the more that looking for Dulcinea in
el Toboso is like hunting for Maria in Ravenna or the bachelor in
Salamanca. 'Tis the devil I say that has got me into this scrape
and nobody else. '

This conference occurred between himself and Sancho and the
upshot was that as it broke up he declared : ' Gome now, all
things have remedy save death, beneath whose yoke, in spite of
ourselves, all must pass when life is over and done. A thousand
proofs have been submitted that this my master is as mad as
they make them and that even I am not so far behind. Indeed I,
since I follow and serve him, am more fool than he, if the proverb
be true. Tell me the company you keep and I will tell you what
you are ; and that other. Not with whom thou art bred but with
whom thou art fed. Mad, then, as he is, and with a madness
that is wont to take some things for others, calling black white
and white black, as appeared when he said the windmills were
giants, the friars' mules dromederies and the flocks of sheep
hostile armies and much more to the same tune, it won't be so

300 DON QUMOTE DE LA MANCHA II

difficult to make him believe that a peasant woman, the first I
come across, is the lady Dulcinea. And if he don't, I can swear
she is, and if he swear back, I'll take a second oath, and if he
keep it up, so will I and mine eye will not leave the mark, come
as it will. Perhaps by mine obstinacy I shall end this sending
me on embassies, when he sees the bad news I bring. Or maybe
he'll think, and this is more likely, that some naughty enchanter,
of those he says wish him ill, has changed her looks to make
him mischief and trouble. '

With this last thought Sancho became more at ease, feeling the
job good as done. He waited till afternoon that sufficient time
should seem to have elapsed for his trip to and fro. And so well
did things fall out that when he rose to mount Dapple, he saw
approaching from the city three peasant-women riding three
he-asses or she-asses — the author doesn't state which, though
the latter is more probable, being the usual mount of country-
women, but, as 'tis of small concern, there's no reason we should
stop to enquire. To be brief, as soon as Sancho saw the peasants,
he galloped back to his master, whom he found sighing and
uttering a thousand love-laments. When the knight saw him he
exclaimed : ' What news, Sancho friend ? shall I mark this day
with white stone or black ? ' ' Better mark it with red chalk, sir,
as they do the college lists, to be more plainly seen. '

' 'Tis good news, then, you bring me ? ' ' So good that your
worship has only to spur Rocinante and ride into the open to
behold the lady Dulcinea with two of her maidens coming to
wait upon you. ' ' Blessed be God what do you say ? remember
and don't deceive me nor with false cheer try to ease my veritable
sorrow. ' ' Why should I try to deceive, especially when you
are so near to learning the truth ? Spur on, sire ; come, and you
will see the princess our mistress on the way, all dressed up and
adorned — in short just like the lady she is. Her damsels and she
are a blaze of gold, they look like corn-cobs of pearls and
besides are covered with diamonds, rubies and brocades more
than ten-folds thick. Their hair hangs loose upon their shoulders
like so many sunbeams that go playing with the wind, and
above all they come mounted on three piebald whacknees, the

X ENCHANTMENT OF DULCINEA 301

finest sight conceivable. ' • Hackneys you should say, Sancho. '
' There's small difference 'Iwixt whacknees and hackneys. But
let their mount be what it may, coming they are, the showiest
ladies you could ask for, especially my lady the princess Dulcinea,
who makes one faint. ' ' Gome then, Sancho son, and as reward
for this unexpected as 'tis good news I grant you the best spoil
won in the next adventure. If this be not enough, yours are the
three fillies my three mares give me this year ; they're in foal on
our town-meadow as you know. ' ' I choose the fillies, for the
spoils of our next adventure aren't very certain. '

By this time they found themselves out of the wood and near
the three peasant-girls. Don Quijote's eyes followed the road to
el Toboso and seeing only the three grew nervous, asking Sancho
if 'twere outside the city he left them. ' How outside ? ' cried the
other ; ' have you your eyes in the back of your head perchance
that you fail to recognise her among these at hand, resplendent
as the sun at noon ? ' ' Naught can I see, squire, save three
peasant-women on three asses. ' ' Now God deliver me from the
devil ! ' quoth the other ; ' and is it possible that three hackneys
or however you call them, as white as the snow, should look to
you like asses ? As the Lord liveth, may they pluck out my
beard if such be the truth. ' ' Friend Sancho, it's as true that they
are he or she-asees as that I am Don Quijote and you Sancho
Panza ; at least so they appear to me. '

' Peace, senor, speak it not ; snuff those eyes of yours and
come and make obeisance to the lady of your thoughts that
already draws nigh ; ' and saying this he advanced to meet the
three women. Dropping from his Dapple he seized one of the
three asses by the halter and kneeling said. ' O queen, princess
and duchess of beauty, may your haughtiness and majesty be
pleased to receive in your grace and good-will your captive
cavalier that stands there like marble, utterly puzzled and pulse-
less at finding himself before your magnificent presence. I am
his squire Sancho Panza and he the wayworn knight Don Qui-
jote de La Mancha, otherwise known as the Knight of Sorry
Aspect. ' Don Quijote was now on his knees beside Sancho,
staring with bulging eyes and bewildered look at her his squire

302 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

called queen and lady. As he could see only a peasant:girl and
not a very good-looking one at that (a flat nose on a round face),
ill his confusion he dared not open his lips.

The peasants were equally dumfounded at seing two such
unlike men kneeling before and holding back their companion.
But she, annoyed to the point of anger, broke the silence by
saying : ' Bad luck to you, get out of the way and let us pass on
for we're in a hurry. ' And Sancho replied : ' O princess and
universal lady of el Toboso, how does your magnaminous heart
not soften at seeing the prop and pillar of errantry kneeling
before your sublimated presence ? ' To which one of the others
retorted : ' Whoa there, my father-in-law's ass, till I curry-
comb you. Look how these dandiprats come to poke fun at us
poor country-girls, as though we knew not how to crack jokes
as well as they. Go your way and let us go ours ; 'twill be better
for you. '

' Rise, Sancho, ' sighed Don Qaijote, ' for I see that fortune,
not yet sated with my sorrows, has blocked all roads whereby
comfort might come to this wretched soul I bear in my flesh. But
O thou crown of all imaginable excellence, thou limit of all
human grace, sole consolation of the afllicted heart that adores
thee, now that an evil enchanter persecutes me, placing clouds
and cataracts in mine eyes and perverting thy peerless beauty
and features into those of a poor peasant, unless he have at the
same time changed mine into those of a wild beast to appear
hateful in thy sight, fail not to look softly and lovingly upon me,
detecting in this knee-bending and submission which I make to
thy hidden beauty the humility wherewith my soul adores thee.'

' Tell that to my grandfather ! ' retorted the wench ; ' I'm no
woman to listen to love-jabber. Clear the road and we'll thank
you. ' Sancho stood aside to let her pass, overjoyed at being well
out of his entanglement. She that had done duty for Dulcinea
no sooner found herself free than she pricked her whacknee
with her pointed slick, making her dash over the meadow, till
the jenny, feeling the extraordinary sting, began to cavort, at
length landing her ladyship on the ground. When this was seen
of Don Quijote, he hastened to assist her and Sancho to adjust

X ENTCHANTMENT OP DULCINEA 303

the girth and panne], which had slipped beneath the beast's belly.
When this was secured and the knight was about to lift his
enchanted lady-love back onto her seat, she took a quick run and
clapping both hands on the jenny's haunches, more lightly than
a falcon landed astride.

' By Roque ! ' exclaimed Sancho ; ' if the lady our mistress
isn't nimbler than a hawk ! I swear she can teach the most dex-
terous Cordovan or Mexican to mount jennet-wise. With one
leap she sailed over the crupper and without spurs now makes
her hackney run like a zebra. Nor do her damsels stay behind :
all are travelling like the wind. ' Such was the case, for seeing
Dulcinea mounted again the others pricked after and all shot
off like a flash, not turning their heads for more than half a
a league. Don Quijote followed them with his eyes, and when
they had passed beyond sight, he turned to his squire and said :
' How does it look to you, Sancho, that I am so little loved by
enchanters? Observe how far their hatred and malice extend in
that they have chosen to rob me of the comfort of seeing my
lady fair in her proper form. Verily was I born an ensample of
the unfortunate : to be the butt and mark whereat the arrows
of adversity might take aim and shoot. You must also remark,
friend, that they weren't content, the traitors, to alter the appear-
ance of my Dulcinea, but they must change and transform her
into a figure so low and ugly as that peasant, and in addition
robbed her of one of the special charms of ladies of rank — the
lovely fragrance that comes from their always being amid sweet
amber and flowers. For I must confess to you, that when I came
to lift Dulcinea onto her hackney, as you call what seemed to me
a she-ass, I got such a whiff of raw garlic as to smother and
poison my very soul. '

' Dogs that ye are ! ' quoth the squire ; ' O dismal and ill-
minded enchanters, may I see you strung up by the gills like
pilchards on a rush ! Much is it that ye know and much is in
your power, but much much more do ye do. It should have
sufficed to turn the pearls of my lady's eyes into cork-tree gall-
nuts, her tresses of purest gold into bristles of a red bullock's
tail ; in short to turn all her features from fair to foul were

304 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

enough without meddling with her odour, since by it at least we
might have guessed what lay beneath that ugly rind. Though to
speak by the card, I noticed no ugliness but only beauty, which
culminated in a mole on her right lip like a moustache, with
seven or eight red hairs growing out like golden filaments and
longer than a span. '

' In that case, ' said Don Quijote, ' according to the relation-
ship among moles, those of the face and those of the body, the
girl must have another on the broad of her thigh on the same
side as the one on her face. But hairs of the length you describe
are rather long for moles. ' ' All I can say is there they were as
if born with her. ' ' I'll believe it, friend, since nature gave noth-
ing to Dulcinea that was not perfect and complete. Indeed had
you discovered a hundred moles like that you speak of, on her
they were not moles (lunares) but moons (lunas) and brightly
shining stars. But tell me, Sancho, that which seemed to me a
pack-saddle, which you adjusted, was it a flat or a side-saddle ?'
' Neither, but one with high pommels and cantle with a field-
covering worth half a kingdom it was so rich.' ' Alas that I should
have missed it all ! ' sighed the knight ; ' again I say and I'll say it
a thousand times that I am the most unfortunate of men. ' The
rogue of a Sancho had difficulty in concealing his laughter when
he heard these misconceptions of his master whom he had so
artfully deceived, At length, after further talk, they mounted and
took the road to Saragossa which they hoped to reach in time
for the religious festival annualy held in that illustrious city.
Ere they arrived however, there befell them many fresh and
important adventures worthy of record and reading, as in due
course will be seen.

XI THE CAR OP DEATH 305

CHAPTER XI

The surprising adventure that overtook Don Quijote in
connection with the cart or car of the Cortes or Death

As he rode along our knight sate very sad, musing on the vile
turn the enchanters had done him in turning his lady
Dulcinea into a mean country-wench — the viler in that he saw
no way of changing her back. These thoughts carried him so far
that unwittingly he let the reins slip from his hands, and Roci-
nante, appreciating his liberty, at every step delayed to crop
the green grass wherewith those fields abounded. Sancho at
length aroused him from his revery by saying : ' Griefs, master,
were made not for beasts to be sure but for men, but if men
overgrieve, they become beasts. Control and be yourself again,
senor, and take Rocinante's reins. Cheer and rouse yourself,
showing the gallantry all adventurers should possess. What devil
is this ? what fit is upon you ? are we here or in France ? May
Satan fetch all the Dulcineas in the world, since the well-being
of a single knight-errant imports more than all the enchantments
and transformations on the earth. '

' Tut, tut, ' said the other in a voice not too faint, ' peace I say
and blaspheme not the charmed woman for whose misfortune
and calamity I alone am to blame — from the envy the wicked
bear me has been born her loss. ' ' I say so too, ' sighed the
other ; ' who saw her then and sees her now, 'tis any heart would
weep I trow. ' ' You of all men can say this, friend, since you
beheld the entire perfection of her loveliness — the enchantment
neither confused your sight nor hid her beauty. Against me and
mine eyes only did its poison set. Yet yon too had a false idea
of her, telling me, if I remember rightly, she had eyes like pearls.
Such eyes belong rather to a fish than a fair one. Mine own
feeling is that Dnlcinea's must have been green emeralds, large
and full, with two celestial arcs as brows. Take these pearls from

SO

306 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

her eyes and give them her for teeth ; doubtless you were excited
and misnamed them. '

' Very likely ; her beauty dazzled me as her ugliness dazed
your worship. But let us commend ourselves to God that knoweth
all that must come to pass in this vale of tears, this naughty
world of ours, where aught can scarce be that's not mixed with
corruption or fraud and guile. The thing that most distresses
me, however, is wondering what steps must be taken when you
down some giant or other cavalier, commanding him to present
himself before the beauty of the lady Dulcinea. Where's he to
find her, this poor giant or this poor and miserable defeated
cavalier. I seem to see them like staring dummies wandering
through the town, looking for my lady whom, should they meet
her on the street, they wouldn't recognise any more than they
would my father. '

' Yet it may be, ' suggested the other, ' that the enchantment
won't reach to her obscuration to the eyes of vanquished and
presented giants and cavaliers. From one or two of the first I
conquer and send we shall get evidence on this point by ordering
them to r«turn and give account of all that befell. ' ' Allow me
to say, master, that what you propose appears to me capital, for
methihks by this artifice we shall come to know what we wish.
And if it turn out that she's hid from your worship only, the
misfortune is more yours than hers ; and knowing she has health
and peace we, going our way and making the best of it, will
soon become reconciled, looking for our adventures and letting
Time deal with hers, for he's the best physician both for these
and for other and more serious complaints. '

The knight was prevented from replying by the appearance
of a long open cart without tilt or covering that suddenly came
out onto the road, freighted with the most diverse and extraordi-
nary personages and figures imaginable. He that guided the mules
and served as charioteer was an ugly demon, while the next
creation that presented itself was very Death though with a
human countenance. Near him stood an angel with painted
wings ; at his side, an emperor with a crown that feigned gold,
while at Death's feet rested the god Cupid, lacking the customary

XI THE CAR OF DEATH 307

bandage over his eyes but with bow and arrow-filled quiver. A
knight there was in full armour, save that for morrion and
helmet he wore a hat stuck with plumes of divers colours.
Besides these were others of differing garbs and faces, and the
whole, coming so suddenly, a little startled Don Quijote and
wholly petrified the heart of his squire. But soon the former was
all happiness again, bethinking him that a fresh and perilous
adventure was here offered, and in this mind and with a heart
resolved to meet whatever risk, he took his stand before the car
and in loud and threatening terms cried out :

' Charioteer, driver, devil or whoever it is I address, be quick
to tell me who you are, whither bound and what the crew in
your coach, which more nearly resembles Charon's bark than any
common conveyance. ' Stopping his car the devil calmly replied :
' Sire, we are players in the company of Angulo the Artful. This
morning, being the Octave of Corpus Christi, in a village behind
yon hill we acted the auto of the Cortes of Death, which we are
to repeat this afternoon in a village just visible ahead. As the
distance is short, we are travelling in costume, saving ourselves
the trouble of undressing and dressing again. That youth there
takes the part of Death ; the other, of an angel ; that woman,
who is the wife of the manager, is the queen; then come the
soldier and the emperor, while I, who usually take the leading
roles in our company's performances, in this one play the devil.
Being he, I am equal to everything, and so, would your worship
know aught else of us, out with it and I shall be able to answer
without delay. ' ' On the word of a knight-errant, ' declared Don
Quijote, ' when first I beheld this car, I imagined that some
great adventure presented itself, but now I can only say that
if one would be disillusioned, 'tis necessary to touch appearances
with the hand. Go your way with God, good people, and hold
your festival, resting assured that should you seek aught wherein
I may be of service, it shall be done with pleasure and good-
will by one that from boyhood was devoted to masques and in his
youth was spellbound by the drama. '

While they were thus engaged, chance willed that a certain
member of the company, clad as a fool and hung about with

308 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA II

many bells, approaching Don Quijote began to flourish a stick,
beating the ground with three ox-bladders fastened to the end
thereof ; at the same time this merry-andrew kept leaping in the
air, sounding the bells. The wicked vision so startled Rocinante
that in his master's spite he took the bit 'twixt his teeth and
started for a cross-country run at a greater speed than the bones
of his anatomy ever promised. Sancho, fearing lest his master be
thrown, dropped from Dapple and in all haste went to his
rescue. But by the time he reached the spot, the errant was lying
on the ground with Rocinante by his side : the usual outcome of
the nag's high spirits and the knight's imprudence.

Scarce had the squire in his hurry left his mount when the
demoniacal dancer of the bladders leapt on Dapple, and striking
him therewith, more by fear and noise than by pain of blows
made him fly o'er the plain toward the village where the festival
was to be held. Sancho looked first at Dapple's flight and then
at his master's downfall, not knowing to which of the two needs
to address himself, but in the end, as in a good squire and faith-
ful servant, the love he bore his master outweighed his affection
for the ass, though every time he saw the bladders rise and fall
on Dapple's haunches he felt the toils and terrors of death,
preferring that those blows fall on the apples of his own eyes
than touch the smallest hair of the tail of his ass. With this
double anxiety he came to where Don Quijote lay, decidedly
worse off than he wished. Helping him back onto Rocinante he
cried : ' Senor, the devil has made away with the ass. '

' What devil ? ' asked Don Quijote. ' He of the bladders, ' was
the answer. ' Then I'll recover it though it and the thief be hid in
the deepest and darkest dungeons of hell. Follow me, boy, for the
car travels slowly and with its mules I mean to make good the
loss of your mount.' ' There's no need, master; let your worship
cool down, for it looks as if the devil had quit the little beast who
is returning to its crib ; ' which was true, for the devil, taking a
fall with Dapple, in imitation of the knight and Rocinante, was
footing it to the village, while the ass was returning to its owner.
' Nevertheless, ' said Don Quijote, ' 'twill be well to visit the
demon's rudeness on some member of the car, though it be the

XI THE CAR OF DEATH 309

emperor himself. ' ' Drop that from your head, sir, taking my
advice, which is never to meddle with players : they're a priv-
ileged lot. I've seen an actor tried for two murders and go
scot-free. Your worship must know that as they're a merry crew
and give pleasure, every one is on their side, protects, helps, and
cherishes them, especially companies having royal charters,
of whom all or most in dress and make-up look like princes. '

' Say what you will, ' replied the other, ' that play-devil shan't
go off boasting, though the entire human race take his side. '
Saying which he set off for the car, now mear the village, crying
as he went : ' Hold there, rest yourselves, merry and festive ones,
for I hope to show you how are to be treated the asses and
animals that serve as mounts to errants ' squires. ' So loud were
his cries that the car-folk heard and understood, and surmising
his object from his oratory Death at once leapt to the ground,
followed by the emperor, the devil-charioteer and the angel, nor
did the queen and the god Cupid remain behind. All supplied
themselves with stones and waited in a row to receive our knight
at the points of Iheir pebbles. Seeing their brave squadron, their
arms raised and ready to let fly, Don Quijote drew rein, endeav-
ouring to think how he might attack them with less danger
of person.

Sancho had now arrived and finding his master about to
advance against the well-formed battalion cried : ' 'Twould be
nothing short of madness to attempt such a thing. Consider, sire,
that against that brook-soup, and there's plenty of it, there's not
a defensive armour in the world, unless one were to crouch and
hide inside a bronze bell. It should also be noted that 'tis more
foolhardiness than valour for one lone man to meet an army led
by Death, where emperors fight in person and to which both good
and bad angels lend aid. Should this not move you, be moved
by knowing for certain that among them all, though there appear
to be kings, princes and emperors, not one of them is truly a
knight-errant. ' ' There, Sancho, you have hit on what can and
should alter my intent. It is neither permissible nor possible for
me to draw sword against undubbed nnights, as I have often told
you, but do you avenge Dapple's wrong if you wish, while I aid

310 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

from afar with cries of caution or encouragement. '

' There's no cause for wreaking vengeance on anyone, seiior,
since 'tis not the part of good Christians. What's more, I'll
arrange with mine ass to place his injury in the hands of my will,
which is peacefully to live such days as Heaven alloteth. ' ' If
that be your resolve, Sancho the good, Sancho the wise, Sancho
the Christian and Sancho the sincere, let's quit these phantasms,
and seek again for lovelier and better-qualified adventures, for
methinks this country is of a character not to fail in many and
most marvellous. ' He then turned about, Sancho went to meet
his Dapple, Death and his flying squadron mounted their car,
and thus happily ended the adventure of the car of Death, thanks
to the wholesome counsel given by Sancho Panza to his master ;
to whom next day with an errant and enamoured knight befell
another no less breathless than the preceeding.

CHAPTER XII

The rare adventure that befell the gallant Don Quijote with
the brave Knight of the Mirrors

THE night that followed the day of the encounter with Death
was spent by Don Quijote and his squire under some tall
and star-proof trees, after the former, at Sancho's persuasion,
had eaten of the contents of Dapple's store. During the meal
the servant said to his lord : ' What a fool I had been, sire, had I
chosen as a present the spoils of the first adventure your worship
achieved rather than the fillies of the three mares. Verily, verily,
a sparrow in hand is worth more than a vulture flying. ' ' But
consider, Sancho, that had you let me make an assault as I
wished to, to you would at least have fallen the empress's crown
of gold and Cupid's painted wings, for I should have stripped
them off" willy-nilly and placed them in your hands. ' ' The scep-
tres and crowns of play-emperors, ' declared the squire, ' are
never pure gold but brass-foil merely or tinsel. '

' True, ' confessed the knight, ' and rightly are the trappings

XII KNIGHT OF THE MIHRORS 311

of the stage never real but always feigned and simulated like
comedy itself, toward wich I would that you be well-disposed,
Sancho, and toward those likewise that perform and thoste that
compose dramas, since all are instruments of great good Dp the
republic. At every^tep the^hoid^a mirrorjwherein is seen tp the
life the goings-on of our human existence : there's no repri isenT"
tation that portrays so vividly both what we are and what
we should be as actors and the stage. Or tell me, have you never
seen a comedy where are introduced kings, emperors and popes,
knights, ladies and many others ? One plays the bully, another
the villain, this one the merchant, that the soldier, one the witty
fool and and one the foolish lover, yet when the performance is
over and their costumes cast, all are equal. ' ' Yes, such a play
have I seen, ' said Sancho.

' The same thing, ' continued the other, ' occurs in the comedy
and commerce of this world, where are emperors and popes, all
the characters in fact that could be produced on the stage, yet
when the play ends, which is when life is over, Death strips
them of their distinguishing garbs and they lie down equal in
the grave. ' ' Brave comparison ! ' exclaimed Sancho ; ' though
not so new but that I have heard it many, many times ; as in the
game of chess where, while the game lasts, each piece has its
particular office, but finished, all are jumbled together and put
in the bag, which is like stowing life away in the grave. ' ' Every
day,._Sancho^_you grow less simple and more wise. ' •'That^
because I have to some extent "Become tfffeEte^' By the wisdom
of your woriBifr,"~foF'loir that^of itself is sterile and dry, by
manuring and cultivation bears good fruit. In other words inter-
course with your worship has been manure fallen on the sterile
soil of my dry wit, and cultivation is the time I serve and com-
mune with you. With these two I hope to give such lawful fruits
of myself as may not slip or tumble from the paths of the good-
breeding whereon you have been guiding this parched wit o1
mine. ' The knight smiled at his squire's showy speech, though
what he said of his improvement seemed to him true, for occa-
sionally Sancho spoke in a manner to amaze ; albeit when ne
attempted argument or fine phrasing, he always or usually fell

312 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

headlong from the ^eight of absurdity down to the depths of
ignorance. Where he showed himself most retentive and skilful
was in intoducing proverbs, fit as they might, as will have been
seen and noted in the course of our chronicle.

In this and other discourse they passed a great part of that
night, till there came to Sancho the desir^-tbe drop the curtains
of his eyes, as he expressed it, and stripping Dapple he let him
gaze his fill. He refrained from doing the same for Rocinante,
following his master's express command that while they wandered
in the country and slept in the open, the steed should never be
stripped — it being an ancient usage established and observed
by errants, to remove the bridle and hang it from the saddlebow,
but to part saddle and horse ? never. Sancho acted accordingly,
but otherwise gave Rocinante equal liberty with Dapple, for the
friendship 'twixt the pair was so unique and strong that tradition
handed down from father to son says that the author of this true
history devoted special chapters thereto but that regarding the
decency and decorum essential to so heroic a narrative he omitted
them. Occasionally forgetting himself however, he tells us that
no sooner were the animals by themselves than they began to
scratch each other till, wearied or sated, Rocinante would reach
his neck over the other's, nay, more than half a yard beyond
and both gazing stedfastly on the earth would continue in that
attitude three days at a stretch, or at least such time as they were
undisturbed by man or hunger.

They tell me that the author went so far as to compare their
relationship to that of Nisus and Euryalus and to that of Pylades
and Orestes. If this be true of these two pacific brutes, the secur-
ity of such regard may easily provoke the universal wonder
and confusion of men, who so little know how to keep friends,
one with another. Wherefore it is written :

Friend and friend no more appears,
Tourney reeds are turned to spears ;

and so also it is sung :

Now friend looks black upon his friend.

And let it not seem that the author in contrasting the friendship

XU KNIGHT OF THE MIRRORS 313

of these animals with that of men, went out of his way, for many
a lesson have we learned from dumb beasts and received many
things of value at their hands — the clyster, for example, from
the stork, vomit and gratitude from dogs, vigilance from cranes,
from ants providence, continence from elephants and loyalty
from the horse.

In, short, then, Sancho went fast asleep at the foot of a cork-
tree and his master dropped into a doze near a stout evergreen-
oak ; but only a short time had elapsed when a sound at his back
awoke the latter. Leaping to his feet with a start he stood trying
to discover whence it proceeded and at length made out two men
on horseback, one of whom, throwing himself from the saddle,
said to the other : ' Dismount, friend, and unbridle the steeds,
since this place seemingly abounds both in pasturage and in the
silence and solitude required of mine amorous thoughts. ' To say
this and to stretch himself on the ground was the work of a
moment, his armour resounding as he threw himself down.

Don Quijote knew from the fact that he was mailed that he
must be a knight-errant and approaching the sleeping squire he
pulled him by the arm, and when with no little trouble he had
awakened him, he whispered : ' Sancho brother, we have an
adventure. ' ' God make her a good one, ' yawned Sancho ; ' and
where is her grace, this adventuress ? ' ' Where, my son ! turn
your eyes and look, for you'll see oustretched there a knight-
errant who, I opine, isn't overhappy, since I saw him drop from
his steed and fling himself on the ground like one in despair, his
armour crackling as he fell. ' ' And what leads you to think this
an adventure ? ' ' I don't mean that it's already one but rather a
beginning, for they all open thus. But hark ! methinks I hear him
tuning a lute or viol, and since he is spitting and clearing his
throat, he must be about to sing. ' ' True enough ; no doubt he's
in love. ' ' Every errant is, ' said Don Quijote ; ' but let us
listen, for by this thread we shall arrive at the secret of his
thoughts — out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.'

Sancho was on the point of reply but the voice of the Knight
of the Wood, neither very good nor very bad, prevented him.
The pair listened to his song which the knight soon ended with

314 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

an Ah ! that seemed wrung from the depths of his heart, but
after a short pause in plaintive voice of languishment he said :
' O most beautiful and ungrateful woman, most serene Gasildea
ofVandalia ! how can it be that thou sufferest this thy captive
knight to be consumed and to perist in endless wanderings and
harsh and bitter labours. Is it not enough that I made all the
knights of Navarre, Leon, Tartesia, Castile and finally all the
knights of La Mancha, confess thee fairest on earth ? ' ' That is
not true, Sancho, ' whispered Don Quijote ; ' for I am of La
Mancha yet never have confessed nor could nor should confess a
thing so disparaging mine own love's beauty. He raves as you
see, but listen, if perchance he declare himself further. ' ' No
doubt he will, ' said Sancho, ' for he looks as if he might com-
plain a whole month through. ' But this was not to be, for the
Knight of the Wood, overhearing them, dropped his lament and
rising said in clear but courteous tone :

' Who goes there ? who are you ? of the happy or the afflicted ?'
' The afflicted, ' answered Don Quijote. ' Then come hither with
the assurance that you come to sorrow and affliction itself. ' Don
Quijote, seeing he was answered so amiably and courteously,
drew near, followed by Sancho. The knightly lamenter took our
errant by the arm saying : ' Sit you down, sir knight, for that
you are one that profess adventures is sufficiently proved by
your being in this place, where solitude and evening dew, fit
cover and couch for wayfaring knights, keep you company. ' To
this Don Quijote made reply : ' A knight I am and of the order
you name, and though in my heart sorrows, humiliations and
troubles find their own and native dwelling-place, they have not
banished thence my compassion for the misfortunes of others.
Yours, I gather from your song, are of love, the love I take it
you bear that fair ingrate named therein. '

Already they were seated on the hard ground side by side in
good peace and fellowship and not at all as if at break of day
they were to break each other's head. ' Perchance, sir knight, '
asked he of the Wood, ' you also love? ' ' Per-mischance,' replied
the other, ' though loss born of misplaced affection should be
deemed favour, not misfortune. ' ' True, provided her frowns

XIII THE TALK OF THE SQUIRES 315

don't unsettle the reason and understanding. When disdain
becomes excessive, it looks like vengeance. ' ' Never have I been
frowned on by my lady ; ' declared Don Quijote. ' Never, echoed
Sancho, who stood hard by ; ' she's meek as a yearling lamb,
softer than a chunk of lard. '

' Is this your squire?' asked the stranger. ' It is, ' replied Don
Quijote. ' I've never before met with a shieldbearer that made
bold to interrupt his master. At least here's mine, big as his
father, yet it cannot be proved that he ever oped his lips while
I was speaking.' ' But I,' spoke up Sancho, ' have oped mine and
am ready to ope them before another as good as or even — but
let it rest, for 'twill only prove worse for the stirring. ' The
squire of the Wood now took Sancho by the arm saying : ' Let
us two go where we can have as long a squire-talk as suits us,
leaving these gentlemen to relate at swords' points the histories
of their loves, for 'tis certain the day will catch them and even
then they won't have done. ' ' Good, ' agreed Sancho, ' and I'll
tell your worship who I am, that you may judge whether or no
I am to be named with the most talkative squires going.' They
thereupon withdrew and 'twixt these servants there passed a
conversation as droll as that 'twixt their lords was serious and
grave.

CHAPTER XIII

The adventure of the Knight of the Wood continued,
together with the novel, witty and delicious colloquy of the

two squires

BY themselves sat knights and squires, these telling of their
lives, those of their loves. The history first records the chat
of the servants and then takes up that betwixt their lords. And
thus it states that, withdrawing a little from the others, the
squire of the Wood said to Sancho : ' A hard life we lead and
live, sir, we squires to errant knights. Verily we eat our bread
in the sweat of our brow, which is one of the curses God laid

316 DON QUHOTE DE LA MANCHA II

upon our first parents. ' ' As well might it be said, ' added
Sancho, ' that we eat it in the chill of our bodies : for who
endures more heat and cold than the miserable shieldbearers of
errant chivalry ? Less ill would it be however if we truly did
eat, since with bread all sorrows are less. As it is, sometimes a
day or two goes by without our breaking fast save on the blowing
wind. ' ' All that can be borne or forborne, ' said the other, ' in
hope of reward, for if the errant be not particularly unlucky,
'twon't be very long before his squire finds himself favoured
with a lovely government, of an island at least or with a decent
countship. '

' I've told my master, ' replied Sancho, ' that Fid put up with
an isle and he is so noble and generous that he has promised it
many, many times. ' ' I, ' said the other, ' will consider myself
paid with a canonry, and master has already bespoken one. '
' How is that ? your master must be in the church line, if he can
do such favours for his faithful squires. Mine is merely a layman,
though I mind me how certain shrewd though methought ill-
intentioned persons urged him to try for an archbishopric. He,
however, would be emperor or nothing, though I trembled all
all the while lest his fancy turn toward the church, since I did
not consider myself capable of holding benefices therein. Though
I appear a man, I would have your worship know me for a
beast when it comes to joining the clergy. '

' Your worship is surely mistaken in this matter, ' declared
the other, ' for insular governments are not all they should be.
Some are twisted, some poverty-stricken, some melancholy, and
indeed the proudest and healthiest carry a load of discomforts
and cares, which the unlucky dog to whose lot it falls must
shoulder. 'Twould fie far better if we that profess this accursed
servitude returned home, employing ourselves in occupatious
more delightful, hunting or fishing let us say, for what squire in
the world is so poor as not to own a nag, a couple of hounds
and a fish-pole, wherewith to enjoy himself in the country round
about ? ' ' I possess all these, ' said Sancho ; ' true I boast no
nag, but I own an ass worth double my master's Rocinante.
Your worship will scoff at the value I set on Dapple (dapple

XIII THE TALK OF THE SQUIRES 317

being the little one's colour), but God send me a bad Easier and
let it be the first that comes if I swapped him for the other
though they gave me to boot four bushels of barley. Nor shall I
want greyhounds, for there are enough and to spare in my town,
and better sport in hunting lies when someone else the fare
supplies. '

' But to be open with you, ' returned the squire of the "Wood,
' I plan and purpose to quit the orgies of these knights and take
me home to raise the little ones, of whom I have three like
orient pearls. ' ' And I two that could be presented to the pope
to his face, ' declared Sancho ; ' especially my girl whom, please
God, I am bringing up, though against her mother's wish, to
be a countess. ' ' And how old is she ? ' ' Fifteen, a couple
more or less, ' replied the other, ' but she's tall as a lance and
fresh as an April morning, and has the strength of a porter
besides. ' ' These are qualities not only for a countess but for a
nymph of the greenwood, ' replied the other ; ' ah, the whoreson
quean, what pith the rogue must have. ' To this outburst Sancho
somewhat testily replied : ' Neither she nor her mother is a
quean, nor shall they be such, please God, while 1 live. Speak
with more respect, sir : such words ill sort methinks with one
raised among knights-errant, who are courtesy itself. ' ' How
little you understand the business of compliments, mister squire.
Can you be unaware that when a horseman in the ring gives the
bull a good thrust or when anyone does anything well, the
crowd calls out. Well done, whoreson dog, well done ? So
though this phrase of mine seemed abusive, 'twas really excep-
tional praise. Disown the sons and daughters, sir, that don't do
works bringing their parents into similar recognition. '

' I do disown them, ' replied Sancho, • and with this under-
standing of the phrase you can hurl a whole brothel at me, my
children and my wife, for all they do and say more than merits
this attention. And that I may see them again, I pray God to
deliver me from mortal sin, and 'twill be the same should He
draw me from this dangerous post of squire, whereinto I've run
this second time, cozened and enticed by a purse containing a
hundred crowns, found by me in the heart of the Sierra Morena,

I

318 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

for the devil is ever putting a bagful of doubloons before mine
eyes, here, there, and where not but over yonder. At every step
I seem about to pick it up and taking it home in mine arms,
invest it and collect the interest and live like a prince. With this
in mind I am eased and lightened of the toils I suffer w^ith this
fool of a master, who has more of the idiot than the knight
out him, I know. '

' As to that, ' replied the squire of the Wood, ' covetousness
bursts the sack they say ; but if it be of madmen you speak,
there's none greater than my master, for he's the kind of whom
they say, Others' cares kill the ass. He turns fool that another
knight may recover his wits and looks about for what, when
^found, may rise and hit him in the snout. ' ' Is he in love then?'
' He is and with a certain Gasildea of Vandalia, the rudest and
best roasted young lady to be met with in the world. But 'tis
not upon the leg of my lady's rudeness that he limps : other
greater designs are rumbling in his belly and he'll out with them
before many hours. ' ' There's no road so level but has its dip or
rise, ' observed Sancho ; ' in other houses they cook beans to be
sure, but in mine whole cauldronfuls. Folly will have more
messmates and hangers-on than wisdom ; but if it be true as is
commonly said that friends in trouble our welfare double, I can
get consolation from your worship, that serves a master as foolish
as mine. '

I • Foolish but a fighter, ' replied the squire of the Wood, ' and
nore roguish than either. ' ' Not so with the one I serve, ' said
Sancho ; ' there's naught of the rogue about him. He has a soul
clean as a pitcher : he knows not how to do ill to any, but good to
ill and bears no malice. A child could make him believe it night
at noonday, for which simplicity I love him like the skin of my
eart and cannot think of quittingJiis^ service^, -iitrinatterhow
any his freaks. ' ' For all that, brother and senor, if the blind
|ead the blind, both risk falling into the pit. Better for us if we
eat a quick retreat back to camp, for they that seek adventures
don't always find good ones. '

Sancho was spitting a curious kind of dry sticky saliva and
when this was observed and considered by the woody and com-

XIII THE TALK OF THE SQUIRES 319

passionate squire, he said : ' 'Twould appear that from our much
talking our tongues cleave to the roofs of our mouths ; but I have
a loosener, and a fairly good one, hanging from my saddlebow ; '
and rising he soon returned with a large bottle of wine and a
meat-pie half a yard long, no exaggeration, for its basis was a
tame rabbit so large than in lifting it Sancho took it for a goat,
no little one either, and at the sight thereof he exclaimed : ' And
do you carry this with you, sir ? ' ' And why not ? am I one of
your wool-and-water squires ? I carry better store on my horse's
crupper than a general on the march. ' Sancho fell to without
waiting to be asked and all in the dark swallowed mouthfuls as
big as knots in a tether, saying :

'Your worship is indeed a true and loyal squire, hale and
sound, grand and lavish, as witness this banquet which, if it
hasn't come here by enchantment, looks so. You are not as I
am, mean and miserable, carrying naught in my saddlebags but
a bit of cheese crusty enough to brain a giant. Four dozen carob-
beans keep it company, together with as many filberts and other
nuts, thanks to master's poverty and the opinion he holds and
the rule he keeps that knights should nourish themselves on
dried fruits and herbs of the field. ' ' On my faith, brother,
my stomach wasn't made for choke-pears or thistles or the roots
of the forest. Let our masters dine on that fare with their opin-
ions and chivalric rules and eat what these enjoin. For myself I
carry panniers and this bottle that hangs from my saddlebow
whether they say yes or no. Such a mistress is she and I love her
so, that few minutes pass without my giving her a thousand hugs
and kisses. ' Saying this he handed the bottle to Sancho who,
raising it to his mouth, a quarter-hour sat gazing at the stars.
When he had done, he let his head fall to one side and sighing
deeply said : ' O the whoreson rogue and how catholic she is ! '
' There, see how you called the wine whoreson to its praise ? '
' I acknowledge that I confess I realise 'tis no dishonour to call
anyone whoreson with the understanning 'tis by way of compli-
ment. But tell me, seiior, by the life you love best, is this wine of
Giudad Real ? ' ' O rare ganger ! ' answered he of the Wood ; ' verily
'tis none other and has several years to its credit besides. '

320 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

• Let me alone for that, ' said Panza ; ' don't put it beyond me
to track its country down. Is it no good gift, sir squire, my
possessing such a strong and native instinct in the matter of
wines that have I but one smell of any whatsoever I can tell
you its country, kind, flavour and age, the changes it has yet to
pass through and all other circumstances pertaining to it ? But
that's nothing wonderful seeing I've had in my family on my
father's side the best two wine-tasters La Mancha has known in
years. As proof thereof listen to what I shall tell. They gave the
pair some wine from a cask, asking their opinion as to its quality
and condition, whether good or bad. One of them tasted it with
the tip of his tongue, the other merely smelt of it. The first said
it tasted of iron ; the second that it was even stronger in leather.
The owner said the cask was clean and no ingredient had been
added that would make it taste either of leather or of iron. None
the less the celebrated tasters persisted they were right. Time
went on, the wine was sold and when they came to clean the
cask, in it they found a small key fastened to a leathern thong.
By that your worship may judge if one descended of this breed
can give opinion in such cases. '

' For that very reason, ' said he of the Wood, ' let us quit
this search for adventures and while we have cakes let us not
look for cookies, returning to our huts where God can find us
if He will. ' ' Until my master arrive at Saragossa, ' declared
Sancho, ' I shall continue in his service. After that he and I can
come to some understanding. ' In the end the two squires talked
and drank so much that sleep found it necessary to tie their
tongues and temper their thirst — for them to moderate of their
own accord was out of the question. And so, both seated beside
the nearly empty bottle, with half-eaten cuds in their mouths,
they fell asleep, where we shall leave them, in order to relate
what passed 'twixt the Knight of the Wood and him of the Sorry
Aspect,

XIV THE ONSET 321

CHAPTER XIV

A further continuation of the adventure of the Knight

of the Wood

AMONG the many declarations that passed between Don Qui-
Jote and the Knight of the Forest, the history tells us that
he of the Wood §aid to the other : ' In short, sir knight, I would
have you know that my destiny, or better say my choice, forced
me to be enamoured of the peerless Gasildea of Vandalia : I call
her without peer for none she has in size, rank or beauty. This
Gasildea rewarded my chaste thoughts and moderate desires by
compelling me to spend my time, as his step-mother did Hercules,
in many and all kinds of dangers, promising me at the end of
each that at the end of the next I should attain my hope. These
labours have gone on linking themselves to such an extent that
now they're past count, nor can I tell which will be the last that
will mark the beginning of the end of my worthy wishes. One
time she ordered me to challenge that famous Seville giantess,
the Giralda, who is as mighty as if made of bronze and without
stirring from one spot is the most changeable and volatile woman
in the world. I came, I saw, I conquered her, made her quiet
down and know her place (since only north winds blew for over
a week).

' Time was when my love bade me weigh those ancient stones,
-the valiant bulls of Guisando — a task more fittingly to be
commended to porters than to knights. On another occasion she
bade me fling myself into the pit of Gabra, a frightful and
unheard-of peril, adding that I should bring up a minute descrip-
tion of all that lies hid in that dark abyss. I checked the
Giralda's motion, I weighed the bulls of Guisando, I threw
myself headlong into the cavern and revealed the secret of its
depths, and my hopes are still as dead as can be, and my love's
command and disdain are as alive as ever.

21

322 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA II

' To conclude, her last bidding was that I scour all the prov-
inces of Spain and cause all knights -errant wandering therein
to confess that she alone bears the palm of beauty before all
living, and that I am the most puissant and enamoured knight
in the world. In pursuance of her charge I have vanquished
many knights that made bold to contradict me, but that which
is most proud and precious to my memory is having defeated
in single combat that most famous knight Don Quijote de La
Mancha, bringing him to acknowledge that fairer my Casildea
than his Dulcinea. I consider that by that victory alone I have
worsted all knights living, since this Quijote has defeated
every one, and to me, having worsted him, his glory, fame and
honour are transferred, and

The more the vanquished boast of fame,
So mVich the more the victors claim.

Already his innumerable achievements have fallen to my account
and are mine. '

Don Quijote was dumfounded by these words. A thousand
times was he ready to give him the lie, had it on the tip of his
tongue in fact, but restrained himself as he could that he might
make the other confess the falsehood with his own mouth. So he
calmly made reply : ' As regards your having conquered most
of the errant knights of Spain or even of the whole world I have
naught to say, but that you overcame Don Quijote de La Mancha
I very much doubt. Possibly another looked like him, though to
be sure very few do. ' ' What do you say ? by the sky that
covers us, I maintain that I fought, overcame and utterly reduced
that Don Quijote — a man tall of stature, of withered counten-
ance, lank and tawny limbs, hair 'twixt black and grey, nose
aquiline and a trifle hooked, and the moustaches heavy, black
and drooping. He takes the field under the name of the Knight of
Sorry Aspect and has for squire a peasant named Sancho Panza.
He presses the flank and curbs the rein of a famous steed Roci-
nante, and finally the lady of his will is a certain Dulcinea del
Toboso, once known as Aldonza Lorenzo, even as I call mine
Casildea of Vandalia from her name Casilda and her being of

XIV THE ONSET 323

Andalusia. If all these signs suffice not to establish the truth
of my boast, here is my sword, which will make incredulity
itself believe. '

' Quiet, quiet, sir cavalier, ' said Don Quijote, ' and listen to
what I am about to tell you. You must know that this Don
Quijote is the best friend I have in the world — such a friend
that I may say I hold him in the place of mine own person —
yet by the very exact and certain signs you give, I cannot doubt
'twas he you overcame. I could see with mine eyes and touch
with these very hands that he couldn't have been the same were
it not for one thing — that he has many enchanter-enemies : one
in particular persecutes him beyond bearing. Some one of these
undoubtedly assumed his appearance and let himself be van-
puished so as to defraud the real Quijote of the renown gained
for him by his high chivalries through the known quarters of the
globe. In confirmation thereof you may as well know that not
two days past these very magicians altered the figure and person
of the fair Dulcinea del Toboso to those of a vile country- wench.
Similarly must they have transformed her lover. If this be not
enough to let you enter into the truth of what I say, here stands
that very Don Quijote, that will sustain it with arms, on foot,
horse or any way you please. '

So saying, rising to his feet, our champion grasped his sword
and awaited the choice of the Knight of the Wood, who with a
voice equally unruffled replied : ' Pledges never worry the good
paymaster. He that once, Senor Don Quijote, vanquished you
transformed, may well hope to lay you low in your proper
person. But inasmuch as it ill fits that knights enact their feats of
arms in the dark like footpads and ruffians, let us wait till day
that the sun may shine upon our works. And this be the condition
of the combat, that the vanquished be at the will of the victor,
said victor to use him as he pleases, provided that what he
commands be proper for a knight to obey. ' ' I am more than
satisfied with these terms and conditions, ' replied Don Qui-
jote. With this they went in search of their squires, whom they
found snoring, in the same postures as when sleep overtook
them. Their masters awakened them, bidding them find their

324 DON QUWOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Steeds at once, for at sunrise they were to engage against great
odds in unique and bloody battle. Sancho was troubled and
frightened, fearful of his master's safety by reason of the prowess
possessed by the Knight of the Wood as set forth by his squire.
But without saying a word the two servants went in search of
their flock, for ere this the three horses and Dapple had smelt
one another out and stood close together.

On the way the squire of the Wood said to Sancho : ' You
must know, brother, that in Andalusia 'tis the custom among
fighting men, when they're godfathers to a fray, not to stand with
folded hands while their godsons are engaged. I speak of this as
notice to us that while our masters fight, we as well may fall to
and knock each other to splinters. ' ' This custom, mister squire,'
replied Sancho, ' may run and pass over there with bullies and
fighters such as you speak of, but with squires of errants, never !
At least I've not heard my master speak of such a custom and he
knows all the knightly rules by heart. Moreover, though I grant-
ed that such a stipulation was expressed, yet should I refuse to
comply therewith. Rather am I ready to pay the penalty that
would be placed on pacific squires like myself, for it wouldn't
exceed a couple of pounds of wax, I'm certain. That quantity am
I glad to donate, for 'twill cost me less than the lint necessary
for restoring my head, which I think of as already split in two.
What's more, the fact that I have no sword and never in my life
used one makes fighting impossible. '

' I know a good way out of that difficulty. I have here two
linen bags of the same size : do you take one and I the other and
we'll have a bag-fight with equal arms.' ' So let it be and welcome,'
said Sancho, ' for such a combat will serve to dust rather than
wound us. ' ' Not exactly that, for inside the bags, that the wind
may not take them, we must put half a dozen nice round pebbles,
of the same weight, and then we can bag each other without
harm or hurt. ' ' Body of my father ! ' quoth Sancho ; ' look what
sable-skins or balls of carded cotton he chooses that we may not
crack our nuts and pulverise our bones ! But though they were
filled with silk-cocoons, depend upon it, dear friend, there's no
fighting for me. Let them fight and have their fill but let us drink

XIV THE ONSET 325

and live on still, for time will take care to make an end on us
without our looking for sauces to finish off our lives before their
appointed day, when they will fall like ripe fruit. '

' For all that, fight we must if but half an hour. ' ' Fight we
will not, ' quoth Sancho ; ' I at least won't be so ungrateful or
discourteous as to pick a quarrel however small with whom I
have eaten and drunk ; the more, being without choler or anger,
how the devil in cold blood can I ? ' ' For that too I have a
remedy, for ere we begin I'll gently come up to your worship
with three or four buGTets, sufficient to lay you at my feet. With
these your wrath will be wakened though it slept sounder than
a dormouse.' ' Against that short-cut .1 know another quite as
good. I'll hold a big stick and ere your worship wakens my
wrath I with cudgellings will put yours so soundly to sleep
'twon't waken this side the other world, where I am known for
a man that won't let his face be handled by anyone. Let every
mau-amtoh hio oam shaft ; thoughjt for us all 'twould be wiser to
let angers sleep, for none knows the soul of another and he that
goes for wool comes home shorn and God blessed peace and
cursed dissension. If a baited cat, run down and hard pressed,
turns lion, I that am a man, God knows what I'ld turn into.
And from this time forth, mister squire, I warn you that all the
hurt and harm resulting from a quarrel I shall charge to your
account. ' ' Well and good, ' replied he of the Wood ; ' God send
us daylight and we shall thrive. '

Already a thousand varieties of little painted birds had begun
their chirping in the trees and by their diverse and happy songs
appeared to greet and welcome the new-born Aurora, that came
through the doors and balconies of the east, unveiling the beauty
of her face and shaking from her hair an infinite number of
liquid pearls. Bathing in this gentle moisture the flowers like her
seemed to bud and shower these fine white jewels. The willows
shed sweet manna, the fountains laughed, the water-brooks
murmured, the woods rejoiced and the meadows gloried in her
coming. But no sooner did her light make it passible to distin-
guish objects than the first one that met the eyes of Sancho Panza
was the nose of the squire of the Wood, so large that its shadow

326 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

well-nigh covered his body. In fact it is said to have been a
monstrosity, hooked in the middle, rough with warts and corpse-
hued like an egg-plant. It hung two fingers below his mouth,
and its size, colour, warts and curvature made his face so hideous
that Sancho began to quake in all his limbs like a child with
epilepsy. Then and there he resolved in his heart to take two
hundred buffets rather than that his wrath should be waked to
fight with this fiend.

On his part Don Quijote lookisd at his antagonist and found
him with helmet on and visor down so that he couldn't see his
face, but he observed him to be thick-set and not very tall. Over
his armour he wore a surcoat or cassock that shone like finest
gold, and sprinkled over were many broken bits of sparkling
glass that made him sightly and showy to a degree. From his
helmet-crest nodded a bunch of green, yellow and white plumes.
His lance, that stood against a tree, was long and thick and
tipped with an iron over a span long. Each of these details was
observed and noted of Don Quijote, who made of it all that this
knight must be one of great prowess. Not for this, however, was
he afraid like Sancho Panza ; instead with calm courage he thus
addressed the Knight of the Mirrors :

' If your great keenness for fighting, sir cavalier, have not
spent your sense of honour, to it I appeal that you raise your
visor a little that I may see if the bravery of your face correspond
with that of your mind. ' ' Whether you come off victor or van-
quished from this fray, ' replied he of the Mirrors, ' you'll have
time and opportunity more than enough to see me. If now I do
not meet your wish, 'tis because I should do the fair Gasildea
grave wrong, methinks, in wasting the time I delayed to raise
my visor before I brought you to confess what you know to be
my claim. ' ' But surely you'll have time while we are mounting
to tell me if I am that Quijote you said you worsted. ' ' To that
we make reply that you look as like him as one egg another, but
if as you say he is the victim of enchanters, I dare not affirm the
same. ' ' This is enough, ' replied the other, ' to make me sure
of your mistake, but to deliver you wholly from it, let our steeds
be brought, for in less time than you would waste in raising your

XIV THE ONSET 327

visor, if God, my lady and my arm avail, I shall see your face
and you will see that I am not the vanquished knight you think
me. '

With this they cut short their speeches and mounted. Don
Quijote turned Rocinante to measure the course before riding to
meet his adversary, who did the same, but the former hadn't
gone twenty paces before he heard the latter calling to him, and
each returning half-way, the Knight of the Mirrors said : ' Re-
member, sir knight, the condition of this contest in that the van-
quished is at the disposal of the victor. ' ' Of that I am aware, '
replied the other, ' provided that what is asked do not pass the
bounds of chivalry. ' ' 'Tis so understood. ' At this moment the
amazing nose of the other's squire was observed of Don Quijote,
who was no less overcome by the sight than Sancho — in fact,
he took him for some monster or one of a new breed of men in
the world.

Sancho, seeing his master go off to measure the course, didn't
care to remain behind with nosey, fearing lest with but a single
passage at arms 'twixt that nose and his own his fighting powers
fail him and he by force or fright be stretched on the ground.
So he followed his master, holding one of Rocinante's stirrup-
leathers. Rut when it came time to turn about, he said : ' Prithee,
master dear, before you turn to meet your man, help me climb
this cork-tree, whence better than from the plain I can view this
gallant combat. ' ' Rather, methinks, you would climb the staging
that the bulls may be seen in safety. ' ' To tell the truth, ' replied
Sancho, ' that squire's outrageous nose scares me from abiding
below. ' ' Indeed it is such an one, ' confessed the knight, ' that
were I not what I am, I too should be afraid. So come and I'll
help you climb where you say. '

While Don Quijote stayed to boost his squire up the cork-tree,
the Knight of the Mirrors measured as much of the course as he
deemed suitable, and thinking his opponent had done the same,
without waiting for sound of trumpet or other signal he turned
his steed (which by the bye was no nimbler or handsomer than
Rocinante), and in full career, amounting to a half-trot, came to
meet his enemy. Finding, however, that he was engaged with

328 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA II

Sancho, he drew rein, coming to a halt in mid-course, whereat
the animal, having reached his limit, was duly grateful. Don
Quijote, thinking his foe descending, dug deep his spurs into
Rocinante's lean flanks, so stimulating him that for this once,
according to the history, he is known to have galloped a bit —
on all other occasions 'twas pure trotting. With this never-before^
seen fury he arrived at the spot where the Knight of the Mirrors
was digging his horse up to the buttons, though failing to stir
him a finger from where he stood becalmed.

At this opportune time and juncture he of the Sorry Aspect
came down upon his adversary, embarrassed with his steed and
busy with his lance, which he either could not or had no time
to place in its rest. Our own knight, overlooking such trifles,
with free hand and free from danger struck the other with such
force that he bowled him, much against his will, over his horse's
crupper, and with such a fall that moving neither hand nor foot
he seemed dead. The moment Sancho saw him drop he slipped
from the cork-tree and came at double-quick to his master, who,
having dismounted, stood over the Knight of the Mirrors, and
unlacing his helmet to see whether he were really dead and to
give him air were he alive, he saw — who shall say what he saw
without striking astonishment and wonder in his hearers ? — he
saw, says the history, the very face, figure, features, physiog-
nomy, effigy and visage of the bachelor Samson Carrasco ; and
seeing it he exclaimed :

' Hurry, Sancho, and see what you will see and not believe.
Quick my son, and behold what magic, what wizards and en-
chanters, can do. ' Sancho drew near and beholding the face of
Samson Carrasco commenced to cross himself a thousand times
and bless himself as many more. All this period the unhorsed
knight gave no sign of life and at length Sancho said : ' Senor,
I am of the opinion that, be he alive or be he dead, 'twere better
to point and put your sword down the gullet of this that appears
the bachelor Carrasco, for thereby you may in him slay one of
the enchanters your enemies. ' ' No bad advice, ' said his master,
• for of enemies, the fewer the better. ' Drawing sword he was
about to carry out Sancho's suggestion when the squire of the

XIV THE ONSET 329

Mirrors, having removed the nose that made him so unsightly,
came running and shouting :

' Mind what you do, Seiior Don Quijote, for he that lies at
your feet is the bachelor Samson Garrasco your friend and I am
his squire.' ' And the nose ? ' said Sancho. ' Here in my pocket ; '
and putting his hand into his right one the other produced a
nose made like a mask of cardboard and varnish and of the for-
mation already described ; and when Sancho came to study the
man more closely, he cried in loud and amazed voice : ' Holy
Mary and blessings on me, if this isn't Tome Gecial my neighbour
and friend ! ' ' And what of it ? ' replied the unnosed squire ;
' yes, he I am, friend and fellow Sancho Panza, and shortly I'll
tell you the channels and cheatings whereby I came hither. But
for the present I pray and beseech your master not to touch,
harm, wound or slay the Knight of the Mirrors whom he holds at
his feet, since he is none other than the reckless and ill-advised
bachelor, Samson Garrasco our fellow-townsman. '

At this the knight of the Mirrors came to, whereupon Don
Quijote pointed his naked sword at his face and commanded :
'You are a corpse, knight, if you don't confess that the peerless
Dulcinea del Toboso has the adventage in beauty over Gasildea
of Vandalia. Moreover you must vow, if from this fray and fall
you issue with your life, to go to the city of el Toboso and present
yourself before her presence on my behalf that she may do her
greasiest pleasure with you. If she leave you to your own, you
must seek me out again — the trail of my deeds will guide you —
and relate to me your faring : conditions which, in conformity
with those we agreed to before our battle, are within the limits
of knight-errantry.' ' I grant you,' sighed the fallen knight,
' that the ripped and dirty clog of the lady Dulcinea is better
than the ill-combed but clean beard of Gasildea, and I promise
to return from her presence to yours with a complete and de-
tailed account of all you ask. '

' As well must you confess and believe, ' added the other,
' that the knight whom you vanquished was not and couldn't
be Don Quijote de La Mancha, but another like him, even as I
confess and believe that you, though looking like the bachelor

330 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Samson Carrasco, are not he but another, and that mine enemies
have given you his features to stay and soften the fury of my
wrath and that I may make fair use of the glory of this victory. '
' I acknow^ledge, agree and think as you think, judge and feel,'
replied the crippled cavalier ; ' let me rise, I pray, if the shock
of my fall permit such a thing, for I am badly off. '

Our champion helped him rise as did also Tome Gecial his
squire, from whom Sancho not once took his eyes or ceased to
ask him things the replies to which gave certain token that he was
Tome Gecial as he said. But the deep impress his master's words
hid made on Sancho, that the enchanters had changed the Knight
cf the Mirrors into Carrasco, would not let him credit the truth
to which his eyes attested. So master and man abode in the
deception to the end, when he of the Mirrors and his shield-
bearer, crossed and cross, took leave, hoping to find some place
to plaster and bind the former's ribs. Don Quijote and Sancho
set off on their road to Saragossa, where the history leaves them,
stopping to inform us concerning the Knight of the Mirrors and
his overnosed squire.

CHAPTER XV
The identity of the Knight of the Mirrors and his squire

EXULTANT beyond measure was Don Quijote, glorying in the
victory he had wrested from so valorous a knight as he
deemed him of the Mirrors, from whose chivalrous word he
expected to hear whether or no the enchantment of his lady fair
persisted, since such a knight vanquished was bound to return,
under penalty of not being one, and relate all that had befallen
at her hands. But our adventurer thought one thing and he of
the Mirrors another, though just then he had no thought save
where to get plastered.

The history informs us that when the bachelor Samson Carrasco
counselled Don Quijote to return to his broken-off chivalries, he
did so only after consulting with the priest and barber as to

XV IDENTIFICATION 331

what means should be taken to bring the poor gentleman to
abide quietly at home and not disturb himself in his questionable
quests. And it was deliberated and resolved upon by the common
vote of all and the particular persuasion of Carrasco, that they
let him sally forth, since it appeared impossible to check him,
but that Samson in knightly accoutrements sally after and
picking a quarrel with Quijote vanquish him, which would be
easy enough, and that the terms and agreement of the combat
be that the vanquished remain at the mercy of the victor. The
idea was that when the other had been whipped the bachelor
ha6 only to command him to retire to his village and home and
not issue forth inside of two years or until ordered. It was cer-
tain that Don Quijote, once vanquished, would implicitly obey
under penalty of forfeiting his knighthood. They hoped that in
this period of enforced rest either his vainer thoughts would be
set aside or some fitting remedy be found to cure him wholly.

Carrasco accepted the charge and merry hair-brained Tome
Gecial offered himself as squire. Samson donned the armour
already described and Tome fitted to his natural nose the false
one of cardboard that he might not be recognised. They followed
in the wake of Don Quijote, almost had a hand in the adventure
ot the car of Death and finally overtook the pair in the wood
where befell all that the heedful reader has witnessed. And had
it not been for his extraordinary aberration, which forced Don
Quijote to believe the bachelor not the bachelor, the latter would
have been estopped from graduating as licentiate for ever, not
finding even nests where he hoped to find birds.

Tome Gecial, seeing how ill they had compassed their desire
and what a sorry ending this was to their journey, said to the
bachelor : ' Surely, Senor Samson Carrasco, we have met with
our deserts. Easy is it to plan and launch a thing but hard enough
to see it through. Don Quijote is mad, we sane, yet he goes off
sound and laughing and your worship remains behind sad and
broken. Let us consider then, which is the madder, he that is so
because he cannot help it or he that turns fool of his own free
will. ' To this Samson replied : ' The difference is that he that is
mad of necessity must remain so, while he that is fool from

332 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

choice can turn back again when he pleases. ' ' In that case, '
said the other, ' I that turned fool from choice when I elected to
become your squire, now would quit that post and return
home. ' ' To this I assent, ' replied Samson, ' but to think that I
shall go to mine before I have pounded that Quijote to bits is to
think topsy-turyy-r'^d henceforth my motive won't be my wish
/for his recovery but for my revenge. The great pain in my ribs
won't admit of deeper charity. ' Thus the pair talked on till they
came to a village with a bone-setter, by whom the unhappy
bachelor was attended. Tome Gecial left him brooding on his
vengence, of which the history will speak in due time ; for the
present it must make merry with Don Quijote.

CHAPTER XVI
Don Quijote and a discreet gentleman of La Mancha

WITH all the joy and pride above referred to Don Quijote
pursued his journey, imagining that by reason of this last
victory he was now the most valiant errant of his time. He
considered as happily achieved all the adventures that were to
befall him in the future, looked down upon enchantments and
enchanters and quite forgot the countless drubbings experienced
in the course of his chivalries : to wit, among others, the stoning
that whisked off half his teeth, the ingratitude of the galley-
slaves and even the brazen Yanguesans with their shower of
stakes. In fact if he could find method, manner or means of
disenchanting Dulcinea, he promised himself not to envy the
finest fortune actually experienced by or possible to the most
adventurous errant of old.

The knight was high in these ecstasies when Sancho said to
him : ' Isn't it strange, seiior, that I keep before mine eyes that
immeasurable outlandish nose of my friend Tome Gecial ? ' ' And
do you think, Sancho, that the Knight of the Mirrors was by any
chance the bachelor Garrasco and his squire Tome Gecial your
friend ? ' ' I don't know what to think. I only know that no

XVI KNIGHT OF THE GREEN CLOAK 333

Other than himself could have given the tokens he did of my
wife and chidren, and that face, when the nose was off, was the
face of Tome Cecial, as I have seen it in our village many times,
for there was but a wall 'twixt his house and mine ; the tone of
the voice too was all one. ' ' Let us reason of this, Sancho : tell
me now, what consideration would induce the bachelor Samson
Garrasco to come as knight-errant, armed with arms offensive/
and defensive, and fight with me ? Am I his enemy perchance/
or have I given him cause for ill-will ? Am I his rival or does We
adopt the profession of arms out of envy of the glory I gam
thereby ? ' ' What shall we say then, sir, of the appearauce
of this knight, whoever he was, tallying so exactly with the
bachelor Garrasco, and that of his squire with my old friend
Tome Gecial ? If 'twas enchantment-work, as your worship says,
weren't there in the world two others they could look like ? '

' All is the craft and design of the ill-minded magicians my
persecutors, ' declared Don Quijote ; ' anticipating I should be
victor, they took care that the vanquished knight should show
the face of my friend the bachelor, that the friendship I bear him
might come 'twixt the edge of my sword and the rigour of mine
arm, assuaging the righteous anger of my heart, so that he that
tried through deceit and fraud to quit me of my life should be
left with his. As proof whereof you know by experience that
won't deceive you or let you lie, how easy it is for enchanters
to swap faces, making the ugly fair and the fair ugly. Not two
days have passed since through your own eyes you saw the
beauty and fine bearing of the peerless Dulcinea in their entire
and native likeness, while I beheld them in the plainness and
vulgarity of a coarse country-wench with cataracts in eyes and
a strong odour to the breath. When there exists a perverse
enchanter unfeeling enough to cause so dire a transformation as
was that, what wonder that he produaed this of Samson Garrasco
and your friend, that he migh snatch the glory of victory from
my hands. Yet am I content, for whatever shape mine enemy
took, his victor am I still. ' ' God knows the truth of all things, '
replied Sancho who, knowing that Dulcinea's transformation
was of his own crafty contrivance, didn't incline to these his

334 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

master's brave theories, yet dared not oppose them lest he out
with his secret.

The pair were in the midst of their dilemma when a man
mounted on a handsome flea-bitlen mare rode up from behind.
He wore a loose travelling-cloak of fine green cloth slashed with
tawny velvet with a cap of velvet as well. His mare's trappings,
also of velvet and green, were for country riding, with high
pommel and cantle. His buskins were of green and gold and
from a broad baldrick of the same hung a Moorish scimeter. His
spurs were not gilt but green-lacquered, so bright and burnished
that, matching his caparison, they looked more beautiful than if
of purest gold. Reaching our friends the traveller saluted court-
eously and spurring his mare was about to pass on, when Don
Quijote called to him : ' Worthy sir, if so it fall that your
worship goes our road and is in no hurry, I should esteem it a
favour did you lend us your company. ' ' Indeed, ' the other
replied, ' I shouldn't have forged ahead had I not feared your
horse might be excited by the presence of my mare. ' ' You may
safely draw rein, ' volunteered Sancho, ' for Rocinante is the
chastest and best mannered beast in the world. Never on similar
occasions has he done aught out of the way, and the only time he
did transgress, my master and I paid sevenfold. So again I say
your worship may stop if it please you, for though they presented
your mare 'twixt two plates, I warrant you our steed would look
the other way. '

The traveller drew rein, gazing with astonishment at the
features and fashionings of our knight, who was riding without
his helmet, which Sancho carried on the pommel of Dapple's
saddle like a valise. But if he in green studied Don Quijote,
much more did Don Quijote study him, taking him for a man
of parts. One would have set his age at fifty or thereabouts ; his
grey hairs were few ; his features aquiline ; his expression 'twixt
cheerful and grave ; in a word his dress and bearing showed
him a man of real substance. What the Green Knight thought
of ours was that he'd ne'er beheld his like before. He marvelled
at the steed's tenuity, the rider's tallness, his lean sallow face,
his arms, bearing and composure — a spectacle unseen in that

XVI KNIGHT OF THE GREEN CLOAK 335

land for long ages. Don Quijote promptly noticed the attention
wherewith the traveller eyed him and reading his wish in his
wonder and being most courteous and thoughtful towand all,
before he could be asked the question, he met it halftway,
saying : /

' This my figure beheld of your worship, being as it k most
original and out of the running, 'twouldn't amaze ma did it
amaze you. But it will no longer, when I say I am one )f those
knights that folk say go aventuring. I pledged my estate and left
my peace and native land, throwing myself into the arm i of for-
tune to take me where most she might be served. My hope was
to revive the already dead knight-errantry, and at last after many
days, tripping here, stumbling there, falling headlong yonder
and picking me up again in still another place, I have a ;hieved
a great portion of my desire, succouring widows, pre tecting
virgins, favouring wives, orphans and minors : the pecul ar and
natural office of knights-errant. Thus by reason of my mi ny and
courageous and Christian deeds it has been my deseit to be
published abroad in all or most of the nations of the earth. '
Thirty, tousand copies of my history have been issued and 'tis in
the way of being printed thirty thousand thousand times if
Heaven prevent not. To sum up in few words or even in one,
I am Don Quijote de La Mancha, known also as the Knight
of Sorry Aspect. Though self-praise doth make vile, I am
forced to indulge therein at times, namely when no otier is
around to take my place. And so, gentle sir, neither horae nor
rider nor shield nor squire nor job-lot of arms nor sallow face
nor slender figure henceforth need surprise you, now tharyou
know who I am and the profession I follow. '

Our knight on saying this fell to silence and the one in green
was so slow as to seem unable to reply. But at length and at last
he said : ' You suceeded in reading my wish in my wonder, sir
knight, but you failed to rid me of surprise at your appearance.
Though you said the knowledge of your identity would produce
that result, such is not the case : rather I marvel the more.
What ! can errant knights be abroad in the world to-day and
can there be histories of veritable chivalries in print ? I cannot

336 DON QUMOTE DE LA MANCHA II

persuade myself that the man lives that favours widows, cham>-
pions virgins, befriends wives and succours orphans, nor would
I dream of it had I not with mine own eyes seen your worship.
Thank Heaven, by means of this history of your true and noble
chivalries, will be cast into oblivion the counties ones of feigned
adventurers, wherein the world abounded, though they corrupted
good manners and were greatly to the prejudice and disparage-
ment of legitimate historical narrative. '

' Much might be said,' replied Don Quijote, ' as to whether the
histories of knights -errant were feigned or no.' 'Why, who
doubts it?' ' I do, ' returned the other; ' but let it rest for the
present ; if our journey hold, I hope by God's grace to convince
you of your mistake in going with the stream of those cock-sure
these stories are false. ' From this last remark the traveller sus-
pected our knight to be some crazy fellow and waited for more
words from him to confirm this idea. But Don Quijote prayed
him to tell his story, now that his own condition and manner of
life had ben revealed ; whereupon he of the green cloak began ;

' I, Sir Knight of Sorry Aspect, am a gentleman, native of a
certain village where, God willing, we shall dine to-day. I am
more than moderately well off and my name is Don Diego de
Miranda. I live my life with my wife, my children and my friends.
My pastimes are hunting and fishing, but I keep neither hawk
nor hound, merely tame partiges for decoy and a saucy ferret or
two. In my library I have about six dozen books, some in our
mother-tongue, others in Latin and a few historical works and
books of devotion. Those dealing with chivalries have never
crossed my threshold. I read the profane books, provided they
be decent, more than the religious, for their style pleases and
their invention holds the interest, though in Spain there are few
enough. I dine frequently with my neighbours but more often
they are my guests. My table is neat and well provided. I take
no pleasure in scandal and allow none in my presence. Neither
peer I into others' lives nor meddle with their affairs. I hear
mass once a day, share my goods with the poor, but make no
display of good works, hoping to shut my heart against hypocrisy
and pride : foes that artfully insinuate themselves into the most

XVI IvNIGHT OF THE GREEN CLOAK 337

watchful understanding. I try to conciliate those whom I know
at variance, am devoted to Our Lady and trust always in the
infinite mercy of the Lord our God. '

Sancho listened attentively to this recital of the man's mode
of living, and since it seemed to him a good and holy one and
that he that led it must be able to work miracles, he threw him-
self off Dapple and quickly seizing the traveller's right stirrup,
devoutly and almost with tears kissed his feet again and ag&in.
When the gentleman observed this action, he said: ' What We
you doing, brother ? what kisses are these.' • Let me kiss, I pra
for your worship is the first saint on a side-saddle I have se^
in all the days of my life. ' ' I am no saint — a great sinne
indeed ; your simple-heartedness shows 'tis you that must h\
good. ' Sancho returned to his mount, having drawn a smil^
from his master's deep melancholy and struck new wondement
in Don Diego. Don Quijote asked the gentleman how many
children he had, adding that the ancient philosophers, though
deprived of the true knowledge of the deity, were right in fixing
the summum bonum in the gifts of nature for one thing, in those
of fortune for another, in possessing many friends and in being
the father of many and good children. '

' I, Senor Don Quijote,' was the reply, ' have but one son, and
if I had him not, perhaps should consider myself the happier :
not that he's a bad boy but because he's not so good as I could
wish. He is eighteen now and for six years has been at Salaman-
ca, learning Greek and Latin, and when I thought it time, for
him to turn to other sciences, I found him so drunk with that of
poetry (if that may be termed a science) that it was impossible
to get him to take up the law, which was my preference, or the-
ology, the queen of all sciences. I should like him to ne an
ornament to his line, for we live in an age when our kings richly
reward letters, provided they be virtuous and worthy — leiters
without virtue are pearls on a dunghill. He spends his whole
time in satisfying himself whether Homer in such a verse of the
Iliad wrote well or ill, if Martial was indecent or not in an epi-
gram or just how certain lines of Virgil are to be construed. In
brief his whole life is given either to these poets or to Horace,

338 DON QUUdTE DE LA MANdHA II

Persius, Juvenal and Tibulus. Of the modern Spanish writers
lie makes little account, yet for all this apparent coldness his
thoughts just now are occupied in making a gloss upon four
lines sent him from Salamanca, relating, I believe, to some
literary joust. '

And Don Quijote replied : ' Children are part and parcel of
their parents' bowels, and hence, good or bad, we must love
them as we love our own life-giving souls. 'Tis our duty to lead
them from infancy along the paths of virtue, good-breeding and
gooA and Christian manners, that when they become older they
may be a comfort to our declining years and a glory to their
descendants. As to forcing them to study this or that science,
I hold it unwise, though there's no harm in trying to direct
th|em. Especially when the student doesn't have to study to earn
his bread, being fortunate enough to have parents given him by
E eaven that make provision therefor, I feel that they should let
him pursue the science that he most affects. Even poetry, though
less useful than pleasure-giving, does not, like certain other inter-
r;sts, harm its devotee.

' Poetry, gentle sir, may be likened to a young and tender
n laiden, one beyond all measure fair, whom many other maidens
h Eive it as their charge to enrich and beautify. These are the other
S( iences and she is served of them and all draw light from her.
But this beautiful mistress doesn't care to be handled or dragged
through the streets or be published abroad at corners of squares
orlin the purlieus of palaces. She is formed of an alchemy of such
vintue that he that knows how to touch her will turn her to
purest gold of inestimable price. But he that possesses her must
keep her within bounds, not letting her run into lampoons and
disgraceful sonnets. Nor is she to be vended about, save in the
garb of heroic poems, mournful tragedies and light artificial
comedies. She mustn't let herself fall into the hands of charlatans
andlthe ignorant vulgar, incapable of knowing or appreciating
the ireasures which in her are enshrined. But don't think, sir,
that by vulgar I mean simply lowly plebeians, for every ignorant
perso^n, even a lord or prince, can and should be so styled. The
poet that with the qualities I have oulined holds fast to his art,

XVI KNIGHT OP THE ORbEN CLOAK 339

shall be famous and his name honoured by the civilised nations
of the world.

' With regard to that other remark of yours, that your son sets
little store by the poetry of his mother tongue, I am inclined to
think him at fault, and for this reason : the great Homer wrote
not in Latin but in Greek because he was a Greek, nor did Virgil
write in other than his native tongue. In fine all the cfncient
poets wrote the language they sucked in with their mbther's
milk and didn't seek out foreign ones to express the worth of
their conceits. This custom, therefore, should rightly be fcilowed
by all nations, and the German poet shouldn't be thought less
of for using his own medium, nor the Castilian nor the Bilcayan.
I imagine that your son is put out not so much with the poetry
of the vulgar tongue as with the poets that are Spanish and
nothing else, many of whom are ignorant of other literatures and
sciences wherewith to embellish, quicken and fortffy their
original inspiration. Even in this he may be wrong, far true it
is as they say, that the poet is born : in other words he comes
forth a poet from his mother's womb and with this hearen-given
faculty without further study or discipline composes things that
justify him that said, God is in us. I maintain moreovep that the
poet by nature that avails himself of art will be a bfctter poet
than he that strives to be one through art alone. The 'reason is
clear, for art doesn't better but perfects nature, and when the
two wed, a poet of poets is born.

' Let this then be the conclusion of my discourse, that you
allow your son to go whither his star leads him, for being the
good student he must be and having happily already mounted the
first rung in the ladder of the sciences, that of the languages, by
them of himself shall he reach the top of humane letters, which
greatly become a gentleman of leisure and are as much an orna-
ment and honour as are mitres to bishops or robes to learned
jurists. Chide your son should he write lampoons on the charac-
ters of others : punish him and destroy them. But if he write
satires after the manner of Horace, satirising vices in general
and with all the Horatian refinement, lend him your praise, for
the poet is permitted to write against envy and to speak ill of the

; 340 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

envious in his verses (likewise with the other sins of men) so
long as he remain impersonal. There are poets that for the sake
of uttering one spiteful saying would risk being banished to the
isles of Pontus.

' Finally, if the poet be chaste in his living, no less will he be
in his lines : the pen is the tongue of the soul : as are the thoughts
engendered there, so will the writer's poems appear. And when
kings and princes find this miraculous faculty in the minds of
wise, earnest and good men their subjects, they esteem, honour
and enrich them, and even crown them with the leaves of the
i tree lightning strikes not, in token that they so honoured and
\cr owned are to be held inviolable. '

The gentleman of the green cloak was deeply moved by this
iscourse, so deeply that he soon had lost conciousness of the
omer's dementia. In the midst of the conservation, finding it little
to ais liking, Sancho left them to get a drop of milk from some
shepherds that, not far away, were milking their ewes. But Just
as the traveller, delighted with Don Quijote's perception and
sound sense, was about to resume the argument, the latter,
raising his head, saw a wagon flying the king's colours approach-
ing, and believing it some new adventure, shouted to his squire
to fetch the helmet. Sancho, heeding the call, left the shepherds
and spurring Dapple hurried to his lord, whom a crackbrained
and frightful incident now befell.

CHAPTER XVII

The extreme limit reached by or possible to the unparalleled

valour of Don Quijote, together with the happily achieved

adventure of the lions

THE history relates that when Don Quijote shouted to Sancho
to fetch his helmet, the latter was in the act of buying curds
and being a little excited by his master's hurried call, not know-
ing what to do or wherein to carry them, not to lose what was
paid for, he poured them into the knight's headpiece, returning

XVII THE CURDS THE LIONS 341

with his welcome present. As he drew near, his master called :
' Gome, friend, hand over the helmet, for either I know little
of adventures or the one I see ahead should and does demand
that I take arms. ' He of the green cloak turned his eyes every
way but saw naught save a wagon with two or three small flags,
indicating that it carried royal treasure, and this he suggested to
Don Quijote. But the latter wouldn't hear of it, thinking and
believing as he did that all that befell him must be more adven-
tures and still more, So in reply he said : ' Forewarned, fore-
armed : naught is lost by being on guard. Experience has taught
me I have enemies seen and unseen and I know not when,
where, at what moment or in what shape they'll attack me. '

Turning now to Sancho he asked him to hand up the head-
piece, and the servant, failing a chance to pour out the curds,
was forced to deliver the helmet as it was. The knight received
the same and oblivious of contents hastily clapped it on his
head. As the curds were pressed and squeezed, the whey trickled
down his face and beard, whereat in panic he cried : ' What is
this, squire ? one would think my brain was softening, my wits
melting, indeed that my whole body was in a great sweat. If this
last be the case, I swear 'tis not from fear, though certain that
the pending adventure will prove terrifying. Quick with some-
thing wherewith to wipe me, for this copious ooze blinds mine
eyes. ' Sancho not speaking gave a cloth and with it thanks to
God that his master hadn't discovered the truth.

The errant wiped his face and removing the helmet to see what
kept his head so cool, discovered those little white balls, and
lifting them to his nose exclaimed : * By the life of my Dulcinea
del Toboso, these are curds, placed here by you, traitor, ras-
cal, ill-bred squire. ' But with great calmness and dissimulation
Sancho replied : ' If curds they be, hand them over and I'll eat
them. Nay, let the devil eat them, since he must have put them
there. Am I so bold as to soil you worship's headpiece ? a fine
guess, indeed. In faith, sire, by the light God gives me, methinks
I too have enchanters that persecute me as your worship's limb
and creature. They must have put that filth there in order to turn
your patience to wrath and make you pound my ribs once again.

342 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

But ah ! those fellows jumped for nothing this trip, since I trust
my master's good sense : he will reflect that I have neither
cheese nor milk nor aught like them about me, and that had I,
'tis mine own stomach and not his helmet I should place it in. '
' All may be as you say, ' acquiesced the other.

The gentleman saw and wondered, the more when Don Qui-
jote, having wiped his head, face, beard and last of all the helmet,
donned it again, and bracing himself in stirrup, reaching for his
sword and grasping his lance, said : ' Let come what come may,
for here am I with heart enough to close with Satan ! ' The
wagon of the colours was now at close range, without escort
save the carter on one of the mules and a man seated behind.
Our knight stationed himself in front saying : ' Whither go ye,
brothers ? what wagon is this ? what carry ye and why these
flags ? ' To which the carter replied : ' The wagon is mine, it
carries two high-mettled lions in a cage, sent by the governor of
Oran as a present to His Majesty, in token whereof these royal
flags are flying. ' ' And are the lions large ! ' ' So large,' returned
the guard at the cage-door, ' that their ecjual have never before
passed over from Africa to Spain. I am a lion-tamer and in my
time have brought over many of the savages but ne'er one like
these. They are male and female : the male's in the front division
of the cage and the female here behind. Not having eaten to-day
they're hungry, so please your worship get out of the way. 'Tis
necessary quickly to reach the place where we shall give them
dinner. '

Don Quijote smiled a little at this and said : ' Lion- whelps to
me ? to me lion-whelps and at this hour of the day ? then by God
the gentlemen that send them shall see whether I am one to be
scared by lions. Gome down, good fellow ; open me the cage,
since you're the keeper, and set free these beasts, for in the
middle of the plain I'll let them know who Don Quijote de La
Mancha is, despite and in defiance of the enchanters that send
them against me. ' ' Ah, ha ! ' murmured the traveller ; ' at last
our good knight has discovered himself : the curds methinks
have mellowed his skull and ripened his wits. ' Sancho now
came up saying : ' For God's sake, sir, see that my master doesn't

XVII THE CURDS THE LIONS 343

close with these beasts or the rest of us will be torn to patches. '
' Is your master that crazy ? ' ' Not crazy but headstrong. ' ' I'll
turn him, ' the traveller replied ; and approaching Don Quijote,
who was pressing the keeper to open llie cage, he said : ' Sir
knight, errants should deal in adventures promising a favourable
outcome, not in those that flatly deny it, since valour that tres-
passes on the region of temerity is foolhardy rather than brave.
More by token these lions are not attacking you nor dreaming of
it, but are merely going as a present to His Majesty and 'twill not
be well to let or hinder their journey. ' ' Begone, sir, ' exclaimed
our Don Quijote, ' and amuse yourself with your tame partridge
and saucy ferret, and leave each to his own affairs. This is mine ;
I know whether they come against me, the goodmen lions ; ' and
turning again to the keeper he called : ' I swear, don rascal, if
this very instant you open not that cage, this lance will pin you
to your wagon. '

The carter, seeing the resolve of that armed phantom, said to
him : ' Good sir, be pleased for charity to let me unyoke the
mules and place myself and them in safety, before the lions are
loosed, for were they to kill them I should be bankrupt the rest
of my life : they and this wagon comprise my estate. ' ' O man

of lijtle faith ! descend and unyoke or what you will, for soon
shall you see your labour vain — that you could have dispensed
with all your care. ' The carter alighted and quickly unyoked,
and now the keeper cried out : ' Be ye my witnesses, as many as
are here, that against my will and under compulsion do I open
the cage and set free the lions, and that I protest to this gen-
tleman that all the harm and hurt done by these beasts shall be
set down against him, with my wages and dues besides. Your
worships, sirs, had best take to cover before I open ; I know
I am myself secure. '

Again Don Diego urged our knight not to think of this mad act,
nothing more nor less than tempting Providence, but again Don
Quijote made answer that he knew what he did. The gentleman
still prayed him to look well, since he was surely misled. ' If
then, ' said our knight, ' your worship cares not to witness this
tragedy, at it seems to you, spur your grey mare and get out

344 DON QUIJOTE DK LA MANCHA II

of harm's way. ' On hearing this Sancho in tears begged him to
quit this exploit, in comparison wherewith the windmills and the
terrific one of the fulling-mills, in short all his other attempted
deeds, were but cakes and cookies. ' Consider, sire, that here's
no enchantment business nor aught like it for, looking through
the cracks of the cage, I saw the paw of a real lion and should
say that such a lion to have such a paw must be bigger than a
mountain. '' Your fear would make it seem bigger than half the
earth. Retire, Sancho, leave me, and if I die, you know our
ancient compact : hasten to Dulcinea ; I say no more. '

To these the knight added other things, killing all hopes of his
forsaking this imbecile intent. He of the green cloak would have
opposed him, but, seeing how unequal his arms, he deemed it
poor judgment to tackle a crazy man, no less than which Don
Quijote now appeared. The latter again urged the keeper to
make haste, and renewing his threats forced the traveller to spur
his mare, Sancho his Dapple and the carter his mules, all endeav-
ouring to get as far away as possible ere the lions broke loose.
Sancho wept his master's end, which he deemed now at hand in
the lions' claws. He cursed his luck and called the hour names
wherein the thought of returning to his service first occured to
to him, but neither for weeping nor lamenting did he cease to
whip Dapple, putting more and more space 'twixt the wagon
and himself.

Now that the others were out of the way, the keeper for the
last time suggested and requested what he had previously urged
and asked of Don Quijote, who replied that he heard him and
that that he needn't trouble with further suggestions and requests
for all would bear little fruit, and suggested in turn that he make
haste. The minutes spent by the keeper in opening the first cage
were spent by the knight in considering whether 'twere better to
enter the fray afoot or mounted, deciding in the end on the
former lest Rocinante take fright. Dismounting he threw away
his lance and having embraced his shield and bared his sword,
with measured step and marvellous heroism moved to his post
at the fore, commending himself in the meantime first with his
whole heart to God and then to his lady Dulcinea.

XVII THE CUHDS THE LIONS 345

It should be said that cgmiBg-te this-passage in hjs true history
the authoFlets^TiiiSelf- go, saying : ' O strong and courageous
beyond all exaggeration Don Quijote de La Mancha ! O mirror
wherein may be seen all the heroes of the world ! O second and
new-born Don Manuel de Leon, glory and honour of all Spanish
knights ! With what words shall I describe this most breathless
achievement or by what art shall I make it credible to future
generations ? What praises will not sort and square with thee,
hyperbole though they be beyond all hyperbole? Afoot, alone,
fearless, heroic, with single sword and that none of your cutting
dog-blades, with buckler of no very clean and shining steel, thou
art watching and lying in wait for the two most savage lions
e'er born in Afric jungle ! Let thy deeds speak thy praise, doughty
Manchegan, for here I leave them at their height,; lacking words
to glorify them. '

Here the outburst ends and the author, resuming the thread
of his narrative passes on, saying that the keeper, observing our
knight in position and that there was no escape from freeing the
male lion, opened wide the door of the first cage, where the
beast now appeared of amazing size and hideous terrific aspect.
His first move was to rise and turn round, extend his paws and
give himself a good stretch. Next he opened his mouth for a
leisurely yawn and with two hands'-breadth of tongue licked the
dust from his eyes, laving his whole face. This done he poked
out his head, looking all about with blazing eyes : an act and
attitude sufficient to frighten temerity itself. But Don Quijote
gazed at him fixedly, desiring that he leap from the wagon and
attack, in which scrimmage the knight expected to crumble him
to bits : to such a height did his new-under-the-sun idiocy carry
him. But the generous lion, more courteous than proud, indif-
ferent to all this blustering and nonsense, having looked first one
way then another as has been said, turning his hind-quarters to
his foe, with great phlegm and sluggishness again lay down in
the cage.

Upon this our hero bade the keeper pester and drive him Out.
' That I absolutely refuse to do, ' replied the keeper, ' for if I
provoke him, the first he'll claw to pieces will be myself. Let

346 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

your worship be content with the achievement as it stands,
since it wants nothing in point of valour : don't tempt fortune a
second time. The lion's door is open : 'tis in his power to issue
forth, but since so far he hasn't availed himself of this freedom,
he won't all day. There can be no further question as to your
worship's stout-heartedness, and according to my way of think-
ing no brave champion is bound to do more than challange his
foe and await him in the open field. If his opponent delay, on
him the stigma rests, and he that held himself in readiness
attains the wreath of victory. ' ' True, friend ; close the door,
and be my witness in the best manner known to you of what
you have seen me perform here. 'Twere well to make clear how
you set the lion free, that I was ready for him, that he didn't
come forth, that I kept my stand, that he still delayed within
and at length lay down ; 1 owe no more. Enchantments avaunt !
and God prosper j ustice, truth and true chivalry. Lock him up as
I said, while I signal to the fugitives to return and hear from
your lips of this achievement. '

The keeper did as bidden and the knight, placing on his lance-
point the cloth wherewith he had wiped the curd-drippings,
shouted to the others who, looking back at every step, kept up
their flight, all in a body with the traveller bringing up the rear.
Sancho was the first to notice the signal and exclaimed : ' May
I die if my master hasn't vanquished the savage roarers ; look
how he signals. ' They stopped, and assuring themselves that
'twas no other than the knight, little by little, as they grew less
fearful, came to where they could distinctly hear his voice
calling. In the end they arrived at the wagon, and as they came
up the champion said to the carter : ' Brother, you may yoke your
mules and continue your journey, and do you, Sancho, give him
two gold crowns for the keeper and himself as recompense for
their delay. ' ' Cheerfully, ' replied Sancho ; ' but what of the
lions ? are they dead or alive ? '

The keeper thereupon reviewed in detail the progress of the
combat, exaggerating to the best of his ability the puissance of
Don Quijote, at sight of whom he said the cowed lion neither
cared to nor dared leave the cage, though the door was open

XVII THE CURDS THE LIONS 347

some time, and that by reason of his telling the knight 'twould
be tempting Providence to provoke the beast to come out, which
was what he wished, very reluctantly and in the face of his real
desire he consented that the door be closed. ' What think you of
this, Sancho ? can enchantments avail against true valour ?
Wizards may rob me of fortune but of resolve and courage —
never. ' Sancho counted out the crowns, the carter yoked his
mules, and the keeper, kissing Quijote's hands, promised lo tell
of that brave deed to the king in person. ' And in case His
Majesty enquired who achieved it, ' suggested our adventurer,
' you shall say the Knight oftheLjflasr-simye henceforth I desire
that the title I have borne until now, namely he of the Sorry
Aspect, be changed, altered, transformed and made over into
this other, following in this the ancient custom of errant knights,
who renewed their names as often as they wished or occasion
suggested. '

The wagon went its way and Don Quijote, Sancho and the
traveller of the green cloak followed theirs. All this time the
latter had not spoken, so absorbed was he in marking and noting
the deeds and words of this gentleman, whom he took for either
a sane man gone mad or a madman turned sane. The first part
of this history had not come to his notice — otherwise his aston-
ishment had vanished, since he'ld have known his particular
species of aberration. As it was, at times he believed him sane
and again thought him mad, for what the man said was rational,
dignified and well-spoken, but what he did was reckless, fatuous
and wild. What could be madder than to put a helmet full of
cheese-curds on one's head and then make one's self think that ,
enchanters were softening the skull ? or what more reckless than/
to invite a hand-to-hand combat with live lions ?

From these reflections and this soliloquy the subject of tl em
roused him by saying : ' Who doubts, Senor Don Diego de
Miranda, that you set me down for fool and lunatic ? Nor : s it
strange, since my labours point to naught else. At the same t me
I would that your worship understood that I am not so Ic ose
and lacking as I must appear. A gallant knight that in the mid die
of a great square gives a lucky lance-stroke to a brave bull, looks

348

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

well in the eyes of his king. He, also, appears to advantage that,
resplendently caparisoned, in merry tourney paces the lists in
view of tjhe ladies. And well seem all those knights that in
military maneuvres or the like entertain, cheer and if one may so
say honoiir their princes' courts. But better than all appears the
errant, tltat over wastes and solitudes, at cross-roads, through
woods through mountains, goes looking for perilous adventures
in the hope of leading them to successful and happy issue, merely
for the sake of glorious and lasting fame. A fairer sight, I main-
tain, is in errant knight succouring a widow in some God-
forsaken waste than a court-cavalier making love to some damsel
of the ci y.

' All ( f us have peculiar offices. Let the courtier serve the
ladies, add lustre to the palace with his liveries, support poor

brethen
take par

at the splendid plate of his table, arrange for jousts,
in tourneys : in a word show himself noble, generous.

magnificent and above all a good Christian. He will thus fulfil
his very definite obligation. But let the errant on the other hand
scour th ! corners of the world, penetrate the most intricate laby-
rinths, at every step attempt the impossible. In midsummer out
on the b irren desert let him resist the scorching rays of the sun
and in winter the cruel bitterness of winds and snows. Let lions
daunt him not, nor beast nor dragons make afraid, for to track
these dov«n, to close with and utterly vanquish them, is his chief
and proper exercise.

' L therefore, since I have fortuned to be numbered with the
latter, may not cease to array myself against all that appears to
come within the province of my duties. For example, the encoun-
ter with these lions directly touched me, though I knew it kn
act of the wildest folly. I am well aware wherein valour con-
sisteth : 'tis a virtue midway between the two vices of cowardice
and temerity. But 'tis less sinful for the brave man to mount and
touch the heights of recklessness than to sink to and sound the
depths of abject fear. As 'tis easier for the prodigal than the
miser to be wisely liberal, so is it easier for the reckless than the
cowardly to be truly brave. In the matter of meeting adventures
believe me 'tis better to lose the game by a card too many than

XVIII DON LORENZO 349

by one too few, and better it sounds to hear that such a knight
is rash and overbold than that he's craven and a coward. '

' Allow me to state my opinion, Seiior Don Quijote,\ answered
the other, ' that everything your worship has said vtnd done
balances in the scale with reason itself, and I dare assert that
should the laws and ordinances of errant -arms be last, they
could be found in your worship's breast as in their veny coffer
and archives. But since it is getting late, lend us mend our pace
a bit, that we may reach my village and home, where you may
rest from your past labours which, though perhaps noH of the
body, certainly were of the spirit, which now and again are wont
to redound to the weariness of the flesh. ' ' I accept this great
favour and kindness, Senor Don Diego, ' said he of the Eions,
and spurring a little faster about two that afternoon they arrived
at the village and home of Don Diego, to whom our advenjturer
gave the name of the Knight of the Green Cloak.

CHAPTER XVIII

Don Quijote in the castle or house of the Knight of the
Green Cloak, together with other things out of the common

OUR knight found the abode of Don Diego spacious, in this
resembling the usual country-house. The family -arms in
rough stone were over the street-door, the store-room was in the
patio and in the rear porch was the entrance to the wine-cellar
with many jars standing about which, being of el Toboso, re-
newed in our knight memories of his enchanted and transformed
Dulcinea. Heaving a deep sigh, not thinking of what he said or
in whose presence he was, he murmured :

' O pledges sweet, discovered to mine ill,
Sweet and delightful, when 'twas Heaven will.

O ye Tobosan wine-jars, that have brought to mind the sweet-
pledge of my most bitter sorrow ! ' This soliloquy was over-
heard by the student-poet, who with his mother had come out

350 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

to welcome Don Diego. Both stood spell-bound on seeing the
extraordinary figure of Don Quijote but he, dismounting from
Rocinante, with great courtesy approached to take and kiss the
lady's hands, and Don Diego said :

' With your accustomed grace, senora, receive Don Quijote
de La Mancha, a knight-errant, the most daring and discreet the
world contains. ' Dona Christina thereupon welcomed him with
marked good-will and attention and our knight offered his ser-

vi^es with abundance of polite and appropriate phrases. At this
pi lint the author describes the house in detail, enumerating all
tl at pertains to the typical mansion of a rich country-gentleman,
b it the translator thought best to pass these and similar details,
ft iling they had naught to do with the main drift of the story,
wnich concerns itself more with truth than with dull digressions.

They ushered their guest into a chamber and there his squire
disarmed him, leaving him in his loose Walloon breeches and
chamois-leather doublet, which was badly stained with the grime
of his coat-of-mail. His Flemish collar was of the student cut
without starch or lace ; his buskins were date-colour, his shoes
tallowed. His trusty sword hung from a bauldrick made of sea-
wolf skin down from his shoulder, not at his waist, for 'tis report-
ed that for many years he had had a disease of the kidneys. A
cloak of good grey cloth he wore over all. First, with five or six
buckets of water (the number is disputed) he washed head and
face, and even the last bucketful turned the colour of whey,
thanks to Sancho's gluttony and the purchase of the benighted
curds that left his master so fair. In his present finery and with
gentle gallant carriage he sailed forth into a hall, where the son
awaited to engage him while the table was prepared, for Dona
Christina wished to show herself apt and able in regaling a guest.

While Don Quijote was being disarmed, Don Lorenzo, the son,
found time to enquire of his father : ' What shall we say of the
knight you have brought home, sire ? His name, appearance and
your saying he's a knight-errant, have puzzled my mother and
me ? ' 'I don't know what to say, son. I only know that I have
seen him act like the worst madman in the world, yet speak
, wisely enough to overshadow and efface his deeds. Do you have

XVIII DON LORENZO

a talk with him and take the pulse of his understanding ; yoVi
are sufficiently observing, judge for yourself of his discretion or
folly, which seems the more reasonable. For myself I judge him '
more mad than sane. '

So Don Lorenzo now undertook the entertainment of th^r
guest and among other matters exchanged by the two, Dchi
Quijote said to him : ' Don Diego de Miranda, your father, hds
informed me of the rare gifts and subtle genius possessed by yoiA-
worship, stating in particular that you're a great poet. ' ' A poet
possibly, but great, not for a moment. 'Tis true I am fond ojf
poetry and of reading the belter poets but in no way do I deserve
the epithet my father attached to me. ' ' This humility mislikefe
me not, for there's no versifier that isn't proud and doesn't thinlf
himself the finest. ' ' There's no rule without its exception, *
suggested the other, ' and some may be the finest land yet not
think so. ' ' Few, ' declared Don Quijote ; ' but tell me, friend,
what verses have you there ? your father was saying they make
you rather restless and dispirited. If it be some gloss, I under-
stand a little of the art myself and should like to hear it. If it be
for a literary joust, try to win the second prize, for the first goes
by favour or to a person of rank, the second by merit. The third
is really second therefore and the first third, like degrees at a
university ; though of course to be first means a great deal. ' ' So
far, ' said Don Lorenzo to himself, ' I shouldn't set you down
for a fool ; but let us see further. ' So be said aloud : ' Your
worship has frequented the schools apparently ; what science did
you pursue ? ' ' Knight-errantry, which is as good as 1,hat of
poetry, nay, two finger s'-breadlh beyond. ' ' As yet I've not
heard of this science. '

' Knight-errantry, ' explained Don Quijote, ' is a science that
embraces all or most of the sciences of the world, by reason that
its candidate must be a jurist deep in the laws of justice, disitrib-
utive and commutative, so as to give every man his due and
desert ; a theologian, that he may state clearly and precisely the
grounds of his Christian faith wherever called npon ; a physician,
in particular an herbalist, that he may recognise in wastei and
wildernesses herbs with the property of healing wounds, smce a

352 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA .II

knight-errant can't go looking at every stumble for someone to
touch him up ; an astrologer, to tell the time of night and the part
and clime of the world. Mathematics too must be a part of his
quipment, for at any step he may have need thereof. Not
entioning that he must be adorned with all the virtues theolog-
cal and cardinal, I descend to the details of his profession and
Isay he must know how to swim like Fish Nicholas, and how
to shoe a horse and mend saddle and bridle. Rising again to
higher matters, he must keep faith with God and his lady, be
chaste in thought, pure in word, generous in good works, brave
in deed, patient in labours, a friend to the needy; in fine a
maintainer of the truth, though it cost him his life. All these
qualities, small and great, go to the making of a worthy knight-
jrrant. So you can judge, Senor Don Lorenzo, whether it is a
inivelling science, this the knight learns that studies and professes
t, and whether to be equalled by the most strenuous taught in
schools and colleges. '

' ' I should say that this science bore the palm before all, ' replied
his listener, ' if only what you say be true. ' ' And what do you
mean by that ? ' ' That I doubt whether there have been or are now
^rrajix knights, especially any adorned with so many virtues. '
nwany times have I said what I am to say now, ' began Don
'Quijote, ' since most persons think with you that adventurers
never existed. But nay, I shall not attempt to draw you from
Vour error, since I cannot but feel that, unless Heaven in some
ihiraculous way show you that knights-errant have been and are,
wljatever trouble I might take to demonstrate that truth, would
bCi vain, as experience has oft-times revealed. I shall merely pray
Heaven may act for me, helping you to appreciate how advanta-
gepus and necessary to the world errants were in former times
ami how useful they would prove nowadays, if only the fashion.
Alas, in their stead, for the sins of the people, sloth, idleness,
feasting, luxury are in the ascendant. ' ' Our guest has broken
lo }se and no mistake, ' soliloquised Don Lorenzo ; ' for all that
he's a gallant fool, and I a poor one did I not find him so. '

Here their discourse ended as they were summoned to dinner.
Don Diego asked his son what he had made out anent their

XVIII DON LORENZO 353

guest's intelligence and received the reply : ' All the physicians
and scribes in the world couldn't draw him off clean from thsj
rough copy of his infirmity : he's a madman interlarded, full of
lucid intervals. ' They now went out, and Don Quijote found the
table such an one as Don Diego had described: orderly, plentiful
and delicious. But what most delighted him was the marvellous
stillness that reigned throughout the house, giving it the air of a
Carthusian monastery. When the cloth had been removed, the
blessing asked and their hands dipped in water, Don Quijote
earnestly prayed Don Lorenzo to repeat the verses for the literary
joust ; to which the other replied :

' That I may not be numbered among those poets that when
asked refuse to recite their verses, yet vomit them forth .without
request at other times, I'll give you my gloss, composed with
no thought of a prize but merely to discipline my faculties. '
' A friend of mine and a discreet one, ' remarked Don Quijote,
' was of the opinion that none should trouble to gloss verses,
reasoning that a gloss could never approach the text and fre-
quently, nay usually, was beside its aim and scope. Moreover he
held that the rules of glossing were altogether too stringent,
forbidding questions, the introduction of ' said he ' and ' I shall
say, ' the use of verbs as substantives, allowing no freedom of
construction, together with other bonds and fetters whereby
glossers are handicapped, as your worship must know.' ' Of a
truth, Senor Don Quijote, I have been trying to catch your
worship in some consistent error, but you slip through my
hands like an eel. ' ' I don't understand this slipping, ' said Don
Quijote. ' I shall tell you later, sir ; for the present attend to the
gloss and theme. '

When Don Lorenzo had finished, our knight rose to his feet
and seizing the other's right hand with his own raised his voice
almost to a shout, crying : ' By the life of the heavens wherever
they are highest, but you, generous swain, are the best poet alive
and deserve to be laurel-crowned, not by Cyprus or Gaeta as a
certain versifier said (whom may God forgive) but by the acad-
emies of Athens were they in existence and by those that are,
Paris, Bologna and Salamanca. Would to Heaven that the judges

354 DON QUIJOTE DE LA. MANCHA II

that refuse you the first prize be transfixed by tlie darts of Phoe-
bus and may the muses never cross the thresholds of their
homes ! Be kind enough, sir, to let me hear some of your long-
measure verse. I would take the pulse of your admirable genius
at every point. ' Is it necessary to add that Don Lorenzo was
delighted to hear himself praised by Don Qnijote, though he
knew him a madam ? O power of flattery ! how far-reaching art
i.thou and how wide asunder are the boundaries of thy pleasant
sway ! To this truth Don Lorenzo bore witness, complying with
his guest's desire and demand by repeating to him a sonnet on
the fable or story of Pyramus and Thisbe, at the finishing of
which Don Quijote cried : ' Blessed be God, that among the
infinite number of consumed poets there's one consummate one,
as the art of this sonnet assures me, sir. '

For four whole days our knight was royally entertained at the
house of Don Diego, but at the end asked leave to go his way,
saying that while delighted with his reception and the kindness
shown him, inasmuch as it didn't look well for knights-errant to
spend much of their time in leisure and pleasure, he would do
his duty and seek out adventures, wherein he was informed the
neighbourhood abounded. In these he expected to be engaged
till the day of the jousts at Saragossa, his final goal. The first
adventure would be his descent into the cave of Montesinos,
whereof so many marvellous things were reported throughout
that district ; hoping also to discover the true source and origin
of the seven lakes of Ruidera. Don Diego and his son applauded
so honourable an enterprise, saying he might take with him from
their house and farm anything he pleased and that they would
assist him with the best will in the world, whereto they were
bound by his valour and most worthy profession.

At last arrived the day of departure, as pleasant to Don Quijote
as deplored by Panza, who found exceeding content in the
abundance there and whose paunch revolted at a return to the
hunger that reigns in woods and wilds, and at the thought of
the customary leanness of his ill-provided saddlebags. These last
however he filled to the neck with what he deemed most likely
to come into play. As they came to bid farewell, Quijote, turning

XIX THE STUDENTS 355

to Don Lorenzo, said : ' I am not sure that I've told your worship,
but if I have, I'll repeat, that should you ever wish to cut short
the works and ways leading to the inaccessible height of the
temple of fame, all you need is to quit the fairly narrow path
of poetry and take the well-nigh invisible one of knightly arms,
would you make yourself an emperor like a flash. ' By these
words Don Quijote sealed the question of his madness ; still
more when he added :

' God knows how pleased I should be to have Senor Don
Lorenzo accompany me that I might teach you how to pardon
subjects and subdue and trample under foot the proud : accom-
plishments native to my profession. But since neither your tender
age nor your commendable employment will permit, I content
myself with declaring that even as a poet you will achieve fame
if guided more by others' opinions than your own, for no parent
believes his children homely, and one is even more blinded
toward the children of the soul. ' Again did father and son wonder'
at the knight's blended discourse, now sound now senseless,
together with his unfaltering determination to go forth upon his
questionable quests, the be-all and the end-all of his existence.
There was a repetition of services and civilities, and with the
gracious allowance of the lady of the castle Don Quijote and
Sancho on Rocinante and Dapple took leave.

CHAPTER XIX

The adventure of the enamoured shepherd and other
delightful passages

DON Quijote had travelled but a short distance from Don
Diego's house when be encountered two that seemed either
priests or students together with two peasants, all riding asses.
One of the students carried, tied in a piece of green buckram by
way of portmanteau, what looked like a piece of scarlet-and-
white cloth together with two pairs of ribbed stockings. The
other carried naught but a pair of new fencing-foils with their

356 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

buttons, while the peasants were laden with things that tokened
they were on their way home from some large town where they
had made purchases. Both they and the students fell into the
same astonishment all fell on first beholding Don Quijote, and
were dying to know who this man could be, so unlike his kind.

The knight saluted these strangers and having learned the road
they travelled, since it proved his own, offered his company,
asking that they slacken pace a triffle as their ass-fillies moved
faster than his steed. To oblige them he briefly sketched himself,
his office and profession of knight-errantry, in other words the
quest of adventures in all parts of the world. He informed them
too that though his real name was Don Quijote de La Mancha
he was also known as the Knight of the Lions ; all of which was
Greek and gibberish to the peasants. The students at once sur-
mised he was out of his head, yet regarded him with admiration
and respect, one of them saying : ' If your worship have no
determined road, sir knight, pray come with us and you'll see
one of the finest and richest weddings ever celebrated in La
Mancha or in the country many leagues about. '

Don Qaijote asked if 'twere a prince's wedding thus extolled.
' Nay, a farmer's and a peasant-girl's, he the richest man in all
these parts and she the most beautiful woman ever men set eyes
on. The display attending it promises to be most unique, for the
ceremony is to take place in a meadow near the village of the
bride, who by way of distinction is called Quiteria the fair. The
groom's name is Gamacho the rich ; her age eighteen, his twenty-
two. They are of equal rank, though some overnice persons that
know the world's families by heart, would have it that the fair
Quiteria's has the advantage ; but what care we about such things
nowadays, when riches solder so many flaws. Moreover this
Gamacho is lavish with his wealth and has taken it upon himself
to branch over all that meadow, so that the sun will be put to it
if he try to enter and shine on the green grass that covers the
ground. He has provided dancers as well, both of swords and
little bells, for in his village are those that can shake and jingle
to perfection. Of the shoe-clatterers I say nothing — of them he
has engaged a host.

XIX THE STUDENTS 357

' But none of these things or many others unmenlioned by me
will make the nuptials as memorable as those the desperate
Basilio will methinks do there. This Basilio is a native of
Quiteria's village and her neighbour, whence Cupid took occasion
to revive for the world the long-forgotten loves of Pyramus and
Thisbe. Basilio has been enamoured of Quiteria from his first
and tender years and she responded to his feeling with a thou-
sand innocent favours; so much so that the devotion of the
children became the talk and diversion of the entire village. As
the girl grew, her father decided to forbid Basilio his accustomed
access to their home, and further to allay his fears and apprehen-
sions he arranged for his daughter to marry with the rich Cama-
cho, disapproving of Basilio, who is less endowed by fortune
than by nature. To tell the truth without envy he's the most
agile youth we know, a great pitcher of the bar, a first-class
wrestler and a capital ball-player. He runs like a buck, leaps
more nimbly than a goat and bowls down the nine-pins as by
enchantment. He sings like a lark, strums the guitar till it speaks
and above all handles the sword with the finest. '

' For that alone,' interposed Don Quijote, ' this youth deserves
to marry not Quiteria alone but Guinevere herself were she
living, maugre Lancelot and all that would circumvent him. '
' Tell that to my wife, ' exclaimed Sancho, who till now had
been a passive listener; ' she wants every man to marry his
equal, abiding by the proverb that says, Every ewe to its mate.
My own idea is that worthy Basilio, for whom already I have
strong liking, should get the girl, and salvation and a long rest
(I was about to say the opposite) to all that interfere with the
marriage of lovers. '

' If all that love well were to marry, ' said Don Quijote, ' par-
ents would be deprived of the choice and right of marrying their
children with whom and when they should, and if daughters
were allowed to select their husbands, one would be choosing
her father's servant and another some passer-by that seemed to
her proiid and imperial, though really a rake and a bully. Love
and devotion easily blind the eyes of the understanding, which
are so necessary in determining one's estate. That of matrimony

358 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

in particular stands in grave danger of being wrongly entered
upon : both clear insight and Heaven's special favour are needed
to determine it aright. If a vsrise man be going a journey, he first
seeks some true and pleasant companion : why then should not
he that is to travel all his days even to the inn of death do like-
wise, especially when the other is to be his associate in bed, at
board and everywhere. The more that the comradeship of one's
wife is no merchandise that can, once bought, be returned,
bartered with or exchanged ; 'tis an irrevocable condition that
ceases only with life. 'Tis a noose that, once on the neck, becomes
a Gordian knot ; unless cut by the scythe of death, there's no
untying. Much more might I say were I not prevented by my
desire to know whether senor licentiate has aught further to tell
with regard to Basilio. ' To this the student-bachelor, or licentiate
as Don Quijote called him, replied :

' Nothing remains to be told save that from the time Basilio
learned that fair Quiteria was to marry Camacho the rich, none
has seen him smile or speak rationally, since he ever walks
downcast and mutters to himself : clear and certain proof that
his brain is affected. He eats and sleeps little : his diet consists
of fruit alone and he sleeps, if at all, like a brute in the open
fields on the hard ground. At times he gazes vacantly at heaven,
at others firms his eyes fixedly on the earth like a draped statue
whose garments are tossed by the wind. In fine he seems so
overcome with grief that all his acquaintance fear that fair Qui-
teria's yes to-morrow will prove his death-sentence. ' ' God will
bring it about better than that, ' said Sancho, ' for He that gives
the hurt gives the healing. No one knows what is to come :
'twixt this and morn lie many hours and in one of them, nay in
a moment, the house may fall. I've seen it rain and shine together;
one may lie down well at night and at sun-up not be able to stir.
Tell me, do any flatter themselves they've put a spoke in for-
tune's wheel ? never. 'Twixt a woman's yea and nay I'ld be
loth to put a pin-point — for there wouldn't be roojn. Give me
proof that the lass loves Basilio with all her heart, and I'll give
him a sack of good-luck. For they say love looks through specta-
cles that make copper gold, poverty riches and blear-eyes pearls.'

XIX THE STUDENTS 359

' When will you have done, curse you, ' quoth his master ;
' once you get started with your proverbs and old tales, none
can follow short of Judas, may he take youj! Tell me, animal,
what do you know about spokes or wheels orianything? ' ' If you
don't follow me, no wonder my opinions are called nonsense.
But what does it matter? I follow myself and know I'm not such
a fool in what I say, even though you, master, set up to be
cricket of my speech and of my deeds too. ' ' Critic, thou tongue-
traitor, whom may God confound ! ' ' Don't be vexed with me,
seiior, for you know I wasn't bred at court and that I never
studied at Salamanca so as to tell when my words have a letter
too many or few. Bless me, you mustn't ask the Sayagan to talk
like a Toledan, and maybe there are Toledans that don't hit it
off so briskly when it comes to gaudy words. '

' You are right, ' said the licentiate, ' for those of them fcred
in the tanneries or in the Plaza de Zocodover don't speaM as
fluently as those that spend their day inHhe cathedral-cloisters —
yet all are Toledans. The pure, proper apd discriminating use
of words is only to be found among enlightened persons at
court, though they were born in Majalahonda. I say enlighi
ened, since many are not — intelligence plus practice is th^
grammar of goodjjge^ch. I, for my sins, was a student in canon
law at Salamanca and pique myself somewhat on my clear and
vigorous language. '

' Had you not piqued yourself more on the management of
your foils, ' interposed the other student, ' you might have been
head of your degrees instead of tail. ' ' Tut, tut, ' replied the
licentiate : ' you hold the most erroneous opinion in the world
as to the dexterous use of the sword, if you consider it of no
benefit. ' ' 'Tis not merely an opinion but a well-established
truth, ' retorted the other, ' which would you that I demonstrate,
you have the blades, equipment is not lacking, and mine are
steadiness and muscle which, joined to my pluck (and that is
not slight), will make you confess me not far wrong. Dismount
and let us see you measure time, your circles, angles and science,
for I hope to make you see stars at noonday with my rough and
ready art, wherein I believe after God the man is yet unborn

360 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

that can make me turn back, for he lives not whom I won't force
to give ground. ' ' As to this turning back or not, ' replied the
fencer, ' I leave all that to you, for perchance in the spot where
you first plant foot, will open your grave : in other words, there
you may be left for dead by the art you despise. ' ' That will now
appear, ' cried the other, Gorchuelo by name, and leaping from
his ass he furiously snatched one of the swords the licentiate
carried. ' Not so, ' exclaimed Don Quijote, ' for I mean to um-
pire this bout and judge of this so frequently drawn battle. '

Dismounting and seizing his lance the knight stationed himself
in the road just as the licentiate with calm air and measured step
advanced to meet Gorchuelo, who came on darting fire from his
eyes as they say. The two peasants, sitting on their ass-fillies,
remained spectators of this mortal tragedy. The slashes, lunges,
down-strokes, side-cuts and double-handers dealt by Gorchuelo
were past counting, thicker than guts or hail. He rushed at the
other like a nettled lion but met on his way a mouth-touch from
the button of the licentiate's sword, which checked him in full
course, making him kiss it as though a relic, though not with
such deep devotion as relics should and are wont to be kissed.
The licentiate ended by numbering with his passes all the buttons
of the other's short cassock, tearing his shirt into strips like the
arms of a cuttle-fish, twice swishing off his hat and finally so
wearying him that from disgust, irritation and rage Gorchuelo,
seizing his sword by the hilt, hurled it with such force that one
of the seconds, a scrivener, later deposed that he found it about
three-quarters of a league distant — which testimony has served
and still serves to show and prove beyond question that strength
yields to skill.

Gorchuelo sat down exhausted and Sancho came up to him
saying : ' My faith, sir, if you take my advice, hereafter you'll
challenge persons not to fence but to wrestle or pitch the bar :
you have the years and strength for that. But of these they call
fencing -masters I've heard say they can put a sword-point
through a needle's eye.' ' I am satisfied to have fallen from my
high horse, ' replied Gorchuelo ; ' the experience has shown me
mine ignorance ; ' and rising he embraced the licentiate and the

XIX THE STUDENTS 361

pair were better friends tlian ever. Tiiey decided not to delay
for the scrivener but to push on and reach in season Quiteria's
village, to which all belonged. During the rest of the journey
the licentiate enlarged on the excellences of the sword, with so
many and conclusive arguments and with so many figures and
mathematical demonstrations, that all became convinced of the
goodness of the science and Gorchuelo was quite cured of his
conceit.

It was now nightfall and from a distance they could see on
their side the village what appeared a canopy of brilliant and
innumerable stars. They could hear too the mingled sweet accents
of divers instruments, flutes, tambourines, psalteries, cymbals,
tabors and timbrels. Drawing near they beheld a bower of trees,
raised at the village-entrance, hung with lights unharmed by a
wind blowing so softly that not even the leaves of the trees were
stirred. The musicians were the wedding merry-makers and
moved amid that pleasant scene in troops, dancing or singing
and marking time with the various instruments. Indeed it seemed
as if throughout that meadow mirth and revelry leapt in frolic
and joy. Many others were busy raising platforms whence might
be viewed the plays and dances to be given on the morrow in the
spot delicated to the wedding of the rich Gamacho and the
obsequies of the poor Basilio.

Don Quijote refused to enter the town though besought by
both peasant and bachelor. He gave as excuse one most sufficient
to himself, that it was more customary for errants to sleep in
field and forest than in settlements, though beneath roofs of gold.
With this he turned a little from the highway, much against the
wish of Sancho, who bethought him how well had he lodged at
Don Diego's castle.

362 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER XX

The wedding of Camacho the rich and the faring of Basilio

the poor

SCARCE had fair Aurora given time to shining Phoebus to dry
up with the heat of his scorching rays the liquid pearls of
her golden hair when Don Quijote, shaking sloth from his limbs>
rose to his feet and called his squire, still snoring ; which when
his master observed, he said : ' O blest beyond all that live upon
the face of the earth, since without envy or being envied you sleep
with quiet spirit ; nor enchanters persecute you nor enchant-
ments assail. Sleep on, I say again and a hundred times, since no
suspicions of your lady keep you in ceaseless vigil, nor thoughts
of debts keep awake, nor how on the morrow to provide for your
small and straitened family. Ambition disquiets you not, nor
the vain pomp of the world wear you to the bone, since the
limits of your desires extend only to the care of your ass. That
of your person you have laid on my shoulders : the burden and
counterpoise imposed by nature and custom on all masters.
The servant sleeps and the lord watches, thinking how he may
support and advance him, doing him favours. Anguish at seeing
the sky turn copper, withholding from the earth its timely showers,
afflicts not the servant as the lord, bound through failure and
famine to maintain those that served him in times of fruitfulness
and plenty. '

To none of this did Sancho make reply, for he slept, nor would
have awakened had not his master used the butt of his lance.
Dull and languid he looked in every direction and said at last :
' From yon bower, if I mistake not, issue the steam and smell
that betoken broiled rashers more than rushes and thyme. Nup-
tials that start off with odours like these are sure to be lavish
and liberal, by my halidome. ' ' Peace, glutton : come, let us
witness this espousal and see what the rejected Basilio will do. '
' Let him do what he will : nay, would he be poor and marry

XX CAMACHO'S WEDDING 363

Quiteria? marry in the clouds with never a groat, is that all he
wants ? In faith, sir, I am of opinion the poor fellow should
content himself with what he finds and not go looking for tidbits
in the sea. I'll wager an arm that Gamacho can fairly cover him
with reals, and if that be so, as it must be, what a fool Quiteria
would show herself to throw away the jewels and trinkets
Gamacho must have given and still can give, choosing the bar-
pitching and foil-play of Basilio. At what tavern will a good
throw of the bar or a clever sword-trick fetch you a beaker of
wine ? Graces and accomplishments that aren't marketable,
better let Gount Dirlos have them. But when such graces fall to
one that has money besides, let my life be like his. Upon good
bottom can be raised a good house, and the best foundation in the
world is a heavy purse. '

' In God's name, Sancho, bring your speech to an end, for I
believe that if they let you continue in those you begin you'ld
have no time to eat or sleep, for all would be spent in wagging
your tongue, ' ' Had your worship a good memory, you would
recall the agreement drawn up before we last left home; One of
the articles was that I should be free to talk all I pleased, provided
'twere not against my neighbour or your authority. So far
methinks I haven't overstepped this provision. ' ' I recall no such
article, ' responded the other, ' and though it may be as you say,
I desire for the present that you hold your tongue and come
along, for already the instruments heard last evening are making
the valleys rejoice and doubtless the nuptials will take place in
the cool of the morn. '

The squire yielded to the master's will and placing the saddle
on Rocinante and the pannel on Dapple he and the knight mount-
ed, and slowly advancing passed under the bower. The first sight
that offered to Sancho's eyes was a steer spitted on an elm-tree.
In the blaze wherein it was to be roasted burned half a mountain
of wood, while the six earthen pots closely surrounding the fire
were not like ordinary pots, but were six fair-sized wine-jars,
each a veritable shambles, for in them whole sheep as if pigeons
were swallowed up unseen. The hares already skinned and chick-
ens already plucked, hanging from the arbour previous to burial

364 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

in the pots, were without number, as were the birds and game
of all varieties, hung about that the air might cool them. Sancho
counted more than sixty wineskins, each holding, as later
appeared, more than eight gallons of vigorous wine. Like piles
of wheat on a threshing-floor loaves of the whitest bread were
heaped in rows, while cheeses set like bricks formed a wail. Two
cauldrons of oil, larger than dyer's vats, served to fry the pastry,
which by means of two whopping shovels was lifted out when
fried and plunged into another cauldron of prepared honey. The
cooks and kitchen-maids numbered more than fifty, all neat, all
busy and all good-humoured. In the distended belly of the steer
rested twelve soft suckling pigs, which, sewed within, served to
make him tender and toothsome. Spices of various kinds, bought
not by the pound apparently but by the quarter, were on view
in a great chest. In fine, the preparations of this wedding, though
rustic, were on a scale to feed an army.

Sancho saw all, examined all and by all was moved to love.
The first things to besiege and captivate his taste were the
fleshpots, wherefrom he'ld willingly have accepted a good-sized
helping. Then the wineskins took his fancy, and lastly the
fruitage of the frying-pans, if those bulging cauldrons can be so
termed. At last, finding it beyond his power to do aught else, he
approached one of the busy cooks and in courteous and empty
phrase asked leave to dip a crust into one of those jars. ' Brother,
thanks to the rich Camacho, this day is not one over which
hunger bears sway. Dismount and see if you can find a ladle
wherewith to skim a hen or two, and may you be the better for
them. ' ' I see no ladle, ' murmured Sancho. ' Wait, ' quoth the
other ; ' body of me, but you're a dainty delicate one ! ' and
with this he seized a kettle and plunging it in one of the jars
drew out three hens and a couple of geese, saying to Sancho :
' Eat, friend, and break your fast on this froth till the dinner-
hour. ' ' I have no plate to put it on, ' replied Sancho. ' Then
take it, kettle and all,' said the cook, ' for the wealth and kind-
ness of Camacho supply everything. '

While the squire was thus employed, the knight in another
part of the bower was watching the entrance of twelve peasants.

XX CAMACHO'S WEDDING 365

mounted on twelve most beautiful mares, richly and showily
decked out with little bells jingling from their breast-leathers.
These folk were festively clad and ran rejoicing all in a troop
not one but many courses over the meadow, shouting with loud
ecstatic huzzas ; ' Long live Gamacho, long live Quiteria, he as
rich as she is beautiful, and she most beautiful of living maidens. '
' 'Tis easy to see they've never beheld my Dulcinea, ' murmured
Don Quijote, ' else they'ld be less free with their praises.' Soon
afterward entered from different parts many and various dancers,
among them a troop of sword-dancers, some four and twenty
youths of gallant look and air, attired in finest and whitest linen
with varicoloured head-dresses worked in choicest, silk. One of
the horsemen asked the leader of this troop, a nimble swain,
had any of the dancers received hurt. ' Not as yet, thanks be to
God ! so far all is well, ' he answered and with his companions
straight began to twirl about with so many and skilful turns of
blades that though Don Quijote had before seen this manner of
dancing, none ever seemed so marvellous. Equally was his fancy
taken by another band, of twelve most lovely girls, apparently
between fourteen and eighteen years, clad in green, with locks
partly plaited and partly loose and all so golden as to rival the
sun's ; and on their heads were garlands of jasmine, roses,
amaranth and honeysuckle, all inwoven. They were led by a
venerable gaffer and ancient matron, both more active and
nimble than their years promised. These sylphs moved to the
music of a Zamoran bagpipe, and with modesty in face and eyes
and nimbleness of feet proved themselves the finest dancers in
the world.

Next came a dancing or speaking masque, made up. of eight
nymphs arranged in two rows, the first led by the god Gupid,
the other by Interest : that adorned with wings, bow, quiver and
arrows, and this clad in various rich colours of gold and silk.
The nymphs in the train of Love bore on their shoulders their
names in large lettering on white parchment. Poetry, Wisdom,
Family and Valour, and likewise those that followed Interest
were designated Liberality, Largess, Treasure and Peaceful
Possession. In their front a wooden castle was borne by four

366 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

savages, clad in ivy and hemp dyed green, so true to life that
Sancho at first was frightened. On its forehead and on each side
of the castle were the words. The Castle of Good Heed. When
four skilful tambourine and flute-players had struck up, Cupid
commenced to dance and after executing two figures, raising his
eyes and aiming an arrow at a maiden among the battlements,
said :

Of earth and air the god am I,

The waters at my bidding swell ;

So loo obey my sovereignty

Lost souls and angels damned in hell.

I never knew the breath of fear,

I never dream but what I do.

With ' hasten ' there and ' hopeless ' here

I help this man and hinder you.

He then let fly the arrow over the castle and retired to his
station.

Then came forth Interest and executed two other figures ; the
tambourines were silent while he said :

Greater than Love thou dost behold.
Though Love's my guardian, my guide.
My stock's the hardiest, most bold,
That ever Heaven deified.

For I am Interest, though few
Of mortal beings find I pay,
Nor know without me what to do.
Wilt have me ? I am thine for ay.

Interest retired, giving place to Poetry, who making figures
like the others lifted his eyes to the maiden of the castle saying :

And now comes lovely Poesy,
Engarlanded with verses gay
And clad in sonnets prettily
With all the welcome of the May.

If thou art vexed not when I praise,
Art pleased when I importune.
Thine envied fortune shall I raise
Above the circle of the moon.

XX CAMACHO'S WEDDING 367

Poetry made an end and from the train of Interest issued
Liberality, who, after the customary prelude, began :

They call me liberality
Because I fly the two extremes
Of wasteful prodigality
And what a stingy man beseems.

Yet more than doth the prodigal
I'll heap all riches for my love ;
For though it others sinning call,
Devotion shall its pardon prove.

In this manner appeared and withdrew all the nymphs of the
two squadrons : each executed his figure and said his verses,
some serious, some silly, but the above were all Don Quijote's
memory, though a good one, retained. Presently these dancers
mingled, weaving and unweaving their figures with pliant grace ;
and Love, passing before the castle, shot his arrows on high,
while Interest broke against it golden balls.

Finally, after a good deal of dancing, Interest produced a large
purse, made from a brindled cat's skin and apparently full of
coin. He threw this at the castle and as it struck, the boards
loosened and fell, leaving the maiden without defence. Interest
and his followers then ran up and throwing a long gold chain
about her neck, made as though to take and lead her away cap-
tive, but Love and his faction tried to rescue her, all fitting their
movements to the sound of the tambourines and dancing and
moving in harmony. They were at length brought to terms by
the savages, who quickly replaced the fallen walls and shut the
maiden within as at first. With this and amid great applause the
play came to its end.

Don Quijote asked one of the nymphs who it was that had
composed and ordered the piece. She named a certain priest
of that village, who possessed a rare gift for such compositions.
' I'll wager, ' said the knight, ' he's more the friend of Camacho
than of Basilio, and is more a hand at satire than church-services,
this bachelor or priest, for cleverly has he opposed the accom-
plishments of the one and the riches of the other. ' Sancho Panza,
who stood listening, exclaimed : ' The king is my cock : I stand

368 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

by Gamacho. ' ' Indeed, Sancho, you prove yourself a varlet and
of those that cry, Whoever conquers, long live he. ' ' I know not
to what class I belong, but I'm certain I should never skim such
excellent froth from Basilio's pots ' ; and showing his kettleful
of geese and fowl he seized one and began to devour it with
spirit and relish, saying :

' A fig for the cleverness of Basilio, for you're worth no more
than you have, and so much as you have, that you are worth.
There are after all but two classes in the world, the haves and
the have-nots, as said one my grandmother, who always stuck
to the haves. And nowadays too, master, they take the pulse
of owning rather than of knowing. A gold-covered ass looks
better than a horse with pack saddle. Therefore, I repeat, I stand
by Gamacho, in whose pots the generous skimmings are geese,
hens, hares and conies, whilst those of Basilio's pots, if they
came to hand, or even to boot, would be naught but dregs. '
' Have you finished, devil ? ' ' Soon, for I see it wearies you
though if that hadn't checked me in the middle, there had been
work cut out for three days. ' ' Please God, man, may I see you
dumb before I die. ' ' At our present pace, verily before your
worship goes I shall be chewing the clay, and then perchance be
so dumb that I shan't speak a syllable till the end of time, or at
least till Judgment Day. ' ' Though that occur, O Sancho, never
would your silence equal what you have spoken, speak and are
to speak in your life. Moreover, the day of my death naturally
should come first, and I therefore expect to see you dumb never,
not even when you drink or sleep, which is the most I can say. '

' Of a truth, sir, no trust can be put in my Lady Dry-Bones, in
Death I mean, who devours the lamb with the sheep and as I've
heard our priest tell, treads with equal foot on the high towers
of kings and the lowly huts of the poor. The lady is more mighty
than nice : she's nothing particular : she eats of all and does for
all, swelling her saddlebags with every kind and age and rank.
She's no reaper that sleeps through siestas, for she reaps at all
hours, cutting the green with the dry. Nor does she chew her
food at all but bolts whatever is placed before her, since hers is
a dog's hunger, never satisfied. And though without a belly yet

XXI BASILIO AND QUITj^RIA 369

is she dropsical, and great thirst drives her to drinlf the lives of
all that live, like a jug of cold water. '

' Not a word more, my son : don't risk a fall ; for verily what
in your rustic terms you have spoken concerning death, might
have come from the best of preachers. Had you discretion as
you have good natural wit, you could take a pulpit in hand
and range the world over, preaching fine sayings.' 'He preaches/
well that lives well, ' replied Sancho ; ' I know no theologiea
but that. ' ' Nor have you need, ' said his master ; ' but I wonder
how, since the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, you can
be so wise, who fear a lizard more than Him. ' ' Let yet worship
judge of his chivalries, nor mind other peoples' fears or braveries,
for I am as properly afraid of God as any neighbour's son. Leave
me to snuff up this froth here, since all the rest is empty words
which we shall have to account for in the other life. ' And saying
this he renewed his assault on the kettle with courage sufficient
to arouse that of Don Quijote, who doubtless would have come
to his assistance had he not been let by something to be told
further on.

CHAPTER XXI

The story of Canacho's vfredding continued, together with
other delightful passages

WHILE Don Quijote and his squire were in the midst of the
colloquy reported in the previous chapter, loud clamour
and cries were heard, coming from the horsemen, who with rush
and shout went to welcome the bridal pair. These, surrounded
by a thousand kinds of instruments and devices, came in the
company of the priest, their kinsfolk and the people of note in
the neigbouring villages, all in gala attire. When Sancho beheld
the bride, he exclaimed : ' As the Lord liveth, not as a farmer's
daughter comes she clad but like a palace-girl. Egad, as I make
out, her necklace is of rich corals and her green Guenca stuff is
thirty-pile velvet, and lo, the white linen border I I vow 'tis of

370 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

satin. Then look at her hands, covered with hoops of jet do you
call them ? may I never grow rich if they're not rings of gold
and pure gold at that, set with pearls white as a curd ; each
must be worth an eye of the head. O the whoreson jade, what
hair ! which, if it be not false, I've never seen longer or more
golden in my life. Ay, but note her carriage and figure : is it not
to be compared to a palm-tree swaying in the wind with its
bunches of dates, which are the trinkets hanging froni her hair
and throat ! I swear in my soul she's a lass to be reckoned with
and could cross the shoals of Flanders. '

Don Quijote smiled at his squire's country praises, though it
seemed to him also that, sparing Dulcinea del Toboso, never had
he seen a woman more beautiful. She looked a trifle pale, the
result no doubt of the bad night brides pass in preparation for
the pending marriage-day. They all moved toward a theatre at
one side the meadow, decked with carpets and branches, where
the nuptials were to take place and whence could be seen the
dances and pantomimes. But just as they arrived, loud shouts
were heard from behind and a voice that cried : ' Stay a little, ye
hasty and heartless ones ! ' All turned and beheld a man in black
frock striped with flame-like crimson ; on his head a crown of
funereal cypress and in his hands a large staff. As he drew near,
they recognised the gallant Basilio and anxiously waited to see
what his cries and words portended, fearing trouble from his
arrival at this juncture. Exhausted and breathless he came before
the bridal pair and drove his staff, tipped with steel pike, well
into the soil. Then with pallid face and eyes fixed on Quiteria
in hoarse and trembling voice he began :

' Thou art well aware, ungrateful Quiteria, that by the holy
law that we profess thou canst not marry while I live. Thou
knowest too that while waiting till time and and- mine industry
bettered my fortune, I have not failed to observe the respect due
thine honour. Yet thou, casting behind all rights due my true
regard, would'st make another lord of that which is mine. His
riches not only serve him as his fortune but serve to make
him fortunate, and that his horn may be filled (not that I think
he deserves it, but because Heaven so wills) mine own hand will

XXI BASILIO AND QUITl^RIA 371

remove the obstacle that stands in his way, and myself no longer
divide you two. Long live rich Gamachowith ungrateful Qui teria,
long and happy years, and die, die poor Basilio, whose poverty
clipped the wings of his happiness and laid him in the grave. '
Saying this he seized the staff driven in the ground and leaving
half there showed that the other was a sheath concealing a fairly
long rapier, and when he had planted what may be called its hilt
beside the other, with quick resolution he threw himself against
it. Instantly the bloody point and half the steel appeared at his
back and the poor fellow lay bathed in blood, transfixed by his
own weapon.

His friends rushed to the rescue, overcome by this piteous
catastrophe. Don Quijote, dropping from Rocinante, also hurried
to the spot and raising him found him not yet expired. They
were about to withdraw the rapier but the priest present thought
they should first confess him lest he might not survive. He now
showed slight consciousness and in painful dying accents said :
' Gruel Quiteria, wouldst thou in my last and fatal agony give thy
hand as my wife, I might hope that my folly would be pardoned,
as thereby I should have attained the bliss of being thine. ' The
priest said he should attend to the safety of his soul rather than
the pleasure of his body and with his whole heart crave God's
pardon for his sins and this act of desperation. To this Basilio
replied that he would never confess himself till Quiteria gave
her hand — that joy would double his will and give him strength
meet for repentance.

On hearing the wounded man's plea Don Quijote cried that
Basilio sought a most reasonable and righteous thing, a thing
easily accomplished moreover, for Senor Gamacho would be as
honoured in receiving the lady Quiteria as the widow of worthy
Basilio as from the hand of her father. ' It means no more than
a yea, which entails the mere pronouncing, since the marriage-
bed of this wedding will be the grave. ' Gamacho heard this
but it left him doubting, perplexed as to what to do or say. But
the outcries of Basilio's friends were so persistent, demanding
his assent lest the other's soul be lost, parting so wickedly from
this life, that they moved, nay forced him to say that if Quiteria

372 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

gave assent, he would give sanction, since at most 'twas to delay
only for a moment the fulfilment of their desires.

Thereupon all besieged Quiteria, and some with tears, some
with persuasions, pressed her to give her hand to the poor
Basilio. Harder than marble and stiller than a statue she appar-
ently could not nor would have answered, had not the priest told
her to make up her mind instantly, as Basilio's soul was already
in his teeth. Then the fair bride, still silent and to all appear-
ances confused, repentant and sad, drew near Basilio, lying there
with eyes turned within, breathing short and with difficulty,
muttering 'twixt his teeth the name of Quiteria, dying more like
pagan than Christian. The girl stood over him and kneeling down
rather by sign than word sought his hand. Basilio loosed his eyes
and looking at her fixedly said : ' O Quiteria, why thus late
hast thou relented when thy pity will serve but as a knife to
give the last stroke, since no longer have I strength to suffer
the glory thou givest nor to check the pain so soon darkening
mine eyes with the dreadful shadow. Mine only prayer, O my
fatal star, is that thou ask not my hand nor give thine by way
of consolation, deceiving me a second time, but that, with no
pressure on thy will, thou deliver thyself freely as to thy lawful
husband. 'Tis not well in a crisis like this thou shouldst deceive
or feign with one that has dealt openly with thee. ' As the youth
spake, he swooned, till the bystanders feared that each paroxysm
would take his soul.

Quiteria, timid and utterly abashed, taking Basilio's hand in
hers, said : ' No pressure would be great enough to turn my
will, and with the freest possible I give my hand as thy lawful
wife, receiving thine in turn, if thou give it as a reponsible being,
unclouded and unconfused by the calamity whereinto thy fell
purpose has plunged thee.' ' Thus do I give it, ' said the other,
' not clouded or confused but with the clear understanding
wherewith Heaven saw fit to endow me, and so engage myself
as thy husband. ' ' And I likewise as thy wife, whether thou
live many years or whether this moment they take thee from
mine arms to thy grave. ' ' For a chap as wounded as all that, '
murmured Sancho, ' he talks considerably. Let them bid him

XXI BASILIO AND QUITERIA 373

drop his sighs and look to his soul, which methinks he has
more on his tongue than 'twixt his teeth. '

Now that they had joined hands, the priest tenderly and in
tears pronounced his blessing, praying Heaven to grant sweet
repose to the spirit of the late-espoused. But he, as soon as he had
received this benediction, leapt to his feet and with unheard-of
rashness drew the rapier from its body-sheath. The crowd at first
was dumfounded, till some of them, more credulous than curious,
cried : ' Miracle, a miracle ; ' but Basilio answered : ' No miracle,
miracle, but strategy, strategy.' The priest in amazement hastened
to examine the wound and discovered that the blade had passed,
not through the ribs and flesh of Basilio, but through a hollow
iron tube, which had been fitted in place and filled, as later
appeared, with blood that wouldn't congeal. The priest, Gama-
cho and the crowd saw that they had been tricked and made
fools of. The bride however showed no signs of distress, but
rather, when she heard them say that the marriage, being fraud-
ulent, wouldn't hold, declared she would confirm it anew ; from
which all gathered that this affair had been arranged with her
knowledge and connivance.

So incensed were Camacho and his supporters at this turn that
taking -vengeance in hand and unsheathing many swords they
made at Basilio. But for his protection almost as many others
were drawn, and Don Quijote, taking the lead on horseback
with couched lance and well covered by his shield, forced the
assailants to give way. (Sancho, who never found solace or
pleasure in such demonstrations, hurried back to the jars from
which he had skimmed the delicious froth ; it seemed to him that
that spot, as a kind of holy place, would be held inviolable).
Our champion cried with loud voice :

' Hold, sirs, hold ! 'tis not just to avenge the ills of love.
Consider how it and war are one and the same thing, and that
even as in war 'tis lawful and customary to use snares and
strategems to overcome the enemy, so in the rivalries of love we
countenance the plots and deceptions that serve to bring about
the desired end, provided they don't disparage or dishonour the
thing beloved. Quiteria was meant for Basilio and he for her by

374 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

a just and propitious ordering of the skies. Gamacho is rich and
can purchase his pleasure when, where and how he pleases.
Basilio has but this ewe-lamb and none, howe\^er powerful, can
deprive him thereof, for those whom God has joined, shall no man
put asunder. He that attempts it must first pass through the
point of this lance ; ' which now he brandished so dexterously
and decisively that all to whom he was unknown took fright.
And so deeply did Quiteria's disdain become rooted in Gamacho's
thought that he expunged her from memory instantly. The priest's
persuasions had weight with him therefore, and he and his
followers became pacific and reconciled. As a sign thereof they
sheathed their swords, blaming Quiteria's docility rather than
her lover's strategy, Gamacho reasoning that if the girl as maiden
loved the other, no less would she as a wife, and that he ought
to thank his stars he was rid of what would have proved a
burden.

Now that he and his group were wholly conciliated, Basilio
and his troop also quieted down. And the rich Gamacho, to show
he bore no resentment, desired that the merry-making proceed
exactly as planned. However, neither the couple nor their
friends cared to participate and withdrew to their village (for the
poor, such as are virtuous and discreet, have followers to honour
and aid them even as have the rich those that flatter and fawn
upon them). They made Don Quijote of their company, consid-
ering him a man of worth and a stout one. The soul of Sancho
was the only one darkened, for he saw he couldn't attend Gama-
cho's splendid feasting and festival, which continued through that
day. Beaten and sorrowful he followed his master in the train of
Basilio, leaving behind the flesh-pots of Egypt, thoughjt carrying
the memory thereof in his heart. The skimmings of the kettle,
now almost done and gone, stood for the glory and abundance he
was losing, and with aching heart, though full stomach, mounting
his Dapple he followed on the heels of the nag.

XXII THE COUSIN 375

CHAPTER XXII

The great adventure of the cave of Montesiuos, in the heart
of La Mancha, to which our Avorthy Don Quijote gave a

happy issue

GREAT and many were the tokens of regard showered by the
newly married pair on Don Quijote in return for his
courageous defence of their cause — and on a par with his valour
they set his wisdom, esteeming him a Cid in arms, a Cicero in
eloquence. And three days did good Sancho enjoy himself at
their cost. From them it was learned that the fictitious wounding
hadn't been prearranged with Quiteria : Basilio had trusted that
things would result as they did. He confessed, however, that he
had made some of his friends party to the scheme that they might
further his purpose at the critical moment, supporting his
deceptions.

' Deceptions they cannot and should not be termed that look
to honourable ends, ' said Don Quijote, ' and the marriage of
lovers is most honourable. But yourself be warned that love's
greatest foe is hunger and continuous need, for love, especially
after the lover possesses the thing beloved, is all happiness, love
is all pleasure and joy, against which need and poverty are open
and determined enemies. All this I say in the hope that Seiior
Basilio may cease to practise his various accomplishments, which,
while they afford reputation, yield no profit, and that he may
look to the increase of his estate by lawful means of industry,
never lacking to the prudent and diligent. The poor and hon*
ourable man, if a poor man may so be termed, has in a beautiful
wife a treasure, and if this be taken from him, his honour is slain.
The beautiful and virtuous woman whose husband is poor
deserves to be crowned with laurels and palms of victory and
triumph. Beauty itself awakens desire in all beholders, who like
royal eagles and high-soaring birds swoop down upon it as on
an enticing decoy, and if to this beauty need and distress be

376 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

joined, even crows, kites and other birds of prey attack it, till
she that remains firm against so many assaults deserves to be
called the crown of her husband.

' Look ye, wise Basilio, ' continued the knight ; ' 'twas the
opinion of a certain philosopher, I know not whom, that in all
the world there was but one good woman, and he advised every
man to think and believe this woman his wife and so live content.
I am neither married nor thus far have thought of it, yet I would
be so bold as to counsel him that asked me how to find the
woman he should wed. First of all I should warn him to look
more to reputation than to wealth, for a good woman profits not
only by being good but by seeming so, and her honour suffers
more from public scandal than secret corruption. If you bring a
virtuous woman to your house, 'tis easy to preserve and even
increase that virtue, but should you bring a bad, she'll make it
hard to reform her. To pass from one extreme to another is not
the lightest thing in the world — I don't say 'tis impossible but
'tis certainly next to it. '

Sancho overheard all and said to himself : ' This my master,
when I speak things of pith and substance, is wont to say I could
take a pulpit in hand and wander through this world preaching
fine sayings, but now can I tell of him that when once he begins
to thread ideas or give advice, he can take, not one in hand, but
two pulpits on each finger and cry out through the market-
places, What do ye lack ? To the devil with you for a knight-
errant ! you know too much. I thought in my heart he could talk
of naught but what touched his chivalries, but no, he pecks at
and puts his spoon into everything. ' Sancho muttered this half-
aloud and his master, catching some of it, turned and said :
' What do you murmur and say, Sancho ? ' ' I say nothing nor
do I murmur, ' replied he ; I was just noticing to myself I would
I had heard before I married what now you tell us, for then
perhaps I could say. The untethered ox licks himself well. ' ' Is
your Teresa as bad as all that, my son ? ' ' Teresa is not so
very bad, but then again she's not so very good, at least not so
good as I might wish.' ' You do wrong, Sancho, to speak ill
of your wife, the very mother of your children. ' ' We shall be

XXII THE COUSIN 377

even then, for she speaks ill of me sometimes, when she feels
like it, especially when she's jealous : let Satan himself put up
with her then. '

Three days were spent with the newly married couple, by
whom they were served and entertained like kings. Don Quijote
besought the fencer-licentiate to lend him a guide to the cave of
Montesinos, which he longed to explore, seeing with his own
eyes if the wonders reported of it throughout that district were
true. The licentiate promised to lend him his first-cousin, a great
student and devoted to books of chivalry, who would be glad to
lead him to the mouth of the cave and on the way show him the
lakes of Ruidera, famous not only in La Mancha but throughout
Spain. He added that Don Quijote would find him entertaining,
for the lad knew how to write books and dedicate them to
princes.

In due time the cousin appeared, mounted on an ass in foal,
whose pannel was covered with a piece of carpet or sackcloth of
many colours. Sancho saddled Rocinante, got ready Dapple,
furnished his saddlebags with which those of the cousin, also
well-stocked, kept company, and commending themselves to
God and taking leave of all they set out. As they rode along
Don Quijote enquired of the student as to the kind and character
of his pleasures, profession and studies, and the other answered
that he was by profession a humanist, and that his pleasures and
studies lay in writing books, all of great benefit and interest to
the republic. One was entitled The Rook of Liveries, wherein is
described seven hundred and three liveries, with their colours,
mottos and ciphers, wherefrom gentlemen of the court, at times
of festivals and celebrations, might pick and choose, without
pestering others or racking their own brains to get ones suited
to their tastes and intentions. ' I offer to the jealous, the disdain-
ed, the forgotten and the absent, garbs appropriate to their
condition and which shall fit them properly.

' Another book of mine,' he continued, ' I mean to call Metamor-
phoses or The Spanish Ovid, of new and rare invention, for
therein, parodying Ovid, I identify the Giralda of Seville and
the Angel of the Magdalen. I tell what was the Gutter of Cordova ;

378 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

what the bulls of Guisando ; the Sierra Morena, the fouataias of
Leganitos and Lavapies in Madrid, not forgetting that of the
Diojo, of the Golden Gutter and of the Priora — all with their
allegories, metaphors and transformations, in a manner that will
at once amuse, amaze and edify. Still another book have I which
I call Supplement to Polydore Virgil, which concerns itself with
the invention of things and is graced with much erudition and
learning, for I bring to light and set forth in an elegant fashion
all the more important things omitted by Polydore. For example,
he omitted to tell who first brought catarrh into the world, who
first tried salivation as a cure for French pox. I set these matters
right and cite more than twenty-five authorities. So your worship
may see I have not laboured in vain and that such a book is
likely to prove of use to mankind. '

Sancho listened most attentively to the cousin's words and
now said : ' Tell me, sir, and may God give you luck with the
sale of your books, can you inform me, and of course you can
for you know everything, who was the first man to scratch his
head ? My opinion is it must have been our father Adam. ' ' Very
likely, ' replied the cousin, ' for there's no doubt Adam had
head and hair, and being the first man in the world, some time
or other he would scratch himself. ' ' So it looks to me, ' said
Sancho, ' but tell me now, who was the first tumbler ? ' ' To
be honest, brother, I cannot answer till I have read up a little.
When I get back to my books I'll look into the matter and report
when next we meet, for this cannot be the last time. ' ' Don't
bother, sir, for as it happens I have just hit on the answer :
know then that the first tumbler in the world was Lucifer when
they tossed him out of Heaven and he came tumbling down to
hell. ' ' Right you are, friend, ' agreed the cousin, but Don Qui-
jote added : ' That question and answer were not your own,
Sancho ; you borrowed them from another. ' ' Tut, tut, senor ;
why, if I wanted to, I could ask questions and give answers and
not be done by morning. Nay, nay, sir, in asking absurdities
and replying nonsense I've no need of help from my neighbours.'
' You say more than you know, my son, for some are there
that grow thin in learning and verifying things which when

XXII THB COUSIN 379

known and proven aren't worth a chip either to the under-
standing or to the memory. '

In this and other pleasant converse they passed that day and
at night put up at a small village whence, as the cousin informed
Don Quijote, 'twas only two leagues to the cave of Montesinos
and that did his determination hold to explore the same, they
should provide themselves with rope wherewith to tie and slip
him down the hole. Don Quijote replied that though it reached to
the abyss, he must touch bottom. So they bought near a hundred
fathoms, and on the next day at two reached the cave, whose
mouth proved large around but so thickly overgrown with box-
thorns, wild-fig, brambles and briars, as to be entirely con-
cealed. The three dismounted, the cousin, Sancho and last of all
Don Quijote, whom the others tied firmly ; and while making
fast Sancho said : ' Look to what you're doing, master ; don't
try to be buried alive or place yourself where you'll look a bottle
let down a well to cool. 'Tis no affair or business of yours to
pry into what may prove worse than a Moorish dungeon. ' ' Tie
me and tie that tongue, Sancho friend, for this enterprise was
reserved for me and me alone. ' And the guide said : ' Prithee,
Senor Don Quijote, look well and examine with an hundred eyes
what you find below. There may be things I could put into my
book of transformations. ' ' The drum's in hands that well know
how to beat it, ' remarked Sancho.

When this and the roping, which went not over the armour
but about the doublet of the knight, were finished, the latter
said : ' 'Twas heedless of us not to provide a little bell which,
tied upon the rope not far above me, as it kept tinkling would
let you know I still descended and was alive. But since that is
impossible, be it in God's hand to guide me. ' Thereupon he
knelt down and in low tones prayed to Heaven to aid and give
him happy issue out of this seemingly perilous and brand-new
adventure, and then raising his voice he said : ' O mistress of
mine acts and motions, peerless and fairest Dulcinea del Toboso,
if it be possible that the prayers and petitions of this thy ven-
turesome lover reach thine ears, by thy unparalleled beauty I
beseech thee to heed them, for they're but to beg thee not to

380 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA II

deny thy favour and protection which now I so sorely need.
I am about to plunge myself, drop and sink into the abyss that
here opens, for no other reason than that the world may know
that while thou favourest me there's naught so impossible but
that I can face and defeat it. '

With this, Don Quijote neared the opening but could find no
spot where he might be lowered into the cave, save by cutting a
passage by force of arms. He therefore drew sword and began to
hack and hew at the brambles that choked the mouth ; at which
noise and commotion a multitude of huge crows and jackdaws
issued therefrom in such numbers and violence as to bowl the
knight quite over, and had he been superstitious as he was good
Catholic, taking it for evil omen, held have shunned entombment
in such a place. At length he arose, and the cousin and Sancho,
finding the passage free from crows and other night-birds such
as bats, playing out the rope let down the errant into the cavern
grim. As he sank, his squire, giving blessing and making a
thousand crosses over him, cried aloud : ' God and the Rock of
France and the Trinity of Gaeta guide thee, flower, cream and
froth of adventurers. There thou goest, blusterer of the world,
heart of steel, arms of brass. God guide thee once again, and send
thee safe, sound and scot-free back to the light of this world
which thou art leaving for burial in the obscurity thou seekest ; '
and the cousin repeated similar prayers and petitions.

The knight sank lower and lower, calling to give more rope
and still more, which they did little by little, and when his
cries, echoing up through the cavern, no longer could be heard,
they were at the end of the hundred fathoms. Their first thought
was to resurrect him at once, but they delayed a half-hour, and
then as they pulled, the rope came slack, making them think him
left within. Sancho wept bitterly and pulled with all speed to
make sure, and at last, having reached as it seemed to them
below the eighty fathom mark, they felt their load again. At this
they rejoiced exceedingly and finally with but ten fathoms left
they caught sight of him of the Sorry Aspect, to whom Sancho
called : ' Welcome back, master of mine ; we began to think you
had remained to found a race. '

XXII THE COUSIN 381

But Don Quijote answered not a word and when they had
drawn him wholly out, they saw his eyes closed in sleep. They
laid him on the ground and unfastened the rope, yet with all this
he did not waken. They turned him first on this side, then on
that, shook and rolled him over and over, till at length and after
a long interval he came to, stretching himself as if wakened from
deep and heavy slumber. Glancing about as if startled he sighed :
' God forgive you, friends, for having snatched me from the
sweetest and most delightful spectacle and experience ever
human has seen or lived. Indeed now am I certain that all
the pleasures of this life are as a shadow and a dream and fade
like the flower of the field. O unfortunate Montesinos ! O sorely-
wounded Durandarte ! O unhappy Belerma ! O tearful Guadiana
and ye others the sad daughters of Ruidera, whose waters are
the waters of your wondrous eyes ! '

The cousin and Sancho were most attentive to these words,
that seemed painfully drawn from the knight's very entrails.
They asked their meaning and what had he witnessed in that hell.
' Hell do you call it ? then say not so, for you'll straightway see
'tis unmerited.' He asked to eat first, as he had a searching
hunger. They spread the cousin's packcloth on the green grass,
quickly opened the saddlebags and sitting all three in good peace
and fellowship dined and supped in one meal. The cloth removed
Don Quijote de La Mancha said : ' Let none rise, and attend,
my sons. '

382 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER XXIII

The marvellous things the consummate Quijote told of

having beheld in the cave of Montesiuos, the magnitude

and impossibility of which have led this adventure to be

deemed apocryphal

TTlwAs four in the afternoon when with diminished light and
1 softened rays the sun behind clouds permitted our advent-
urer without heat or discomfort to relate to his two illustrious
listeners the things he had witnessed in the cave of Montesinos.
This was his opening : ' A matter of twelve or fourteen times a
man's height down in the depth of this dungeon and on the right
hand is a side-recess large enough to hold a good-sized wagon
with its team of mules. A thin ray of light penetrates that far,
coming through a chink or crack in the crust of the upper earth .
This recess and ledge I saw, what time, wearied and vexed with
fmding myself dangling on a rope, I descended through that
dismal region with no certain and determined road. Accordingly
I decided to enter therein and rest awhile, calling to you not to
let out more rope till I ordered, but you must not have heard me.
' I pulled in the slack and making a coil thereof sat me down,
a little sad and heavy I confess, wondering how I was to reach
bottom, no longer having anything to hold to. While thus in
trouble and suspense, suddenly and through no desire of mine
was I overcome by a profound sleep and when least I expected
it and without knowing how or why, I awoke and found myself
in the middle of the loveliest and most delightful mead that
nature could create or the liveliest wit imagine. I winked mine
eyes, rubbed them and saw that I no longer slept but was awake
in very truth. To make doubly sure 1 felt my forehead and breast
to prove 'twas 1, this very self, and not some empty and coun-
terfeit phantom. The touch, the feeling, the very sequence of my
thoughts, made me certain I it was, the same that am now here.

XXIII THE CAVE OF MONTESINOS 383

' Straightway I beheld a sumptuous royal palace or castle, whose
walls and battlements shone as if of transparent crystal, and on
the opening of two ponderous doors I saw approaching an old
and venerable man, clad in a gown of murrey serge that trailed
behind him. A collegiate band of green satin girt his shoulders
and breast, a black Milan cap covered his head, his snow-white
beard fell bellow his girdle. He bore, not arms, but in his hand
a rosary of beads larger than walnuts and every tenth one
resembling a common ostrich-egg. His countenance, mien, the
dignity of his imposing presence, severally and together, held
me in awe and admiration. Coming to where I stood he embraced
me saying : ' O puissant knight of La Mancha, long ages have
we that dwell in these enchanted solitudes awaited your arrival,
that you might discover to the world what the profund depths of
the cave of Montesinos, wherein you are entered, hold and
conceal : a feat alone reserved for your invincible heart and
marvellous courage. Follow me, most illustrious sir, for I would
show you the marvels mewed up in this transparent castle,
whereof am I the permanent governor and perpetual chief-
warder, since I am that Montesinos from whom the cave takes
its name. '

' Scarce had he said he was Montesinos when I asked whether
or no 'twere a true report of him in the world above, that with
a little dagger he had cut out the heart of his friend Durandarte
from the centre of his breast and carried it to the lady Belerma
as bidden by the dying lover. He answered that all was true save
as to the instrument employed, which was neither little nor a
dagger but a polished poniard sharper than an awl. ' That same
poniard, ' suggested Panza, ' was most likely one of Ramon de
Hoces the Sevillian's make. ' ' I can't say, ' replied Don Quijote ;
' but no, not he for Ramon de Hoces was of yesterday only,
and the battle of Roncesvalles, where this incident occurred, was
ages back. But the identification is of no importance and does'nt
affect or alter the truth or structure of the story. ' ' Right, ' said
the cousin, ' and let your worship proceed, Senor Quijote, for I
listen to your tale with the greatest possible pleasure. '

' With no less I relate it, ' replied the adventurer, ' and so I

384 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA If

say that venerable Montesinos led me into the cry talline palace,
where in a lower hall of surprising coolness and all of alabaster
stood a marble sepulchre of exquisite workmanship. Thereon at
full length lay a knight, not of bronze or marble or carved in
jasper as on other tombs, but of flesh and bone. His right hand
— which to my seeming was rather sinewy and hirsute, proof
that its owner possessed great strength — rested above his heart,
but before I could enquire of Montesinos, he observing my amaz-
ement turned and said : ' That is my friend Durandarte, flower
and mirror of the valiant enamoured knights of his time. Like
myself and many others, men and women, he is held enchanted
here by that French magician Merlin, whom they would have a
son of the devil ; but I must think that he knew one point more
than the devil. How or why he enchanted us, none can guess,
but methinks the time that shall reveal it is not far distant.

' ' Mine own puzzle is a different one : I am as sure as that it is
now day that Durandarte expired in mine arms and that after
his death with these very hands I cut his heart out, and in sooth
it must have weighed a couple of pounds, for according to the
natural philosophers he that has a large heart is endued with
greater courage. This being a fact then, that this knight veritably
perished, how can he sigh and moan from time to time as if he
lived?' As Montesinos said this, the poor wretch on the tomb
cried out :

' O my cousin Montesinos,
This I made my last request,
As 1 lay upon my death-bed
And my soul had left my breast :
That thou come and carve my heart out
With a poniard or a sword,
With it hasten and present it
To Belerma, my adored. '

' Upon this outburst the venerable Montesinos knelt before
the wounded knight and with tears said to him : ' Long since,
O my most beloved cousin, have I done what you commanded
on that fatal day of our loss. I cut your heart out as best I could,
without leaving the smallest string thereof in your breast. I wiped
it with a kerchief of point-lace and set out on the run for France,

XXIII THE CAVE OP MONTESINOS 385

having first laid your body in the bosom of the earth with tears
sufficient to wash my hands and cleanse me from the blood got
from travelling in your reins. More by token, O cousin of my
soul, at the first village after Roncesvalles I salted down the
heart a mite, lest it smell and that it might come, if not fresh, at
least dry and clean into the presence of the Jady Belerma. She
and you and I and Guadiana your armour-bearer, and the dame
Ruidera, her seven daughters and two nieces, together with many
others of your friends and aquaintance, are held enchanted here
by the sage Merlin these many years, and though already five
hundred have passed, none of us is dead.

' ' Ruidera, her daughter and nieces abide no longer with us,
for them Merlin, moved doubtless by compassion for their tears,
converted into as many lakes, which now in the world of the
living and the province of La Mancha are called the lakes of
Ruidera. Seven belong to the kings of Spain, and the two nieces
to the knights of the most holy order of Saint John. Your shield-
bearer Guadiana, likewise bewailing your fate, bearing his own
name became a river, which, on reaching the surface and seeing
the sun of another sky, sank back again into the bowels of the
earth — such was his sense of the loss of you. Nevertheless, not
being able to check his natural flow, from time to time he rises
and appears where the sun and the sons of men behold him.
The lakes of Ruidera supply him with their waters, with which
and many others he enters with pomp and pride into Portugal.
And yet, where'er he flows, he betrays his grief and melancholy,
nor is he pleased to breed in his current fish toothsome and
esteemed, but coarse ones rather and tasteless, quite unlike those
of the golden Tagus.

' ' But all this that now I tell, cousin, I have told you many,
many times before, but as you never reply, I fear that either you
don't believe or don't hear me, and God only knows what I
suffer thereby. But to-day have I hit on a bit of real news which,
though it assuage not your sorrow, will in no way increase it.
Know that you have before you (open your eyes and you will
see him) that great knight of whom so many things sage Merlin
has prophesied, that Don Quijote de La Mancha, who anew and

25

386 DON QUUOTE DE LA MANCHA II

with better success than in former ages has revived in the present
one the already forgotten order of knight-errantry, by whose
means and favour we may be disenchanted, since great deeds
for great men are reserved. ' ' And if this shall not be, O cousin,'
sighed the wounded Durandarte in a low \yoice of despair,
' failing that, my counsel is. Patience and shuffle the cards ; '
and turning on one side he sank into his old silence with never
a word more.

' Just then loud outcries and lamentations mingled with deep
groans and sobs of pain were heard throughout the palace, and
when I turned, I saw through the crystal walls a two-filed
procession of fairest maidens, clad in mourning with white
turbans on their heads, Turkish fashion. Behind walked a lady,
at least her grave demeanour so betokened, likewise clothed
in black, with white veil so ample and flowing as to kiss the
ground. Her turban was twice the size of the biggest of the others.
Her eyebrows met, her nose seemed rather flat, her mouth large
and her lips red. Her teeth, for occasionally she showed them,
appeared scattered and ill-placed, though white as peeled almonds.
In her hands she bore a fine kerchief and resting therein I
glimpsed a heart of mummy-flesh, it looked so dry and withered.

' Montesinos informed me that these persons were servants of
Durandarte and Belerma, enchanted along with their lord and
mistress. She always brought up the rear with the heart in her
kerchief, since four days a week they formed that procession and
sang, or better say wept, dirges over the body and lacerated
heart of his cousin. If Belerma looked rather plain to me, or not
so fair as report painted, the cause was the bad nights and worse
days of her enchantment, as could be seen by the dark circles
under her eyes and her sickly colour, not due to the common
ailment of women, since not for months and years had she been
subject thereto, but to the grief her heart felt for that other heart
she ever holds in her hands. It renews in her breast and brings
to her mind the tragedy of her ill-fated lover. Otherwise, said
he, the great Dulcinea del Toboso, though renowned in all those
parts and even throughout the world, would scarce equal her
beauty, grace and bearing.

XXIII THE CAVE OF MONTESINOS 387

' ' Gome, come, Senor Montesinos, ' quoth I then ; ' tell your
tale as it comes, knowing that all comparison is odious and
there's no reason to compare aught with aught. The peerless
Dulcinea is what she is and the lady Belerma what she is and
has been, and there let it rest. ' ' Senor Don Quijote, I crave par-
don, for I confess I did wrong and said ill, since 'twas enough
for me to have known that your worship was her knight, as I
did by some token or other, to have bit out my tongue before
comparing Dulcinea with aught save heaven. ' "With this satisfac-
tion paid me by the great Montesinos I quieted my heart from
the shock of hearing my lady likened to Belerma. ' ' Indeed I
marvel, ' exclaimed Sancho, ' that you didn't get the old boy
under you, kick his bones to splinters and tear out every hair of
his head. ' ' Nay, Sancho friend, 'twas not fitting, since we're
bound to respect the aged though not knights, but chiefly such
as are and enchanted to boot. I know I owe him naught on the
many other questions and answers that passed between us. '

The cousin now spoke up saying : ' I cannot understand, Senor
Don Quijote, how you could have seen so much and held such
long conversation in so short a space of time. ' ' How long
was I ?' ' A trifle over au hour, ' declared Sancho. ' You must
be mistaken, for the sun rose and set three times ; according to
my reckoning I was in those parts three days, removed and
hidden from you. ' ' My master must be right, for all things
befall him by enchantment and it might well be that what to us
seemed an hour, down there to him would seen three days and
nights. ' ' Even so, ' said Don Quijote. ' And did you break fast
in all that time?' asked the cousin.' ' Not by a mouthful, nor was
I hungry, even in thought. ' ' And do the enchanted eat ? ' ' No,
nor defecate, though 'tis reported that their nails, hair and beard
grow. ' ' And do they sleep perhaps ? ' queried the squire.
' Certainly no ; at least in the three days I abode there, none so
much as closed an eye, and I as little. '

' Here, ' said Sancho, ' fits in well the proverb that says. Tell
me the company you keep, and I will tell you what you are. Your
worship's companions were enchanted, fasting and wide-awake
fellows, so 'tis no wonder you neither slept nor ate while with

388 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

them, though, craving pardon, sir, may God, I was about to say
the devil, take me, if I believe one vsrord of it all. ' ' Hovsr not ?
quoth the cousin ; ' is it for Senor Don Quijote to lie ? Though he
had vpished to, there wasn't time to make up or imagine so many
myriads of falsehoods. ' ' I don't think he lied, ' responded San-
cho. ' What do you think ? ' asked the knight. ' I think that yon
Merlin or whoever it was that enchanted all that motley crew
you say you saw and communicated with there below dumped
into your mind or noddle the heap of rubbish you've already told
us and all there is to tell. '

' That might be the case, Sancho, but it isn't, for what I have
related, I beheld with mine own eyes and touched with these
very hands. And what will you say when I tell that among other
things and marvels that Montesinos showed me (which at leisure
and on fit occasions I'll rehearse in the course of our journey,
since now they'ld be out of place), he pointed out three peasant-
girls, who about those charming fields went frisking and frolicing
like she-goats. Scarce had I observed when I recognised in one
of them the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso and in the others the
two that accompanied her and with whom we spoke just outside
el Toboso. I asked Montesinos did he know them. He answered
nay but he supposed them ladies of quality under enchantment ;
they had been there a few days only. I mustn't be surprised at
this, he added, for many other ladies both of past and present
were enchanted down there under different and outlandish
figures, among whom he recognised Queen Guinevere and her
duenna Quintaiiona, the one that poured wine for Lancelot when
from Brittany he came. '

On hearing this last speech Sancho thought he would lose
his wits or die altogether of laughter, inasmuch as he knew the
truth of the feigned enchantment of Dulcinea, whereof he had
been the enchanter and chief witness. Now he knew beyond
reasonable doubt that his lord was a lackwit, an all-round
madman ; so he said : ' By evil accident, at a worse season
and on a fatal day, dear patron mine, did your worship descend
into the lower world, and hapless the hour you fell in with
Senor Montesinos who has so changed you for us. Heretofore

XXIII THE CAVE OF MONTESINOS 389

your worship was clothed and in your right mind, such as God
gave you, speaking maxims and giving counsel at every turn ;
not in the least as you are now, uttering the wildest absurdities
imaginable.' ' Knowing you, Sancho, I heed not your words.'
' And I as little your worship's, though you strike, nay, kill me
for those I've said or those I shall say, unless your worship
correct and amend yours. But tell me, sir, now we are at peace,
how or by what token did you recognise our lady ? if you spake
to her, what did you say and what did she reply ? '

' I knew her by her clothes, the same she wore when you
first pointed her out. I spake but she answered not a word ;
indeed she turned her back and flew off with such speed an
arrow wouldn't have reached her. I was about to follow and
should have done so, had not Montesinos warned me not to
take vain trouble — the more that the hour was approaching for
my ascent from the cavern. He said too that in course of time
he'ld advise me how himself, Belerma, Durandarte and the others
were to be disenchanted. But of all I saw and noted there below
the thing that distressed me most was that while Montesinos
thus conversed with me, there drew near from one side without
my seeing her one of cheerless Dulcinea's companions, saying
in low and tremulous voice and with tears : ' My lady Dulcinea
del Toboso kisses your worship's hands and beseeches you as
ardently as possible to be pleased to lend on this new dimity
petticoat a half-dozen reals or as many as you have, which she
promises very soon to repay. '

' I was struck dumb by this request, but at length, turning to
my guide, said : ' Is it possible, Seiior Montesinos, the enchanted
of quality suffer need?' ' Believe me, Senor Don Quijote de La
Mancha, this they call need obtains everywhere and visits all :
not even the enchanted does it pass. And since the lady sends
to borrow the six reals and the security appears sound, there's
naught but to give them, since she is doubtless sore pressed. '
' The security I refuse, ' I replied, ' nor can I lend all she
demands, for I have but four reals on my person. ' These I
handed her — the ones you, Sancho, gave me the other day to
give to the poor we met along our road. In addition I said : ' Tell

390 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

your mistress, friends, that her cares weigh on my heart and I
would I were a Fugger to remedy them. I'ld also have her know
that I cannot nor ought to enjoy health while bereft of her pleas-
ant company and discreet conversation, and I supplicate her as
ardently as possible to be good enough to let herself be seen and
communicated with by this her humble servant and wayworn
adventurer. You will say as well that when least she looks for
it she'll hear I've taken vow and oath after the manner of the
Marquis of Mantua for avenging his nephew Baldwin, whom he
found expiring on the monntain. This oath was not to eat bread
off a cloth, with other trifles named therein, till he had avenged
the other's death. This now shall I do, nor rest from visiting the
seven parts of the world with even greater diligence than Prince
Pedro of Portugal, until I disenchant her. '

' The damsel then made answer : ' All this and more your
worship owes my lady ; ' and taking the four reals instead of a
low bow she cut a caper that raised her two yards in the air. '
' As the Lord liveth ! ' cried Sancho, ' can such things be? can
enchanters and entchantments have such power as to turn my
master's sound judgment into crazy nothings ? O senor, senor,
for the love of God look to yourself. For your honour's sake
come back, no longer putting trust in these phantoms that have
rifled you and made away with your wits. ' ' I know you wish
me well in so speaking, Sancho, but you are not versed in the
things of the world, and all a little difficult seem to you impos-
sible. But the time will come, as I said before, when I shall
relate certain of my experiences there below that will make you
believe those already given, the truth whereof admits not of
doubt or reply. '

XXIV

THE PAGE

CHAPTER XXIV

A thousand trifles both necessary and impertinent to the
true understanding of this great history

HE that translated this great history from Gid Hamet Benen-
geli's original says that on coming to the chapter of the
cave of Montesinos adventure he found written in the margin in
Hamet's own writing these words :

' I cannot believe nor am I able to persuade myself that all
that is written in the accompanying chapter actually befell our
worthy Don Quijote. All the adventures so far met with have
been feasible and likely, but this one of the cave has no chance,
as far as I can see, of being regarded as fact, since it passes far
beyond the bounds of reason. But for me to think that Don
Qaijote, the soal of truth and noblest knight of his times, lied,
is not possible : he wouldn't have perjured himself had they
pierced him with arrows. Moreover, I reflect that relating it
with all the present details he couldn't have invented so much
nonsense in so short a time. If this adventure appear apocryphal
therefore, mine is not the blame, for I record it without affirm-
ing it true or false. Do you, reader, since you are discreet, judge
of it as it appears to you, for I neither can nor should do more.
One thing is certain that at the time of his death he is said to
have retracted it, confessing he had evolved it out of his own
consciousness, since it squared so well with the adventures
described in his books of chivalry. ' Then the historian proceeds
with the narrative saying :

The cousin was amazed both at Sancho's boldness and his
master's patience with him, and judged that from the pleasure
experienced by the latter at the sight of his Dulcinea, though
under enchantment, arose the amiablity he now gave evidence of ;
otherwise the words and speeches of Sancho should have got
him a beating, for verily the squire had appeared impudent. To
the master the cousin now said :

392 DON QUIJOTE' DE LA MANCHA II

' I, Senor Don Quijote, consider this day as exceedingly well
spent, for on it 1 have gained four things. First of all, I have
formed your worship's acquaintance, which I count great felicity.
Secondly, I have learned what lies hidden in the cave of Monte-
sinos, together with the mutations of the Guadiana and of the
lakes of Rnidera, which will serve me for the Spanish Ovid I
have in the works. Thirdly, I now know the age of playing-cards,
that they were already employed in Charlemagne's time, as may
be gathered from the words you report Durandarte as using when
at the end of Montesinos' long harangue he wakened and said.
Patience and shuffle the cards. The enchanted one could have
learned such a spirit and manner of speaking nowhere save in
France under that emperor. And this discovery comes very apt
for the other book I am composing, namely the Supplement to
Polydore Virgil on the Invention of Antiquities. This author,
I believe, doesn't think to date the antiquity of playing cards, so
I shall now, which will be of considerable importance, especially
as I can quote so exact and serious an authority as Senor Duran-
darte. The fourth and last thing whereby I have profited this
day is having learned with certitude the source of the Guadiana,
heretofore unknown. '

' Your worship has reason to be grateful, ' replied Don Qui-
jote ; ' but I should be interested to hear, provided God favour
you to the extent that a license is granted for the printing of
these books, which I doubt, to whom you think to dedicate
them.' ' There are enough grandees and nobles in Spain.' ' There
are not many to whom they could be addressed ; not that these
lords don't deserve this attention, but because they don't care to
be bound to the debt of gratitude apparently owed an author
for his labour and courtesy. One nobleman I know that could
supply the lack of others and in such good measure that dared
I say how bountifully I might awaken envy in more than one
generous breast. But let's leave this to a fitter time and go and
seek where we may pass the night. '

' Not far hence, ' offered the cousin, ' is a hermitage where
dwells a man said once to have been a soldier and believed to
be a good Christian, a clever talker and hospitable besides.

XXIV THE PAGE 393

Nearby stands a small cottage, built at his own cost, which
though small is large enough to receive guests.' ' Would he be
likely to keep hens? ' queried Sancho. ' Few are without them,'
replied Don Quijote ; ' nowadays hermits are not as were their
brothers of the Egyptian deserts, who clad themselves with palm-
leaves and lived on roots of the trees. Don't think however that
in praising those I disparage these : I merely maintain that the
penances endured by modern hermits don't approach the rigid
disciplines undergone by the ancient. At the same time all may
be good men : at least I ever so judge them, and at worst the
hypocrite pretending to goodness does less harm than the flagrant
sinner. '

"While thus discoursing they saw approaching a man walking
briskly, striking a mule laden with lances and halberds. Drawing
near he saluted and passed on, but Don Quijote called after
him : ' Stay a while, my good man ; it looks as if you travelled
too fast for the mule. ' ' I can't delay, sir, for this armour must
do duty to-morrow and so I bid you farewell. Would you know
why I carry it, to-night I lodge in the inn above the hermitage
and if that be your direction, there you will find me and hear
wonders ; and good-bye again. ' With this he pricked his mule
so strenuously that our knight had no time to ask what were
these marvels, and being a bit curious and eager ever for new
knowledge he ordered that they set out at once and pass the
night at that inn, not touching at the hermitage as the cousin had
advised.

All three mounted and took the straight road to the hostelry,
where they arrived a little before dusk. The cousin moved Don
Quijote that they wander down to the hermitage for a quaff. No
sooner did Sancho hear this than he turned Dapple thither,
followed by his companions. But his ill-luck apparently had it
that the hermit was away from home — so said his deputy whom
they found within. And when they asked her for some of the
dear good stuff, she replied her master had none but that wished
they cheap water, she'ld be happy to give it. ' Had it been a
water-thirst, ' said Sancho, ' there were enough wells by the
roadside to have quenched it. Ah, ye nuptials of Gamacho and

394 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA. II

plenty of Don Diego's house, how oft have I missed you ! '
They accordingly turned back to the inn, soon overtaking a
youth, walking rather slowly ahead of them. On his shoulder he
carried a sword with a bundle swung from it, supposedly
containing clothes. These might be his breeches, cloak and a sark
or two, for all he had on was a short velvet jacket worn shiny
like satin, beneath which his shirt-tail appeared. His stockings
were of silk and his hoes squared after the court manner. He was
perhaps of eighteen or nineteen years, showed a merry coun-
tenance and looked slight of body. To beguile the tedium of his
way he sang ditties and as they came up was singing the last
verse of one (which the cousin noted in memory) running as
follows :

For want of cloth and bread
To the wars I must go ;
If I were rich instead,
This would never be so.

Don Quijote was the first to accost him saying : ' You travel
very lightly, sir gallant, and whither bound, if you care to tell ? '
To this the stripling replied : ' The lightness of my dress is due
to heat and poverty, and I am bound for the wars. ' ' How due
to poverty ? ' asked the knight ; ' because of the heat it may
well be. ' ' In this bundle, ' replied the lad, ' are a pair of velvet
breeches, companions to this jacket. If I wear them out on the
road, I couldn't sport them in the city, and as I haven't means
to buy others, as well as to keep cool, I go as I am till I reach,
not twelve leagues hence, certain companies of infantry, with
whom I shall enlist. Thence there will be baggage-wagons in
which to travel to the port of embarcation, said to be Cartagena.
For rid rather have the king for my lord and master and serve
him in war than some penniless duffer at court. '

' And does your worship get a bounty perchance ? ' enquired
the cousin. ' Had I served some Spanish grandee or other titled
personage, I reckon I could, for that is what helps the faithful and
sends them up from the servants'-hall to be ensigns or captains
or some good pay. But I, to my sorrow, have always been in the
hire of fortune-hunters and adventurers, who were on pay and

XXIV THE PAGE 395

ration so wretchedly small that to keep ruffs in starch made away
with half, and 'twould be considered a miracle if a page-adven-
turer like myself had any luck, no matter how slight. ' ' But
tell me on your life, friend, ' questioned Don Quljote, ' do you
mean to say that in all the years you have served others you
never donned a livery ? ' ' Two ; but even as some religious
houses remove the habit and return his clothes to one that leaves
before making profession, so my masters returned mine when,
having finished their business at court, they came home, taking
back the liveries they had given but for show. '

' A notable spilorceria (stinginess) ! as the Italians would say, '
exclaimed Don Quijote ; ' but withal you are fortunate in having
left court on so worthy a quest, for naught on earth is of greater
honour and profit than first to serve God and next your king
and natural lord, especially in the exercise of arms, which win,
if not greater riches, at least more worship than letters, as I have
maintained again and a^gain. Though letters may have founded
more estates, arms has I know not what of advantage : a certain
I know not what of glory is found in soldiers, surpassing all.
And this that I am now to say, keep in memory, since 'twill be
of great service and comfort in your labours. It is that you dis-
miss from your mind all fear of misfortunes, for the worst is
death, and be it honourable, the greatest of all things is to die.
They once asked Julius Caesar, that worthy Roman emperor,
which was the best death. He replied that which came unexpect-
ed, of a sudden and unforseen. Though he answered as a pagan
without knowledge of the true God, he said well, as far as the
sparing of human suffering is concerned. Though they kill you
in the first engagement and onset, whether by cannon-ball or
springing of a mine, what matters it ? it's all dying and the
thing is done ; and according to Terence better appears a soldier
dead on the battle-field than alive in flight.

' The good soldier wins so much of fame as he has shown of
obedience to his captains and others in comand. This too observe,
my son : that to the fighter powder smells sweeter than civet ;
and should old age still find you in this honourable calling,
though you may be covered with wounds and crippled or lame.

396 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

at least it cannot find you without honour, and such honour
as no poverty can cloud ; the more as 'tis being ordered that old
and crippled soldiers shall have care and relief. Nor is it just
that they be treated like negro-slaves who, when too old for
service, are driven from estates with the title of freemen, though
thereby made bondmen of hunger, wherefrom they have no hope
of release save in death. For the nonce I'll say no more, but do
you mount the crupper of this my steed till we reach the inn.
There shall we sup together and in the morning you can pursue
your journey, which may God grant as successful as your inten-
tions deserve. '

The page accepted the invitation to supper but refused that to
the crupper ; and at the end Sancho is said to have murmured to
himself : ' God bless thee for a master ! is it possible that one
who can speak so many and such good things as he has now
spoken, should say he has seen all that impossible clap-trap of the
cave of Montesinos ? Ah, well, time will tell.' They reached the
inn just as night shut down, not without pleasure to the squire
who saw that his master took it for a plain, ordinary inn and
not a castle, as was his wont. No sooner had they entered than
Don Quijote enquired for the man with lances and halberds and
the innkeeper informed him he was in the stable attending to his
mule. The cousin and Sancho did the same for their live-stock,
according the best berth and manger to Rocinante.

CHAPTER XXV

The adventure of the braying and the rare one of the

puppet -showman, together with memorable divinations

of the divining ape

As the saying runs, the bread wouldn't bake for Don Qui-
jote till he had heard and informed himself of the wonders
promised by the porter of the arms. He therefore searched for
him in the stable and when he had found him, asked the fellow
to deliver at once whatever he had to say in answer to the ques-

XXV THE ape's divinations 397

tion put to him on the road. ' The story of the wonders I have
to tell, ' replied the man, ' must be told at more leisure and not
standing. Pray, sir, let me finish feeding my mule and I'll then
tell things to surprise you. ' ' Let it not wait for that, ' said Don
Quijote, ' for I'll give you a lift all around ; ' and so he did,
sifting the barley and cleaning the manger — humility that forced
the other to tell with good-will the story asked of him. Seating
himself on the inn-bench next Quijote, and having as a senate
and audience the cousin, page, Sancho Panza and the innkeeper,
be made this beginning :

' Your worship must be told that in a village lying four and a
half leages from this inn a certain alderman through the deception
and trickery of his maid-servant (it's a long story) lost an ass,
and though he made most thorough search, could not discover
him. Fifteen days may have passed, so 'tis said and recorded,
when, as the alderman loitered in the plaza, another alderman
of the same village thus accosted him : ' Hand over the reward,
brother, for your ass has been found.' ' So I will and a handsome
one but first tell me where. ' ' Off on the mountain ; I saw him
this morning without pannel or trappings and wofully thin. I
tried to catch him but he was so shy and wild that, as I drew
near, he ran and disappeared in the deep woods. Let us return,
if you like, and hunt him out. I'll first leave this jenny at home
and be back at once. ' ' Greatly shall I be your debtor and shall
try to pay you in the same coin. ' With these particulars and
in the very manner I now relate it the tale is told by all in a
position to know.

' In short the two alderman went on foot and hand in hand
off to the mountain and arriving at the place where they expected
to find the ass, found not a trace of it in all those parts, though
long their search. When at length the animal did not appear, the
alderman that had seen it said to the other : ' Look, friend, I
have hit on a scheme whereby we can certainly discover the little
beast, though buried in the bowels of the earth, let alone the
wood. It is that I know how to bray marvellously and if you can
bray a little, consider the business as done. ' ' A little you say !
i'faith I yield to no man, nay, not to asses themselves. ' ' Well,

398 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

let US see, for my scheme is that you make the circuit of the hill
on one side and I on the other till we meet, and from time to
time do you bray and I'll bray, and the ass is sure to hear and
bray in reply, if he be anywhere about. ' To this the owner
answered : ' The scheme is capital, brother, and worthy your
great wit : ' and the two accordingly separated.

' But it fell out that, entering the wood, both brayed at the
same time, and each, deceived by the other's braying, hurried in
search, thinking it the ass. On meeting, the first alderman said :
' Is it possible, brother, that it wasn't mine ass that brayed?'
' 'Twas only I, ' replied the other. ' Then all I can say is that,
as far as braying is concerned, 'twixt you and an ass there's not
the slightest diflference, for in all my life I've never seen or heard
anything more natural. ' ' Such extreme praises, ' replied the
originator of the scheme, ' fit you better than me, brother, for
by the God that made me you can give two brays handicap to
the best and most experienced brayer known. Your note is high,
pitch of the voice in tune and compass, the cadences come thick
and fast. In short I confess my defeat and grant you the palm
of victory and the colours of this singular accomplishment. '
' Henceforth, ' replied the owner, ' I shall think better of myself,
and since I have this one grace, consider that I know something.
Though I hoped I was braying well, I never imagined 'twas as
fine as you say.' ' There are rare gifts lost in this world,' replied
the second, ' and many wasted on persons that don't know their
use. ' ' Mine ', returned the owner of the ass, ' isn't likely to
benefit save on occasions similar to this, in which, please God,
may it bring luck. '

' This said, they returned to their brayings, but at each outbreak
they were fooled and came together, until they devised two
brays in succession as a countersign to show they were them-
selves and not the ass. Yet with this doubling of their calls
throughout those woods not once did the lost beast reply ; how
could he, since the ill-fated creature lay in the thickest of the
undergrowth devoured by wolves? On finding him the owner
said : ' I was indeed surprised that he didn't acknowledge our
salutes for, had be not been dead, he'ld surely have brayed or he

XXV THE ape's divinations 399

were no ass. However, by reason of having heard you bray and
with such rare grace, brother, I consider I have profited by the
labour spent in his search, though I found him dead. ' ' After
you, friend ; if the abbot sings well, the acolyte isn't far behind.'
In bad humour and hoarse voice they made their way back to
the village, where they related to their friends, neighbours and
acquaintances all that had occurred in their search for the ass,
each enlarging on the other's skill in braying.

' All this was hawked abroad through the surrounding villages
and the devil, that never sleeps and delights in sowing discord
and enmity everywhere, raising calumnies in the wind and great
confusion out of nothing, brought it about that the folk of the
adjacent towns, on meeting any from ours, commenced to bray,
as if to throw in our faces the braying of our aldermen. The
small boys took it up, which was like giving it into the hands
and mouths of all the fiends of hell. The braying has spread
from village to village to the extent that the natives of our own
are now universally known as brayers, as surely as are negroes
dififerentialed from whites. And so far has the unlucky joke been
carried, that more than once the brayers have sallied forth
against the jesters in armed squadrons, without king or Roque
or fear or shame being able to prevent it. To-morrow, I believe,
or the day following, the people of my town, the braying one,
intend to take the field against those of another about two leagues
off and foremost among our persecutors, and that they may go
forth well-prepared I bought those halberds and lances you saw
me carrying. These are the marvels I said I had to tell you, and
though you don't think them such, I have no others. '

Just as the good man gave an end to this his story, there
entered the inn-door one clad in chamois-hose, breeches and
doublet, calling in a loud voice : ' Seiior host, have you room ?
here comes the divining ape and the puppet-show of the Rescue
of Melisendra. ' ' Body of me ! ' exclaimed the innkeeper, ' if
here isn't Master Pedro ! a fine evening is in store for us. ' I forgot
to mention that said Pedro had his left eye and almost half the
cheek covered with a patch of green taffeta, as if something
ailed that side of his face. And the innkeeper added : ' Your

400 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

worship is indeed welcome, friend ; but where are the ape and
show ? ' ' Coming, ' replied he of the chamois-skin ; ' I hurried
on ahead to learn if there were room. ' ' I'M turn out the Duke
of Alva to make quarters for Master Pedro, ' replied the host ;
' fetch them along, for people are stopping here to-night that will
pay to see them. ' ' So be it and well, ' replied he of the patch;
' I'll lower the price of admission and with bare expenses met
rest satisfied. I'll go and fetch the cart in which they travel ; ' and
therewith he left the inn. Don Quijote at once questioned the host
as to who this Master Pedro was, and what the show and ape
he carried.

' The fellow is famous as a puppet-showman, who now for
some time past has been going about this La Mancha of Aragon,
exhibiting a puppet-show entitled the Rescue of Melisendra hy
the celebrated Don Gaiferos, and believe me 'tis one of the rarest
and best acted stories seen for many years in this part of the
kingdom. He also carries an ape vith him of the strangest talent
ever known among apes or, 'tis thought, among men. To whatever
is asked he listens attentively and then, springing upon his
master's shoulder, whispers the reply in the ear of Master Pedro,
who straightway declares it. Of the past he reveals more than
of the present, and though not always right, so seldom fails that
we're led to think the devil's in him. Two reals he gets for every
question, provided he reply — if his master, that is, reply for him
after the ape has muttered in his ear. 'Tis supposed therefore
that this Pedro is very rich ; at any rate he's a gallant fellow and
a boon companion, as they say in Italy, and leads the best life in
the world. He talks more than six, drinks more than a dozen —
all at the cost of his tongue, his ape and the puppets. '

Master Pedro was now back again and in his cart came the
show and the ape, a large tailless fellow with buttocks bare like
felt ; but his visage was not a bad one. Scarce had Don Quijote
seen him when he said : ' Tell me, your worship, sefior diviner,
what fish do we catch ? what's in store for us ? See, here are my
two reals ; ' bidding Sancho give the money to Master Pedro,
who replied for the ape : ' This animal, sir, doesn't inform or
answer correctly concerning things that are to come. Of the past

XXV THE ape's divinations 401

he knows a thing or two and of the present still more. ' ' I swear
by Rus, ' quoth Sancho, ' I wouldn't give a farthing for them
to tell me what has passed in my life, for who knows it better
than myself ? and to pay to hear what I already know would be
foolishness. But if he knows the present, here are my two reals,
and tell me, goodman monkey, what's my wife Teresa Panza
doing now ? how does she cheer herself ? ' Master Pedro refused
to take the money, saying : ' I prefer to receive the pay after the
service,' giving with his right hand two slaps to his left shoulder.
With one leap the ape jumped thereon and putting his mouth
to his master's ear began to chatter rapidly, and having kept up
this operation for the space of a credo with another leap jumped
down again. Master Pedro immediately knelt before Don Quijote
and clutching his legs thus addressed him :

' When I embrace these legs it's as if I embraced the pillars
of Hercules, O illustrious renewed of long -forgotten errantry !

0 thou never-adequately-praised Don Quijote de La Mancha,
courage of the sick-at-heart,; crutch of the falling, arm of the
fallen, staff and good counsel to all wretched humanity ! ' The
knight was thunder-struck, Panza thrown into a cold sweat, the
cousin astonished, the page amazed, the man from Braytown
stupified and the innkeeper utterly dumfounded to know what
to make of it : in short all were appalled that heard these words
of the showman, who now proceeded : ' And thou, O good
Sancho Panza, the best squire of the best knight in the world,
rejoice that thy good wife Teresa is well and at this moment
combing a pound of flax. More by token she has by her left side
a broken-lipped pitcher containing a quantum of wine and 'tis
with this she cheers herself. ' ' I can well believe it, ' returned
Sancho, ' for she's a blessed one, and were she not so jealous

1 wouldn't swap her for the giantess Andandona who, master
says, was all there. My Teresa is not one to let herself fare ill,
though her heirs pay for it. '

' Now do I assert, ' said Don Quijote, ' that he that reads and
travels much, sees many sights and gains much knowledge. For
what mere argument would have persuaded me there were apes
in the world that divine, as now I have seen with mine own

26

402 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCUA II

eyes, since I am that very Quijote this animal has named. He has
strained himself a bit in my praise, but whatever I be, thank
Heaven I am endowed with a gentle and compassionate nature,
inclined to do good to all and evil to none. ' ' Had I money, '
spoke up the page, ' I should ask mister ape what my luck will
be on my journey. ' To this Master Pedro, who had raised him-
self from Don Quijote's feet, replied : ' I've just said that the little
beast doesn't answer concerning the future ; if he could, money
would be no object, since for the service of this knight I would
forego all the earnings in the world. And now as I am in his debt
and to afford him pleasure, I'm going to make ready my puppets
and amuse you all free of charge. ' The keeper was overjoyed
and pointed out the place where the show might be set up.

Our hero was not wholly satisfied with the ape's divinations,
since it seemed preposterous that a mere animal could divine
past or future. Accordingly, while Pedro was preparing his
show, he retired with Sancho to a corner of the stable where,
unheard of any, he said to him : ' Well, brother, I've been
carefully considering the extraordinary talent of this ape and I
have arrived at the conclusion that Master Pedro has a pact,
tacit or expressed, with Satan. ' ' If the pack comes expressed
from the devil, ' said Sancho, ' 'tis sure to be a dirty one. But
what use are packs to this fellow Pedro ?' ' You misunderstand
me, friend : I mean to say he must have made a bargain with
Satan whereby the ape is gifted with this peculiar talent. That is
the way he makes a living, and when he becomes rich, he'll
give the devil his soul which is what mankind's universal enemy
aims at.

' What inclines me to this belief is the fact that the ape only
tells of the past or present — the exact extent of the devil's
knowledge. The future he knows only by conjecture and inter-
mittently, for to God alone is reserved to know the times and
seasons and with him there is no past or future. This being true,
as it is, 'tis clear that this ape speaks after the manner of the
devil and I wonder that he hasn't been denounced to the Holy
Office, brought up for examination and the truth wrung from him
as to by whose power he divines. For 'tis certain he's no astrol-

XXV THE ape's divinations 403

oger : neither he nor his master knows how to raise those figures
termed judiciary, now of such common use in Spain that there's
no maid-servant, page or old cobbler that doesn't presume to raise
a figure as easily as pick up a knave of cards, making the won-
derful truths of science ridiculous by their ignorance and lies.

' I know of a certain woman that asked one of those horoscope-
makers whether or no her little lap-dog bitch would breed and
bring forth, how many and what the colour of the pups. To this,
after drawing the figure, sir astrologer replied yes, she would
breed and bear three pups, one green, one flesh -colour and the
third motley, provided she were covered 'twixt eleven and twelve,
day or night, on Monday or Saturday. What occurred was that
in two days the bitch died of colic, but sir horoscoper won great
reputation in his art, like all or most of them. ' ' None the less, '
replied Sancho, ' I would that you ask the ape whether what
befell your worship in the cave of Montesinos was true or not
for, begging your pardon, I still must think it all humbug and a
lie, or at best a dream. ' ' It may have been, ' replied his master,
' and I'll do what you advise, though I am still a little skeptical
of the ape's power. '

Master Pedro now came to tell Don Quijote that the show was
ready, urging his presence, since he would find it worth his
while. Our knight mentioned his doubt with regard to the ape
and asked that first he enquire of the beast whether certain things
that befell in the cave of Montesinos were dreams or realities ;
to his own mind they partook of the nature of each. Without a
word Master Pedro went for the diviner and returning with him
said : ' Look you, seiior ape, this gentleman would know whether
certain things that befell him in the so-called cave of Montesinos
were true or false ; ' and answering the customary signal the ape
jumped to his left shoulder, appearing to speak in the ear of his
master, who then said : ' He replies that some of the things
your worship saw or experienced in said cave where false and
some plausible, and that this is all he knows regarding this
question and would your worship learn further in the matter,
on Friday next he'll answer all that may be asked him. At
present his power has failed and won't return till said day. '

404 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

' Didn't I tell you, ' said Sancho, ' that I couldn't bring myself
to believe all you told concerning the cave, nor even half? '

' Events will show, ' said the knight, ' for time, revealer of all
things, leaves naught unexposed to the light of day, though
hidden in the bowels of the earth. Enough for the present, since
now we're to witness the puppet-show, which doubtless contains
some novelty. ' ' How some ! ' exlaimed the owner ; ' sixty
thousand novelties are contained in this show of mine. I tell
your worship, Senor Don Qaijote, 'tis one of the finest spec-
tacles in the world. But operibus credite et non verbis, and all
hands to work, for 'tis getting late and there's much to do, much
to say and much to show. ' Master and man obeyed, coming to
where the show was set up in full view, lit on every side with
little wax tapers, making a glorious display. Master Pedro
stationed himself behind the scenes to manipulate the puppets,
and in front, as interpreter and revealer of the mysteries, stood
a lad that with a wand pointed out the various figures as they
appeared. When all in the inn were in place, some standing and
Don Quijote, Sancho, the page and the cousin in the best seats
in front, the dragoman began to say what he well hear or read
that reads or hears the following chapter.

CHAPTER XXVI

The charming episode of the puppet -player continued,
together with other passages in truth sufficiently good

TYRiANS and Trojans were silent all : in other words the
spectators were hanging on the lips of the interpreter of
these marvels, when they heard kettle-drums and trumpets sound
within and a heavy discharge of cannon, whose thunder, however,
soon died away, and straight the lad called out : ' This true
history, here presented to your worships, is taken scene by scene
from the French chronicles and Spanish ballads that are in the
mouth of folk and children in these streets. It depicts the rescue
by Senor Don Gaiferos of his wife Melisendra, held captive in

XXVI THE PUPPET-SHOW 405

Spain in the power of the Moors in the city of Sansuena, for
so they called what we to-day call Saragossa. Here you see Don
Gaiferos playing backgammon, according as 'tis sung :

Gaiferos is at tables playing,
Forgotten is his Melisendra.

' Yon personage that with crown and sceptre now appears is
Emperor Charlemagne, putative father to Melisendra. Wroth at
seeing the sloth and supineness of his son-inlaw, he comes to 1-
scold him. Observe the ardour and vehemence wherewith he \
does so ; one might think he was on the point of giving him half
a dozen bruises with his sceptre. Indeed some authors say he did
give them, and well laid on too. And having spoken considerably
about the risk the other's honour ran in not succouring his wife,
he is said to have exclaimed :

Look to it ; I have said enough !

Next let your worships observe how the emperor turns away,
leaving Don Gaiferos, who, impatient and petulant, flings the
board and men from him and calls in haste for his armour,
begging from his cousin Don Roland the loan of his sword
Durindana. Don Roland, observe, refuses his request, offering
instead his own person in this difficult undertaking. The valerous
spit-fire will not accept of him, saying he alone is suflicient to
rescue his spouse though hidden in the deepest centre of the
earth. Therewith he arms himself, preparatory to setting out
upon his quest.

' Let your worships now turn your attention to yon tower that
steals into view, for it represents one of the towers of the castle
of Saragossa, to-day known as the Aljaferia. That lady, dressed
after the Moorish fashion and standing in the balcony, is none
other than the peerless Melisendra. This is not the first time she
has come out there and, gazing along the road to France, let her
imagination travel on to Paris and her husband, consoling her-
self thus in her captivity. But here a strange thing occurs, one
perhaps ne'er seen before. Do you not observe yon Moor that
silently and on tiptoe, with finger to lips, steals up behind
Melisendra ? Notice the kiss he gives her, square in the mouth.

406 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

and the speed wherewith she spits it out and wipes it away with
the white sleeve of her smock ; how she cries and tears her fair
tresses as though they were to blame for the insult. Observe also
this stately Moor in the corridor, Marsilio, Sansuena's king, who
having glimpsed the first Moor's insolence, orders him, though
his kinsman and great favourite, to be given two hundred lashes
and driven through the crowded streets with criers before and
bailiffs behind. You can see them about to administer the punish-
ment, almost simultaneously with the crime, for among Moors
there are no indictments and summonses and remands as
with us. '

' Come, come, boy, ' exclaimed Don Quijote at this ; ' stick to
your story and lead us not into curves and crossways. Proof
upon proof is needful in getting at the facts. ' Also, from behind
the scenes, was heard the voice of Master Pedro : ' Don't insert
extras, my son ; do just as this gentleman says. Tell a plain tale
and fly not off into counterpoints or you'll break the strings. '
' I'll remember, ' replied the lad, who continued saying : ' This
figure, mounted and covered with a Gascony cloak, is our old
friend Don Gaiferos, long expected by his wife who, avenged
for the hardihood of the enamoured Moor, more at her ease again
appears on the tower -balcony and speaks with her husband,
taking him for some wayfarer. With him she passes the words"
reported in the ballad :

If thou, sir knight, to France should cross.
Pray ask for Don Gaiferos ;

more of which I'll not repeat, since from prolixity weariness
is engendered.

' 'Tis enough to notice that Don Gaiferos discovers himself,
and that by the demonstrations of happiness on Melisendra's
part we are given to understand that she recognises him ; more
by token that we see her about to drop from the balcony onto
the crupper of her good husband's steed. Alas, the poor wretch !
the flounce of her petticoat catches on the railing and there she
hangs willy-nilly. Yet observe how pitiful Heaven succours us
in great crises, for now Don Gaiferos comes and not caring
whether the rich petticoat be torn or no lays hold of her and in

XXVI THE PUPPET-SHOW 407

spite of it brings her to the ground. With one toss he sets her
astride on the crupper, bidding her hold on tight with arms about
him lest she fall — the lady Melisendra not being used to such
riding. The steed's neighs show how pleased he is with the brave
and beautiful charges he carries in the persons of his lord and
lady. There they're off and leaving the city joyously take the
road to Paris. Go in peace, peerless pair of faithful lovers. May
you reach in safety your longed-for fatherland, unimpeded by
fortune on your blessed journey. May the eyes of your friends
and relatives see you enjoy in tranquil peace the days (and may
they be those of Nestor) still left of life. '

Again Master Pedro's voice was heard to exclaim : ' Simplic-
ity, my son ; don't put on, for all frills are bad. ' The interpreter
without reply proceeded with his story : ' Idle eyes were not
lacking : wont to see everything they saw the descent and mount-
ing of Melisendra, whereof they gave notice to King Marsilio,
who at once ordered them to sound the alarum. See with what
haste he's obeyed, for now the city shakes with the clangour of
bells ringing from the towers of all the mosques. ' ' Not so, '
interrupted Don Quijote ; ' in this matter of bells Master Pedro
is a long way off, for Moors never use bells, but timbrels and
a kind of dulcimer much like our clarion. To soand bells in
Sansuena is certainly grave anachronism. ' "When this was heard
of the stage-manager, he stopped sounding and said : ' Let your
worship not notice trifles, Senor Don Quijote, nor look for
perfection, for you'll never find it. Are there not a thousand
comedies with a thousand inconsistencies and absurdities acted
almost daily here in Spain, yet they run a glad career and are
attended not only with the applause but with the admiration
of all ? Continue, boy, and let them talk, for so long as I line
my purse, let there be as many improprieties as there are motes
in the sun. ' ' You are right, ' said Don Quijote, and the lad
proceeded :

' Again I must call your attention to the number and brilliance
of the horsemen that issue from the city in pursuit of the Catholic
lovers ; how many trumpets are blown, how many dulcimers,
timbrels and kettle-drums beaten. I fear lest they be come up

408 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

with and brought back tidd to their horse's tail — a dire spec-
tacle ! ' Upoa this, Don Qaijote, seeing and hearing the Moorish
array and alarum, was moved to assist the fugitives. Springing
to his feet he cried in loud voice : ' Never will I consent that in
my days and presence foul dealing be practised upon so famous
a knight and so bold a lover as Don Gaiferos. Stay, ye low-lived
dogs : check your speed. If not, the die be cast. '

So doing and saying, the errant unsheathed sword and arriving
before the stage with one bound, began to shower strokes upon
the puppet-horsemen, demolishing some, beheading others, cripp-
ling this Moor, maiming that ; and among many others he deliv-
ered one such down-stroke that had not Master Pedro ducked
from under and sprawled on the floor, his head would have been
sliced off as easily as if of almond-paste. Yet he found time to
cry : ' Stay, stay, Senor Don Quijote ; these you slay and demol-
ish are not real Moors but figures of cardboard. Look, confound
it, you're destroying my whole livelihood.' Not for this did the
knight cease to rain two-handers, back-handers, side-cuts and
lunges. In short, in less than two credos he brought the whole
business to the ground, made hash of the properties and puppets,
left King Marsilio sorely wounded and Emperor Charlemagne
with head and crown split in two. The senate of auditors was
panic-stricken, the ape took refuge on the housetop, the cousin
was scared stiff, the page turned deathly pale and even Sancho
lost control for, as he confessed after the storm was over, never
before had he seen his master so wild to play the madman.

When now the affair was wholly done for, its destroyer quieted
down a trifle, saying : ' O that were present all those that do not
or wish not to believe that knights-errant are of real benefit to
the world ! Try to think what would have become of the worthy
Gaiferos and fair Melisendra, had I not been on the scene. Even
now the dogs would have caught up with them and used them
shamefully. Long live chivalry say I, above all else on the earth.'
' Long live it and good-luck, ' gasped Master Pedro, ' and die me,
now so poor that I can say with King Roderick :

But yesterday I over Spain held sway ;
One fort I cannot call mine own to-day.

XXVI THE PUPPET-SHOW 409

Not a half-hour ago, nay, not a half-minute, I found myself lord
of kings and emperors, and filled were my stables, my chests
and my sacks with countless steeds and liveries without number.
Now am I desolate and oppressed, poor and in want, above all
without mine ape, and verily when I lay hold of him, he'll sweat
his teeth for it. And all by reason of the mistaken zeal of this sir
knight, of whom 'tis said be protects minors, rights wrongs and
does other good works. At me alone did his generous purpose
miss fire, for which blessed and praised be the heavens where
their seats are highest. Indeed Knight of Sorry Aspect must be
he that has put such a woful look on all my puppets. '

' Don't cry, Master Pedro, ' said Sancho Panza, moved to
compassion by these words ; ' don't lament any more or you'll
break my heart, and Fid have you know that my master is so
Catholic and scrupulous a Christian that if he can make out he
has done you injury, he'll wish to pay you, and over. ' ' Would
he pay me but a portion of the damage, I should rest satisfied
and his worship easy of conscience, for there's so salvation for
him that takes what belongs to another against the owner's will
and without restitution. ' ' True, ' said Don Quijote, ' but as yet
I'm not aware that I have aught of yours. Master Pedro. ' ' And
how ? these corpses that strew this hard and barren battle-field,
who routed and mowed them down but the invincible strength
of that powerful arm ? and whose were those figures if not mine ?
by what did I live save by them ? '

' Now am I convinced, ' declared our knight, ' of that which
oft I have suspected, that these enchanters my persecutors first
place before me figures as they are and then change and turn
them into whatsoever they list. On my honour I say to you
gentlemen that methought all that happened here, occurred
exactly as it appeared : that Melisendra was Melisendra, Gaiferos
Gaiferos, Marsilio Marsilioand Charlemagne Charlemagne. There-
fore was it that my wrath got the better of me, and to comply
with mine office of errantry I was bound to aid and protect the
fugitives. With this commendable aim I did what you see. If the
outcome proved disastrous, be not mine the blame but theirs
that wickedly persecute me. Nevertheless, for this my mistake.

410 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA II

not my malice, I am ready to stand the costs. Let Master Pedro
make a statement of what is due for the dismantled figures and I'll
pay at once in good and current Castilian coin. '

The showman bowed acknowledgment and said : ' I expected
no less from the unparalleled Christianity of the worthy Quijote
of La Mancha, the real and only helper of all needy and oppressed
vagabonds. Let goodman keeper here and the great Panza be
arbiters and appraisers 'Iwixt your worship and myself of the
value or former value of the ruined puppets. ' The innkeeper
and Sancho agreed and the manager thereupon raised, minus his
head. King Marsilio of Saragossa, saying : ' Obviously 'twould
be out of the question to restore this king to his former estate,
and so methinks, saving better judgment, there should be allowed
for his death, overthrow and complete destruction four reals and
a half. ' ' Proceed, ' said Don Quijote. ' For this split from top
to bottom, ' continued he of the patch, ' taking in his hands the
divided Charlemagne, ' 'twouldn't be a great deal did I ask five
reals and a quarter. ' ' It isn't little,' said Sancho. ' Nor much,'
returned the inkeeper ; ' let's split the difference and call it five
reals.' ' Give him the quarter, ' said Don Quijote; ' the cost of
this notable devastation doesn't stand on a penny more or less.
Make haste. Master Pedro, for 'tis getting supper-time and I
have sure indications of hunger. '

' For this puppet, which is the fair Melisendra short a nose
and eye, I want, and I shall be reasonable, two reals and twelve
maravedis.' ' Nay, ' quoth Don Quijote, ' the devil's in it if by
this time the lady be not safe with her husband over the French
border : the steed they rode seemed to fly rather than run. It's no
use trying to sell me a cat for a hare, offering me a noseless
Melisendra, when the real one, if all went well, is pleasuring
herself with her husband in France at full stretch. God help
every man to his own, Master Pedro, and let us all walk and talk
straight ; and proceed. ' The showman, seeing our knight getting
off the road again, harking back to his old crotchet, determined
not to let him escape, so said : ' This can't be Melisendra after
all but one of her maids-in-waiting ; with but sixty maravedis
therefore I'll call it square. '

XXVI THE PUPPET-SHOW 411

Iq this manner the showman appraised many another of the
broken puppets, and when his prices had been adjusted to the
satisfaction of both parties through the medium of the arbiters,
the total costs were found to be forty and three-quarters reals.
But in addition to this, which Sancho at once counted out, Master
Pedro demanded two reals for catching the ape. ' Give them,
Sancho', said his master, ' not to catch the ape, but the she-ape
(to get drunk). Two hundred reals would I give to one that
could tell with certainty that the lady Melisendra and Seiior Don
Gaiferos were now in France with their own. ' ' None could tell
you better than my pet, ' said he of the patch, ' but ne'er a
devil could catch him now. In the night his hunger and affection
will force him to look me up I reckon. God will send the morrow
and we shall see. '

And so the storm of the puppet-show blew over and they all
supped in peace and fellowship as guests of Don Quijote, who
was liberal beyond measure. Before dawn he of the lances and
halberds was well on his way, and while still but twilight, the
cousin and page came to bid farewell, the one to return home,
the other to continue his journey, for whose aid thereon Don
Quijote gave a dozen reals. Master Pedro didn't care to enter
into more ifs and ands with one he knew too well, so rose before
the sun, gathered his ape and the fragments of his show, and
was off again on his adventures. The innkeeper, to whom Don
Quijote was a perfect stranger, wondered no less at his liberality
than at his light-headedness. For Sancho at his master's bidding
paid him well, and taking leave about eight o'clock the pair set
out on their journey, where we shall leave them. 'Tis time to
speak of other things needful to the unfolding of this history.

412 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER XXVII

Master Pedro and ape identified, together with the sad

result Don Quijote met with in the braying adventure,

w^hich didn't turn out as he had vtdshed or expected

GiD Hamet, chronicler of this great history, opens this chapter
with the words, I swear like a Catholic Christian ; on which
his translator comments, that for Gid Hamet to swear like a
Catholic Christian, being certainly a Moor, means nothing more
or less than that, even as the Catholic Christian when taking an
oath, swears or should swear the truth and declare it in what he
says, so Cid Hamet, as though he had thus sworn, was now to
tell the truth : particularly in telling who were master Pedro
and the divining ape, whose intuitions set all those villages
gaping.

He says then that he that has read the first part of this history
won't have forgot one Gines de Pasamonte^ whom along with
other galley-slaves Don Quijote set free in the Sierra Morena
— an attention for which he was little thanked and less repaid
by that wicked an ill-mannered crew. This Gines de Pasamonte,
whom our knight spoke of as Ginesillo de Parapilla, was the
rogue that stole Sancho's Dapple — the omission of the how and
when of which stealing led many to put the blame on the
author's poor memory rather than on the carelessness of the
printers where it really belonged. Gines stole him, you remember,
while his owner slept in the saddle, employing the trick Brunelo
practised when at the siege of Albraca he drew his steed out
from between Sacripante's legs. But later Sancho recovered his
mount, as described.

This Gines then, fearful of justice, which was hunting him
down for his infinite cunnings and crimes (so many and so bad
were they that he filled a large volume in their exploitation),
decided to cover his left eye and pass over into the kingdom of

XXVII THE BRAYEHS 413

Aragon in the role of puppet-player, at which and sleight-of-
hand he was supreme. And it fell out that, meeting with ran-
somed Christians just returned from Barbary, he purchaised this
ape, which he soon taught to leap at a given signal upon his
shoulder and to give what seemed a whisper in his ear. With
this outfit of show and ape, before he entered a village in his
wanderings, he would enquire in the neighbourhood or from
whom he best could as to what if anything had befallen in that
village and to what persons. Keeping this information clear
in mind he would first, on entering, present the puppet-show,
which dealt sometimes with one story, again with another, but
all merry, diverting and familiar.

The play over, held announce the talents of his ape, telling
the crowd he could divine all the past and present, but the future
was beyond him. For each reply he charged two reals but for
some made it less, taking the pulse of his questioners. Occasion-
ally he went to houses the history of whose inmates he knew,
and though they asked no questions from their unwillingness
to pay, none the less he gave the signal and straight would
declare that the ape said such-and-such a thing which, of course,
fitted like a glove to actual occurrences in that household. By
these means he achieved unspeakable credit and all ran after him.
At other times, like the shrewd fellow he was, he would originate
his answers to suit the questions, and as none investigated the
thing or pressed him to tell how an ape could divine, he made
apes of them all and filled his purse. Thus the moment he entered
the inn above-mentioned, he recognised Don Quijote and Sancho
and from his previous relation with them found it easy to mes-
merise not only them but all the others. Which visit would
have cost him dear had Don Quijote lowered his hand a trifle,
what time he divested King Marsilio of his head and destroyed
his cavalry, as described in the foregoing chapter. This, then, is
all there is to tell regarding Master Pedro and his ape.

Returning to Don Quijote de La Mancha the chronicle states
that after leaving the inn he resolved first to visit the shores of
the river Ebro together with all that district before entering the
city of Saragossa, since there was still ample time before the

414 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

opening of the jousts. With this plan he pursued his journey and
travelled two whole days with naught befalling worthy of note.
But on the third day, as they mounted a hill, he heard a great
sound of drums, trumpets and musketry. His first thought was
of a regiment of soliders on the march, and spurring Rocinante
and coming to the top of the rise he beheld at its foot near two
hundred men armed with a rude assortment of arms, such as
pikes, crossbows, partisans, halberds and lances, a few muskets
and many shields.

He descended and drawing near could distinctly make out the
ensigns, distinguish the colours and note the devices of the
squadron. Particularly he marked one on a fold or banner of
white satin, portraying to the life a jackass of the small Sard
breed, with head in air, mouth open and tongue extended in the
act and posture of braying. Round the border was writ in large
letters these two lines :

Brayed not in vain
Our bailiffs twain.

Don Quijote gathered from this that the company hailed from
Braytown and so said to Sancho, telling what was writ on the
banner. But, he added, their informant was mistaken in saying
they were two aldermen that brayed, for the lines showed them
bailiffs. ' That doesn't matter, sire ; it might well be that the
aldermen have since been advanced to bailiffs and so can be
known by both titles. Moreover, it doesn't affect the truth of the
story, whether the brayers be bailiffs or aldermen, they being
equally good at braying. '

They soon guessed that the mocked town was come out to
fight the one that had mocked them beyond all decency and
neighbourliness. Don Quijote therefore rode up, to the no slight
anxiety of Sancho who was never a lover of such encounters.
Those of the battalion, thinking him of their faction, received
him in their midst, but when he raised his visor and with unas-
suming air and carriage drew near the banner, the leaders of the
army were thrown into the same astonishment all were thrown
on seeing him for the first time. Our knight saw them look at

XXVII THE BRAYKRS 415

him intently without word or question, and resolving to avail
himself of the silence, broke his own and said :

' My good sirs, as earnestly as I can I entreat you not to
interrupt the speech I am about to make (unless you find it
disgusting and tedious), for the slightest sound will seal my lips
and gag my tongue. ' They cried for him to proceed : they would
gladly hear him. With this license the other continued : ' I, gen-
tlemen, am a knight-errant, whose profession is that of arms and
whose office the succour of the needy and the relief of the
oppressed. Some day since I learned of your trials and the cause
that frequently moves you to take arms that you may be avenged
on your enemies. And having considered the matter not once
but many times I find that according to the laws of the duel you
are mistaken in believing yourselves insulted : for no man can
Insult an entire village when he is ignorant of the individual
that committed the treason charged, unless he impeach it col-
lectively.

• Of this we have example in the person of Don Diego Ordonez
de Lara, who impeached the entire population of Zamora, not
knowing 'twas one man only, Bellido Dolfos, had committed
the treason of killing his king. He charged them all with the
crime and all felt his answer and vengeance. And Senor Don
Diego, it must be added, went altogether too far and quite passed
beyond the limits of challenges, for there was no need to accuse
the dead, the food and water, and those yet unborn, together
with the other things specified in his defiance. Let that pass,
however, for when anger breaketh over its banks, the tongue
hath neither father, ruler or bridle to restrain it. If this then is
true, that individuals cannot affront a kingdom, province, city,
republic or entire village, it follows that it's idle of you to take
up cudgels for such an insult, since insult it cannot be. What a
mess we should be in if the people of Clock Town were always
at swords' points with those that fling that epithet in their face ;
or the Gazoleros, the Egg-planters, the Whalers, the Soapers or
others with nicknames, such as are continually bandied about by
urchins and the rabble. A pretty thing verily, if these honourable
cities took umbrage and went about wreaking vengeance with

416 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

swords turned into stomach-cleansers, no matter how trifling
the quarrel.

' Nay, nay, God neither allows nor wishes it. Men of discre-
tion, well-ordered republics, take arms, unsheath swords, risk
lives and property, for any of four reasons : first, to champion
the Catholic faith ; second, to protect life, a law of nature and of
God ; third, in defence of honour, family or estate ; and fourth,
in the king's service in a righteous war. If we add a fifth (which
rightly should be second), it is in aid of their fatherland. Under
these five heads may be grouped a few other causes, just and
reasonable ; but to engage in war for trifles and things that have
more to do with fun and fooling than with intent of insult, strikes
me as strangely illogical.

' Furthermore, to take unrighteous vengeance (for no venge-
ance under the sun can be aught else), contradicts the sacred law
we as Christians profess, which commands us to do good to our
enemies and love them that hate us — a commandment which,
though it appears somewhat difficult to obey, is only so for those
having less of God than of the world and more of flesh than of
spirit. For Jesus Christ, very God and a good man, who never lied
and could not and cannot lie, being our lawgiver, said that his
yoke was easy and his burden light. He surely would not demand
an impossibility. It follows, then, gentlemen, that your worships
are bound by laws divine and human to go home in peace.'
' The devil fetch me ! ' exclaimed Sancho, ' if this my master
isn't a theologian ; if not, he's as like one as one egg is another. '

Don Quijote took a little breath at this point and seeing that
still all lent silence was about to proceed when he was anticipa-
ted by his agile squire who, seeing his master had halted, took
the reins of the discourse, saying : ' My master Don Quijote de
La Mancha, once known as he of the Sorry Aspect but now
called the Knight of the Lions, is a gentleman of great under-
standing and knows Latin and the vugar tongue like a bachelor,
with all the laws and ordinances of wmit they call the duel under
his finger-nail, and in all he speaks and advises acts like a good
soldier. So there's naught to do but be guided by what he says
and blame me if he mislead you. More by token it has been

XXVII THE BRAYERS 4i7

said 'tis foolish to lose one's temper on hearing a bray. I remem-
ber that as a lad I used to bray each and every time I pleased,
wilhout let or hindrance, and with so much grace and propriety
that when I brayed, all the asses of the village struck up. Yet
not for this did I cease to be the son of my parents, who were
honest folk. Though envied for my accomplishment by more
than four of the toploftical people of the town, I didn't care two
farthings. That it may be seen I speak the truth, wait and listen,
for this science is like that of swimming : once learned, never
forgot. '

Thereupon the good squire, with hand pressing nose, began
to bray and so vigorously that all the neighbouring valleys
resounded. But one of the Braytown folk, thinking he ridiculed
them, raised his long pole and gave our friend such a blow that
in spite of himself he came to the ground. His master, seeing this
ill treatment, rushed at the assailant with brandished lance, but
many intervened to thwart him, and finding a shower of stones
raining and a thousand drawn crossbows and an equal number
of muskets threatening, he turned Rocinante about and at full
gallop sped away, fearing every moment lest some bullet pierc-
ing his back come out through his lungs. He kept drawing
breath to see if he had any ; but the squadron were content to
see him flying and did not fire. As for Sancho, scarce himself as
yet, they placed him on his beast and let him follow his master
— not that he had sense enough to direct, but Dapple trotted in
the wake of Rocinante, without whom not for a moment was he to
be found. A long way off Don Quijole turned his head and seeing
that his squire and squire only followed, waited for him. Those
of the squadron remained till nightfall and as their adversaries
appeared not, returned to their town joyous and happy. And
had they known the ancient customs of the Greeks, on that
historic field they'ld have raised a trophy.

27

418 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER XXVIII

Things that Benengeli says he will know that reads them,
if he read with attention

IF the valiant flee, 'tis when foul play is discovered, since the
part of those of discretion is to save themselves for fitter
times. This truth was exemplified in our brave adventurer, who,
giving way to the fury of Braytown and the wicked design of its
enraged host, made the dust fly, and heedless of Sancho and his
jeopardy removed himself as far as he deemed sufficient for
safety. Sancho followed, slung across Dapple, and on reaching
his master fell at Rocinante's feet, in his senses now but all
woe-begone, all battered and bruised. The knight dismounted to
examine his wounds, but finding him whole from head to foot
said somewhat testily :

' In how evil an hour learnt ye to bray, my son, and how could
ye think it well to mention rope in the hanged man's house ?
To the music of brays what harmony is to be looked for save
bastings ? But give thanks to God, boy, that though they blessed
you with a stick, they didn't cross you with a scimitar. ' ' I'm in
no shape for parleying, ' groaned the other, ' for I seem to speak
through my shoulders. Let me mount and out of here. I hence-
forth shall keep silent as to my brays but not as to how knights-
errant desert their faithful squires ground like privet or wheat
in their enemies' millstones. ' ' He flees not that retires, ' main-
tained the master, ' for you must know, Sancho, that courage
unfounded on prudence is bravado, and deeds of rashness owe
more to chance than to brue bravery. I confess, not that I fled,
but that I retired, imitating thereby many valiant men (in whom
history abounds) that have kept themselves for fitter times. I do
not now specify, since 'twould be of no help to you or happiness
to me.'

With the knight's aid Sancho was again on his ass and the
other mounting they slowly made their way toward a grove of

XXVIII MASTER AND MAN 4i9

poplar-trees that stood out on the landscape about a quarter-
league off. From time to time the henchman gave deep sighs and
bitter groans and upon his lord's asking the reason of such sharp
distress, he replied that from his spine-end to the nape of his
neck he ached enough to lose his wits. ' Such pain, ' suggested
the other, ' doubtless results from the fact that as the pole they
measured you with was long and heavy, it caught you over the
whole back, which are the very parts now sensitive. Had it
reached further, your suffering would be even greater.' ' My God !
but your worship has absolved me from a serious doubt and
cleared it up in unmistakeable terms ! Body of me, was the
cause of my pain so obscure there was need to tell me 'twas by
reason of the pole ? Were mine ankles sore, it might be some-
thing to divine why, but to reason out my present pain is no
such marvellous matter.

' Indeed, dear master mine, another's trouble hangs by a hair,
and every day I touch earth as to the little good I can look for
from following your worship. If this time you let me be pounded,
another and a hundred more I shall return to the blanketings
of old and other games which, if now they were played on my
shoulders, will next time be on mine eyes. Much better should I
do (only I am a barbarian and should do good never), much
better, I say, should I do if I went home to wife and children,
supporting her and rearing them with what God may be pleased
to give me, nor follow your worship about on journeys without
a road and along paths and courses that have none, drinking ill
and eating worse. Then there's the sleeping : count ye, brother
squire, seven feet of ground, and if that be not enough, count
as many as ye will — you are master of the feast and stretch
you to your heart's content. But may I see burned and brought
to dust the man that first invented chivalry, or rather the man
first willing to serve such dolts as must have been all former
errants. On the present I pass, for, since your worship is of
such, I am bound to respect them, especially as I am sure you
know one point more than the devil in what you speak and
think. '

' I would lay a wager with you, boy, ' said his master, ' that

420 DON QUUOTE DE LA MANCHA II

when you talk as now and none to check you, you don't feel a
hint of pain in any part of your body. Talk on, my squire, speak
whatever comes to your head or tongue, for while it frees you
from suffering the annoyance your impudence causes me shall
be considered diversion. And if you are so eager to be at home
with wife and children, God forbid that I prevent. You have my
money : reckon the period of this third sally, consider your
worth by the month and with your own hand take your pay. '

' When I worked for Tome Garrasco, father to the bachelor
Samson Garrasco, whom your worship well knows, I got two
ducats a month and food. With your worship I can't calculate,
though I'm certain a knight-errant's squire works harder than
a field-labourer. When we hire out to farmers, no matter how
much there is to do by day or how ill it goes, when night comes
we eat our stew and sleep on beds — which I haven't done in
your worship's employ, except during our brief stay at Don
Diego's house and the fling I had with the skimmings of Gama-
cho's pots, and what I ate, drank and slept in the home of
Basilio. Other times I have lain on the hard ground beneath the
stars, subject to what they call the inclemencies of the skies,
dining on crusts and cheese-parings, and drinking water now
from brooks now from springs of the many we cross in this
back-country of our travels. '

' I must confess that all you say is true, Sancho. How much
more than did Tome Garrasco, do you think I should give you ? '
' Did your worship give me two reals a month extra, I believe I
should consider it good pay, as far as wages goes. As quittance
of your promise of the island-government, 'twould be fair to add
another six reals, making thirty in all. ' ' Agreed, ' replied the
master ; ' at that rate per month reckon what I owe for the five
and twenty days we've been out, and as I have said pay yourself
with your own hand. ' ' Body of me but your worship is mis-
taken : in the matter of the isle the days should be reckoned from
the first time it was promised down to the present. ' ' And how
long is that ? ' 'If my memory serve me, it must be twenty
years, three days more or less. ' The knight gave himself a good
slap on the forehead and laughing heartily said :

XXVIII MASTER AND MAN 421

'Why, Sancho ! in the Sierra Morena, nay in the whole course
of our sallies, I've travelled scarce two months, and yet you say
'tis twenty years since I gave my word for the isle ? Verily,
methinks you would consume in wages all the money you have
of mine. In that case and if 'twould please you, henceforth call
it yours and much good may it do you, since in return for finding
myself rid of a miserable servant I shall rejoice to be left penni-
less. But tell me, perverter of all squirely traditions, where have
you seen or read of a shield-bearer haggling with his master and
saying. So much a month must you give me ? Embark, thief,
embark, varlet and monster — for all this you look to me —
embark I say on the mare magnum of knights' histories, and if
you find one lone henchman saying and thinking with you, you
may nail it on my forehead and make a fool of me with four
hard slaps in the face besides. Turn rein or halter to Dapple and
get you home, for not a step further shall you go with me.
O bread ill-requited ! O promises ill-bestowed ! O man more
beast than human ! just when I though to place you in state and
in such an one that in spite of your wife they'ld call you lord,
do you leave me? Will you go now, when I am firmly and
finally resolved to make you ruler of the best island in the world ?
Verily, verily, as you have said more than once, The honey is
not... Ass you were, ass you must remain, an ass you wiU
finally die, since I'm certain your life will reach its last goal ere
you realise what a beast you are. ' •

Sancho's eyes moved not from his master during this upbraid-
ing, and as contrition swelled within and the tears came, in
weak and heart-broken voice he replied : ' I believe, master
mine, that to make a complete ass of me the tail is the only
thing lacking, and would your worship get me one, I'll deem it
well-placed and serve you like such a beast all my days. Forgive
me, sire; have pity on my folly, reflecting that I know very
little, and that if I speak much, more proceeds from nature than
from malice, especially since he that errs and mends, to God
himself commends. ' ' I should have been surprised indeed,
Sancho, had your speech terminated and no little proverb. Well,
well, I'll forgive you, provided you do mend and henceforth

422 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

show yourself more disinterested. Try to widen that heart of
yours, my son, taking hope and courage at the thought of my
promises, for though their fulfilment is delayed, it yet may
arrive. ' The other replied so would he do, drawing strength
from wealcness.

They had now entered the grove and the knight composed
himself at the foot of an elm and Sancho at the foot of a beech,
for these trees and others have feet though without hands. The
squire passed the night in pain, since the drubbing made itself
felt more with the night air. Don Quijote passed it in a suc-
cession of memories ; yet both gave their eyes to sleep and at
daybreak continued their search for the banks of the famous
Ebro, where befell them what will be told in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XXIX
The famous adventure of the enchanted bark

BY the above-mentioned and unmentioned stages, two days
after leaving the grove Don Quijote and Sancho arrived at
the river Ebro, the sight whereof proved great joy to the former,
for he marked and marvelled at the beauty of its banks, the
clearness of its waters, its smoothness of current and its laugh-
ter. The refreshing sight renewed in his memory a thousand
amorous thoughts : especially did he bethink him of all he had
seen in the cave of Montesinos, for though the ape declared
some of those things false and only some true, he held more to
the truths than the lies — the reverse of Sancho, who held it
all of a piece.

As they rode along they espied a little bark without oars or
tackle tied to a tree-trunk at the water's edge. The knight looked
in every direction and seeing no one, without more ado dis-
mounted, bidding his squire the same and to tie the beasts togeth-
er to the branch of a poplar or willow growing there. Sancho
asked the cause of this sudden halt and tie-up, and received the
reply : ' You must know, Sancho, that this bark, designedly

XXIX THE ENCHANTED BARK 423

here and for no other purpose, is calling and inviting me to
embark for the relief of some knight or other noble personage in
certain and great distress. For such is the habit of the books of
knightly deeds and of the enchanters that make talk and trouble
therein, to wit, that when a knight is caught in some difficulty,
he cannot be freed save at another knight's hand, though distant
one from the other two or three thousand leagues or more. They
either snatch him up in a cloud or convey him in a bark and in
less than the opening and closing of an eye carry him by air or
water whither they will and his help is needed. So you can
understand, O Sancho, how this bark is placed here for that
very purpose and this is as true as that it is now day. Tie Dap-
ple and Rocinante side by side, and be it in the hand of God
to guide us, for bare-fooled friars couldn't let my embarking. '

' In that case, would you put your every foot in these —
blunders shall I call them, there's naught but to bow the head
and obey, attending the proverb. Obey your lord and sit with him
at the table. At the same time, to ease my conscience, I must
warn your worship that in my opinion the bark belongs to none
of the enchanted but to fishermen of this river, wherein are
caught the best shad in the world. ' Sancho spoke while tying
the beasts, leaving them with sad heart to the favour and protec-
tion of enchanters. His master bade him not heed this desertion,
for He that was to guide them through ways and regions so
longinquous, would take care of what they left behind. ' ' I don't
understand this longicuous, ' said Sancho, ' nor have I heard
such a word all the days of my life. ' ' It means remote, ' an-
swered the other, ' but it isn't surprising that you didn't under-
stand it ; you are not supposed to know Latin, as are some that
pretend to and don't. '

' Now that the beasts are fastened, what are we to do ? '
enquired the servant. ' What but cross ourselves and weigh
anchor, embark in other words and cut the cable wherewith
our vessel is tied. ' And leaping therein, followed by his squire,
Don Quijote cut the rope and the bark gradually moved from the
bank. When Sancho found himself a matter of two yards out,
he began to quake with fear of perdition, but naught gave him

424 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

more distress than to hear Dapple bray and see Rocinante trying
to break loose. So he said to his master : ' Dapple is braying
in sorrow of our absence and the nag is trying to free himself in
order to plunge in after us. O beloved friends, rest in peace and
may the madness that removes us from you, changing to sanity
return us to your presence. ' And with this he began to weep so
bitterly that Don Quijote, vexed out of all patience, said :

' What are you afraid of, cowardly creature? what are you
crying about, heart of butter ? who molests or persecutes you,
soul of an indoor mouse? or what do you lack, ever in want
though in the midst of the bowels of abundance ? Are you per-
chance travelling on foot and barefoot over the Riphoean moun-
tains, instead of sitting on a seat like an archduke, floating down
the current of this delightful river, whence soon we shall pass
out onto the open main ? Already must we have travelled seventy
or eighty leagues at the shortest. Had I an astrolabe for taking
the altitude of the pole, I could tell the exact distance, though
now I should say we have passed or soon shall pass, else I know
little, the equinoctial line that divides and cuts the opposite
poles in equal portions. ' ' And when we have come to these
same knocks - your worship speaks of, how far shall we have
travelled ? ' ' Far, for of the three hundred and sixty degrees
embraced by this globe of earth and water, we shall then have
gone half, as the great cosmographer Ptolomaeus computed it. '
' 'Fore God, but your worship has fetched a pretty witness to
back you up : Polly, miaus and putrid besides. ' The knight,
smiling, continued :

' You must know, Sancho, that Spaniards and others embark-
ing at Cadiz for the East Indies have as one of the signs that
they have crossed this equinoctial line, that fleas die from all on
board nor in the whole vessel is one to be found though they
gave its weight in gold for it. So pass your hand over your thigh,
my son, and if you meet with aught, we shall be freed from our
uncertainty ; if with naught, we have crossed the line. ' ' I take
no stock in this, ' replied Sancho, ' but I'll obey, though I can
find no reason for making these experiments when I see with
mine own eyes that we're not five yards from the bank nor down

XXIX THE ENCHANTED BARK 425

Stream more than two from where stand the animals. There they
are, precisely where we left them, and watching a point, as I do
now, I swear by all we're not moving or advancing at an ant's
pace. '

' Make the test, Sancho, and heed no other, for little do you
know of colures, lines, parallels, zodiacs, ecliptics, poles, sol-
stices, equinoxes, planets, signs and points, which measure the
celestial and terrestial spheres. Did you know these all or even
in part, 'twould be clear how many parallels we had crossed,
what signs beheld, what constellations were left behind and are
now passing. Again I urge you to fish and feel, for I am certain
you are cleaner than a sheet of white paper. ' Sancho felt his
way softly over his left ham and then looking up at his master
said : ' Either the test is a poor one or we haven't reached the
spot your worship mentioned, nay, not by many leagues. '
' How ? have you found something ? ' ' Ay, some things, ' replied
the other, washing his hand in the river, on whose bosom the bark
now gently glided, moved by no occult intelligence or unseen
enchanter but by the calm and smooth current.

Ere long the voyagers discovered some large water-mills,
situate in mid-stream, and scarce had Don Quijote glimpsed them
when in loud voice he exclaimed : ' Look, friend, where steals
into view the city, castle or stronghold wherein is mewed some
oppressed knight, or some queen, infanta or princess in sore
distress, for whose relief I am sent. ' ' What devils of city,
stronghold or castle are you talking about, sire ? can't you see
they're water-mills for grinding grain ? ' ' Peace, Sancho ; though
they look so, mills they are not. As oft I have said, enchantments
change and transform all things from their natural state. Not
that they actually are transformed but they appear to be, as
experience has demonstrated in the case of Dulcinea, sole refuge
of my hopes. '

By this time the bark was in mid-stream and began to move
less leisurely, and the millers, seeing 'twould soon enter the mill-
race, promptly and some with long poles ran out to check it.
Truly they were a wicked sight, with their faces and clothes
covered with flower, and shouting : ' Whither, ye devils of men ?

426 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

are you crazy ? do you want to be crushed by these wheels and
drowned ? ' ' Didn't I tell you, Sancho, that we have come where
I must show to what height the valour of mine arm doth reach ?
Behold what harpies and land-sharks come to attack me ! how
many spectres I shall have to face ! how many hideous coun-
tenances are endeavouring to terrify me ! But you shall see, ye
scoundrels ! '

Thereupon rising in the boat, Don Quijote began to shower
curses on the millers, saying : ' Ill-intentioned and worse-
advised dogs, set free the person you hold in yon castle or
prison, high or low, of whatever condition or quality he or she
may be, for I am Don Quijote de La Mancha, alias the Knight of
the Lions, for whom it has been reserved by the high heavens to
give a happy ending to this adventure. ' Saying this he drew
sword and brandished it in the air against the millers, who,
hearing but not undestanding this bluster, tried with poles to
hold back the bark, now well in the mill-race. Sancho was on
his knees, earnestly praying Heaven to deliver him from this
imminent danger. His prayer was answered through the diligence
and labour of the millers, who finally succeded in staying the
craft, though not without overturning it and upsetting master
and man. Fortunately for him, Don Quijote could swim like a
goose, though the weight of his arms twice brought him to the
bottom, and had it not been for the millers, who plunged in and
hoisted them out, 'twould have been Troytown for them both.
Immediately they were landed (more drenched than thirsty),
Sancho Panza fell on his knees and with clasped hands and with
eyes raised to Heaven besought his Maker at length and fer-
vently henceforth to preserve him from these dare-devil plans
and pursuits of his lord.

And now came the fishermen-owners of the bark, which the
mill-wheels had by this time churned to bits. They began to
fleece Sancho and demand payment of his master, but the latter,
as though naught had happened, in his usual calm manner said
to these millers and fishermen that he would indeed be happy
to pay for the bark, provided they unreservedly set free the
person or persons imprisoned in that castle. ' "What persons or

XXX THE DUKB AND DUCHESS 427

castles do you mean, crazy ? ' answered one of the millers ;
' would you carry away the people that come to have their wheat
ground in these mills.' 'Enough,' said the other to himself:
• 'twere but preaching in the desert to hope to induce this rabble
to perform a virtuous act. In this adventure two powerful
enchanters must have taken sides, one to prevent what the
other proposed : one furnished the skiff, the other upset it. May
God help us, for this world is naught but plots and counterplots
all defiant. I cannot do more. ' And now speaking aloud, with
eyes fixed on the mills : ' Friends, whoever ye may be mewed in
this prison, forgive me that to mine own shame and yours I can-
not relieve your distress. This adventure, it must be, is reserved
for another knight. '

Ours then agreed with the fishermen to pay for the ruined bark
fifty reals, which Sancho counted out with heavy heart saying :
' Two voyages like this and we and all our cargo will sink to
the bottom. ' The fishermen and millers stood gazing in aston-
ishment at the odd-looking pair, nor did they once get light as to
what the master's speeches and requests might mean. Holding
them both for idiots they left them and returned to their mill,
the fishermen to their huts. To Rocinante Don Quijote returned
and Sancho to the ass. Both returned to their asinine life, and
thus ends the adventure of the enchanted bark.

CHAPTER XXX
The knight's experience with a fair huntress

WITH dampened spirits knight and squire came to their
mounts. Sancho in particular was downcast for it touched
his soul to touch their stock of money : all that they took seemed
to come from the apples of his eyes. They made quick and silent
work of mounting and leaving the famous river, Don Quijote
buried in the thoughts of his love, his servant in those of his
advancement, which just then seemed rather far away : simple as
he was he couldn't help seeing that all or most of his lord's actions

DON QUIJOTE DE I-A MANCHA

II

were flighty, and he was endeavouring at this moment to find
an occasion whereby without entering into disputes and leave-
takings he might some day slip off and home. But fortune ordered
quite the reverse.

The day following at sunset, as they issued from a wood, it
chanced that the errant's eyes rested on a green meadow, where,
on the further side, he noticed what on nearer approach proved a
hawking-party. In their midst he distinguished a fine lady riding
a snow-white palfrey or hackney, caparisoned in green with side-
saddle of silver. The lady as well was dressed in green, so richly
and gaily that gaiety itself seemed personified in her. On her
left hand sat a hawk, discovering to our knight that she must be
of noble birth and mistress of all the hunters. He therefore ob-
served : ' Run, boy, and tell yon lady of the hawk and palfrey
that I the Knight of the Lions kiss the hands of her great beauty
and should her grace grant me leave, I shall in person kiss them,
serving her to the extent of my power and her bidding. Have
care, my son, of th? manner of your petition, lest therein you
insert a proverb or two. ' ' You've found your inserter and no
mistake ; but trust me, master, for this isn't the first time in this
life I've carried embassies to high and mighty ladies. ' ' Save
that to the lady Dulcinea, I know of none, at least on my behalf. '
' True, but pledges never worry a good paymaster and in a full
house supper is soon cooked. I mean to say there's no need of
warnings, for I'm ready for and equal to a little of everything.'
' I believe it, Sancho ; so go, good-luck and God guide you. '
Sancho rode off at top speed, pressing Dapple out of his pace,
and coming to the fair huntress dismounted and knelt before her
saying :

' Fair lady, yon knight you see, called Knight of the Lions, is
my master and I am his squire whom in his house they call
Sancho Panza. This same Knight of the Lions, who not long
since went by the name of Sorry Aspect, through me sends to
ask that your grace be pleased to grant him permission to come,
with your intention, pleasure and consent, to effect his desire,
which is no other (as he says and I think) than to serve your
high-flown beauty, for with such license your worship will do

XXX THE DUKE AND DUCHESS 429

what will redoand to your welfare, and he on his part will bear
the most signal respect and gratitude. ' ' Of a surety, good
squire, ' replied the lady, ' you have announced your mission
with all the customary phrases. Rise, my good man, for it suits
not that the squire of so great a knight as he of the Sorry Aspect,
of whom we have heard much, be on his knees. Rise, friend,
and tell your lord he comes at a most fortunate time to wait
upon me and the duke my husband at our country-seat. '

Sancho rose, astonished at the lady's beauty and courteous
manner, but still more that she should be familiar with the
Knight of Sorry Aspect : that she didn't call him the Knight of
the Lions was due, he supposed, to the fact that this title had
been so lately assumed. The duchess (whose name is not known)
now questioned Sancho, saying : ' Tell me, brother squire, is not
this your master he of whom a history is in print with the title.
That Imaginative Gentleman Don Quijote de la Mancha, whose
lady-love is one Dulcinea del Toboso ? ' ' The very same, lady,
and that squire of his that figures or should figure there, whom
they call Sancho Panza, is myself, unless they changed me in the
cradle, in the press that is. ' ' By all this I am much pleased, '
said the duchess ; ' go, brother Panza, and tell your master he is
well-arrived and welcome at my country-seat and that nothing
could make me happier. '

With this cheering message Sancho gleefully returned to his
master, to whom he repeated all the grand lady had said, in his
rustic terms praising to the skies her great beauty, fine manner
and extreme courtesy. Don Quijote righted himself, set his feet
well in the stirrups, adjusted his visor and spurring Rocinante
came on with gallant air to kiss the hand of the duchess, who,
having sent for the duke her husband, told him of Don Qui-
jote's embassy while the knight was approaching. Since both had
read the first part of this history and appreciated our hero's
peculiar obsession, they awaited him with the utmost delight,
resolving to humour him in all he said or did and to treat him
as an errant in very deed during the period of his stay : not one
of the common ceremonies set forth in the books of chivalry,
which they had read with relish, were to be omitted.

430 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

The knight, with visor raised, was now at hand. Sancho hast-
ened to hold the stirrup, but in alighting from Dapple one of his
feet so caught in the packsaddle rope that, ere he could extricate
it, he found himself hanging with breast and lips to the ground.
His master, who never dismounted without the stirrup being held,
thinking that the squire was performing that office, threw himself
off With a swing, carrying Rocinante's saddle (which must have
beed ill-girthed) along with him. He and saddle came to the
ground, to the great mortification of the knight, plentifully curs-
ing 'twixt his teeth him whose foot was still in fetters. The duke
bade his hunters hasten to their rescue, and when the don was
raised to his feet again, rather the worse for his fall, he limped
his best to bend the knee before these fine persons. But the duke
wouldn't suffer this ; instead, alighting from his hunter, he hastened
to embrace him, saying : ' I greatly regret. Sir Knight of Sorry
Aspect, that the first time your worship has visited my soil, you
should have done it so unpleasantly, but the carelessness of
squires is wont to result in even worse accidents. '

' That which has befallen me, worthy prince, cannot be an evil
though it landed me in the botton of hell, for the glory of having
met your lordship would have raised me thence. My squire,
confound him, is better at loosening his tongue to say sharp
things than at tightening my saddle to make it stay. But however
I find myself, raised or fallen, afoot or ahorse, I shall ever be
at your service and that of my lady the duchess, your worthy
consort, true mistress of beauty and universal princess of court-
esy. ' ' Gently, my lord Don Quijote de La Mancha, ' said the
duke, ' for where my lady Dona Dulcinea del Toboso is, other
beauties may not justly be praised. '

Sancho Panza, now free from his slip-noose, ere his master
could reply, spoke up and said : ' It cannot be denied and must
be affirmed that she's very beautiful, my lady Dulcinea del
Toboso, but the hare leaps where least he is looked for, and I've
heard tell that this they call nature is like a potter that makes
vessels out of clay, who if he make one beautiful vessel can make
two or three or a hundred. I say this because my lady the duchess
is, I swear, not a whit behind my mistress the lady Dulcinea

XXXI THE ECCLESIASTIC 431

del Toboso. ' Thereupon Don Quijote turned to the duchess
and said : ' Your grace must understand that never in the world
had knight-errant a more talkative or witty squire. He'll be his
own evidence would your extreme highness accept of my service
a few days. ' To this the duchess made reply : ' That Sancho the
good is witty pleases me much, for wit, as your worship knows,
isn't found in dunces, and hence I affirm him wise.' ' And
long-winded, ' added Don Quijote.

' So much the better, ' said the duke, ' for much wit cannot
be delivered in few words, and not to waste time in them, come,
great Knight of Sorry Aspect — ' ' Of the Lions, your highness
should say,' put in Sancho : ' there's no longer any Sorry Aspect.'
' Let Sir Knight of the Lions then come to my castle hard-by
and there receive entertainment due so high a personage. The
duchess and I are wont to harbour all errants coming hither. '
By this time Sancho had straightened and tightly girthed Roci-
nante's saddle, and when Don Quijote had mounted him and
the duke his fine hunter, with the duchess between they rode to
the castle. His hostess bade Sancho ride near as it was infinite
pleasure to her to listen to his sharp sayings. Sancho was easily
persuaded, and weaving in among them made a fourth in the
conversation, to the great amusement of duke and duchess, who
counted it a wonderful privilege to harbour in their castle so
errant an adventurer and so travelled a squire.

CHAPTER XXXI
Which treats of many and great things

BOUNDLESS was the joy experienced by Sancho at finding
himself thus in favour with the duchess, since he could not
not but picture that he should meet in her castle with what he
had found in the homes of Don Diego and Basilio : he was ever
the friend of good living and would take entertainment by the
forelock each and every time offered. The history relates then
that before they arrived at his country-seat or castle the duke

432 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

went on ahead and instructed his servants how to treat Don
Qaijote, who now, as he approached with the duchess, was met
at the gate by grooms or lacqueys, clad from top to toe in what
are called morning-gowns, of finest crimson satin ; and these,
catching the knight in their arms almost before they were seen
or heard, said to him : ' Hurry, sire, and help my lady alight. '
Don Quijote hastened so to do and then and there ensued a
long interchange of compliments, but in the end the persistency
of the duchess prevailed, who wouldn't descend or alight from
her palfrey save in the arms of the duke, saying she didn't
consider herself worthy to be such a fruitless charge to so great
a knight.

The duke then came forward to assist her and as they entered
a large patio, two lovely maidens approaching threw over their
guest's shoulders a long mantle of finest scarlet. Straightway
the galleries of the yard were crowned with men and maid-
servants, shouting : ' Hail to the flower and the cream of knight-
errantry ! ' and all or most sprinkled phials of sweet-scented
waters upon him and their master and mistress. This made
our hero wonder and wonder : here for the first time he fully
believed and recognised himself to be a veritable knight-errant,
not an imaginary one, since he saw himself treated in the
identical manner that, as he had read, were treated real errants
in bygone days.

Sancho had abandoned his ass and sewed himself to the
duchess, entering with her into the castle, but now his conscience
pricked him for the desertion of his friend, and approaching a
reverend duenna, who with others came forth to greet the mis-
tress of the house, in low voice he said : • Seiiora Gonzalez, or
however your grace is called — ' ' Dona Rodriguez de Grijalba
is my name,' replied the duenna ; ' what do you wish, brother? '
' I wish, ' said Sancho, ' that you go to the castle-gate, where
you will find my dappled ass. Please your worship put him or
have him put in the stable, since the poor little thing is timid
and never likes to be left alone.' ' If the master have as much
sense as the man, ' said the other to herself, ' we shall have our
fill. Go yourself, brother, and the devil take you and him that

XXXI THE ECCLESIASTIC 433

in evil hour brought you here. Look after the beast yourself;
the women of this household are not acquainted with such tasks.'
' Indeed, ' replied Sancho, ' what was it I heard my master, a
witch for histories, say, repeating the story of Lancelot when he
came from Brittany, how damsels provided for him, and duennas
for his nag, and not even Sir Lancelot's would I take in exchange
for my Dapple. ' ' Brother, if you be a clown, keep your pretty
sayings for where they may so appear, where you'll be paid
for them, since from me for all of them you won't get a fig. '
' ' Twould be a ripe one if I did ; indeed if years counted, your
worship would surely win the trick. '

' Whoreson gutter-snipe ! ' exclaimed the duenna, red with
rage ; ' I'll give account to God whether I'm old or no, not to
you, you garlic-stuffed mountebank ; ' and this she said so loudly
as to be overheard by the duchess, who, turning about and
seeing the duenna's excited face and fiery eyes, asked with whom
was she angry. ' With this fine fellow, who in all seriousness
asks me to put his ass, standing at the castle-gate, into the
stable, giving as an example that in some place or other certain
ladies looked after one Lancelot and duennas after his nag.
What's more, he ended by calling me old woman. ' ' Which I
should deem a greater insult than any request, ' replied the
duchess, who now turned to Sancho saying : ' Mark you, Sancho
friend, Dona Rodriguez is still quite young, wearing her hood
more as a badge of authority and from custom than from
years. '

' Bad may those remaining to me be, ' quoth the squire, ' if I
meant it that way. I only spake as I did because of the great
affection I bear mine ass ; it seemed to me I couldn't commend
him to a person more sympathetic than the lady Dona Rodriguez.'
His master, overhearing, now said : ' Is this the place for such
talk, my son ? ' ' Master, every man must tell his need where he
has it. Here I bethought me of mine ass and here I spake for
him. Did I think of him in the stable, there should I speak. ' To
which the duke answered : ' Sancho is quite right and blameless.
Dapple shall have all the provender he can eat : let his master rest
easy, for his mount shall be treated as well as his own person. '

434 DON QUIJOTE DE lA MANCHA II

With this banter, relished by all save the knight, they arrived
upstairs and showed their guest his hall, adorned with richest
stuffs of gold and brocade. Six damsels as pages disarmed and
served him, each forewarned and prompted by the duke and
duchess of what to do and how to act toward Don Quijote that
he might imagine himself faring like an adventurer. When they
had stripped him of his armour, he was left in his tight-fitting
breeches and doublet of chamois-skin, lank, long and withered,
with cheeks that kissed : a figure whereat the maids just managed
not to burst with laughter, having received definite orders
against so doing. Instead they asked might they strip and array
him in clean shirt, but he wouldn't hear of it, saying that modesty
no less than valour became persons of his calling. He bade them
hand the shirt to his squire, with whom now closeting himself
in a room with a handsome bed, he stripped and donned the
shirt, saying to Sancho :

' Tell me, modern clown and ancient booby, looks it well to
you to insult and dishonour a duenna as venerable and worthy
of respect as that below ? Was that the time to be thinking of
Dapple or are these persons to maltreat our mounts when their
masters are received so royally? 'Fore God, my son, restrain
yourself, and show not your thread lest they discover you are
spun of coarse and country stuff. Look ye, sinner, in so much
more worship is the master held as he has respectful and well-
mannered servants, and one of the greatest advantages princes
enjoy over commoners is being attended by as good as them-
selves. Do you not see, besotted that you are and beset that I
am, that once they find you a churlish boor or ridiculous jester,
I'll be taken for some charlatan-knight and a quack ? Nay, nay,
Sancho friend ! fly, fly these stumbling-blocks, for he that trips
into babbler and clown, falls at the first trap into fool out of
favour. Bridle the tongue : consider and chew the words before
they leave the mouth, realising that we have reached the spot
whence, by God's favour and the valour of mine arm, we shall
issue thrice and five times bettered in fame and fortune. '

Sancho flrmily promised to sew his month and bite off his
tongue before saying an inapt or ill-considered word, in acccord-

XXXI THE ECCLESIASTIC 435

ance with the bidding of his master, who might henceforth rest
easy, for never through him would be discovered what they were.
The knight dressed, donned baldrick and sword, threw the
scarlet mantle over his shoulders, put on a hunting-cap of green
satin presented by the damsels, and thus adorned passed into
the larger room, where he found his pages, arranged in wings,
with appliances for bathing the hands, which they proffered with
all respect and ceremony. Next came twelve other pages, boys,
with the seneschal, to conduct him to dinner, where his hosts
awaited. They placed the knight in their midst and full of pomp
and majesty led him to the hall, where was set a sumptuous
repast of four covers.

The duke and duchess advanced to receive him and with them
one of those grave ecclesiastics that rule the houses of princes —
one of those that, not being princes themselves, make sorry work
of teaching behaviour to those that are ; that would measure
the greatness of the great by the pettiness of their own souls ;
that, striving to teach their pupils strictness, end in making
them niggardly. Of this number I say was the solemn person that
now came forward with his hosts to receive Don Quijote. They
uttered a thousand polite phrases and with the knight came to
the table. Don Quijote was honoured with the head and though
he demurred, the duke so insisted that at last he yielded. The
ecclesiastic sat opposite and duke and duchess on either side.

To all this Sancho was silent observer, dumfounded at seeing
so much made of his master by these noble personages. Noting
the many compliments and entreaties that passed between the
duke and Don Quijote, he said : ' If your worships will give me
leave, I'll relate an incident that occurred in my town concerning
this matter of seating. ' Scarce was this out of his mouth when
his master shook with fear lest he utter some absurdity. Sancho
saw, understood and said : ' You need not fear, sir, lest I go
astray or tell something out of place, for I've not forgot the
advice you gave me just now about speaking much and little,
good and ill. ' 'I recall no such advice, Sancho ; say what you
will, provided you say it briefly, ' ' Then what I am about to
tell, gentlemen, is so true that my master Don Quijote here

436 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

present will not let me lie. ' ' As far as I am concerned you may
lie all you please. I shan't raise a hand to prevent you; but
heed. ' ' I have heeded and reheeded till I'm as safe as the bell-
man, as the story itself will show. ' ' 'Twere well that your
graces order this fool from the room, else he'll be making a
thousand blunders. ' ' By the life of the duke, ' exclaimed the
duchess, ' they mustn't take Sancho from me for an instant.
I quite dote upon him, since I know him wise. '

' Wise be your holiness's days ! in return for your good opin-
ion, though I don't deserve it. And the story I am about to tell
is this : A certain hidalgo of my village sent an invitation. He
was rich and of rank, for he came of the Alamos of Medina del
Gampo and was married to Dona Mencia de Quinones, daughter
of Don Alonso de Maranon, knight of the order of Santiago, who
was drowned in the Herradura and about whom there was that
quarrel years ago in our place, in which I believe my master
Don Quijote was mixed up and out of which little Tome the
scapegrace and son to Balbastro the smith came wounded. Is not
all this true, senor? tell us, as you live, that these gentlemen
may not think me a babbling liar. ' ' So far, ' offered the eccle-
siastic, ' I consider you more babbler than liar, but hereafter I
can't tell how I'll hold you. ' ' You offer so much evidence and
so many witnesses, ' said Don Quijote, ' I am forced to say you
must be telling the truth. Proceed, and shorten the tale, for at
this speed you won't be done in two days.' ' There's no reason
why he should to please me, ' said the duchess, ' for his every
word affords me pleasure. Let him tell it as he knows it, though
not finished in six. "Were he even that many, they'ld be the best
ever I spent. '

' I say then, good sirs, that this hidalgo, whom I know as
well as I know these hands, for his house isn't a bowshot from
mine, invited to dinner a poor but respectable farmer.' ' Hasten,
brother, ' broke in the ecclesiastic, ' for methinks you won't be
done till the other world. ' ' Please God and I'll finish short
of half-way there, ' returned Sancho ; ' and so I say that when
this farmer came to the house of the afore-mentioned host —
may his soul rest in peace, for he is sometime dead, and more

XXXI THE ECCLESIASTIC 437

by token they say he died the death of an angel ; I wasn't there
at the time, having gone aharvesting at Tembleque. ' ' On your
life, my son. ' again interrupted the ecclesiastic, ' come back
soon and end your story before burying the gentleman, or
there'll be another funeral. ' ' Now it came to pass that when
the two were about to seat themselves — and I seem to see them
now better than ever — ' The duke and duchess were higly
amused at the ecclesiastic's disgust at these pauses and aside^,
but Don Quijote was fairly afire with rage and vexation.

' So I say that as the pair as I have said were about to sit to
their meal, the farmer pleaded with the hidalgo to take the seat
at the head, and the hidalgo pleaded likewise that the seat of
honour should be his guest's, saying that in his own house he
was owed obedience. But the farmer, who prided himself on his
manners and breeding, wouldn't consent, till finally his irritated
host, placing his hands on the countryman's shoulders, forced
him to the seat, saying : ' Down with you, clodhopper, for where
I sit, there is the head of the table. ' And this is my story and
truly methinks it hasn't been introduced unfitly. ' The knight
turned a thousand colours, till his brown face looked like jasper,
and his hosts restrained their mirth lest he lose control in his
sense of Sancho's deviltry. To change the subject and to keep
the squire out of further straits the duchess asked his master what
news he had of his lady Dulcinea and whether of late he had sent
her any presents of giants or crooks, for he must needs have
vanquished many. And her guest replied :

' My trials, lady, though with a beginning, will never end.
Giants I have vanquished, and villains and crooks I have sent
her, but where are they to find my love, if she's changed and en-
chanted into the homeliest country- wench conceivable?' ' Don't
ask me, ' said Sancho, ' though I thought her the loveliest crea-
ture in the world. Certainly in litheness and friskiness a tumbler
couldn't beat her. If you'll believe me, lady duchess, she leaps
on an ass like a cat. ' ' Have you seen her enchanted, then ? '
asked the duke. ' Have I seen her? who the devil was it then,
if not I, that first hit upon this enchanting business ? She's as
enchanted as my father. '

438 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

The ecclesiastic, hearing them talk of giants, crooks and en-
chantments, awoke to the fact that this was Don Quijote de
La Mancha, whose history the duke was always reading, though
many times he had censured him, saying 'twas the height of folly
to read such trash. Assured now that his suspicions were true,
he turned to the duke and with considerable irritation said :
' Your excellency, sir, will have to account to our Lord for this
fine fellow. This Don Quijote or Don Fool or whatever his name
is not so simple as you seem to think, fitting him out with
opportunities to display his vapours and vacuities. '

And turning to the knight he said : ' And you, numskull, who
ever put into your head that you were a knight-errant and had
vanquished giants and caught villains ? Go and good riddance,
taking my advice : get you home, raise your children if you have
them, look after your estate and leave off tramping the world
o'er sucking wind, the butt of everyone, knowing you or not.
Where, for goodness' sake, have you heard there ever were or
are now knight-errants in the world ? where that there are giants
in Spain or crooks in La Mancha or enchanted Dulcineas any-
where, or any of all that wild nonsense told of you ? ' Our errant
listened attentively to these words of the venerable man, and
seeing he had done, quaking with wrath and with livid coun-
tenance he rose, and not glancing at his hosts said — but his
reply merits a chapter by itself.

CHAPTER XXXII

Don Quijote's reply to his censor, together with other
passages both grave and gay

SHAKING from head to foot like a man dosed with mercury, in
quick excited voice the knight began : ' The place where I
stand, the presence I am in and the respect I ever have born
and still possess for the calling your worship professes, tie the
hands of my righteous indignation. Wherefore and because I
recognise as all do that the cleric's and the woman's weapon is

XXXII THE WASHING OP BEARDS 439

one, to wit the tongue, I shall enter with mine in equal combat
with your worship, from whom good counsel rather than infa-
mous vituperation was to have been expected. Just and well-
meaning criticism asks other times and demands other grounds
than these ; at least this public and bitter censure has gone beyond
all limits or fair judgment, since the best rests more on sympathy
than harshness. Nor is it well, without knowledge of the sin in
question, right at the start to call a sinner simpleton and fool.

' Else tell me, sir, for which of my simplicities do you con-
demn me and call me to account, bidding me go look after my
house, wife and children, without knowing whether such be
mine or no ? Is nothing more needed to lay down the law for
chivalry and to judge of knights than to enter one way or
another into persons' houses and dictate to their owners, having
one's self been trained in some scant pupilage and having seen
no more of the world than is contained in the twenty or thirty
leagues of one's native district. Is it a vain dream or is the time
ill spent that is devoted to wandering through the world, looking
not to its rewards but to the rough brakes virtue must go through
ere crowned with immortality ? Were I deemed fool by knights,
the magnaminous, the large-hearted, the nobly-born, I should
consider it lasting reproach. But to be thought witless by stud-
ents, who tread not the paths of chivalry, is as nothing to me.

' Knight I am and knight, please God, I shall die. Some pass
over the broad field of a proud ambition, others of a base and
servile adulation, still others of a fraudulent hypocrisy and some
of a true religion. But I, minded of my star, tread the narrow
path of errantry, in whose practice I scorn wealth but not honour.
I have satisfied .grievances, redressed wrongs, chastised inso-
lences, vanquished giants and trampled under foot monsters of
all kinds. I am enamoured and for no other cause than that it is
so required of knights-errant ; but being in love, I am not among
the Sybaritical and vicious but the Platonic and chaste. I ever
direct my purposes to laudable end, to wit, to do good to all
and ill to none. Whether or no he that so intends, so works and
lives, deserves to be called fool, let your worships say, most
excellent duke and duchess. '

440 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

' Well spoken, by heaven ! ' exclaimed Sancho ; ' say no more,
sire, for there's nothing more to say or think or persist in in all
the world. More by token, this gentleman denying as he has
denied that knights-errant ever were or are, what wonder is it
that he knows naught of what he says. ' ' Are you, ' asked the
cleric, ' him they call Sancho Panza, to whom your master prom-
ised an isle?' ' The same,' said Sancho, ' and I am the man
that deserves it as well as the next. I am of your. Keep with
the good and thou'It be one of them ; of your. Not with whom
thou art bred but with whom thou art fed ; and of your. He that
leans against a good tree, has good shade over him. I've leaned
against a good master and been many months in his company —
must therefore, God willing, be another like himself. Long live
he and long live I, since he'll not lack empires to rule or I
islands to govern. '

' Right you are, Sancho friend,' said the duke, ' for in the name
of Senor Don Quijote I offer you a spare one of mine of no poor
quality. ' ' On your knees, my son, and kiss his excellency's
feet for the favour done you. ' Sancho obeyed, but the cleric,
thrown into fury by this, rose from the table and exclaimed :
' By the habit I wear, I am forced to call your excellency as
great a dunce as these two sinners. Well may they be mad
when the sane further their folly. With them let your worship
flock, for while they continue in this house I shall keep to mine,
sparing myself the pains of censuring what I cannot cure.' And
without a word or mouthful more he left the room, despite his
host's entreaties, though the duke to be sure didn't say much,
prevented by his amusement at the other's foolish rage. He at
length checked his laughter however and said to Don Quijote :

' Your worship, Sir Knight of the Lions, has answered so
adequately in your own defence that there's no occasion to seek
further satisfaction for what after all is no grievance. Though it
seemed one, ecclesiastics can no more give offence than women,
as your worship knows better than L ' ' True, and the reason
is that he that cannot suffer offence cannot give it. Women,
children and the clergy, since they cannot defend themselves,
cannot receive insult, for between insult and injury there's this

XXXII THE WASHING OF BEARDS 441

difference, as your excellency knows belter than I : an insult
can only come from those capable of giving it and that do so
give and maintain it, while an injury can come from any person
and yet may not insult. For example : a man is idly standing in
the street, ten armed men come up and give him one ; he draws
sword and returns the compliment ; but the great odds defeat his
desire, which was to avenge himself. Such a man suffers injury
but no insult. Take again the instance of a man with his back
turned ; along comes another and lets him have it somewhere,
and then takes to his heels before the first can catch him. This
again is a case of injury but no insult, for an insult has to be
maintained. If he that gave the blow, though he gave it like a
coward, had drawn sword and stood to it, the other would have
been both injured and insulted : injured, in that he was struck
treacherously ; insulted, because his assailant maintained it and
didn't take French leave.

' Ergo, according to the laws of the accursed duel I may have
been injured but I certainly was not insulted, for even as women
and children may not resent or shun anything and cannot stand
their ground, so is it with ecclesiastics. These three classes are
deprived of arms offensive and defensive and therefore cannot
offend, though by nature obliged to defend themselves. A minute
ago I said that I may have suffered injury, but now I say not
even that, for he that cannot receive injury still less can offer it.
And so for all these reasons I could not resent nor do I resent
what this good man said. Mine only regret is that he didn't wait
till I convinced him of his error in thinking and maintaining
that errant knights never existed. Had Amadis or one of his
infinite descendants heard him, I warrant his grace would have
fared ill. '

' I can vouch for that, ' said Sancho : ' they'ld have given him
a sword-cut that would have split him from top to toe like a
pomegranate or over-ripe melon ; they were just the boys for
jokes of that kind. By my halidome, had Rinaldo of Montalvan
heard this little man, I'll take mine oath he'ld have given him
such a slap on the mouth his grace wouldn't have spoken for
three years. Nay, let him interfere with them once and see how

442 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

he leaves their hands. ' The duchess was ready to die with laugh-
ter, for she rejoiced in Sancho, thinking him more daft than his
master. And many at that time agreed with her.

At length the knight calmed down, the dinner ended and the
table was cleared. Four damsels now approached, one with a
silver basin, another with a ewer likewise of silver, the third
with two fine white towels one over each shoulder, and the
fourth with arms bared to the elbow and in her white hands
(for white they must needs have been) a round ball of Neapolitan
soap. The damsel of the basin came forward and in a thoughtless
casual manner clapped the same beneath the beard of Don
Quijote, who, though wondering at this ceremony, spake not a
word, believing it must be the custom in that country instead of
hands to cleanse the beard. He therefore stretched his own out
as far as possible and straightway the ewer rained upon it and
the damsel with the soap made a great to-do in rubbing and
raising flakes of snow (for such the soap-suds seemed) not only
on his beard but over the submissive errant's face and eyes, which
latter he was forced to shut.

The duke and duchess, not being parties to this extraordinary
ablution, wondered what the upshot would be. The barber-
damsel, having raised a handful of lather, pretended there was
no more water and so bade the ewer-damsel fetch some, saying
that Sefior Don Quijote would wait. The other obeyed and the
knight sat there the oddest and most ludicrous sight imaginable.
The onlookers, and there were many,^ did naught but gape and
gape, and beholding that half-yard of neck more than commonly
brown, the closed eyes and the lathered beard, were hard put to
it to control their mirth. The damsels of the trick stood with
unuplifted eyes, not daring to meet those of their master and
mistress, who were moved alternately to laughter and rage, not
knowing whether to punish the girls' insolence or reward them
for the pleasure they afforded. At last the ewer-damsel returned
and when the washing was done, the towel-bearer wiped and
dried with care. All four then made the knight a low and sweep-
fj-^ ing curtsy and were about to leave when the duke, lest his guest
<- perceive the joke, called to her of the bowel : ' Gome now, and

XXXII THE WASHING OF BEARDS 443

wash me, but take care lest the water give out. ' The damsel,
quick to understand and act, arranged the basin as she had for
the knight and all working together made a short clean job of it,
and curtsying left the room. Afterwards it was learned that the
duke swore to himself that if they didn't wash him as they did
the other, he'ld chastise their sauciness — which he now con-
sidered in some part atoned for.

Sancho was a spectator of these ablutionary rites and said to
himself: ' God help me, would 'twere the custom in this land
to wash squires' beards as well as knights ! By Heaven and on
my soul I've great need thereof, though were they to scrape me
with a razor, I should prize it still more. ' ' What do you say,
Sancho?' enquired the duchess. ' I was saying, lady, that at the
courts of other nobles I've always heard tell that on removing
the cloth they pass water for the hands, not lye for the beards.
'Tis well to live long to see much, though they say that he that
liveth long, sufferelh much. But to suffer one of these washings
were pleasure rather than pain. ' ' Don't worry, friend, for I
shall take care that my damsels wash you too, scrub you if need
be. ' ' With my beard I'll rest content, for the present at least.
For the future, God has said what will be. ' ' Mark you the good
Sancho's wants, seneschal, and gratify them to the letter. ' The
seneschal replied that in all things Senor Sancho should be well
served ; and with this he took him to their dinner, leaving at the
table the duke, the duchess and Don Quijote, who talked on
many and among themselves unrelated topics but all bearing on
the exercise of arms and knight-errantry.

The duchess requested Don Quijote to outline and describe
(since he seemed blest with a good memory) the beauty and
features of the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, for according to report
bruited abroad she must be the most beautiful creature on earth,
let alone La Mancha. Don Quijote sighed and said : ' Gould I
pluck out mine heart and lay it in a dish on this table before the
eyes of your grace, my tongue would be spared saying what
hardly will be conceived. Your excellency would then behold
her in her full beauty, but ill can I portray point by point the
loveliness of the peerless one — a task worty of others' shoulders,

444 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

demanding the brush of a Parrhasius, a Timanthus, an Apelles
and the gravers of a Lysippus, to paint and carve her on tablets,
in marble and bronze, with Ciceronian and Demosthenian
eloquence in words to do her justice. ' ' What is Demosthenian,
Senor Don Quijote ? ' interrupted the duchess ; ' I seem never
to have heard it.' ' Demosthenian eloquence means the eloquence
of a Demosthenes, as Ciceronian of a Cicero, these two being
the world's greatest orators.' ' True,' said the duke, ' and 'twas
glaring ignorance on my wife's part not to know. Yet it would
still give us great pleasure did Senor Don Quijote but sketch her
in the rough, for even so I'm sure she'll seem so fair that the
fairest will envy. '

' ' Twould be a pleasure to do this, ' replied the knight, ' had
not her recent disgrace so blurred my impression of Dulcinea
that I incline more to lament than limn her. Your graces should
be informed that when the other day I came to kiss her hands
and receive her blessing, pleasure and license for this my third
sally, I found another than I sought. I found her enchanted and
changed from princess to peasant, from fair to foul, from angel
to devil, from sweet to sour, from courtly to country, from
peaceful to prancing, from light to darkness : in short from
Dulcinea del Toboso to a peasant of Sayago.' ' God help me, '
cried the duke, ' and who could have wrought such mischief in
the world : who could have deprived Dulcinea of the beauty
that gladdened, the manner that delighted, not to speak of the
modesty that did her such credit ? '

' Who ? ' replied his guest ; ' who but one of the many and
wicked envious enchanters that persecute me ? the cursed crew !
born in the world to obscure and efface the deeds of the good
and to brighten and enhance those of the wicked. Enchanters
have persecuted, enchanters still and will persecute me until
they sink me and my high chivalries into the depths of oblivion.
They wound and work me harm where most I feel it : for to
deprive an errant of his lady-love is to take from him the eyes
wherewith he sees, the sun that gives him light, and that whereby
he sustains himself and lives. Oft and oft have I said and now
I say again, that the knight without a love is a tree without

XXXII THE WASHING OF BEARDS 44fi

leaves, a building without foundation, a shadow with substance. '
' There's no more to be said,' declared the duchess ; ' but if the
history of Senor Don Quijote, which not long since came forth
to the light of the world, meeting with such general applause,
is to be credited, one would infer, if my memory serve me, that
your worship has never seen Dulcinea, because there's no such
lady in the world ; in fact that she's a fantastic being, a creature
of your imagination, painted with all the charms and perfections
you desired. ' ' On this question much might be said, ' replied
Don Quijote ; ' God knows whether or no there's a Dulcinea in
the world, real or imaginary : these are not things whose truth
can be proven. I neither engendered my lady nor brought her
forth, but simply think her as she needs must be, as one whose
parts can make her famous in all those of the world : beautiful
without blemish, distinguished without pride, tender and yet
modest, gracious from courtesy and courteous from good-breed-
ing ; last of all, noble of lineage, for with family as a background
beauty shines forth and excels with more degrees of excellence
than with the fair of lowly birth. '

' True, ' said the duke, ' but will Seiior Don Quijote allow me
to say what, having read the history of his exploits, I am forced
to suggest, namely, that, granting there is a Dulcinea in el
Toboso or out of it and that she is marvellously beautiful as
your worship would have us believe, her lineage surely cannot
match the Orianas, Alastraj^reas, Madasimas and others of that
stripe with whom, as you well know, the histories abound. '
' To this I can only say that Dulcinea is the daughter of her
works, that goodness corrects the blood and that an humble
virtuous person is more to be honoured than a vicious exalted
one. The more that my lady has within what can make her a
crowned and sceptred queen, since the merit of a fair and worthy
woman can work even greater miracles, and virtually, though
not formally, Dulcinea has in her very nature the promise of a
better than her present lot. '

' I confess, ' now ventured the duchess, ' that in all your wor-
ship says you go sounding your way lead in hand, and henceforth
I shall believe and make my household, the duke himself if

446 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

necessary, believe, that Dulcinea del Toboso is and is beautiful
and nobly born, and what is the most I can and know how to
say of her, is worthy the service of such a knight as Senor Don
Quijote. Yet I cannot help entertaining one scruple and harbour-
ing something almost of bitterness against your squire, and that
is that when on your behalf he brought this Dulcinea a letter, he
found her winnowing a sack of wheat, and more by token he
says 'twas red wheat — a circumstance that makes me question
her family-rank. '

To this doubt of his hostess the knight replied : ' My lady,
your highness must know that all or most things that befall me
are beyond the pale of the common experience of knights-errant,
being so directed by the inscrutable will of the fates or by the
malice of some envious enchanter. And 'tis a truth long verified
that all or most famed and errant knights have graces peculiar
to th^emselves : one the gift of not being enchanted ; another the
being fashioned of such inpenetrable flesh as to be invulnerable.
For example it is related of the famous Roland, one of the
Twelve Peers of France, that he was proof against wounds save
through the sole of his left foot by means of a stout pin, so
when Bernardo del Garpio worsted him at Roncesvalles, finding
that he resisted every weapon and bethinking him of how Her-
cules strangled the fell giant Antaeus, putative son of Terra, he
lifted and hugged him to death between his arms. From all this
I would declare that possibly I also possess some certain charm,
not invulnerability, since experience has oft shown me that my
flesh is penetrable and soft, nor of being enchantment-proof, for
once I found myself locked in a cage where all the world had not
been sufliciently powerful to thrust me.

' Since I freed myself from that spell however, I am tempted
to believe no other exists that can harm me, and my enchanters,
seeing they cannot work their low tricks on me, methinks avenge
themselves on what I most love, defrauding me of life by per-
secuting that of Dulcinea by whom I live. Ergo, when my squire
carried her my missive, they changed her into a peasant, and
one engaged in the menial pastime of winnowing wheat, though
I've always held that this particular wheat was not red or even

XXXII THE WASHING OF BEARDS 447

wheat, but grains of orient pearl. In furtlier proof of my main
contention I would say to your graces that when a while back we
arrived at el Toboso, the palaces of her ladyship were not to be
found, and though the day following she appeared to Sancho in
her proper and most beautiful figure, to me she looked like
nothing so much as a coarse country -wench, and not at all a
well-spoken one, whereas really she's the wit of the world. And
since I am not enchanted and presumably a second time cannot
be, she must be the enchanted one, the injured, the transformed,
the changed and changed about. On her mine enemies have
avenged themselves and in perpetual sorrow shall I live till
again I behold her in her pristine state.

' All this have I said that no notice be taken of what Sancho
reported of the sifting and winnowing, for inasmuch as she's
transformed for me, 'twere no wonder if for him as well. My
lady-fair is noble and well-born and comes of the gentle families
of el Toboso, which are many, ancient and reputable. Certainly
no slight praise is Dulcinea's and her village will be as famed and
celebrated in future ages for her as Troy has been for Helen and
Spain for La Cava, though with better reason and report than
these. Furthermore I would have your worships understand that
Sancho Panza is the most delightful squire that ever served
knight-errant. At times he betrays such clever simplicities that
the weighing whether he is simple or clever causes not a little
diversion. He has wicked ways that condemn him for a rogue
and incivilities that confi.rm him for a booby. He doubts all and
believes everything. When I think he's about to fall headlong
into nonsense, he outs with some word of wisdom that raises
him to the skies. In short I wouldn't exchange him though they
gave me a city to boot.

' I am thus left in doubt whether or no 'twere well to send him
frp that government your worship has bestowed, though I mark
i^i him a certain aptitude therefor, which with a little trimming of
Ms understanding should make him succeed as well as the king
dd<es with his taxes : the more since after many experiments we
hav6 come to appreciate that neither great capacity nor much
learning is needed in a governor, when there are a hundred

448 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

hereabouts that scarce can read, and yet rule like jail-birds. The
great requisite is good intention and the constant desire to act
uprightly, for there'll always be someone to set them straight,
even as with illiterate knights, who, acting as governors, rule by
proxy. I shall counsel my squire never to take a bribe or desert
the right, together with other things at present lying in my
stomach, to come out at the proper time for his use and the
benefit of the isle. '

The conversation had reached this point when they heard a
loud noise and many voices, and soon Sancho came rushing in,
all in a fright, wearing a dish-cloth for a bib, and behind him
many servants, or better say kitchen-knaves and other trash,
one of whom bore a little trough full of water whose colour and
consistency betokened dish-water. This one was chasing the
squire and trying to clap the trough upon his beard, which
another of the varlets was anxious to wash. ' What, what, boys !
what is this ! ' exclaimed the duchess ; ' what will you of this
good man? have you forgot he's a governor-elect?' To this the
scullion-barber replied : ' The gentleman refuses to have his
beard washed as is the custom and as the duke and his master
had theirs. '

' I don't refuse, ' protested Sancho in great anger, ' but I want
it done with cleaner towels, clearer water and less dirty hands.
There's no such difference 'twixt me and master that they should
wash him with angel-water and me with devil's lye. The customs
of countries and palaces are well enough in so far as they don't
arouse disgust, but the method of cleaning that obtains here is
worse than that of the flogging-penitents. My beard is decent
enough and needs not such refreshment, and "he that comes to
wash me or touch a hair of my head, of my beard that is, speak-
ing with all respect I'll leave my fist in his skull. Girimonies and
soapings of this sort look more like practical jokes than thf
entertainment of guests. '

The duchess was highly amused on seeing the anger an^
hearing the answer of the squire, but it gave his master litlfle
pleasure to see him so foully decked with the many-coloisred
towel and surrounded by such a rout of scullions. First ni^^king

XXXII THE WASHING OF BEARDS 449

a low bow, as if for license to speak, he calmly said to the dogs :
' Ho, there, gentlemen, let that lad be and get ye gone whence
ye came, or elsewhere if it please you, for my squire is as decent
as the next fellow and these little troughs are as distasteful to
him as a small drinking-cup would be. Take my advice and let
him alone, for neither of us is good at taking jokes. ' Sancho
caught the speech from his mouth and continued it saying : ' Ay,
let them not come to fool with the vagabond, for I'll put up
with it as much as 'tis now night. Let them fetch a comb or
what they will and curry me this beard, and should they find
one little thing that offends against cleanliness, they can shear
,me cross-wise. '

Upon this, the duchess, still with signs of merriment, said :
' Sancho Panza is right and always will be. He is clean and as
he says doesn't need washing ; if our custom offends him, his
soul is his own, especially since you, ministers of purity, have
been too reckless and remiss in offering such a person and
beard troughs of wood and pantry dish-clouts, instead of foun-
tains and ewers of pure gold. You are wicked, base-born creatures
and, scoundrels that you are, must wreak your bad passions on
squires of knights-errant. ' The scullion-crew, and even the
seneschal, who was one of them, believed their mistress spoke
seriously, and put to confusion and ashamed of themselves they
took the bib off Sancho and retreated from the room.

As soon as Panza found himself free of that seeming great
peril, he knelt before the duchess saying : ' From great ladies
great favours are expected : this that your worship has done me
can never be repaid with less than desiring to see myself dubbed
a knight-errant, that I may spend all my days in serving your
supreme highness. But I am naught but a peasant, my name
Sancho Panza ; I am married, have children, and work at being
a squire ; if with any of these I can aid your majesty, I shall
take less time in obeying than you in asking. ' ' It is evident
you have learned to be courteous in the school of courtesy
itself; 'she replied ; ' in other words that you have been nurt-
ured at the breasts of Don Quijote, who should be the cream of
politeness and the flower of all cirimonies as you call them.

450 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Blessings on such a lord and such a servant, one the pole of
knight-errantry, the other the star of squirely faithfulness. Rise,
friend Sancho, and in return for your courtesy I shall see that as
soon as possible the duke bestows the promised favour of an
isle. '

With this, their talk came to an end and Don Quijote retired
for the siesta. The duchess told Sancho that, should he not care
about sleeping, he could pass the afternoon in a cool hall with
her and her damsels. Sancho replied that though as a matter of
fact he was apt to sleep four or five hours siesta in the summer,
to please her goodness he would try to keep awake and follow
obedient to her wishes. The duke gave new orders as to how
Don Quijote should be treated : not to omit one point from the
style with which errant knights are said to have been treated of
old.

CHAPTER XXXIII

The succulent discourse that passed 'twixt the duchess

and her damsels on the one side and Sancho Panza

on the other, worthy to be read and noted

THE history tells us then that Sancho didn't sleep that siesta
but in fulfilment of his word went to visit with the duchess,
who by reason of her great pleasure in hearing him talk made
him sit on a low chair beside her, though Sancho as a good
servant would rather have stood. His hostess however said that
as a governor he must be seated, though he still should talk as a
squire ; as both he deserved no less than the bench of Gid Ruy
Diaz, the Gampeador. Sancho shrugged his shoulders and sat
down and all the duennas and damsels surrounded him, waiting
in silence to hear what he would say. But the duchess began the
conversation :

' Now that we are alone and there's none to overhear us, I
would that sir governor settle certain doubts of mine, born of
the story of the great Don Quijote de La Mancha already in

XXXIII THE DUCHESS AND SANCHO 451

print. One of these scruples is, how came it that when the good
Sancho never saw Dalcinea, the lady Dulcinea del Toboso I
should say, and never brought her master's letter, which was left
in the memorandum-book in the Sierra Morena, how came it I
ask that he had the impudence to feign a reply and say that he
found her winnowing wheat, which was all trumped up, and not
only greatly to the prejudice of the peerless one's reputation but
quite out of keeping with the fashion and fidelity of good squires. '
At these words without attempting reply Sancho rose and quietly
with body bent and finger on lips walked about the room
lifting the curtains, and then, this done, sat down again and
said :

' Now that I've seen that none save these bystanders is listen-
ing, without fear or fright I'll answer what has been asked me,
my lady, and all that may be asked in the future. The first thing
I say is that I hold my master Don Quijote mad, stark-naked
mad, though occasionally he says things that, in my opinion
and indeed in the opinion of all that hear them, are so shrewd
and travel such a good track that Satan himself couldn't go better.
At the same time, truly and once for all, I've made up my mind
he is crazy. And with this in my 'magination I dare make him
believe things that have neither head nor foot, such as the reply
to his letter and that other matter of six or eight days standing,
which is not in the history as yet. I refer to the enchantment
of my lady Dulcinea. I led him to think she was under a
spell, though such is no more the case than over the hills of
Ubeda. '

The duchess asked to be informed, so Sancho described it
exactly as it had passed, to the no small pleasure of his audience,
and continuing the conversation the duchess said : ' As a result
of what the good Sancho has been telling me, a certain question
keeps bobbing up and down within me and a certain voice keeps
whispering in mine ear saying : ' If Don Quijote de La Mancha is
mad, witless and a fool, and Sancho Panza his squire, knowing
it, still serves and follows him and waits agog on his empty
promises, obviously he must be more mad and foolish than his
master. If that be true, as it is, 'twill be a bad story for thee.

452 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

mistress duchess, if to such a Sancho you give an isle to govern,
for he that cannot rule himself, how shall he others ? ' ' 'Fore
God, lady, but this scruple is well born, and your worship can
ask it to speak right out or as it pleases, for I know 'tis telling
the truth, and that had I my wits about me, I should have
deserted my master days ago. But this is my fate and my mis-
fortune : I have to follow him, I cannot do more. We belong to
the same village, I have eaten his bread, I love and owe him
much, he gave me the ass-colts, and above all I am faithful. So
it's impossible for aught to separate us, save he of the pick and
shovel.

' If your haughtiness refuse me the promised isle, God made
me for less, and maybe withholding it will prove to the good of
my soul, for though a clown I know the meaning of the proverb
that says. To her own hurt had the emmet wings. It well may be
that Sancho the squire would go to Heaven sooner than Sancho
the governor. They bake as good bread here as in France and by
night all cats look grey. Unlucky the man that hasn't broken
fast by two in the afternoon, and no stomach is a band larger
than another, which can be filled, as the saying is, with hay and
straw. The little birds of the field have God to care for them,
and four yards of Guenca baize will warm you better than four
of Segovia broadcloth. In quitting this world for the grave the
prince goes by as narrow a path as the peasant, and the pope
takes up no more room than the verger, though one be taller
than the other, for entering the pit we ihust all shrink and fit, or
they make us in our spite ; and good-night I say. If your worship
refuse the island to me as a fool, I shall know how not to care a
fig like a wise man. And I've heard say the devil lurks behind
the Gross, that all is not gold that glitters, that from his oxen,
ploughs and yokes they took the farmer Wamba to be king of
Spain and that from his silks and good times and riches they
took King Roderick to be eaten of serpents, if the verses of the
old ballads do not lie. '

' How can they, ' exclaimed the duenna Rodriguez, one of the
listeners, ' when there's a ballad that tells us in so many words
that they put the king alive in a tomb full of toads, snakes and

ZXXIII THE DUCHESS AND SANCHO 453

lizards, and that two days later in low and pitiful voice he was

heard to cry :

Now they eat me, now they eat me,
In the part I sinned the most,

Very right, therefore, is this gentlemen in saying held rather be
peasant than king, if vermin are to eat him. ' The duchess could
not but smile ; nor had her wonder ceased at the words and
wisdom of Sancho, to whom now she said :

' The good Sancho already knows that what a knight once
promises he tries to fulfil, though it cost him.his4ife; The duke,
my k)rd and husband, though not of the wanderers, is a knight
none the less and will keep his word with regard to the promised
isle in spite of the envy and malice of the world. Let Sancho be
of good cheer, for when least he thinks he'll find himself seated
in the saddle of his island-state, clutching his governorship,
which may he reject for another of three-bordered brocade. And
let him look well to how he governs, remembering that all his
vassals are loyal and well-born. ' ' In this matter of gdvierning
well,' replied Sancho, ' no warning is needed, for I am Charitable
by nature and have compassion for the poor. There's no stealing
the loaf from him that kneads and bakes, and by my halidome
let them throw no loaded dice with me for I am an old dog and
on to their ' hist, hist. ' I can keep sharp lookout on occasion
and no cobwebs will be spun over my eyes : I know where the
shoe pinches. I say this becau^ at my hands the good shall have
both favour and influence and the evil neither welcome nor good
wishes. In this affair of governing methinks the beginning is
everything, and who knows but that after a fortnight I shall
smack my lips over it and know more about ruling than of field-
work, to which I was reared. '

' You are right, Sancho ; none is born sword in hand and 'tis
out of men, not stones, bishops are made. But reverting to the
matter touched upon a few moments ago, the enchantment of
Dulcinea, I regard it as a certainty and more than proven that
all the make-believe resorted to by Sancho to deceive his master,
making him think the peasant-girl Dulcinea, was in reality the
work of one of the many magicians that persecute Don Quijote.

434 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

If he failed to recognise her 'twas because she was enchanted,
for verily I have it from a reliable source that the wench that
sprang onto the she-ass was and is Dulcinea del Toboso, and that
the good Sancho, thinking to be deceiver, was himself deceived,
and there is no more doubt about this than of anything under
the sun. Secondly, let Master Panza realise that we also have
enchanters, who both wish us well and keep us posted as to
what goes on in the world, telling us in few and plain words
without fraud or confusion. So believe me that the bouncing lass
was and is Dulcinea, who is as enchanted indeed as the mother
that bore her, but whom when least we think it we shall again
behold in her proper form. And then Sancho shall be rid of the
delusion under which he lives. '

' All this may easily be, ' confessed Sancho, • and it inclines
me to take stock in what my master says he witnessed in the cave
of Montesinos, since he vows he saw the lady Dulcinea in the
very same guise and habit in which I said I saw her, the time
I enchanted her for mine own pleasure. All may be the reverse,
as your ladyship informs us, since it cannot and should not be
expected of my mean wit that it originate so clever an artifice,
nor do I think my master mad enough to swallow, simply
through my meagre and flimsy persuasion, a thing so open to
suspicion. But not on this account were it well that your good-
ness set me down as a mischief-monger, since a clown like me
is not supposed to ferret out the thoughts and spitefulnesses of
naughty magicians. 1 concocted that business to escape my
master's scolding and with no intent of working him harm. If it
has turned out otherwise, God's in his Heaven and judges our
hearts. '

' True,' agreed the duchess, ' but tell me, Sancho, what is this
you say of the cave of Montesinos ? 'twould interest me to hear.'
The squire then related step by step all that has been writ of
that adventure, and when he had done the duchess remarked :
' Since the great Don Quijote says he saw down there the very
lass Sancho saw outside el Toboso, it may be inferred that surely
she was Dulcinea — enchanters are not idle hereabouts, nay
a little overbusy I should say. ' ' I too, ' echoed Panza, ' but

XXXIII THE DUCHESS AND SANCHO 455

if my lady really is enchanted, I'm sorry for her, though it's not
for me to meddle with my master's enemies, who must be nu-
merous and very devils. Let the truth stand that what I saw was
a country-wench, and country-wench I took and judged her to
be. If that was Dulcinea, 'tis not to be laid at my door : don't look
to me, 'tis no affair of mine. Let them not come nagging at every
step with, Tell me and I'll tell you, and their, Sancho said so, or,
'Twas Sancho that did it, or, Sancho went and Sancho came,
as though I were any old person and not the Panza that is trav-
elling in books all over the world, according to Samson Carrasco,
who has been bachelored by Salamanca, and such folk can never
lie, except when it pleases them or they find it to their advantage.
So there's naught to pick a quarrel about with me. And seeing
I stand in good odour, and as a good name according to my
master is more to be desired than great riches, let them case me
this goverment and they shall see marvels ; for he that has been
a good squire will make a good governor. '

' All that honest Sancho has here said, ' remarked the duchess,
' are Catonian sentences or at least drawn from the very heart
of Michael Verino, that perished in his pride. Indeed, indeed,
speaking after your own fashion, Under a rough coat may be
found a good drinker. ' ' Believe me, lady, in all my life I never
drank from wickedness ; from thirst, yes — I have naught of the
hypocrite about me. I drink when I feel like it, and even when
I don't, if they hand it to me, that I may not appear squeamish
or ill-bred. When they toast a friend, what heart so marble that
will not pledge him? But though I wear shoes, I don't muddy
them. More by token, squires to knights-errant usually drink
water, since their road ever lies through wood and dale, over
mountain and crag, without a pittance of wine though they gave
an eye for it. '

' I can well believe it,' sympathised the duchess, ' and now let
Sancho go rest a while. Later we shall speak more at large and
give orders that he soon may be cased, as he calls it, with that
government. ' Sancho again kissed the hands of the duchess,
whom he prayed that good care should be taken of Dapple, the
light of his eyes. ' What Dapple is this ?' she queried. ' Mine

456 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

ass ; but not to call him so I usually speak of him as Dapple.
When I first entered this castle, I requested the lady duenna here
to see to him, but she flared up as though I had called her old
and ugly, whereas duennas should attend to asses more naturally
and properly than bear sway in halls. So help me God ! and how
ill did a certain gentleman of our village take to these ladies. '
' He would be some good-for-nothing then, ' retorted Dona
Rodriguez ; ' were he a gentleman and of good birth, he would
set them above the horn of the moon. '

' Gome, come, ' rebuked the duchess ; ' let Dona Rodriguez
hold her tongue and Master Panza rest at ease, leaving to my
care the entertainment of Dapple, which as Sancho's jewel I'll
set above the apples of mine eyes, ' ' 'Tis enough if he be in the
stable, ' said Sancho, ' for neither he nor his master is worthy
for a moment to be over your ladyship's eyes, and I should as
little think of it as to stick me with a poniard. My master says
that in politeness 'tis better to lose by a card too many than too
few, but I say that when it comes to beasts and asses one should
walk with compass in hand and in measured bounds. ' ' Take
the animal with you to your government, Sancho, and there he
can be entertained as you wish, and even be released from his
usual labours. ' ' Let your worship not think you've said some-
thing foolish, ' declared the squire, ' for I have seen more than
two asses go to governorships ; so 'twould be nothing novel for
me to take mine. ' The words of Sancho renewed in the duchess
her eagerness and delight, and sending him to his rest she went
to make the duke acquainted with his visit. The two then
arranged and gave orders for a jest, and a rare one, to be played
upon Don Quijote, fitting well with the fashions of chivalry, and
before the end many pranks of this kind were practised, so
suitable and clever as to be judged the best adventures of this
great history.

XXXIV THE HUNT 457

CHAPTER XXXIV

A way is discovered of disenchanting the peerless Dulcinea,
being among the most famous adventures of this book

GREAT was the pleasure of the duke and duchess in the con-
versation of Don Quijote and his squire, and carrying out
their intention of playing a few jests upon them by way of mock-
adventures they chose as a motive of one what the knight told
of having seen in the cave of Montesinos. What the duchess
marvelled at more than that tale was that Sancho's simplicity
was so simple that he had come to believe Dulcinea really and
truly enchanted, though himself had been the projector and en-
chanter of that whole affair. And so, having given orders to their
servants for all that was to be done, six days later they took
our knight on a hunting-party, accompanied by as great an array
of hunters and beaters as a crowned head could summon. They
offered their guest an appropriate suit and another of the finest
green cloth to Sancho. Don Quijote declined his, saying that on
the morrow he was to return to the laborious exercise of arms
and wished not to be hampered with wardrobes or furnishings
of any kind. But Sancho ? yes, he took what they gave him,
hoping for an early opportunity to put it up for sale.

"When the long-looked-for day arrived, the knight assumed his
armour, the squire his new suit, mounted his Dapple whom he
refused to leave behind, declining a proffered horse, and both
mingled with the hunters. The duchess was gorgeously decked
out and in pure courtesy Don Quijote led her palfrey by the
bridle, though the duke would have waived this attention. In
time they arrived at a wood lying between two high mountains,
and here, when the stations were assigned, the toils and snares
laid and the people distributed on their various beats, the hunt
began with great noise, shouting and hallooing, till one couldn't
be heard amid the barking of dogs and blowing of horns. The

458 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

duchess alighted and holding a sharp spear took her stand in an
ambush whence she knew the wild boars were won't to issue.
The duke and Don Quijote did the same, posting themselves
on either side, with Sancho drawing up the rear, still sitting on
Dapple whom he dared not forsake lest harm befall him.

Scarce had they taken their positions, with their many servants
on either wing, when they saw rushing toward them, hard
pressed by dogs and huntsmen, a huge boar, gnashing his teeth
and tusks and tossing foam from his mouth. At once, embracing
his shield and clapping hand to sword Don Quijote advanced to
receive him. The duke followed his example with a hunting-
spear, but the duchess would have outstripped them both, had
not the duke prevented her. But Sancho, seeing the valiant
beast, abandoned Dapple and took to his heels. As he tried to
squirm a high oak for safety, when half-way up his luck turned
against him — the branch he held broke and he in his fall, caught
by a snub, couldn't reach bottom. Finding himself in this plight
and that his green coat was tearing, fearing too lest the savage
boar might come his way, the squire shouted for help with such
ardour that all that heard and saw him not believed him already
in the jaws of a wild-beast.

The tusky boar was at length transfixed by the many opposing
javelins, and Don Quijote, attending to the cries of Sancho,
whom he recognised through them, saw him hanging head down,
his ass beside, who forsook him not in his scath. And Gid Hamet
adds that rarely did he see Sancho Panza without Dapple or
Dapple without Sancho : such their mutual faith and friendship.
The knight coming up released the other who, finding himself
free and standing, gazed at the tear in his hunting-suit, grieved
to the soul, thinking that in that garment he had possessed an
inheritance. They now laid the heavy boar upon a mule and
covering it with sprigs of rosemary and branches of myrtle
brought him as the spoil of victory to some large field-tents
raised in the midst of the wood, where they found tables set
and so large and sumptuous a feast that one could not fail to
recognise the lavishness of the provider.

Showing the rents of his torn vestment Sancho said to the

XXXIV THE HUNT 459

duchess : • Had this hunt been for hares or little birds, my coat
had been spared this extremity. I can't see what sport there is
in watching for an animal that, if he but touch you with his tusk,
takes your life. I remember to have heard an old ballad running :

The bears may gulp you down
Like Favila of renown. '

' Favila was a Gothic king, ' volunteered his master, ' who on a
hunt was eaten by a bear. ' ' Just my point, ' said Sancho : ' that
I think it wrong for princes and kings to run such risks for the
sake of a little pleasure, which apparently is none, since it con-
sists in killing an innocent animal. '

' In this you are mistaken, Sancho, ' said the duke, ' for the
exercise of hunting is of all others the most seemly and suitable
for kings and princes. The chase is an image of war : therein,
without too great personal danger, are stratagems, crafts and
snares for the defeat of the enemy. In its practice are endured
biting cold and insufferable heat ; sloth and drowsiness are cast
behind ; the bodily powers are strengthened and the limbs made
supple. In fine, 'tis a pursuit to be enjoyed to the hurt of
none and the delight of many. And the best of it is, 'tis not for
all men, but unlike other sports save falconry is reserved for
kings and great lords. Therefore, my good Sancho, you must
change your opinion and when you are governor, engage in the
chase, and you'll see that one loaf is as good as a hundred. '

' Never, ' quoth the squire ; ' the good governor and the
broken leg abide at home. 'Twould be a pretty thing if people
came foot-sore to see me on business and I off enjoying myself;
at that rate mine island would go to the devil. Upon my word,
sir, hunting and pastimes are more for good-for-nothings than
governors. The way I think to amuse myself is by playing brag
at Easter and bowls on Sundays and fStes. Your chases and races
don't tally with my conscience or agree with my constitution. '
' Please God, may it be so, ' said the other, ' but 'twixt saying
and doing there's great space. ' ' Let there be what there will,
pledges never worry a good paymaster, and he whom God helps
is better off than he that rises early. 'Tis the belly that carries

460 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

the feet and not the feet the belly. My meaning is, that if God
be on my side and I do what I should and with good purpose,
sure I'll govern better than a jail-bird. Nay, let them put their
finger in my mouth and see if I bite it or no. '

' May God and all his saints confound you, accursed man, '
quoth his master ; ' when will the day come, as often I ask,
when you will speak coherently and without refrains ? Prithee,
your worships, take no notice of this fool, or he'll grind your
souls, not 'twixt two only but two thousand proverbs, dragged
in as fitly to the time and season as — so help him God or me,
if I wish to hear another one ! ' ' Sancho's proverbs, ' claimed
the duchess, ' thoughl more in number than the Greek Com-
mander's, are none the less to be prized for the brevity of
their wit. For myself I can say that they give greater pleasure
than any that may be more aptly applied or more seasonably
introduced. '

With this and similar engaging talk they left the tent for the
wood, where they passed the afternoon in visiting the hunters'
posts and ambuscades. Night descended nor so clear or serene
as might have been expected of this the middle of summer, but
it brought with it a kind of visible darkness that greatly assisted
their worships' project. Thus, as the night closed in and a little
before dusk, suddenly it seemed as if the whole forest were afire
and from far and near were heard countless cornets and other
martial instruments, as if many troops of cavalry approached.
The blaze of fire and blare of instruments well-nigh stunned the
ears and sealed the eyes of our little company, indeed of all in
the wood. Straightly they heard numberless cries of iliah ilia
'liah, even as cry the Moors on entering battle. The trumpets and
clarions blared, the kettle-drums resounded, the fifes whistled,
all in unison and so vehemently and without remission that he
must have had no senses that didn't lose them. The duke was
astounded, the duchess amazed, Don Quijote wondered, Sancho
Panza quaked, and even those privy to the cause held their
breath. Fear silenced all, when straight a postilion in devil's
attire rode past, blowing in lieu of a cornet a huge hollow
ox-horn, giving forth a horrid and raucus resonance.

XXXIV THE HUNT 46i

' Ho there, brother courier, ' cried the duke, ' who are you
and whither bouad ? what warlike nation is this, marching
through the wood?' And the courier in hideous and devil-may-
care tones replied : ' I am the evil one and go in search of Don
Quijote de La Mancha. The rabblement that pours this way are
six troops of enchanters, bearing on a triumphal car the peerless
Dulcinea del Toboso. Enchanted she comes with that elegant
Frenchman, Montesinos, to instruct said knight how she may
be freed from her charm. ' Upon this the errant in question
accosted him : ' Were you the devil as you say and your aspect
declares, you'ld have recognised him of La Mancha, since he
stands before you.' ' 'Fore God and on my conscience,' replied
the demon, ' I didn't notice him, for my thoughts are parcelled
out among so many things that I overlooked the chief one that
sent me hither.' ' Truly, ' said Sancho, ' this devil must be a
good man and a good Christian or he'ld not have sworn 'fore
God and on his conscience. Methinks there must be worthy folk
even in hell. '

The demon without dismounting directed his gaze at Don Qui-
jote saying : ' To you. Knight of the Lions (and may I see you
in their jaws), the unlucky but courageous Montesinos sends me,
bidding me ask on his behalf that you abide in the very spot
where I find you, by reason that he has with him one Dulcinea
del Toboso, and wishes to inform you what is needful to her
disenchantment. Since no more was mine errand, no more shall
be my rest. May demons like myself abide with you and good
angels with these their highnesses. ' Therewith he blew his
outrageous horn and departed, nor stopped for reply. Aston-
ishment again fell upon all, the knight and squire in particular :
upon Sancho in seeing that maugre the truth they would have
it that Dulcinea was enchanted, upon Don Quijote in his doubt
as to all that befell him in the cave. While lifted in these thoughts,
he was addressed by the duke : ' Will you wait, Senor Don
Quijote? ' ' Why not? here I'll abide fearless and strong though
all hell stir against me.' ' But as for me,' quoth Sancho, ' if I see
another devil aud hear another horn like the last, I'll abide here
as soon as in Flanders. '

462 DON QUUOTE DE L,A MANCHA II

By this hour darkness reigned and many lights commenced to
fliclter through the wood, much as the earth's dry exhalations
dart across the sky, like shooting stars. At the same breath was
heard a rumbling as of heavy ox-cart wheels, at whose harsh
ceaseless creaking wolves and bears are said to flee. On top of all
and adding to the general fury rose another tempest as of battles
and engagements in all parts of the forest, for here could be heard
the booming thunder of terrific artillery, yonder the discharge
of countless muskets, almost at hand rang the shouts of com-
batants, while at a distance echoed the Moslem war-cry. Cornets,
clarions, horns, trumpets, kettledrums, cannon, muskets and
above all the dreadful grating of the wagons, together made such
pandemonium that Don Quijote had to steel his heart to with-
stand it. Sancho's fell to earth and sent him fainting to the skirt
of the duchess, who quickly ordered water thrown in his face.

He revived just as a wagon with creaking wheels drew up
before them. It was drawn by four po^nderous oxen, each cov-
ered with black trappings and carrying on his horns a blazing
wax-torch. On the high seat sat a venerable gaffer with beard
whiter than snow extending below his waist and clad in long
flowing robe of black buckram (as the wagon was decked with
countless lights, 'twas easy to make out all it contained). It was
guided by a pair of hideous demons, likewise clad in buckram
and with such monstrous faces that Sancho, having once glimpsed
them, closed his eyes that he might never do so again. The old
man, now rising from his high seat, cried in loud voice : ' 1 am
the sage Lirgandeo ; ' and the car moved on without his speaking
more.

Soon came another wagon of the same type and an old man
enthroned, who, causing the chariot to slow down, in a voice no
less formidable than the other cried : ' I am the sage Alquife,
great friend of Urganda the unknown ; ' and passed on. In the
same manner arrived a third, but seated on this throne was
not an aged man but a lusty one with an evil eye, and he on his
arrival rose to his feet, saying in voice more harsh and wicked
than the others : ' I am the enchanter Arcalaus, mortal enemy
to Amadis of Gaul and all his tribe ; ' yet he too passed on.

XXXV dulcinea's disenchantment 463

These three wagons moved a little to one side and, halting, eased
the harrowing stridor of their wheels. And straight was heard,
not more noise, but the sound of sweet harmonious music,
whereby Sancho was made glad. Taking it for good omen he
said to the duchess to whom he was still sewed : ' Where there
is music, lady, there can be no ill. ' ' Nor where are lights and
splendour, ' she replied. And Sancho returned : ' Fire gives light
and bonfires splendour to be sure, as we see even now, but they
I fear will scorch us ; whereas music is ever the symbol of
feasting and joy. ' ' We shall see, ' said Don Quijote, who had
overheard all. And he said well, as the following chapter will
show.

CHAPTER XXXV

Dulcinea's disenchantment continued and coupled with
other rare passages

THEY saw that there now came toward them to the measure
of the delightful music a triumphal car, drawn by six grey
mules covered with white linen, whereon rode penitents of light,
covered with the same and in their hands carrying large blazing
tapers. This car was twice or even three times the size of the
former, and in front and along the sides thereof came twelve
other penitents white as snow, all with burning tapers — a sight
that both dazzled and dazed. On a raised throne sat a nymph
clad in a thousand veils of silver-tissue, bespangled with count-
less leaves of gold tinsel, that made her if not rich, at least splend-
idly apparelled. Her face was half concealed by a veil of delicate
sendal, in such wise that, without hindrance from its folds,
through them by the aid of the lights could be seen the beatific
countenance of a maiden, whose years looked not yet twenty
nor less than seventeen. Beside her stood a figure draped to the
feet with a robe called a trailer and the head covered with a
black veil.
The moment the car arrived in front of the duke, duchess and

464 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA I

Don Quijote, the music of the clarions ceased, and soon began
that of liarps and lutes, proceeding from the car. And rising to
his feet the figure of the robe, parting it and removing the veil,
revealed no less a person than Death, fleshless and ugly, for
whom the knight received loathing, Sancho qualms and their
hosts the semblance of fear. In a voice somewhat drowsy and a
tongue not over wide-awake this living Death delivered himself
of the following :

I am that Merlin whom the legends say

The devil had for father, and the lie

Hath gathered credence with the lapse of time.

The prince am I of magic and the king

And keeper of the Zoroastric lore.

To me Toboso's peerless dame did come

And told of her enchantment and disgrace.

I therewith thumbed a hundred thousand books

Of my benighted and bedevilled lore.

And shrinking to this fearsome skeleton

I come to give appropriate remedy.

To thee I say, O hero unextoUed,

That ere thy love regain her pristine stale

Must Sancho on his bared buttocks give

Three thousand and three hundred lashes warm,

To tickle, tire and tease the blowing boor.

The authors of her mishap this resolved

And for this have I come, most worthy sires.

' I here take mine oath, ' quoth Sancho as Merlin finished, ' let
alone three thousand, I shall as soon give myself three lashes
as three dagger-stabs. To the devil with such disenchanting !
what the deuce have my buttocks to do with such things I'ld
like to know. As the Lord liveth and if Mister Merlin can't find
another method, in her spell she can stay till she goes to the
graveyard. ' ' Don countryman stuffed with garlic ! ' cried his
master on hearing this ; ' I shall bind you to a tree naked as your
mother bore you and let alone three thousand three hundred, six
thousand six hundred stripes I'll give, so well laid on they won't
peal off with three thousand three hundred pulls. Don't answer
a word or I'll uproot your very soul. '

• This cannot be, ' said Merlin, ' for the lashes must be of his
own free will and not by force, and at any time it pleases him,

XXXV dulcinea's disenchantment 465

since there's no stated term. Would he redeem the infliction of
half these whippings, he is allowed to turn them over to another
hand, provided it be fairly weighty. ' ' Neither another hand nor
mine own, neither a weighty nor one for weighing nor any hand
at all shall touch me. Did I perchance give birth to the lady that
my buttocks have to pay for the sins of her eyes ? my master,
yes, for she is part of him, since at every step he calls her his
life, his soul, his mainstay and crutch — he can and should whip
himself and suffer all the necessary pains for her disenchantment.
But I to lash myself ? I pronounce it. ' Scarce had Sancho done
when the silver nymph rose to ber feet and removing the light
veil from her face revealed one that seemed to all exceeding
beautiful. With masculine assurance and no very feminine voice,
directing her words to Sancho, she said :

' O wretched squire, soul of pitcher, heart of cork-tree and
bowels of gravel and flint ! had they asked you, thief, to throw
yourself from a high tower or, enemy of the human race, eat a
dozen of toads, two of lizards and three of snakes, or to kill
your wife and children with sharp and murderous scimitar,
'twouldn't be strange if you were squeamish and stubborn. But
to make a to-do about three thousand three hundred lashes,
which no charity-boy however puny doesn't get every month,
amazes, offends and stuns the compassionate bowels of all that
hear it, and indeed of all that shall hear it in the passing of time.
Cast, O miserable and hard-hearted beast, cast I say those tim-
orous owl-eyes of yours on these apples of mine, which have been
compared to flashing stars, and you'll ^ee them weep drop by
drop, globule by globule, making furrows, roads and paths over
the fair fields of my cheeks .

' Let it move you, rogue and plotting monster, that my bloom-
ing youth, still in its teens (for I'm nineteen and not yet twenty),
fadeth and perisheth beneath the coarse rind of a country- wench.
If now I look not like one, 'tis due to the special favour of Senor
Merlin here, that my beauty might melt you : that the tears of
an afflicted fair one might turn crags to cotton and tigers to
lambs. Strike, strike I say, those hams of yours, O wild beast,
and rouse from sluggishness the spirit that moves you to naught

30

466 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

but eat and eat. Liberate the sleekness of my flesh, the gentleness
of my nature, the beauty of my countenance. If for my sake
you'll not soften and be agreable, do so for the poor knight that
stands at your side, your master in other words, whose soul I
see sticking crosswise in his throat, not ten fingers from his lips,
awaiting your answer stern or mild, to issue from his mouth or
return to his stomach. '

On hearing this the knight felt his throat and turning to the
duke said : ' 'Fore God, sir, the lady says true, for here I feel my
soul stuck in my throat like the nut of a crossbow. ' ' What do
you say to this, Sancho ? ' asked the duchess. ' I say, madam,
what I have said, that I denounce the lashes. ' ' Renounce is the
word, ' offered the duke. ' Pray let it be, your highness : now's
no time to look into trifles of a letter more or less, when these
lashes they are going to give me or I am going to give myself
have so flabbergasted me that I don't know what I say or do.
But I should like the lady Dulcinea del Toboso to tell us where
she learned this way of seeking favours. She comes to ask that I
open my flesh with stripes and then calls me soul of pitcher,
wild beast and a streak of other not nice names to which the
devil is welcome.

' Is my body of brass perchance ? or is it aught to me whether
she be disenchanted or no ? What hamper of white linen, of
shirts, handkerchiefs and socks, though I don't wear them, does
she send ahead to soften me, in place of this or that upbraiding,
having heard the proverb they get off in these parts. An ass laden
with gold goes lightly up a mountain, and, Presents break hard
rocks, and, Praying to God and plying the hammer, and, One
take is better than two I'll-give-thees ? Then there's my master,
who ought to be patting me on the back and coaxing me to make
myself wool and carded cotton — all he has to say is that if he
can catch me he'll bind me naked to a tree and double the stake
of lashes. These tender-hearted persons should consider that 'tis
no mere squire they would have thrash himself but a governor :
'tis a case of. Drink and cherries too, as they say. Let them
learn, damn'em, how to seek favours and behave themselves,
for one time is not the same as another, nor are men always in

XXXV dulcinea's disenchantment 467

good humour. Just at present I'm ready to burst with grief at
seeing my green coat all torn ; and yet they come to ask that I
whip myself of mine own free will, which I am as far from doing
as from turning Indian chief. '

'Indeed, friend Sancho, ' declared the duke, 'if you don't
mellow into something softer than a ripe fig, you'll never lay
hands on the gove^ment. A nice thing 'twould be to send mine
islanders a cruel governor with heart like flint, who will yield
neither to tears of afflicted damsels nor to prayers of a wise,
imperious and ancient enchanter and sage. In a word, my friend,
either you'll have to lash yourself, be lashed, or forego the gov-
ernorship. ' ' Senor, replied Panza, ' can they give me two days
to think over which will be the better for me ? ' ' On no account, '
said Merlin ; ' here at this instant on this very spot must be
determined the issue of the business : whether Dulcinea shall
return to the cave of Montesinos to her previous state of peas-
antry, or be borne aloft as she is to the Elysian fields, there
to abide till the number of the lashes be told. ' ' Gome, good
Sancho, ' pleaded the duchess, ' take heart and show yourself
grateful for the bread you have eaten of Senor Don Quijote,
whom all of us are bound to please and serve in return for his
nobleness of character and his worthy chivalries. Say yes to this
flogging, and let the devil take the devil. Fear to the mean man
and a stout heart breaks bad luck, as you yourself know. '

To these reasonings the future governor replied with irrele-
vancies, addressed to Merlin, saying : ' How is it, Senor Merlin,
that the devil-courier came here and gave a message to my master
from Senor Montesinos, bidding him abide till he came with
instructions for Dulcinea's disenchantment, yet so far we haven't
seen his grace or the like of him?' To which Merlin replied :
' The devil, Sancho friend, is a blockhead and great rascal. I sent
him in search of your master with a message from myself not
from Montesinos, who still is in his cave waiting, or better to
say hoping, for his disenchantment, whereof not even the tail
has been flayed as yet. If he owe you aught, or if you have
business to transact with him, I'll fetch him and put him down
wherever you choose. For the present give assent to this

468 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

discipline, and take my word, 'twill be of great benefit both to
soul and body : to your soul by reason of the love it will engen-
der ; to the body, because you are of a sanguine complexion and
won't miss a little blood. '

' Indeed, how many doctors we have in the world : even en-
chanters are turned doctors of late. But since they all tell me to,
though i'faith I don't see why, I agree to give myself the three
thousand three hundred lashes, provided I may give them just
when I feel like it, without fixing of days or seasons. I promise
to wipe out this debt as quickly as possible, that the world may
enjoy the beauty of the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, since it appears
she is beautiful, in spite of my thinking otherwise. As well must
there be this condition, that in this penance I am not bound to
draw blood and that if some lashes merely frighten flies, they
are to be counted just the same. Item, if I get confused in the
counting. Mister Merlin, who knows everything, is to set me
right as to how many I'm ahead or behind. ' ' As to those you
may be ahead,' replied the sage, ' there'll be no reason for inform-
ing you, for the moment you reach the full number, the lady will
be disenchanted and will come to thank, ay, reward you for your
good works. So there's no need to worry over an exact count,
and Heaven forbid that I deceive any man, though by a hair of
his head.' ' Well then, in God's hand let it be,' quoth the squire ;
' I accept my bad-luck : I agree, in other words, to the pun-
ishment on the conditions appointed. '

Scarce had these words left his mouth when sounded the
music of the clarions, countless muskets were discharged and
the knight threw himself on Sancho's neck, giving him a thousand
kisses on cheek and forehead. The duchess, duke and all the
company testified to their joy and as the car moved on, the fair
Dulcinea inclined her head to their excellencies and made a low
curtsy to the squire. And now the glad and smiling morn came
on apace : the flowerets of the fields raised their heads in all
their pride, and the liquid crystals of the childish brooks, mur-
muring over white and grey pebbles, ran to pay tribute to the
expectant streams. The happy earth, clear sky, limpid air, lovely
light, each and all betokened that the day, which now came

XXXVI SANCHO'S LETTER TO TERESA 469

treading on the skirts of dawn, would be fine and clear. Having
succeeded so cleverly and happily in their design, our hosts,
no longer caring to hunt, returned to the castle, intending
to follow up their jests, in comparison wherewith no earnest
gave them greater pleasure.

CHAPTER XXXVI

The rare and undreamt of adventure of the dolorous

duenna, alias the Countess Trifaldi, together with a letter

from Sancho Panza to his v^rife

THE duke had in the person of his majordomo a merry and
fruitful wit. He it was that took the part of Merlin and
made the arrangements for this last adventure, composed the
verses and instructed a page in the part of Dulcinea. And now,
with the connivance of his master and mistress, he planned
another episode of the rarest and most delightful artifice
imaginable.

The duchess asked Sancho on the morrow whether or no he
had begun his penance-task for the disenchanting of Dulcinea.
He answered yes, five stripes that very evening. The other asked
with what had he given them and was told with his hand. ' That,'
she objected, ' is to give slaps rather than stripes ; I fear sage
Merlin won't put up with such lightness. The good Sancho must
make himself a scourge of thistles or cat-o'-nine-tails, which can
be felt, for with the blood the letter enters, and the release of a
great lady like Dulcinea can't be bought cheaply. Consider,
Sancho, that works of charity done coldly and grudgingly
possess no merit and avail nothing. ' To this Sancho made reply ;
' May your ladyship fit me out with a proper scourge or rope's
end and I'll lay it on if it don't hurt too much. For I'ld have
your worship know that though a countryman my flesh is more
cotton than hemp, and 'twould never do for me to go all to
pieces simply for the sake of another. ' ' "Well and good, ' agreed
the duchess ; ' to-morrow I'll present you with a scourge that

470 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

will be just the thing ; 'twill suit the tenderness of your flesh as
if they were own sisters. '

Sancho then said : ' Let your highness know, lady of my soul,
that I have written a letter to my wife Teresa, telling her of all
that has befallen me since we parted. I have it here in my bosom,
lacking naught but the address. I should like your discretion to
read it, for to my mind it runs like a governor : after the manner
I mean in which governors should write. ' ' And who composed
it?'. "Who would compose it but myself, sinner that I am?'
' Perhaps you wrote it then ? ' ' Never, ' replied Sancho ; ' I can
neither read nor write thought I can make my mark. ' ' Let me
see it, ' said the other, ' for I'm sure you show in it the excellence
and sufficiency of your wit, ' Sancho drew an unsealed letter
from his bosom, and the duchess found it as follows :

Letter of Sancho Panza to Teresa Panza his wife

If they gave me sound lashes, I had a fine mount : if I have a
good government, it cost me good stripes. You won't undestand
this, my Teresa, but sometime I'll tell you. You must know, sister,
I've determined you shall ride in a coach, which will be to the
purpose — any other way is to go like a cat. You are a gov-
ernor's wife now : see that none treads on your heels. Here I
send you a green hunting-suit, given be by my lady the duchess ;
turn it into a petticoat and body for our daughter. My master
Don Quijote, according to what I've heard say in this country,
is a sane man out of his wits and a pretty fool, and that I am not
a jot behind. We've been in the cave of Montesinos and sage
Merlin has laid hold of me for the disenchantment of Dulcinea
del Toboso, known at home as Aldonza Lorenzo. With three
thousand three hundred lashes less five, which I must give
myself, she'll be as disenchanted as the mother that bore her.
Say naught of this to anyone, for take your affair to council and
some will call it white, others black. I leave here in a few days
for the government, whither I go with the strongest desire to
make money — they tell me all new governors go with the same.
I'll take the pulse of it and let you know if you shall join me or
not. Dapple is well and sends his best respects. I don't intend

XXXVI SANCHO'S LETTER TO TERESA 471

to leave him behind, thought they fetch me ^o be Grand Turk.
The duchess my lady kisses your hands a thousand times ; send
her back the same with two thousand, for nothing costs less or
comes cheaper, according to my master, than pleasing compli-
ments. God hasn't seen fit to furnish me with a hundred crowns
like the ones that vanished, but don't mind, Teresa dear, for he
is safe that sounds the tocsin, and 'twill all come out in the
government-wash. One thing they mentioned that troubles me is
that if once I get the taste of governing, I shall eat my hands after
it. In that case it wouldn't come very cheap, though to be sure
the maimed and handless have benefices in the alms they beg
for, so by hook or crook you are sure to be well-off. God give
it you as He can and keep me to serve you.

From this castle the twentieth day of July, 1614

Your husband the governor,
Sancho Panza

On finishing, the duchess said : ' In two points the good
governor goes a little astray : first in saying or giving the impress-
ion that you get this government in return for your lashes,
thongh you know and can't deny that when my lord the duke
promised it you, no one dreamt of there being lashes in the
world ; secondly, in showing yourself exceedingly covetous, for
rid not have you become a mere money-getter. Avarice breaks
the sack and a greedy governor makes justice ungovernable. '
' I didn't mean all that, ' pleaded Sancho, ' and if your worship
thinks the letter doesn't run as it should, there's naught to do
but tear it up and write it over, though it might prove worse, if
they leave it all to my poor skull. ' ' No, no, ' replied the duchess,
' the letter will suffice ; I wish the duke to see it. ' With this
they went into the garden where they were to eat that day, and
there the duchess showed the missal to her husband, whose
pleasure was unqualified.

They dined and when the cloth was removed and they were
diverting themselves with Sancho's savoury conversation, on a
sudden was heard the doleful sound of a fife and the harsh beating
of an inharmonious drum. The company appeared much excited

472 DON QUIJOTK DE LA MANCHA II

by this medley of martial and melancholy music, especially Don
Quijote who in his nervousness couldn't keep his seat. Of Sancho
it is needless to say that his fear took him to his accustomed
refuge, the side or the skirt of the duchess, and let it be mentioned
that the sound was indeed gloomy and distressing. While all
were in suspense, they beheld two men enter the garden before
them clad in mourning that trailed along the ground, and beating
big drums, also covered with black. At their side came the fifer,
no less lugubrious than they. Behind the three walked a person
of gigantic frame, cloaked rather than clad in funereal gown,
whose train likewise was of immoderate length. Over the gown
was girt and suspended a broad black baldrick, whence hung a
monstrous scimitar with garnitures and black sheath. His face
was hid beneath a black transparent veil, through which showed
a beard of inordinate length and whiter than snow. With great
gravity and composure he moved to the sound of the drums. His
size, affected gait, opaqueness and accompaniments might well,
and did, startle all that, ignorant of his identity, looked upon
him. At this slow and particular pace he advanced to kneel
before the duke, who with the others awaited him standing and
would on no account suffer him to speak till he had risen. The
prodigious apparition yielded and raising the veil disclosed the
longest, whitest and bushiest beard ever human eyes beheld.
With gaze fixed on the duke he exhumed and let loose from his
broad and expanded chest a deep, sonorous voice, saying :

' Most noble and potent lord, me they call Trifaldin of the
White Beard. I am squire to the Countess Trifaldi, else known as
the dolorous duenna, on whose behalf I bring your greatness an
embassy, to wit, that your magnificence be pleased to give her
leave and authority to enter and tell of her affliction, one of the
most singular and unique that the most roiled understanding on
earth could have devised. But first she would know is there
stopping at your castle the worthy and never-vanquished knight
Don Quijote de La Mancha, in whose search she comes afoot and
fasting all the way from the kingdom of Gandaya, which can and
should be deemed a miracle or the power of enchantment. She
stands at the gate of this stronghold or country-house, awaiting

XXXVI SANCHO'S LETTER TO TERESA 473

your leave to enter. I have done. ' He then coughed and strokinj;
his beard with both hands calmly awaited the duke's reply :

' Indeed, good squire Trifaldin of the White Beard, we have
heard of the misfortune that overtook my lady the Countess
Trifaldi, to whom enchanters give the name of the dolorous
duenna, so you may surely tell her to enter, stupendous squire,
where she will find the valiant knight Don Quijote de La Mancha,
of whose generous nature may safely be promised every assist-
ance and relief. You may tell her as well from me, that if my
favour be wished, 'twill not be wanting of one bound to give it
as a knight, whose concern it is to succour every manner of
woman, especially widowed duennas reduced and in straits, as
must be her ladyship. ' Upon this the said Trifaldin dropped knee
to ground, and motioning to the fife and drums to strike up, to
the same tune and pace wherewith he had entered he made his
exit from the garden, leaving them marvelling at both his aspect
and equipment. The duke turning to Don Quijote said :

' Of a truth, famous knight, the clouds of malice and ignorance
cannot hide or darken the light of valour and virtue. I say this
because your worship has been in this castle barely six days
when there come to seek you out from far and distant lands, and
not in coaches and on dromedaries, but afoot and fasting, the
sad and afQicted, certain to find in this puissant arm the end of
their labours and cares — thanks to your great achievements
of the past, blown over the wole discovered earth. ' ' I could
wish, senor duke, ' replied the other, ' that there were present
that blessed ecclesiastic, who at dinner the other day showed
such prejudice and unjust indignation toward knights-errant,
that he might see with his own eyes whether or no such knights
are needed in the world. He could put his finger on this fact at
least, that those in dire distress and sorrow do not look for
relief from men of learning or village-sacristans, from the knight
that has never crossed the frontier of his district, or from the
lazy courtier, who goes in search of news to repeat rather than
to perform works and deeds for others to record. Hope in
affliction, succour in times of distress, the defence of damsels,
the admonishment of widows, in no class of persons can be

474 DON QUIJOTE DE LA. MA.NCHA II

sought for better than in errant cavaliers. That I am of their
order I give infinite thanks to Heaven, regarding as well suffered
whatever cross or crisis may befall me in this most honourable
calling. Let the duenna come and tell her needs and I will meet
them through the power of mine arm and the dauntless resolution
of my will. '

CHAPTER XXXVn
The famous adventure of the dolorous duenna continued

THE duke and duchess were delighted beyond measure on
seeing how well Don Quijote fell in with their plan, but
Sancho just then spoke up and said : ' I trust that this lady
duenna won't put obstacles in the way of my promised govern-
ment, for I once heard a Toledan chemist say, and he spoke like
a linnet, that when duennas interfere, naught good results. So
help me God ! and how out of patience with them was this
chemist ! And his saying that all duennas are intrusive and both-
ersome, no matter what their quality or breed, makes me wonder
how it will be with dolorous ones, as they say is Countess
Threefolds or Threetails, for in my country, folds or tails, tails
or folds, 'tis all one.' 'Peace, Sancho friend,' rebuked Don
Qaijote ; ' since this duenna came from such remote lands, she
cannot be of those the chemist had in mind. More by token she's
a countess, and when countesses go into service, 'lis to queens
and empresses and, being regarded as high-born ladies are in turn
waited upon by other duennas. '

To this replied Doiia Rodriguez, being present : ' My lady the
duchess has duennas in her employ worthy to be countesses,
if fortune but favoured them. But laws go as kings will and let
none speak evil of duennas, especially of old-maids, for though
not one myself, I can the\peeradvantage duenna-maids have over
duenna -widows. But he that clipped us, still has the shears.'
' For all that, ' retorted Sancho, ' there's so much to shear in
your duennas, according to my barber, 'twill be better not to
stir the rice even though it stick.' ' Squires are ever our enemies,'

XXXVII DUENNAS IN GENERAL 473

declared Dona Rodriguez ; ' being the elves of the antechamber,
they see a good deal of us, and what times they aren't praying,
which is often, they gossip about us, digging up our bones and
burying our good name. But I tell them, these rolling logs, that
despite them we shall live on in the world and in the houses of
nobility, though we die of hunger and cover our bodies, whether
delicate or not, with nuns' veiling, as on procession-days they
cover piles of sweepings with tapestries. I'faith, if 'twere per-
mitted me and the occasion demanded, I could persuade not
only the present company but all the world that there's no virtue
not lodged in a duenna. ' ' I believe my good Dona Rodriguez is
most right in what she says,' volunteered the duchess, ' but 'twere
better that she return some other time to her own and the others'
defence, refuting the wicked chemist's heresy and eradicating
that in the breast of Sancho Panza. ' To which Sancho made
reply : ' Now that I have assumed all the pride of a governor,
I have lost all the pettiness of a squire and don't care a wild fig
for all the duenas in the world. '

They would have continued this duennesque conversation had
not the fife and drums again struck up, whereby they gathered
that the dolorous one was about to enter. The duchess asked the
duke whether or no they should advance to meet her, being as
she was a countess and a person of rank. Before the duke could
answer, Sancho said : ' For what she has of countess, I should
say your greatnesses might move to receive the lady, but for
what she has of duenna, I am of the opinion you should stay
where you are. ' ' Who brought you into this, ' chided Don Qui-
jote. ' Who, sir ? I brought myself, that have right, as a squire
that learned the marks of politeness in the school of your wor-
ship, the best-mannered knight in all the realm of courtesy. In
cases like the present, I have heard your worship say, one loses
as much by a card too many as too few, and few words to fine
wits. ' ' Sancho is right, ' agreed the duke ; ' let us first see how
the countess holds herself, and then we can gauge the courtesy
due her. ' The fife-and-drum corps now appeared, and here the
author ends this brief chapter and begins the next, continuing
one of the most notable adventures in the history.

476 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER XXXVIII
The dolorous duenna tells of her hard luck

BEHIND the mournful musicians walked twelve duennas in
double file, clad in flowing mourning apparently of milled
serge, with hoods of fine white gauze, so long that only the ends
of their robes were visible. Behind them came the Countess
Trifaldi, led by the hand of squire Trifaldin of the White Beard
and clad in the finest unnapped black baize which, had it been
napped, would have showd every tuft of the bigness of a Martos
chick-pea. The tail or train or however one would call it, ended
in three points, lifted in the hands of three pages, also clothed in
black, making a spectacular geometric figure with its three acute
angles formed by the three trains. Thereby one came to under-
stand why she was called Countess Trifaldi, as one would speak
of the Countess of the Three Folds. What's more, Benengeli says
that such was the fact — that her real name was Countess Lobuna,
because many wolves (lobos) were bred in her county. Had they
been foxes (zorras), they'ld have called her Countess Zorruna,
it being a custom for the nobility of those parts to take names
from the thing or things wherein their estates abounded. This
countess howe\|irer, by reason of her inordinate train, dropped
Lobuna and assumed Trifaldi.

The procession of twelve duennas and lady filed slowly in,
their faces covered with black veils, not open work like squire
Trifaldin's, but so close as completely to hide them. The duchess,
duke and Don Qttijote together with the entire company rose for
their reception. The twelve duennas halted and formed an avenue
down which the dolorous one advanced though without letting
go Trifaldin's hand. The ducal pair and Don Quijote moved
forward a dozen steps or so to welcome her and she thereupon
knelt and in a voice loud and coarse rather than smooth and
delicate began :

XXXVIII COUNTESS TRIFALDI 477

' May it please your highnesses not to show such great courtesy
to this your man-servant, your maid-servant I mean. Indeed dis-
tressed as I am, I cannot speak as I should, for my rare and
unparalleled misfortune has carried off my wits somewhere, a long
way I should say, for the more I search the less I find them. '
' He surely must have lost his, ' returned the duke, ' that didn't
recognise by your person your worth, which, without more being
seen, merits all the cream of courtesy and all the flower of the
politest civilities ; ' and raising her by the hand he led her to a
seat next the duchess, who received her with similar unctuous-
ness. The knight said nothing, while Sancho was dying to get a
peep at the face of the countess and of a few of her many duennas ;
but this was impossible unless they of their own pleasure revealed
them. Now that all were settled and silence reigned, they waited
to see who would break it. The dolorous duenna did and with
these words :

' I am confident, puissant lord, fair lady and most prudent
company, that my affliction will find in your stout hearts a
reception no less ready than generous and sympathetic, for it's
enough to melt the marble, mollify the diamond and soften the
steel of the most hardened hearts of the world. But before it is
made public to your hearing, not to say your ears, I would that
you tell me whether or no in this body, circle and company is
that purissimo knight Don Quijote de La Manchissima and his
squirissimo Panza. ' ' The Panza, ' said Sancho before another
could reply, ' is here ; likewise Don Quijotissimo, and you may
tell, dolorissima duennissima, what you would, for each of us is
ready and prepared to be your servantissimo. ' The knight was
now risen and directing his words to the countess said :

' If your afflictions, anxious lady, admit of any hope of remedy
from the valour and prowess of errant knight, here are mine,
which though poor and brief shall engage themselves in your
service. I am Don Quijote de la Mancha, whose business is to
help all that need, and therefore, lady, you shall not crave our
mercy or bother with preambles, but plainly and without circum-
locution declare your distress, since those that hear it will know
how to feel for, if not end, it. ' Upon this the dolorous duenna

478 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCUA II

Ihrew herself at his feet and striving to embrace them said : ' At
these feet and legs I throw myself, O unconquered knight, as at
the columns and foundations of errant arms. These feet I would
kiss, on whose motion hangs the entire remedy of mine ill,
O worthy adventurer, whose real achievements outdistance and
overshadow the imaginary ones of the Amadises, Esplandians
and Belianises ! ' She then left Don Quijote and moving to Sancho
Panza, took him by the hands saying : ' O loyallest squire that
ever bore arms in the world, I conjure you by what you owe
your most faithful goodness to be a fair intercessor 'twixt me
and your master that he may straightly lend aid to this most
humble and forlorn of countesses. '

To this request Sancho made reply : ' As to my goodness
reaching as far as the beard of your squire, it moves me not,
lady. Let me have my soul bearded and moustached when I
depart this life — that is the main thing, for beards here below
are little or naught to me. And just as well without this guUery
or supplication I shall ask my master (for I know he loves me,
particularly now that he has need of me for a certain transaction)
to favour and relieve your worship as he may. Tell your trouble
freely and have done — we'll all understand. ' The ducal pair
scarce could contain their laughter, having taken the pulse of
this adventure for themselves and secretly praised the ingenuity
and dissimulation of the countess ; who now, taking a seat,
began :

' Over the famous kingdom of Candaya, that lies 'twixt great
Trapobana and the Southern Sea, two leagues beyond Gape
Gomorin, ruled the queen Lady Maguncia, widow of King Archi-
piela, her lord and husband, of which marriage was born the
infanta Antonomasia, heiress of the realm, who was bred and
grew up under my tutelage and teaching, since I was the oldest
and most important of her mother's duennas; So it befell that
as the years came and went, the child Antonomosia attained to
fourteen and with such perfection of beauty that nature could go
no further. Nor must we say that her wit was snivelling : she
was as clever as she was fair, and the fairest in the world ; and
is to-day, if the envious fates and cruel sisters have not cut the

XXXVIII COUNTESS TRIFALDI 479

thread of her life. But they haven't, since Heaven wouldn't
permit such wrong to the earth as 'twould be to pluck ere ripe
the cluster of the finest vine in this world.

' Of this beauty, not adequately extolled by my slow tongue,
was enamoured an infinite nnmber of princes, native and foreign,
among them a certain private knight there at court, that dared
raise his hopes to the heaven of such bliss, trusting in his youth
and gallantry, his many accomplishments and graces, and the
facility or felicity of his genius. For I would have your worship
know, if I don't weary you, that he touched a guitar to make it
speak and besides was a poet and great dancer and knew how to
make bird-cages, whereby alone he could earn his bread were he
pushed to it. These were qualities to uproot a mountain, let
alone a sensitive girl ; yet all would have availed little or naught
in reducing the fortress of my child, had not the impudent thief
taken the precaution of reducing me first. This swindling and
soulless vagabond first took care to win my will and gain my
pleasure that I, a poor warden, might hand over the keys of the
fortress I guarded. He coaxed my senses and forced my pleasure
by all manner of trinkets and jewels, but what chiefly humbled
me and brought me to my knees were some lines I heard him
sing to me on a balcony one night, which lines, if my memory
serve, were these :

Of my sweet foe is born an ill
- That lacerates my very heart.

But this the worse doth make it smart
That I must suffer and be still.

The verse seemed a pearl to me and his voice syrup, and after
that, from then on in other words, seeing the wrong into which
I fell through these and similar verses, I made up my mind that
from good and orderly republics all poets should be banished,
even as Plato advises — the lascivious at any rate, who write
verses, not like those concerning the Marquis of Mantua that
amuse and bring children and women to tears, but things with a
point to them that pierces the heart like a soft thorn and wounds
as does lightning, leaving the vesture whole.

480 DON QUHOTE DE LA MANCHA

' Another time he sang

II

Come, death, but come without my ken,
That I may never feel thee nigh,
Or else such joy I'll have to die
'Twill bring me back to life again.

Of this fashion were other verselets and burdens of songs, which
when sung enchant, when written ravish. But what when they
stoop to compose a certain order of poetry, in vogue in Candaya
at that time, called snatches ! then was your dancing of souls,
ha-ha of laughter, excitement of bodies — in short the quick-
silvering of all the senses. For this reason, gentlemen and ladies,
such versifiers should by rights be transported to the isles of the
lizards. Yet they are not so much to blame as the simpletons
that vaunt, and the foolish women that believe them. Had I been
the good duenna I should have been, his laboured conceits
wouldn't have moved me, nor should I have taken stock in his
saying : Dying I live, I burn in ice, I shiver in fire, I hope
without hope, I go yet stay, together with other absurdities of
that stripe, wherewith their writings teem.

' But when they promise the Arabian phoenix, Ariadne's crown,
the horses of the sun, southern pearls, the gold of Tibar and the
balsam of Pancaya ! Here is were their pens run riot, since it
costs but little to promise what they never think or are able to
perform. But why do I degress ? woe's me, what madness or
folly drives me to speak or others' faults when there's so much
to say of mine own? Woe, woe is me ! for 'twas not their songs
that reduced me but my simplicity. 'Twas not the music that
softened me but mine own light-headedness. My great ignorance
and little forethought opened the way and freed the path for the
steps of Glavijo, the aforementioned knight. With me as go-
between he found himself once and many times in the chamber
of by me, not by him, betrayed Antonomasia, under the title of
lawful husband, for though a sinner myself I wouldn't have
allowed him except as her spouse to reach the welt of the sole
of her slipper. Nay, nay, marriage must preceed any business of
this kind that I have a finger in.

' There was but one drawback : disparity of rank, since Don

XXXIX MAIiAMBRUNO 481

Glavijo was a private knight and the infanta Antonomasia
heiress, as I have said, of the realm. But now this arrangement
had gone on for some days, cloaked and concealed by my
shrewdness and sagacity, when it seemed to me it was being
revealed apace by a certain swelling in the infanta's belly. This
fear brought us three to council, whereat it was agreed that
before the unwelcome present arrived Don Clavijo should ask
Antonomasia in marriage before the vicar, in pursuance of a
contract which the infanta, at my instigation, had drawn from
him, of such binding force that not that of Samson could have
broken it. The proper measures were taken, the vicar read the
contract and received the girl's confession. She told all, with the
result that for the time being she was handed over to a most
respectable bailiff of the court. ' At this Sancho exclaimed : ' In
Gandaya too there are court-bailiffs, poets and snatches ? On mine
oath methinks the whole world is one. But prithee hasten, lady
Trifaldi, for 'tis late and I am dying to know the end of this long
story. ' ' I promise I will, ' replied the countess.

CHAPTER XXXIX

The Countess Trifaldi continues her marvellous and
memorable history

SANCHo's every word gave as much amusement to the duchess
as annoyance to his master, who bade him hold his tongue ;
and the dolorous one proceeded : ' Finally after much questioning
and answering, since the infanta persisted in her first declara-
tion, the vicar decided in favour of Don Glavijo and delivered
her to him as his lawful wife, whereupon Queen Maguncia
became so wroth that inside of three days we buried her. ' ' She
must have died, ' suggested Sancho. ' Obviously, ' returned
Trifaldin ; ' in Gandaya persons are buried not alive but dead. '
' Persons have been known, seiior squire,' replied the other, to (A^
' to bury a man in a swoon, supposing him dead, and it looks to
me as if that queen w(^re more likely to have swooned than

31

e

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

died, for with life many things are set straight and the infanta's
folly was not so great as to be felt that deeply. Had she married
with a page or house-servant, as many, they tell me, have done,
'twould have been past remedy. But to have united with a knight
as gentle and accomplished as this one is pictured, though a
blunder surely, 'twas surely not so huge an one as is thought.
According to the rules of my master, who is present and will
not let me lie, just as bishops are made from men of learning, so
from knights, the more if they be errants, can kings be made and
emperors. ' ' You are right, Sancho, ' seconded Don Quijote,
' for a knight-errant, give him two inches of luck, verges on
being the highest lord in the world. But let the dolorous one pass
on, for 'tis plain there's still to be told the bitter part of this till
now sweet story. '

' Indeed the bitter part still remains, and so bitter that in
comparison colocynth is sweet and oleander savoury. We buried
the queen, dead and not swooning, but scarce had we covered
her with earth and bade our last farewell, when (quis talia
fando, temperet a lachrymis ?) suddenly appeared, riding a
wooden horse and on the grave of the departed, the giant
Malambruno, her first cousin, who besides being cruel is an
enchanter, and by his arts and in his cousin's vengeance punished
the boldness of Don Glavijo and requited the forwardness of
Antonomasia by leaving them transfixed there upon the tomb, the
woman turned into a brass monkey, the man into a threatening
crocodile of some unknown metal, with a metal colomn between
them, whereon were inscribed Syriac letters, which, translated
into Gandayan and now into Gastilian, read as follows : ' These
two rash lovers will never regain their original form till the
worthy Manchegan come to fight me in single battle, since for
his great valour alone the fates have reserved this unheard-of
adventure. '

' The giant then drew from its sheath a broad and mighty
cutlass, and seizing me by the hair made as if to sever and cut
my head clean off. I lost my wits, my voice stuck in my throat,
I was vexed in the extreme. But at last, summoning all my
strength, in quivering and sorrowful tones I said to him such and

XXXIX MALAMBRUNO 483

SO many things I caused him to suspend the execution of this
severe chastisement. Instead he ordered to be brought before
him all the duennas of the palace, the same that now stand here,
and having magnified our sin and showered reproaches on the
character of duennas in general, their devilish skill and worse
scheming, charging them all with the evil I alone had brought
about, he added that instead of capital punishment he would mete
out to us a kind of civil death. The^^moment he said this all of us
felt our facial pores to open — our ckeeks pricked as with needle-
points. Instantly raising our hands to our chins we found them
as you see. ' The dolorous and other duennas here raised their
veils and discovered their visages implanted with beards, some
red, some black, others white and a few grizzled, whereat the
duke and duchess appeared astounded, Don Quijote and Sancho
stupified and all the others amazed beyond expression. But the
Trifaldi didn't tarry :

' Thus did that mean and ill-minded devil of a Malambruno
wreak his malice upon us, covering the soft mellowness of our
skin with the roughness of these bristles. Would to Heaven he
had slit off our heads with his monstrous cutlass rather than
have shadowed the light of our faces with this fleece. For if we
consider it, gentlemen — and what I am about to say should be
said with eyes like fountains, but the thought of our position and
the seas we've already wept keep ours moistureless, dry as
cornsilk — I ask without tears therefore, where can a duenna with
a beard go ? what father or mother will take pity on her ? who
will help her? If with smooth complexion though martyred with
a thousand kinds of paints and ointments she scarce finds one
to wish her well, how will she fare when her face presents a kind
of underbrush? O duennas, my companions ! in fatal hour were
we born, at a cursed moment our parents begat us ; ' and with
this she appeared to swoon.

484 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER XL

Things pertaining to and bearing on this adventure in
particular and this memorable history in general

Op a truth ought all that delight in histories like the present
to be grateful to Gid Hamet its first author for the zeal he
has shown in telling us its merest trifles, not leaving a thing of
however little moment unbidden to the light of day. He conveys
thoughts, mirrors fancies, answers implied questions, clears up
1 doubts, decides disputes, in a word satisfies the very atoms of
Ithe most curious desire. O famous historian ! O fortunate Don
IjQuijote ! O Dulcinea known afar ! O delightful Sancho Panza !
may you severally and together live long ages for the pleasure
and universal pastime of all peoples !

The history then tells us that as soon as he saw the dolorous
one swooning, Sancho said : ' I swear on the faith of a good man
and by the life of all my forefathers the Panzas, that never have
I heard or seen, never has my master described to me, nor has
there ever entered his thought, an adventure like unto this. A
thousand devils — not to curse thee — take thee for an enchanter
and giant, Malambruno ! Gouldst thou have found no other
punishment for these she-sinners than to beard them ? wouldn't
it have been better for them and more seasonable to have cut
half their noses off, even though they talked snuffling ? For I'll
wager they haven't the wherewithal to get shaved. '

' You'll win, sir, ' replied one of the twelve ; ' not a sou have
we wherewith to husk us, and some as a thrift remedy have
taken to pitch or sticking plasters, by the application whereof to
our beards, with a sudden jerk we are left as bare and smooth
as the bottom of a stone mortar. Though there are women in
Gandaya that go from house to house to remove down, embellish
eyebrows and prepare cosmetics, we duennas would never admit
them, since most smell of your third parties no longer first.

XLl THE BEARDED DUKNNAS 485

Unless Don Quijote help us in our scrape, with beards shall we
be borne to the grave. ' ' la the land of the Moors I'll pluck out
mine own, ' cried the knight, ' if I don't relieve you of yours. '

At this the Trifaldi revived, saying : ' The whisper of that
promise, worthy knight, reached me in the midst of my swoon
and brought me back to my senses. So again I beseech you,
illustrious errant and indomitable lord, that your gracious word
may turn to action. ' ' It shan't delay because of me ; And what
I am to do, lady, since the spirit is ready to serve. ' ' This then
is the way things stand. From here to Gandaya by land is five
thousand leagues, a couple more or less, but as the crow flies
'tis but three thousand two hundred and twenty-seven. It is as
well to know that Malambruno said that when fate found for me
the knight our liberator, he would send a mount, belter a good
deal than your hireling jades and with fewer outs about him —
none other than the wooden horse whereon gallant Pierres carried
off lovely Magalona.

' This beast is guided by a peg on his forehead in place of
bridle and scuds through the air at such a rate that one would
think the very devils bore him. Furthermore, this steed was put
together, according to ancient tradition, by the sage Merlin, who
lent him to his friend Pierres. Pierres made long trips and .stole
the lovely Magalona, carrying her through the air on the steed's
crupper, leaving all below gaping like fools. But Merlin lent him
only to his friends or to those that paid him well, and from the
time of the great Pierres we know that none has mounted him.
But now that Malambruno by his craft has got possession of the
racer, he uses him in frequent Journeys through different parts
of the world : to-day here, to morrow in France and next day
in Potosi. And the best of it is that the animal neither eats nor
sleeps nor wears shoes, and without wings so speeds through
the air his rider can hold a cup of water and not spill a drop, so
smooth and even is his pace, to the great delight of the lovely
Magalona. '

Upon this Sancho spoke up and said : ' For going evenly and
smoothly, I'll back my Dapple (though he goes along the earth
and not through the air) against all the pacers in the world. '

486 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA II

They laughed and the dolorous one continued : ' This very steed,
if really Malambruno intends to relieve our misfortune, within
half an hour after night-fall will confront us, for the sign
whereby I was to know that I had found the right errant was
to be the sending of his mount with despatch. ' ' And how many
can ride him ? ' enquired Sancho. ' Two, one saddle and one
crupper ; usually knight and squire, unless there be a stolen
maiden. ' ' And what might be his name ? ' ' The name, ' Trifaldi
answered, ' isn't like that of Bellerephon's horse Pegasus, nor
like Alexander's Bucephalus. Neither is he named after mad Or-
lando's Brillador, still less after Rinaldo's Bayarte or Ruggiero's^
mount, Frontino, nor does it resemble Bootes or Perithous,
which names the horses of the sun are said to answer to. As
little is he called Orelia, like the beast on which the unfortunate
Rodrigo, last king of the Goths, entered the battle where he lost
life and kingdom. '

' I'll wager then, ' said Sancho, ' that they haven't named him
after my master's Rocinante, which for appropriateness beats all
those mentioned. ' ' You guessed rightly, ' returned the bearded
countess, ' but none the less it suits well — Clavileno the fleet
one, which fits with his being wooden (leno), with the peg
(clavija) and with the fleetness wherewith he travels. As far as
names go, he well may rival the famous Rocinante. ' ' The name
doesn't trouble, ' said Sancho, ' but with what kind of bridle or
with what make of halter is he governed ? ' ' I've already said, '
returned the Trifaldi, ' with a peg, by turning which this way or
that his rider guides him, now through the air, now skimming
and as 'twere sweeping the earth, and sometimes keeping a
mean 'twixt the two : desirable and necessary to all well-ordered
actions. ' ' I'll be glad to see his grace, ' said the squire, ' but to
think I shall mount him, saddle or crupper, is to look for pears
on the elm. A pretty thing that they should wish me to ride
a wooden rump without cushion or pillow, when it's all I can
do to stay on Dapple with a pannel softer than silk. Egad, I
don't think to be worn to the bone to remove anybody's beard.
Let each one shave himself as best it suits, for I shall never
accompany my master on a voyage long as that ; more by token

XLl THE BEARDED DUENNAS 487

while I am busy with the disenchaatment of Dulcinea, the shaving
these beards should be none of my business. ' ' Yes it should,
friend, ' persisted the Trifaldi, ' and so much your business that
they tell me that without Sancho we can do nothing. '

' In the king's name ! ' quoth the henchman ; ' and what have
squires to do with the adventures of their masters ? are they to
get all the worship and we all the work ? Body of me ! as though
historians were wont to write : ' Knight So-and-so achieves
such-and-such an escapade but with the help of his squire What's-
his-name, without whom it had been impossible. ' Whereas what
they really write is : 'Don Paralipomenon of the Three Stars
achieves the adventure of the six monsters ; ' not once mentioning,
as if not in the land of the living, his trusty squire, who saw the
thing through. So I repeat, friends, that my master may go alone
and good-luck attend him. I'll abide in the company of the
duchess, and mayhap when he returns, the cause of my lady
Dulcinea will be advanced by a third or a fifth, since in my
unoccupied and leisure moments I think to give me a round of
lashes without a hair to cover me. '

' For all that, ' explained the duchess, ' the good Sancho must
accompany him if need be, since worthy persons ask it, that the
faces of these ladies, simply from your foolish fear, may not remain
planted, which would be a sorry thing indeed. ' ' In the king's
name I say ! ' again shouted the squire ; ' were this kindness for
nuns or charity-girls, a man might risk his life in any adventure
whatsoever. But to undergo all simply to remove whiskers from
duennas ! bah, I'ld rather see them all bearded from biggest to
smallest, from finest to most finikin. ' ' You are certainly hard
upon them, Sancho friend, ' said the duchess ; ' you share the
Toledan chemist's opinion more than you should, for in my
establishment are duennas that can be patterns to their class,
such as Dona Rodriguez here, who won't let me speak oth-
erwise. ' ' Your excellency says truly, ' declared Rodriguez, ' for
God knows the facts, and good or bad, bearded or bare, our
mothers bore us like other women. And since He sent us into
the world, He knows for what purpose. To ^is mercy do I cling
and to the beard of no one. ' '

488 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

' Well said, lady Rodriguez,' assented Don Quijote ; ' and now,
lady Trifaldi and company, I pray Heaven to look with favouring
eyes upon your affliction, for Sancho will do what I bid. Enter
Glavileno and let me find myself before the giant, for I vow no
razor can shave your worships more easily than my sword that
enchanter's head from his shoulders. God suffers the wicked, but
not for ever. ' ' Him be praised ! ' cried Trifaldi ; ' and may all
the stars of the celestial regions look upon your grace with eyes
benign, O gallant one, lodging in your soul all success and
courage, shield and shelter of the loathed and down-trodden
duennesque race, abominated of chemists, slandered of squires,
derided of pages. Ill betide the wretch that in the flower of her
youth elects not to be rather nun than duenna. Cursed are we
at whom, though descended in direct male line from Hector the
Trojan, our mistresses would never quit throwing thees and
thous, though they thought thereby to be queens. O giant Malam-
bruno, who though an enchanter art dependable of promise,
send us now the peerless steed that our distress may see an end,
for if it grow warm and we be still bearded, woe to our scheme.'
Trifaldi said this with feeling sufficiently real to draw tears from
the eyes of the onlookers and even filled those of Sancho, who
in his heart was now resolved to accompany his master to the
uttermost parts of the earth, were that needed to pluck the
wool from these venerable jowls.

CHAPTER XLI

The arrival of Clavileuo and the end of this flagging

adventure

IT was now evening and the appointed time for the entrance
of the famous horse Clavileno, whose delay distressed Don
Quijote, thinking that Malambruno had kept the steed back,
either because he was not the intended knight or because the
enchanter feared to engage with him. But look ! yonder enter
four savages in green ivy bearing on their shoulders a huge

XLlI CLAYILENO 489

wooden horse. They set him upon his feet and one of the four
cried : ' Let the knight that has the courage mount. ' ' Not I,'
said Sancho ; ' I neither have courage nor am a Icnight. ' ' And let
the squire, if there be one, mount his haunches, trusting in the
gallant Malambruno, for only by his sword and not by that or
the malice of any other can he be hurt. There's naught to do but
twist this peg and he'll carry you through the air to where awaits
the magician. That the height of the road may not dizzy, your
eyes must be kept bandaged till the steed neighs, the sign that
you are at your journey's end. ' With this the savages gracefully
withdrew.

No sooner had the dolorous one espied Glavileno than well-
nigh in tears she addressed Don Quijote : ' Worthy knight, the
promises of Malambruno are fulfilled, the jade is at hand, our
beards grow and each of us and by her every hair beseeches you
to shear and shave us, that you mount, in other words, along
with your squire and give good beginning to your novel journey.'
' That I'll do with a right good-will, lady countess, nor stop for
cushion or spurs, such will be my joy in seeing you yourself
again and all these duennas clean-cut. ' ' But that I'll not do, '
followed Sancho, ' with good-will or bad will or any will at all.
If this razoring can't be effected without my mounting the
crupper, either my master can find another squire or these ladies
another way to smooth their faces, for I am no wizard to enjoy
air-trips. And what will mine islanders say when they hear their
governor rides upon the winds ? Besides, since 'tis three thous-
and and so many leagues from here to Gandaya, suppose the
horse tire or the giant be vexed with us, we'll be a half-dozen
years on the homeward way, and my isle and islanders won't
know me. And since 'tis commonly said, danger lurks in delay
and when they hand you a heifer, hurry with the halter, let the
beards of these ladies please excuse me, for Saint Peter is well-
off at Rome and I in this house, where such kindness is shown
me and of whose owner I look for so great a boon as to find
myself a governor. '

But to this the duke replied : ' The island promised you,
Sancho friend, is neither movable nor fugitive : its roots are so

490 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

deep in the bowels of the earth that three pulls wouldn't change
it from where it is. Moreover, since you know as I do that all
important offices are obtained through some form of bribery,
great or little, my price for the government is that you accom-
pany your master to the very end, and whether you return on
Glavileno with the speed his nimbleness promises, or adversity
overtake you and you walk back from hostelry to hostelry and
from inn to inn like a pilgrim, whenever you arrive you'll find
the island where you left it, your islanders with the same desire
of welcoming you as always, and mine own purpose unchanged.
Don't hesitate a moment, Sancho, or you'll be doing grievous
injury to my desire to deserve you. '

' No -more, senor, interrupted the squire ; ' I am but a poor
servant and can't bear up under such courtesies. Mount, master,
let them bandage these eyes and commend me to God and tell
me if I shall be able on those toploftical flights to commend myself
to Him and to call upon the angels' favour. ' Trifaldi answered :
' You can easily commend yourself to God or whom you list,
since though an enchanter Malambruno is a Christian and works
his charms with real prudence and consideration, interfering
with none. ' ' We're off then, and may God and the Holy Trinity
of Gaeta be on our side. ' ' Since the memorable adventure of
the fulling-mills, never have I seen my squire so timorous, '
declared Don Quijote, ' and were I superstitious as some, his
pusillanimity would make me waver. But hither, Sancho, for
with their worship's permission I'ld have two words with you ; '
and going apart among some trees, taking his squire's hands he
thus addressed him :

' You are aware, brother, that a long journey is before us and
that God alone knows when we shall return and whether or no
our mission will afford leisure or opportunity. I would therefore
that you retire to your room on the pretext of getting some
needment for the journey, and that there like a flash you give
yourself say five hundred lashes on account, for to have a thing
begun is to have it half done. ' ' Fore God, but your worship
must be crazy ; this is like the saying. You see me in trouble yet
ask for my maidenhead. Just when I'm obliged to ride a bare

XLiI CLAVILBi^O 491

board, does your worship want me to make my seat tender ?
Believe me, sire, you are wrong. Let's first shave these duennas
and I promise you, on the faith of what I am, on our return to
pay the debt so quickly you'll be satisfied, and I say no more. '
' With this promise, good Sancho, I feel relieved, since I know
you'll fulfil it and that though a fool you are true blue.' ' Brown,
sir, but though^ a mixture I'M keep my word. '

With this they returned and Don Quijote said : ' Have them
blindfold you, Sancho, and mount, for he that sent for us from
such remote lands, wouldn't go to all this trouble and then trick
us for the sake of the little glory of misleading those that trusted
him. And though all should turn out the reverse of what I expect,
no malice can darken the splendour of having undertaken this
great emprise. ' ' Let us go, sir, for I have the tears and beards
of these ladies sticking in my heart and I can't eat a mouthful to
do me good till I see their faces smooth. Let them bind you and
let your worship mount, for if I am to ride crupper, you clearly
must sit in the saddle. ' ' True, ' said his master, and drawing a
handkerchief from his pocket he requested the dolorous one to
tie it tightly. But when she had done so, he removed it saying :
' If my memory serve me, I've read in Virgil that the Palladium
or wooden horse, dedicated by the Greeks to the goddess Pallas,
was pregnant with armed knights, who later proved the destruc-
tion of Troy ; it might be well therefore to take a peep into
Glavileiio. ' ' No need, ' said the countess, ' for I trust the beast
and am sure Malambruno has naught of the artful traitor about
him. Your worship may mount without dread and mine be the
blame if aught happen. '

Don Quijote felt that anything he might further urge with
regard to his safety would risk his reputation for courage, and
so without demur he mounted the wingless steed, catching hold
of the peg, which turned easily in his hand. As there were no
stirrups and his legs hung down, he resembled a figure in some
Roman triumph, painted or woven on Flemish tapestry. Very
leisurely and with ill grace his squire managed to climb up and
fitting himself the best he could to the crupper found it, far from
being soft, insupportably hard. So he asked the duke could they

492 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

accommodate him with a cushion or two, or pillow from his
lady the duchess's drawing-room or from one of the pages' beds,
for the haunches of that beast felt more like marble than wood.
To this the Trifaldi replied that Glavileno wouldn't suffer trapping
or adornment of any kind, but that Sancho could ride woman-
fashion and so feel the hardness less.

The squire accordingly reseated himself, and bidding farewell
let them bandage his eyes, but he soon unbound them again, and
looking tenderly and with tears on all in the garden, prayed
them to succour him in this crisis each one with a pater-noster
and an ave-maria. God, he said, would provide someone to do
the same for them in like confusions. But his master exclaimed :
' Are you on the gallows, thief, or dying, that you resort to such
supplications ? Soulless and cowardly creature, aren't you in
the place once occupied by the fair Magalona from which she
descended not to the grave but to be queen of France, if the
histories say true ? And I that ride by your side, may I not
compare myself with gallant Pierres who pressed the very spot I
press ? Bandage on, spiritless animal, and see that your fear
doesn't again pass your mouth, in my presence at least. ' ' Tie
it, ' sighed Sancho, 'but since they won't let me commend myself
to God or others commend for me, what wonder that I fear some
legion of devils lurks near to whisk us off to Peralvillo ? '

They blindfolded again and Don Quijote, feeling all was ready,
tried the peg and scarce had he turned it when the duennas and
others shouted : ' God guide thee, gallant knight ; God be with
thee, intrepid squire. There, there you go, cleaving the air more
swiftly than an arrow, to the amazement of all that from the
earth look up at you. Hold tight, worthy Sancho, you're reeling
a bit. Take care, don't fall, or you'ld fare worse than the rash
youth that determined to drive the chariot of the sun, his father.'
Sancho, crowding against his master, folded his arms about him,
saying : ' Senor, how is it that they talk about our being so high,
when their voices reach us. One would think they were speaking
at our elbow. ' ' Don't heed that, Sancho, for these things and
this flying are out of the ordinary and for a thousand leagues
you may see and hear anything you like. But don't clutch so

XLlI CLAVILENO 493

tightly or you'll upset me ; indeed I can't make out why you are
so excited and afraid, for on mine oath I've never ridden so
smooth-paced a creature : it is as if he didn't budge. Banish
fear, friend, for the thing goes as it must and we have the wind
astern. '

' Right you are, ' returned Sancho, ' for on this side I feel a
draught as strong as a thousand bellows. ' Right he was, for
several large bellows imitated the wind — so well planned was
this adventure by the ducal pair and the majordomo it lacked
nothing to perfect it. The knight also felt the breeze and said :
' Beyond question, boy, we are come to the second region of the
air where are engendered snow and hail. In the third region are
engendered thunder, lightning and the cleaving bolt, and if we
continue to rise, we shall soon reach the region of fire, nor do I
know how to work this peg that we shan't be scorched. ' At this
point Trifaldi and company warmed the riders' faces with some
lighted tow (which is easily lit and quickly quenched), holding it
on a stick a little from them. Sancho felt the heat and cried :
' May they kill me if we're not already there or near it, for they've
singed me the beard well enough. Master, I'm for unbinding to
see where we are. '

' Don't do it ! ' screamed the other : ' remember the true story
of Doctor Torralva, whom the devils carried flying blindfolded
on a stick. In twelve hours he arrived at Rome, alighting in the
street of Torre di Nona, there beholding the tumult, assault and
death of Bourbon, yet on the morrow was back in Madrid, where
he recounted all. Well, he told that when he was in the sky, the
devil bade him unblindfold, and he, obeying, found himself so
near the moon he could have touched it, but for his life dared
not look at the earth lest he grow dizzy and fall. 'Tis not for us,
therefore, to discover our whereabouts, since he that has us in
tow will answer for us. Maybe we're fetching a point and climb-
ing aloft in order to fall plump upon the kingdom of Gandaya, as
goshawk or falcon flies above the heron that it may swoop upon
it however high it rise. Though it seems not half an hour since
we left the garden, take my word we've gone a long way.' 'I
cannot tell, ' answered the other ; ' all I know is that if the lady

494 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Magallanes or Magalona liked this seat, she couldn't have been
over- tender of flesh. '

The duke, duchess and all in the garden heard the colloquy of
the two heroes with vast enjoyment, but now wishing to give a
finale to this rare and richly-ordered interlude, they lit Clavi-
leno's tail with some lighted tow, and being stuffed with giant-
crackers the horse of a sudden and with loud report shot through
the air, throwing his riders half-singed to the ground. Previous
to this Trifaldi and her bearded squadron had left the place bat
the others fell each where he stood as if stunned. The knight and
squire arose in sorry plight, dumfounded on finding themselves
in the very garden they had left and with so many persons laid
with the earth. What fixed their astonishment was to see a long
lance standing at one side and hanging therefrom by two cords
of green silk a smooth white parchment, whereon in large gold
letters was writ :

' The far-famed knight Don Quijote de La Mancha by the mere
attempting terminated the adventure of the Countess Trifaldi,
alias dolorous duenna and company. Malambruno is pleased and
satisfied, the duenna's chins are bare and the royal couple, Don
Glavijo and Antonomasia, back in their original forms. When the
squirely whipping is fulfilled the white dove will be safe from
the ravaging jerfalcons that persecute her and will lie in the arms
of her beloved mate : so 'tis ordered of the sage Merlin, arch-
enchanter of enchanters. ' Our knight read the parchment and at
once perceived that the last words referred to the disenchanting
of his lady-love. And having offered many thanks to Heaven in
that with so slight danger he had succeeded in that stupendous
exploit, in reducing to their former bloom the skins of the vene-
rable duennas (though not now in evidence), he walked to where
duke and duchess still lay senseless, and taking the former by
the hand tried to arouse him :

' Courage, good sir, courage, for 'twas nothing : the adventure
has been achieved with whole skins, as the writing on this
trophy clearly proves. ' Gradually and like one awaking from
heavy sleep the duke regained consciousness, and with him the
duchess and all the prostrate there, but with such manifestations

XLiI CLAViLE5iro 495

of wonder and fright 'twas hard not to believe tliat really had
befallen all that they had so cleverly feigned. With half-closed
eyes the duke read the inscription and then with open arms ran
to embrace Don Quijote, acclaiming him the most chivalrous
knight of any age. In the meantime Sancho was trying to locate
the countess to discover were she beardless now and beautiful as
her gallant bearing promised. But they told him the moment
Glavileiio exploded and came to earth the whole troop had van-
ished, shaven of every bristle. The duchess asked how the
squire had fared on his long trip and received the reply :

' I felt as if we travelled through the region of fire, even as
my master said was possible, and I wished to unbandage mine
eyes a crack, but he of whom I asked permission wouldn't grant
it. Somehow I have little chips of curiosity about me, wishing to
fathom the things I am forbid, and so very cautiously and unseen
I raise the handkerchief a bit near my nose and there underneath
I had a peep at the earth, which looked no bigger than a grain
of mustard-seed, and men walking about it the size of hazel-
nuts. You can see how high we were. ' ' Look to what you're
saying, Sancho friend, ' cautioned the duchess ; ' 'twould appear
that you really didn't see the earth but only men walking on it,
for if the earth looked small as a mustard-seed and each man
large as a hazel-nut, one man would have covered the whole
world. ' ' True, but I spied a little corner and so saw it all. '
' Tut, tut, man; how can the whole of a thing be seen if one
sees only a part?'

' I know naught of these seeings,' protested the squire, ' but
methinks your worship should realise that since we flew by en-
chantment, by enchantment I could have seen the whole world
and all its men whichever way I saw. If I'm not believed in this,
neither will your worship believe how by lowering the bandage
from mine eye-brows I peeped up at the sky, which I found so
near 'twasn't a palm and a half away. And I can swear to you, my
lady, 'twas very grand besides. And it so chanced that as we
coasted near the seven little she-goats, having as a lad tended
goats in my country, 'fore God and on my soul I longed to romp
with them a while and it seemed to me that if I didn't, I should

496 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

burst. So I came and take and what do I do, without a word to
anyone, least of all to my master, but softly and gently slide
from my crupper and frolic with the kids, who are like flowers,
like gilly-flowers, for three-quarters of an hour, and Glavileno
all the while never stirred. '

' And while the good Sancho played with the she-goats, '
questioned the duke, ' how did Seilor Don Quijote fare ? ' ' As
f\all these events are out of the natural order, it isn't to be wondered
that Sancho says what he says. For myself mine only report is
that I found myself neither up nor down, I saw neither heaven
\oT earth, the sea nor the shore. True I felt us passing the region
■the winds and approaching that of fire, but I can't be persuaded
tl\at we went beyond, since, as the region of fire lies between
the heaven of the moon and the upper region of the air, we
couldn't have reached the sky of the seven little she-goats
wiuiout being consumed. And since we were not, Sancho lies or
Sancho dreams. ' ' Neither one nor the other, ' retorted the squire ;
' if YOU think so, ask me the marks of these she-goats ; by them
'twill be seen whether I tell the truth or no. ' ' What were they,
Sancho ? ' asked the duchess. ' Two of them were green, two
scarlet, two blue and one motley. ' ' A new species, ' said the
duke ; ' goats of these colours aren't common here below. '
' Naturally, ' said Sancho ; ' there should be a difference 'twixt
the she-goats of heaven and those of earth. ' ' Did you see any
he-goat with them ? ' asked the duke. ' Not one, senor ; indeed
I've heard say that none passes beyond the horns of the moon. '

They didn't care to question more, fearing lest Sancho take
them over the whole sky and give news of what was passing. In
a word this ended the dolorous duenna adventure, giving the
ducal pair matter for mirth not only then but all their lives and
Sancho something to talk about for ages, had he lived them. As
the party broke up, his master approached the squire and whis-
pered : ' Since you would have me believe what you saw in the
sky, do you what I saw in the cave of Montesinos ; I say no
more. '

XLII THE ART OF GOVERNING 497

CHAPTER XLII

Don Quijote's advice to Saucho Panza previous to the
latter's departure for his island, together with other well-
digested matters

WITH the happy and delightful outcome of the dolorous
one's adventure duke and duchess were so well pleased
that they decided to continue their jests, having so fit a subject
to take them seriously. Arranging with servants and vassals as
to behaviour toward Sancho in the government of the promised
isle, the day following the flight of Glavileno the duke notified
the squire that he must put himself in trim for his approaching
journey, since his islanders already longed for him like showers
in May. Sancho made obeisance saying : ' Since I came down
from the sky, from whose height I beheld the earth and how
small it was, my great desire to be governor has somewhat
abated. What is it to rule a grain of mustard-seed ? what sense
of dignity or power in governing men no larger than hazel-nuts ?
a half-dozen of them at that, for all mankind looked no more ?
Should your lordship be pleased to grant me ever so small a
portion of the sky, though but half a league, I should derive
more pleasure from it than from the biggest island afloat. '

' Consider, friend, ' returned the duke, ' that of the sky I cannot
give even so much as a piece the size of a nail to anyone, for that
is the sole privilege of God. What I can give is an island, right
and tight, round and well-proportioned, exceeding fertile and
abundant, where, if clever, you can win the riches of the sky
with those of the earth. ' ' Let it come, then, and I'll try to be
such a ruler that in spite of rogues I'll goto Heaven. Nor is it
from greed that I wish to rise from my hut to bigger things, but
solely from a desire to taste how it feels to be a governor. ' ' If
once you taste it, you'll eat your hands after it, for 'tis the
pleasantest thing in the world to command obedience. When
your master comes to be emperor, as without a doubt he will

498 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

come (now his affairs go so nicely), I'll wager they won't snatch
it from him in a jiffy and that he'll be heartily sorry for the time
wasted before getting there. '

' Senor, ' assented Sancho, ' I believe 'tis pleasant to command
even a herd of cattle. ' ' Let them bury me beside you, for you
know everything, my son, ' declared the duke ; ' I must think
you'll be the governor your good judgment leads us to expect,
and leh. it rest there. You are to set off to-morrow, so this
afternoon they'll fit you with the clothes and needments of the
journey. ' ' Clothe me as they will, Sancho Panza am I still. '
' True, but clothes must adapt themselves to the particular
business or profession : a lawyer shouldn't go attired as a
soldier nor soldier as priest. You, Sancho, shall go clad both as
a captain and a judge, for in an island are needed arms no less
than letters and letters equally with arms. ' ' Few letters have
I, ' confessed Sancho : ' indeed I don't know the ABC; but
enough that I remember the Ghristus to be a good governor. As
to arms I'll wield such as they give me till I fall, and God help
me. ' ' With Ghristus in mind, ' said the duke, ' Sancho cannot
go wrong. ' Here Don Quijote came up, and knowing what was
on foot and how soon his squire was to leave for the government,
with the duke's permission taking him by the hand he led him to
his chamber to advise him how to conduct himself in office.
When the door closed, the knight made the other sit by his side
and in calm voice began :

' I devoutly thank Heaven, Sancho friend, that before me and
previous to my meeting with the lady good-fortune, she has come
forward to welcome and receive you. I, that had pledged my
success as payment for your services, see myself but at the door
of advancement, while you, before your time and contrary to all
rules of reason, find your dreams come true. Others bribe, beg,
solicit, rise early, pray and persist, yet fail to get what they seek,
when along comes another that without knowing how or why
finds himself in the very office and position refused the first-
comers. Here easily slips in the saying that a fortune, good or
evil, dogs our designs. You, whom I regard at best a clown,
without rising early or sitting late, with no solicitude whatever,

XLiII THE ART OF GOVERNING 499

solely through the breath of errantry that has touched you, without
more ado find yourself governor of an isle, as if 'twere nothing.
All this I say, O Sancho, that you may not attribute this favour
to your own deserts but rather render thanks to Heaven that so
sweetly orders our affairs ; I say this too that you may be grateful
for the power inherent in chivalry. And now, my son, your
heart being disposed to believe what I have spoken, let it listen
to this your Gato, who would be your counsellor, your north
and guiding star to lead you safely to port from the tempestuous
sea soon to be embarked on, since offices and high places are
naught but storm and confusion.

' First you shall fear God, for such is the beginning of wisd<Mn,
and being wise, you cannot go wrong. Secondly you snail
study Sancho Panza, endeavouring to discover what you are, the
most difficult knowledge conceivable, yet with it you'll pot
inflate yourself, like the frog that would equal the ox, for did
you so, the remembrance of having tended pigs in your fatherla'nd
would come like the peacock's feet 'twixt you and the tail of
your vanity.' ' But that was when but a boy ; as soon as i had a
little of the man about me, 'twas geese I tended, not pigs. And
this seems to me beside the question, since not all that govern
can be of the breed of kings. ' ' True, ' assented Don Quijote ;
' and therefore those not of princely blood should unite with the
gravity of their charge an approachable suavity which, guided
by prudence, will protect them from malicious backbiters, to
whom every position is exposed.

' Glory in your humble birth, Sancho, and in saying you come
of peasants, for when they see that you yourself are not ashamed,
none will attempt to shame you ; nay, all will prize you the more
for being lowly and of honour than as though an overbearing
scoundrel. Innumerable are they that have risen from obscurity
to the highest pontifical and imperial dignity, in support "of
which truth I could produce examples to weary you. Take care,
my son, that virtue be your means : pride yourself on doing
laudable deeds and you'll never have reason to envy those whom
princes and lords have fathered. Only blood is inherited anc
virtue may be earned and is precious in itself, while blood of

500 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

itself is worth nothing. Since this is true, in case a kinsman come
to visit you, do not disown or offend him. Rather must you
welcome him, treat him with kindness and offer him entertain-
ment, therein pleasing God, who likes none to disdain what He
hath made. You will likewise fulfil your due to the well-ordered
plan of nature.

• If your wife be with you (and it isn't well that those engaged
in goverment should be long without consorts), teach and train
her, stripping her of her native crudeness, for a rustic and
foolish wife can render null and void all a wise governor may
attain to. If you become a widower and would have a consort
on a footing with your place, don't choose one to serve you as
bait and fish-pole, a hush-money hood, for verily I say unto you
that for all his wife takes in, the judge must give account at the
court of last appeal, where at his death he shall pay fourfold for
the deviltry he let go unpunished in his life.

' Go not by arbitrary law, by which the ignorant, presuming
to be clever, set such store. Let the poor man's tears find in you
more compassion but not more justice than the pleadings of the
rich. Try but to discover the truth, both amid the bribes and
promises of the latter and amid the sobs and supplications of the
former. Where equity can and should find favour, charge not the
full rigour of the statute, for the fame of the severe judge stands
no higher than that of the lenient, and with mercy's weight not
bribery's let the rod of justice be bent. When called upon to
judge an enemy's suit, withdraw your mind from any remem-
brance of injury once suffered at his hands and fix it on the
merits of the case. Nor let partiality blind you in another's behalf,
for the resutant harm will in most cases be irremediable, and if
discovered will redound to your discredit and even threaten your
position.

' If a beautiful woman come to seek justice, close your eyes
to her tears, your ears to her pleading ; consider at leisure the
substance of her petition, unless you would drown your judgment
in her weeping, your virtue in her sighs. Whom you are to
punish by works, humiliate not in words, since the pain of
chastisement suffices without insult. Regard the culprit that

Xlilll FURTHER ADMONITIONS 501

comes under your jurisdiction as a poor human being, exposed 1
to the fraility of our depraved nature, and so far as lies in youry
power with justice to the prosecution be not harsh but consid-
erate, for though the attributes of God are equal, in our sight
mercy is more splendidly glorious than justice.

' If these rules and precepts you follow, Sancho, long will be
your days and deathless your renown, your rewards abundant
and your felicity complete. You will marry your children where
you list, they'll have titles and their children after them. You
will live in peace and good-will toward men, in life's last stages
death will come in a sweet and ripe old age and the tender del-
icate hands of your great-grandchildren will close your eyes.
All I have so far spoken relates to the adorment of your soul :
hear now what shall serve that of the body. '

CHAPTER XLIII
Further counsels given by Don Quijote to Sancho Panza

WHO could hear these instructions of the knight and 5ot
consider him a person of sound judgment and sounder
aim ? As has been said many times in the course of this lengnty
narrative, he wandered only when treating of chivalry, on other
matters displaying a keen and capacious mind. The resut was
that his works continually belied his words, and vice versa, and
in this second bundle of maxims his lively fancy carried sense
and nonsense to their highest pitch. His pupil all the while
listened most attentively, trying to preserve these counsels ir
memory, hoping through their observance to be safely deliverec
of his island-child. In proceeding Don Quijote said : \

' As regards the governance of your person and house, Sancho,
my first advice is that you keep clean and cut your nails, not
letting them grow as some do who in their ignorance think that
long nails set off the hands, as though such excresences were
nails and not rather talons of the lizard -catching kestrel —
a swinish and unnatural abuse. Go not ungirt and loose, son, for

502 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

slovenly attire proclaims a slatternly mind, except it be inten-
tional, as supposedly with Julius Caesar. Consider with care
what your office will afford and should you have monies sufficient,
give liveries decent and serviceable, not showy and conspicuous,
dividing them between your servants and the poor : if for example
you have six pages, clothe three and three poor boys. Thus
you'll have pages both In Heaven and on earth, though this novel
procedure of bestowing liveries is unknown to the vainglorious.

' Refrain from garlic and onions lest folk scent your vulgarity.
Eat slowly, speak with deliberation, but not as if listening to
yourself, for all affectation should be avoided. Dine on little,
sup on less, for the body's health is forged in the foundry of the
stomach. Be temperate in drink, knowing that the full pitcher
keeps neither secret nor promise. Take care too not to eat with
two cuds nor eruct in anyone'e presence. ' ' This eructing is new
to me, ' complained the squire. ' Eruct means to vomit, but that
being one of the vilest words in Castilian, albeit most descrip-
tive, fastidious persons have recourse to the Latin and instead
of vomit say eruct, eructations in place of vomitings. If at first
some don't comprehend these terms, it matters little for in time
they will, when use accustoms them. That is the way to enrich
a language, over which custom and the public are all-powerful. '
' I promise you, sire, that one of the counsels I hope to carry
away with me is this of not vomiting, for I am rather prone
thereto. ' ' Say eruct, Sancho, not vomit. ' ' Eruct I shall say
after this ; I swear it shan't slip me. '

' As well, my son, must you take thought not to interlard
your speech with multitudinous refrains, for though proverbs
are the pith of wisdom, frequently you so drag them in by the
hair as to make them vapid.' ' God will have to remedy that,'
replied Sancho, ' for I know more proygrbs than a book, and
when I talk, so many come crowding to my mouth they fight to
get exit and my tongue has to throw out the first it lays hold on,
thought it come not pat. But henceforth I shall take more care
to speak those becoming the gravity of mine office, for in a full
house supper is soon cooked and a bargain's a bargain, and he is
safe that sounds the tocsin, and to give and retain doth need a

Xlilll FURTHER ADMONITIONS 503

good brain. ' ' Go on then, ' exclaimed the other , ' thrust in,
thread and string your proverbs, since there's none to check you.
My mother chides me yet I spin the top : I've this moment
been telling you to quit your refrains and there and then Wou
throw at me a whole litany, that square as well with what We
are discussing as over the hills of Ubeda. Remember, boy, that I
don't say a proverb is bad when pertinent ; but to upset them in
confusion makes one's speech signify nothing.

' When you come to mount a horse, don't fling your whole
body over the saddle-breech nor ride with legs stifi" and extended.
Do not on the other hand ride laxly as if on Dapple ; riding
makes cavaliers of some, postillions of others. Sleep moderately,
for he that riseth not with the sun loseth the pleasure of the
day. Industry, Sancho, is the mother of good-luck, and sloth, her
foe, never lets a dream come true. This last advice I now am
about to give, I would that you keep well in mind, for though
it doesn't serve for the adorment of the person, methinks 'twill
prove no less useful than the others ; to wit : never discuss
families, at least never compare one with another, since of ne-
cessity one will prove better and the other worse. By these you
will be hated for your depreciation without being rewarded by
those for your praise. Your apparel shall be full-breeches, a long
coat and a cloak even longer : trunk-hose never, which become
neither gentlemen nor governors. So much at present has occured
to me for your instruction. As time goes, in accordance with the
occasion shall be my tutelage, if you take care to advise me how
you fare. '

' Senor, ' began the squire, ' I can easily see that all the counsel
your worship has given is good, virtuous and helpful, but of
what use is it if I don't remember a word ? To be sure this not
letting my nails grow and marrying again if I get the chance
won't dodge me, but those other gallimaufries, tangles and
jumbles are already clean gone, nor can I any more fetch them
back than the clouds of last year. 'Twill be necessary that they
be written, for though I can neither read nor write myself,
I shall hand them to my confessor to stow them away and recall
them at need. ' ' Alas, sinner that I am ! ' sighed Don Qaijote ;

504 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

' and how ill it looks in governors not to read or write. For you
must know, my son, that for a man not to read, or for a man to
be left-handed, argues one of two things : either his parents were
vulgar or he himself so perverse that neither precept nor good
example made impress. A grave defect is this, Sancho and
I would that at least you learn how to sign your name. '

' I already know, ' said the other, ' for when I was steward to
a brotherhood at home I learned to make some letters like the
mark on a bale of goods, and these, they said, stood for my name.
Besides, I can pretend that my right hand is crippled and so
make another sign for me. There's a remedy for everything save
death, and holding the power and the rod I'll do what I please.
More by token that he that has the bailiff for father — and I
being governor, which is more than bailiff, let them come on
and they will see. Nay, let them flout and have their fling, for
they'll go for wool and come home shorn. Whom God wishes
well, that house knows it and the folly of the rich man passes
for wisdom in the world, and being rich, since I am governor,
and liberal withal as I think to be, they'll deem me flawless. Nay,
make yourself honey and the flies will stick to you. You're
worth as much as you have, quoth, one my grandmother, and
upon a man well-rooted there's no taking revenge. '

' God curse you ! ' swore the master at this point ; ' may sixty
thousand devils take you and your saws ! For an hour you've
been piling them on, each one torture to me. Take heed or these
refrains will one day lead you to the gallows. By reason of them
your vassals will demand that you drop the reins of government
or they'll rise in rebellion. Tell me, blockhead, where do you
find so many, and how do you ever learn their application, for
to find one and make it fit, I labour and sweat as if digging. '
• 'Fore God, but your worship complains of very little things.
"Why the deuce should you fret because I make use of my prop-
erty : the only stock-in-trade I have in this world is proverbs
and more proverbs. This minute I have four ready fit as pears in
a basket, but I'll not utter them, since good silence is called
Sancho.' 'Which you never are,' declared the knight; 'not
only not good silence, but you're bad noise and obstinacy to

XIjIII further admonitions 505

boot. But come, tell the four proverbs that leap so aptly to your
memory, for I've been racking mine, a good one, and meet with
none. '

' What better than. Never put your thumbs betwixt your back-
grinders, and. Get out of my house, what would you with my
wife ? — there's nothing to say, and. If the pitcher hits the
stone or the stone the pitcher, 'tis all the same with the jug ;
each of which is as pat as can be. Let none contend with a
governor or one in authority or he'll be the worse for it, like the
finger 'twixt the grinders, which, though not back-grinders,
being grinders, it matters not. And to the bidding of a governor
there's naught to say, any more than to : Get out of my house,
what would you with my wife ? And even a blind man can see
how the stone and pitcher fit. So there's need that he that sees
the mote in his brother's eye, should first see the beam in his
own, lest it be said of him : The dead woman took fright at her
with the cut throat ; and your worship is well aware that the
fool knows more in his own house than the wise man in
another's. ' ' Not so, boy, for the fool knows nothing, in his own
house or another's : on the foundation of folly no edifice of
wisdom can be raised. But let's leave this, my son, for if you
govern ill, yours the blame though mine the shame. Yet I take
comfort in that I have fulfilled my promise and obligation in
instructing you as truly and wisely as I knew. God guide you,
Sancho, govern you in your government and quit me of mine
apprehension that you'll turn the whole island head-over-heels :
a calamity I could forestall by discovering to the duke who you
are : that all this fat little person is naught but a sack of duplicity
and proverbs. '

' Master, ' said Sancho, ' if your worship really thinks me
unfit for this government, on the spot I'll set it free, for I care
more about the black of the nail of my soul than about my whole
body, and I can as well keep alive as Sancho on bread and
onions as governor on partridge and capon. What's more, while
men sleep, all are equal, great and little, rich and poor. If your
worship will recall, you'll find that you alone put me onto this
business, since I know no more about ruling islands than does a

S06 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

vulture ; and if 'tis thought that through being a ruler the devil
vs^ill fetch me, I'M rather go Sancho to Heaven than governor to
hell. ' ' 'Fore God, brother, by this last speech of yours I deem
you worthy to govern a thousand isles. Yours is a good instinct,
without which knowledge is worthless. Commend yourself to
God and wander not from your original resolve : in other words
keep the intent and purpose firm to do right in all things, for
Heaven helps worthy aims. And now let us to dinner for methinks
our hosts await us. '

CHAPTER XLIV

How Sancho Pauza was taken to the government and of
the amazing adventure that befell Don Quijote in the castle

READERS of this history in the original say that its translktor
hasn't rendered the present chapter as Cid Hamet wrote it,
for at the beginning thereof the Moor takes himself to tasklfor
having entered upon a work so narrow and restricted. He feels
he should keep the narrative to the hero and his squire, not
running off into disgressions and episodes whether more serious
or amusing, yet he finds that always to have thoughts, hand and
pen tied down to a single subject and to be obliged to speak
through mouths of a few persons only, is an insupportable
labour, the fruit whereof doesn't redound to his advantage. To
escape this burden in the first part he introduced a novel or
two, such as The Impertinent Paul Pry and the Story of the
Captive, though they had nothing whatever to do with the main
discourse. The other things related there actually befell the
knight and naturally had to be set down.

He fears however that many would have their attention so
completely prepossessed by the deeds of Don Quijote as to have
none to bestow on any of the tales, passing them by in haste and
disgust, oblivious alike of their grace and construction, which
would be sufficiently apparent if printed by themselves. He there-
fore refrains from inserting any in this second part, whether

XLlIV THE SERENADE 507

separate or interwoven, and in their stead gives us a few genuine~^
episodes, but even tiiese sparingly and with just enough words
to carry them. In return for this restriction of himself, when his i
faculties and understanding were sufficient to treat of the whole i
wide universe, he asks that his labours be praised, not alone foi/
what he writes but for what he leaves in the ink-pot.

The history then proceeds to say that after dinner in the after-
noon of the day on which Don Quijote gave his squire the
instructions concerning the government, he gave him them in
writing, knowing there would be one to read them as he had
need. But scarce had he handed them to his apprentice, when the
other dropped them and thus they came into the hands of the
duke. He of course at once communicated their content to the
duchess, so both had fresh reason to admire the mind and mad-
ness of their author. And now, continuing their jest, late that
afternoon they despatched Sancho with a large retinue to the
town that was to serve for an island. He that had the affair in
charge was the majordomo, a most humorous and discreet
person — since there cannot we wit without wisdom — the same
that impersonated the Countess Trifaldi with all the charm
above described. Aided by his natural cleverness and the minute
instructions of master and mistress as to the management of
Sancho, he again met with marvellous success.

It chanced then that, seeing this fellow, the squire recognised
in his face that of the Countess Trifaldi and turning to his master
said : ' Either the devil shall take me from where I stand, a just
man and believing, or your worship must allow that the face of
this the duke's majordomo is the same as that of the dolorous
duenna. ' The knight looked attentively and then said : ' There's
no reason why the devil should take you, neither as a just man
nor as a believing (though I scarce know what you mean by that),
for I confess that the dolorous one's countenance is one with
that of the majordomo. But not on that account is he the duenna,
which would involve a most absurd contradiction. But this is no
time to enter into proofs that would lead into intricate labyrinths.
Believe me, friend, there's need with our whole heart to sup-
plicate our Lord to free us twain from evil wizards and enchant-

508 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

ers. ' ' ' Tis certainly no joke, sir, for but now I heard him
speak and methought 'twas Trifaldi's voice sounding in mine
ears. Ah, well, I shall hold my peace, which won't keep me from
noting as we go any sign to confirm or belie my suspicion. '
' Do that, my son, and let me hear all you learn and of all that
befalls you in the government. '

So the squire rode forth in the company of much people, clad
as judge in gown of tawny watered camlet with cap of the same,
mounted on a mule whith short stirrups. Behind him, by the
duke's order, followed Dapple, all tricked out in shining new
harness and ass-trappings of silk. From time to time Sancho
turned his head to look at him and was so pleased with his
company he wouln't have changed seats with the emperor of
Germany. On leaving he kissed the hands of duke and duchess
and received the blessing of his master, who bestowed it with
tears on one who received it blubbering. And so, amiable reader,
let honest Panza go in peace with God's speed, and count on
two bushels of laughter to be given th^e by the knowledge of
how he bore himself in office. Meanwhile learn what befell his
master, for if it does not make thee laugh, at least 'twill stretch^
thy mouth to a monkey-grin — the fortunes of Don Quijote must
be met with wonder or a smile.

Scarce had the squire left when the other felt the loneliness,
and had it been possible to revoke the commission and deprive
Sancho of the government, he'ld have done so. The duchess
marking his melancholy asked its reason, adding that if 'twere
due to Sancho's absence, she had squires, duennas and damsels
that could serve him to perfection. ' Though true, lady dear,
that I feel my squire's departure, that is the not the chief cause
of my apparent gloom, and of the many substitutes your worship
is ready to give I accept only the kind spirit wherewith they are
offered, and for the rest pray your grace to allow me in mine
own chamber to wait upon myself. ' ' Indeed, Sefior Don Qui-
jote, this must not be ; four damsels of mine, fair as flowers, are
ready to attend you. ' ' To me Ihey'ld prove but thorns to prick
my soul. They shall as soon enter my chamber or anything like
it as fly. "Would you continue to bestow favours on one undeserv-

XLIV THE SERENADE 509

ing them, let me serve myself within mine own room, that I
may keep a wall 'twixt my passions and my purity. Nor would
I break my habit in this regard for all the liberality you could
show. In other words I should prefer to sleep in my clothes
than that another should undress me. '

' No more, no more, Senor Don Quijote,' yielded the duchess ;
* I give my word that not even a fly shall enter your chamber,
let alone a damsel. I am not one willingly to wrong your sense
of personal decorum, for, according to my enlightenment, among
your many virtues that which bears the palm is continence.
Your worship may dress and undress alone and as you list, how
and when it suits, and none shall interfere. Within your room
you'll find all that could be asked for by a man sleeping behind
a locked door, and no call of nature need force yon to open it.
Live a thousand ages the great Dulcinea del Toboso ! be her fame
blown o'er all the earth, since hers are the affections of so pure
and gallant a knight as Senor Don Quijote, and may benign
Heaven plant desire in the heart of Sancho Panza our governor
quickly to perform his penance, that the, world again may enjoy
the beauty of so noble a lady. ' Whereto answer was made :
' Your highness has spoken to the manner, for in the mouths of
good women naught can be that's bad. More fortunate and more
illustrious will my Dulcinea be for being vaunted by your grace
than for all the praises given her by the most eloquent alive. '

' So let it be, sir, for supper is at hand and the duke awaits*
Let your worship attend and after we have eaten together you
shall retire early. The trip from Candaya yesterday was not so
short as not to have caused a little fatigue. ' ' I feel none, lady,
and I'll take an oath that never have I ridden a quieter or more
even-paced brute than Glavileno. I am at a loss to know what
moved Malambruno to destroy so swift and withal so gentle a
mount, burning him as he did for nothing at all. ' ' As to that,
it might be imagined that repenting of the scath he had wrought
Trifaldi and company and others and of the crimes he must have
committed as wizard and enchanter, he was eager to have done
with all the instruments of his craft and so burned Glavileno as
the chief one, that kept him tearing restlessly from country to

510 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

country. The more as in the ashes of the beast and in the trophy-
scroll the valour of the great Knight of the Lions became a thing
of lasting fame. '

The errant again thanked the duchess, and when they had
supped, retired alone to his room, not consenting that any should
enter to serve him — so deeply did he fear to meet with occa-
sions that might move or force him to forsake the virtuous
attitude he preserved for his lady Dulcinea, ever holding before
his eyes the chastity of Amadis, flower and mirror of errant
knights. Locking the door, by the. light of two wax tapers he
undressed, but in taking off his hose — O calamity unworthy
such an one ! — there burst forth, not sighs or other things to
discredit the purity of his thoughts, but about two dozen stitches
from one of his stockings, making it look like window-lattice.
The good man was mightily distressed and for a drachm of
green silk just then would have given an ounce of silver — I say
green because such were his hose. Here Benengeli cries aloud
and writing says : ' O poverty, poverty ! I know not how the
great Cordovan poet was moved to call thee a holy thing mis-
prized. Though a Moor I know through intercourse with
Christians that holiness consists in charity, humility, faith;
obedience and last of all, poverty. At the same time I say, he
that is content, being poor, must have much of God, unless it
be that form of poverty concerning which one of the greatest
saints said : ' Possess all things as if ye possessed them not. '

' This they call poverty in the spirit, but thou, O inferior
poverty, of whom I now speak, why would thou be at odds
with hidalgos and gentlefolk more than with others ? Why dost
thou force them to smear their own shoes and have the buttons
of their coats some of silk, some of hair and some of glass ? Why
must their collars be crumpled for the most part — not smoothed
out after a pattern ? ' (By this it may be seen that the use of
starch and plaited ruffs is ancient). And Benengeli continues :
' Wretched is he, the well-born, that gives sops to his honour,
taking a mere bite within doors and then making a hypocrite of
the toothpick wherewith he walks out to take the air. Wretched
is he I say that keeps his honour in constant fear lest from a

XLiIV THE SERENADE Sll

league off be seen the patch on his shoe, the sweat-stains on his
hat, the bare thread of his coat and the hunger of his stomach. '

All this was brought home to our hero by the bursting of the
stitches, but. his heart was consoled by the sight of a pair of
travelling boots, left behind by his squire. These he purposed to
wear on the morrow, and with this tliought got into bed. Yet he
lay sad and sorrowful and could not get over Sancho's absence
and the irreparable disaster to his hose. These he would have
stitched with silk of another colour had he any — one of the
surest signs of wretchedness that an hidalgo can betray in the
course of his prolonged penury. He snuffed out the candles, but
it was warm and he couldn't sleep. He rose and slightly opened
a lattice-window that looked out upon a lovely garden. Hearing
and perceiving persons walking there, he set himself to listen
and those below raised their voices, so much so that he could
hear these words :

' Press me not to sing, O Emerencia, for you know that from
the moment this stranger entered the castle and mine eyes beheld
him, I have not known how to sing but only to weep. Moreover
my mistress rests lightly and I would not be found here for all
the treasure of the world. And though she didn't waken, in vain
would be my song if slumber and wake not to hear it this new
Aeneas come to my regions to make of me a laughing-stock. '
' Don't mind that, friend Altisidora, for surely the duchess and
all in the house are fast asleep, unless it be the lord of your heart
and the 'larum of your soul, for but now I heard open the
grated-window of his chamber. Sing, my afflicted one, low and
softly to the sound of your harp ; should the duchess hear us,
we can lay the blame on the heat of the night.' ' That is not the
point, O Emerencia, but that I wouldn't that my song lay bare
my thought and that I be taken for light and wanton by those
that know not the power of love. But come what may, better
shame in the face than sore in the heart. '

She thereupon began softly to stroke her instrument and
hearing the sound Don Quijote felt a chill creep over him, for
there came to him the memory of countless adventures of win-
dows, gratings and gardens ; of serenades, love-plaints and

512 DON QUUOTE DE LA MANCHA II

dizzinesses, whereof he had read in his dizzy books of chivalry.
He straightly imagined that one of the duchess's damsels was
truly enamoured of him though modesty compelled her to secreby.
He trembled lest he yield, but determined in his heart against it,
and commending himself with all his soul to Dulcinea, thought
he might listen to the music. He gave a feigned sneeze that
they might know him present, which tickled the damsels since
their only wish was that he should overhear. Having tuned her
harp Altisidora ran her hands over the strings and began her
ballad, and vvhen she had finished, began the consternation of
the courted Quijote who, heaving a deep sigh, communed with
himself, saying :

' How joyless an errant am I whom no maid looks upon that
does not love ! How sad the fate of Dulcinea, whom they will
not let enjoy alone my incomparable fidelity ! What would you
of her, queens ? why persecute her, empresses ? or pester her,
damsels of fourteen an fifteen ? Leave, O leave to the miserable
maid, that she triumph', rejoice and glory in the lot love would
assign her in offering my heart, in delivering my soul. Take
notice, love-sick crew, that only for Dulcinea am I dough and
sugar-paste, and flint for the rest of you. For her I am honey,
for you naught but aloe-juice. Dulcinea alone is fair, discreet,
virtuous, sprightly and nobly-born, and all others are ugly,
dense, wanton and the scum of the earth. To be hers and none
other's nature sent me into the world. Let Altisidora weep or
sing and let the lady because of whom they mauled me in
the castle of the enchanted Moor despair, for Dulcinea's am I
bound to be, roasted or boiled, clean, courteous and chaste,
maugre all witchcraft in the world. ' With this he shut the win-
dow with a bang, and perplexed and disheartened, as if he had
met with great disaster, got into bed, where we leave him — for
the great Sancho Panza calls, being about to assume the reins of
his government.

XLlV SANCHO'S INSTALLATION 513

CHAPTER XLV

How Saucho Pauza took possession of his island and
of the commencement of his reign

Othou perpetual discoverer of the antipodes ! torch of the
world ! eye of heaven, sweet stirrer of wine-jars ! Here
Thymbrius, there Phoebus, now archer, now physician ! Father
of poetry, inventor of music, thou that ever risest and though
thou seemest to, never settest ! On thee I call, O sun, by whose
aid man engendereth man : thee I invoke to favour me, illum-
ining the darkness of my wit, that I may faithfully report of
the government of the great Sancho Panza, since without thee
I find myself weak, dejected and confused.

I tell then that with all his retinue Sancho arrived at a village
of near a thousand souls, one of the best in the duke's possession.
They informed him 'twas named the island Barataria — either
because the place was fomerly called Baratario or because of the
barato (practical joke) whereby conferred. On reaching its gates,
for it was a walled town, they were met by the municipality,
come forth to welcome their new governor : the bells rang and
the people gave signs of general rejoicing. With great pomp they
carried him to the cathedral-church to give thanks to God, and
then with absurd ceremonies handed Sancho the keys of the
place, acclaiming him perpetual administrator of the island
Barataria. The garb, beard, plumpness and short stature of the
new governor amazed all not in the secret, and in fact the many
that were. Thence they led him to the judge's seat and placing
him thereon the majordomo said :

' 'Tis an ancient custom here, sir governor, that he that comes
to take ownership of this famous isle is bound to reply to any
question put to him ; by his answer to which question, particu-
larly if knotty and delicate, the townspeople take the pulse of
his genius and are glad or sorry accordingly. ' While the major-
domo was speaking, Sancho sat looking at many large letters on

33

514 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA 11

the opposite wall and not knowing how to read asked what those
paintings were over there. ' There, sir, is writ and recorded the
day whereon your lordship took possession of this isle. The
epitaph reads : This day in such a month of such a year took
possession of this isle the lord Don Sancho Panza, which may he
enjoy many years. ' ' And whom do they call that ? ' ' Your
lordship, for no Panza has ever entered this isle save the one now
seated here. ' ' Then note this, brother, that I have no Don nor
has there been one in my family ever. Plain Sancho is my name,
Sancho was my father and Sancho my grandfather, and all were
Panza without Don or Dona. I fear that in this isle are more
Dons than stones. But enough, God understands me, and if my
government last four days, maybe I'll weed out a few, who from
their plenty must be troublesome as mosquitos. Out with your
question, mister majordomo, and I'll answer the best I can,
whether it makes them sorry or not sorry. '

At that moment entered the court-room two men, one clad as
a peasant, the other as a tailor with scissors in hand and crying :
' Sir governor, I and this labouring -man come before your
worship for the reason that yesterday he came to my shop — for
saving your presences I am a licensed tailor, blessed be God —
and putting a piece of cloth in my hand said : ' Will there be
enough there to make a cap ? ' I measured the piece and told him
yes. He must have suspected, as I suspect and rightly, that I
wished to steal the remnant, founding his belief on his own
roguery and the bad reputation of tailors, for he asked me was
there enough for two caps. I saw through his little game and
told him yes, there would be. And he, riding away on his real
and devilish intent, went on capping my yeses till we came to
five. To-day he calls for his caps which I give him, but he refuses
to settle and even asks me to pay him for the cloth or return it
whole. '

' Is all this true, brother ? ' asked Sancho of the peasant.
' Yes, ' the other replied, ' but let your worship make him produce
the five caps he offers me. ' ' With pleasure, ' said the tailor ;
and thrusting quickly under his cloak he produced five tiny
caps, one on each finger, saying : ' The very five the gentleman

XLlV SANCHO'S INSTALLATION 515

asked for, and 'fore God and on my conscience every bit of the
cloth was used ; what's more I'll give the work to be examined
by the inspectors of the trade. ' All present laughed at the size
of the caps and the novelty of the contention, but Sancho set
himself to consider a moment and then said : ' In my opinion
there need be no delay with this suit, since by common sense it
may be disposed of off-hand, and I give as my decision that the
tailor forfeit his labour and the peasant his cloth and that the
caps be donated to prisoners at the jail ; let no more be said. '/
This judment provoked the amusement of the audience, but what
Sancho ordered was done. -

There now came before him two old men, one carrying a stout
reed by way of walking-stick ; and the other, who had no cane,
said : ' Sefior, days ago I lent this gentleman on demand ten gold
crowns as a favour. Some time went by without mine asking,
that I might not put him to greater distress than when he
borrowed them. But since he seemed to be taking no thought or
trouble about the matter, I have demanded payment not once
but often, and he not only doesn't return the crowns but refuses
outright, saying I never lent the money and that if I did, he has
since paid me. I have no witnesses either of loan or payment
(of the payment because there was none), so I would your
worship take his oath, and should he swear he has returned the
money, I excuse the debt here and before God. '

' What say you to this, good old man of the stick ? ' asked the
judge, and was answered : ' I acknowledge it, sir, but prithee
lower your rod of justice and since he leaves it to mine oath, I'll
swear that I paid the debt, crown for crown.' The governor
lowered his staff and the defendant, first handing his reed to the
plaintiff as if 'twere in the way, put his hand on the staff's crook
and swore that though 'twas true ten crowns had been lent him,
he had in person returned them to the owner, who must havei
forgot or he'ld not keep asking. The governor enquired of the
creditor what he had to say in reply and was answered that
surely the other would not perjure himself, especially as he,
considered him a gentleman and good Christian. As the debtor
said, he must have forgot the time and manner of payment and

516 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

would bother him no more. The debtor at once took his stick and
with a low bow left the room. Sancho observed all this, how
he went away so readily, and observing the plaintiffs meekness
as well, lowered his head on his chest, and putting his right
forefinger against his nose and eyebrow, sat very thoughtful a
moment or two, and then raising his head asked that the old
man be called back. They led him in and the judge said :

' Pray hand me your stick, my good sir ; I have need of it. '
' Most willingly, ' replied the old dodger. Sancho took the reed
and handing it to the other said : ' Go with God, for now are
you paid. ' ' And is this reed worth ten gold crowns ?' ' It is,
else I'm the biggest booby on earth. Let's see now have I brains
to rule a kingdom : ' and he commanded the reed should be split
and opened. This was done and in its hollow were found the ten
crowns. All were filled with admiration and took their governor
for a new Solomon. They asked him how he knew and he told
them that he noticed that the old man before swearing handed
the stick to his creditor and afterwards took it back ; from all of
which could be inferred that though some governors are idiots,
God directs their judgments now and then. Moreover he had
heard the priest of his village tell of a similar case, and his
memory was so good that, were it not that there slipped him all
he wished to retain, there wouldn't be its equal in all that isle.
The old men, one ashamed the other satisfied, went their ways,
leaving the hangers-on of the court dumb with wonder, and even
he that chronicled the words, deeds and actions of Sancho at this
period couldn't make up his mind whether to think him fool or
philosopher.

Now that this lawsuit was disposed of, there entered a woman
holding fast a rich drover and crying : ' Justice, mister gov-
ernor, justice, and if it's not to be found on earth, I'll go look in
Heaven. Your honour, this scurvy fellow caught me on yon plain
and used my body like an ill-washed rag. Alas, wretch that I
am, he has robbed me of that I have treasured these three and
twenty years, defending it from Moor and Christian, fellow-
countryman and foreigner — I as tough as a cork-tree, keeping
myself pure as a salamander in fire or wool on thorns, and here^

XtiV SANCHO'S INSTALLATION S17

this fellow comes with clean hands to rumple my clothes. ' ' It is
yet to be proven whether this gallant's hands are clean or dirty ; '
said Sancho, and turning to the drover he asked what he had to
say in reply.

' Gentlemen, ' began the man in a state of great excitement,
' I am a poor drover of swine and left home this morning in
order to sell four hogs (with your pardon be they maned), but
they fetched only a little more than what I have paid out in taxes
and extortion. On my way back I met this good duenna, and the
devil, who embroils and entangles all things, yoked us together.
I paid her sufficient but she, not satisfied, laid hold and wouldn't
let go till she brought me to this court-room. She claims I forced
her, but by the oath I swear or shall swear she lies, and this is
the truth without missing a hair. ' The governor asked had he
silver on his person. Twenty ducats, he replied, in a leathern
purse on his bosom. He was ordered to hand them to the com-
plainant. The man, trembling from head to foot, obeyed, and the
woman, making a thousand curtsies to all and praying God for
the life and health of the lord governor, who' thus looked out for
distressed orphans and maidens, left the court-room, clutching
the purse in both hands, having first examined to make sure that
the money was silver.

Scarce had she gone when Sancho, turning to the weeping
drover, whose eyes and heart were with his purse, said to him :
' Good man, follow and get the purse though you have to fight
for it, returning with it here. ' Nor did he speak to a dummy or
a dunce, for the drover went out like a flash. The witnesses were
amazed, admiring what would be the issue, but soon both
returned, more united than ever, she with her petticoat raised
and in her lap the purse, which the man struggled to get but
could not, since the other put up the devil of a fight screaming :
' Justice from God and the world ! see your worship, sir gover-
nor, how little fear and shame this soulless creature has, trying
to rob me in the middle of the street of the purse you bade him
give me. ' ' And did he get it?' ' How get it? Fid relinquish my
life sooner than the purse ; a pretty child I should be ! They'll
have to fling other cats at my chin, and not this miserable filthy

518 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MAIVCHA II

wretch ! Pincers and hammers, mallets and chisels, no, nor
lions' claws, won't get it from me : they'll sooner tear my soul
from my flesh. '

' She says true, ' said the drover ; ' I own myself powerless and
beaten ; ' and he let go his hold. ' Let us see this purse, my good
and gallant woman ; ' said the governor. She forthwith handed it
to the judge who returned it to the man, saying to the rapacious
but not raped plaintiff : ' Had you shown the same or even half
the strength and courage in defending your body, my sister, that
you have in guarding your purse, the force of Hercules couldn't
have forced you. Go with God and good riddance, and don't
appear in all this isle nor for six leagues round about, under
pain of two hundred lashes. You shameless, loose-tongued crea-
ture, out of here ! ' The woman, cowed, slunk from the room
and the governor said to the man : ' Go home, my good sir,
with God and with your purse, which would you not lose, try
to yoke with no one. ' The drover gave his boorish thanks and
went away, leaving the court admiring anew the judgments and
sentences of their governor. His chronicler wrote a report of all
for the duke, who eagerly awaited it. Here the just Sancho is
left, since his master, sorely tried by Altisidora's music, bids us
make haste.

CHAPTER XLVI

The frightful cat-and-bell scare experienced by Don Quijote
in the course of the amours of the enamoured Altisidora.

WE left the great Knight of the Lions involved in the
thoughts occasioned by the music of the enamoured
Altisidora. He went to bed with them as with so many fleas, for
they wouldn't let him sleeep or rest, and the thoughts of the
breakage in his hose joined forces. But time is on the wing and
no barrier can check him : he now rode upon the hours and the
one for him to mount the morn came quickly. "When Don
Quijote observed this, he left his soft couch and naught indolent

XliVI THE CAT-AND-BELL EPISODE 519

donned his chamois-suit and then the travelling-boots to hide
his bitter loss. He flung the scarlet mantle about him, assumed a
green- velvet cap edged with silver, hung his baldrick with the
trusty trenchant blade from his shoulders, threw round his neck
the large rosary he was in the habit of wearing, and in fine
figure and gait strode into the hall.

As he passed a gallery who should stand there but Altisidora
with the damsel her friend, and no sooner beheld she the knight
than she feigned a swoon, and her friend catching her in her lap
quickly began unlacing the bosom of her dress. Observing all this
Don Quijote approaching said : ' I already am aware whence
spring these fainting-spells. ' ' I'm sure I am not, ' replied the
friend, ' for Altisidora's the healthiest maid in all the house :
I've never heard her utter so much as an Ah me ! since I first
knew her. But cursed be as many knights-errant as are in the
world, if all be ungrateful. Let your worship depart, Seiior Don
Qnijote, for the poor child won't revive in your presence. '
' To-night, lady, do you place a lute in my chamber and I'll
console the damsel as best I can, since in the spring-time of love
early disillusion is wont to work cure. ' And with this to avoid
making talk he moved on.

Scarce had he gone when Altisidora came to, saying to her
companion : ' We surely must place the lute there for he certainly
intends to give us music and being his it won't be bad. ' They
then went to tell the duchess, who accordingly arranged with
her husband and the damsels to play him a trick, one more
humorous than hurtful. They eagerly looked forward to the
night, which came quickly as had the day, for the interval was
passed by their graces in agreeable converse with their guest.
He, on retiring at eleven that evening, found a guitar in his
bedroom. He tried it, opened the window, saw persons in the
garden, ran over the strings and tuned the instruments as best
he could. Then having spat and cleared his throat in full-tone
though a trifle hoarse he sang a ballad composed by him that
very day.

The knight had but ceased his singing, to which all in the
castle were audience, when suddenly from a balcony overhanging

520 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

his window was let down a rope with more than a hundred
sheep-bells attached, and following it was spilled a whole sack-
ful of cats, with other little bells about their necks. So great was
the jangling and the squalling that duke and duchess, though the
perpetrators of the joke, were fairly startled, while its object
was paralyzed with fear, particularly as fate so willed that two
or three of the cats entered through the grating and flying about
the room made it seem as if a whole legion of devils were loose,
putting out the candles in their efforts to escape. The shaking
of the rope with its large bells didn't cease, enough to petrify
most of the castle-folk, though party to the scheme.

No longer petrified was Don Quijote, who rose and clapping
hand to sword began to cuff the window, shouting : ' Out with
you, ye scurvy enchanters ! avaunt, ye damned crew ! for I am
Don Quijote de La Mancha, and against him your machinations
are but shadows. ' His next turn was to the cats, still scampering
about the room, now whacked at this way and that. At length
they made for the window and flew out, but one of the them,
hard pressed by the knight, leapt for his face and seizing his
nose with claws and teeth, drew from him the most painful yells
imaginable. The duke and duchess hurried to the room and
opening the door with a master-key found the poor gentleman
struggling whith all his might to tear the cat from his face. They
rushed in with lights and the duke hurried to end the unequal
combat, but Don Quijote cried : ' Let none dare separate us ;
leave me hand to hand with this demon, this wizard, this en-
chanter. I'll let him know who Don Quijote is. '

But the cat, heedless of these threats, snarled and held fast,
till the duke was forced to loosen it and chuck it through the
window. The knight was left with a face full of holes and a nose
not as it should be, indignant that they hadn't let him close the
close battle with that monstrous enchanter. They fetched some
oil of hypericum and Altisidora herself with her snowy white
hands applied plasters to the wounds, saying in a low voice as
she dressed them : ' All these calamities have overtaken you,
flinty knight, by reason of your hard-heartedness, and I pray
God that Sancho your squire may forget to lash himself, that this

XLlVII DOCTOR PEDRO RECIO 521

adored Dulcinea of yours may never pass from her enchantment,
nor you enjoy her on the marriage-couch, at least while I live,
for I worship you. '

To all this Don Quijote said ne'er a word, but heaving a deep
sigh stretched himself on the bed and thanked his hosts for their
kindness — not that he feared that ringing feline crew but he was
grateful for their good intention in coming to his aid. They let
him rest, somewhat repentant at the bad turn of their joke, not
having dreamed 'twould prove so painful and costly. Its price
was a five-day confinement to his room, where there befell him
another adventure more agreeable than the last but which his
historian cannot relate at present, for he must hasten to Sancho
Panza who is progressing very busily and delightfully in his
government.

CHAPTER XLVII

Further details of how Sancho Panza bore himself
in his government

THE history tells us that from the justice-hall they led the new
governor to a sumptuous palace, where in a large room was
set a royal and elegant banquet. As Sancho entered clarions
sounded and four pages stepped forward with water for his
hands, which he gravely made use of. The music ceased and
their ruler sat him down at the head of the table, where was the
only cover laid. There stood at his side a personage, who proved
a physician, with a little wand of whalebone in his hand. They
first removed a rich white cloth wherewith the fruit and a large
variety of viands were covered. One that appeared a student said
grace and a page tucked a lace bib under Sancho's chin, while
another, serving as seneschal, laid a plate of fruit before him.
But scarce had he eaten a mouthful when he of the wand touched
the plate with it and the others whisked it away with the great-
est celerity. The seneschal now offered him another viand and
Sancho was about to taste it when the little wand lowered and

52S DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

'twas removed as quickly as the fruit had been. Seeing this the
governor was amazed and looking at the others asked if he was
to eat that dinner like a juggler's trick. To this he of the wand
replied :

' It's to be eaten, sir governor, after the use and custom of
other isles ruled over by governors. I, sir, am a doctor, paid by
this community to act to its head. I consider his health much
more than I do mine own, studying by night and day and sound-
ing his constitution that I may cure him if he fall ill. My chief
duty is to attend at dinners and suppers, letting him eat only
what seems to me for his good and removing aught that might
prove mischievous. I ordered the fruit away as 'twas a trifle
over-humid, and the other viand because it seemed too hot and
full of thirst-inducing spices — for he that drinks much kills
and consumes the radical humours that go to make up life. '
' In that case, ' said Sancho, ' yon dish of roast partridges, they
seem very savoury and will certainly work me no harm. ' ' Not
while I live shall the lord governor partake of these. ' ' And why
not ? ' ' Because our master Hippocrates, the north-star and
shining light of medicine, in one of his aphorisms says : Omnis
saturatio mala, perdicis autem pessima; in other words. All
surfeit is bad but that of partridge worst. '

' If that be so, let sir doctor see which one of all the viands
on this table will prove most helpful and least harmful to me,
and let me eat of the same before it's spirited away, for by the
life of a governor, and so may God let me enjoy it, I am dying
of hunger, and to deny me food, whatever the doctor says, is
not to promote life but to plunder me of the little I have. ' ' Your
worship is quite right, ' agreed the physician ; • there are some
stewed rabbits there, but those you shouldn't eat as it's a furry
food. That veal, however, were it roasted with pickle sauce,
you might have tried. ' And Sancho said : ' But that big dish
smoking yonder is an oUa-podrida methinks and from the variety
whereof such oUas are composed I shall be sure to meet with
something both tasty and wholesome. ' ' Absit ! ' exclaimed the
doctor ; • far be so profane a thought from us. Naught is there
of less nourishment than an olla-podrida. Leave all such to canons

XLlVII DOCTOR PEDRO RECIO S23

and rectors of colleges and to country-weddings, and spare them
from governors' tables, where only delicacy and culture should
reign. The reason is that always and everywhere and by every one
simple medicines are more approved than compound, for in sim-
ples one cannot err while in mixtures yes, by tampering with
the ratio of the ingredients. What the governor should eat for his
health's sake is a hundred wafer-rolls and some thin slices of
quince, which both sustain the stomach and aid digestion. '

Upon this Sancho leaned back in his chair and scrutinising
his doctor asked him in severe tone what his name was and
where he had studied, receiving for his answer : ' I, sir governor,
am called Doctor Pedro Recio de Aguero, native of a village
named Tirteafuera, which lies on the right hand as one goes from
Garacuel to Almodovar del Gampo. I graduated from the Univer-
sity of Osuna. ' To this Sancho, whose wrath was now kindled,
replied : ' Well then. Mister Doctor Pedro Recio of ill-augury,
native of Tirteafuera (take-thyself-off), village lying on the right
hand as one goes from Garacuel to Almodovar del Gampo,
graduate of Osuna, take thyself off and at once ! If not, I swear
by the sun I'll seize a cudgel, and beginning with you I'll cudgel
every doctor out of the island, at least all those I take to be
ignorant ; the learned physicians, the prudent and wise, I'll put
on my head and honour like persons divine. I say again that if
Pedro Recio don't clear out of here this instant, I'll take the
chair wherein I sit and make him see stars. Let them call me to
account in my period of probation as ex-governor, for I'll clear
myself by saying I rendered God a service by killing a bad
doctor as a plague to the commonwealth. Give me something to
eat or let them take their governorships. A post that lacks
sufflcent food isn't worth two beans. '

The frightened doctor, seeing the governor's wrath, was about
to make his exit when suddenly there sounded a post-horn in
the street and the seneschal, looking through the window, turned
round and said : ' A messenger from my lord the duke ; a
message of importance no doubt. ' The lad entered in sweat and
flurry and drawing a despatch from his bosom placed it in the
hands of the governor, who in turn handed it to the majordomo,

S24 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

whom he commanded to read the address, which ran as follows :
To Don Sancho Panza, Governor of the Island Barataria, into his
own hands or those of his secretary. ' Who is my secretary ? '
Sancho enquired ; and one of those present replied : ' I, sir, for
I can read and write and am a Biscayan. ' ' In that case, you can
be secretary to the emperor himself. Open the despatch and see
what it says. ' The new-made secretary did so and having read,
said 'twas private. Sancho ordered the hall cleared, save of the
majordomo and the seneschal, and the others accordingly retired.
The secretary then read the letter aloud as follows :

' It has come to my knowledge, Senor Don Sancho Panza, that
some enemies of mine and this island are to make a furious
assault upon it, some night soon. 'Tis fit then that you be alert
and on guard lest they take you unprepared. I learn also by
trusty spies that four persons have entered the town in disguise
on purpose to take your life, fearing your genius. Keep a sharp
lookout, see who comes to speak with you and eat nothing of
what they offer. I am ready to relieve you in case of trouble, but
in all you will act as expected of your understanding.

From this place the sixteenth of August at four of the morning :

Your friend.
The Duke. '

Sancho was thunder-struck and the bystanders pretended to
be. Turning to the majordomo the governor said : ' That which
must be done and done quickly is to clap Doctor Recio in the
lockup. If anyone will kill me, 'tis he, and by a lingering death,
that of starvation, the worst of all. ' ' Nevertheless, ' replied the
seneschal, ' your worship would best not eat of aught on this
table, for is was presented by nuns, and 'tis a common saying,
The devil lurks behind the cross. ' ' I don't deny it,' said Sancho,
• so let them give me just a piece of bread and a matter of four
pounds of grapes ; in them there can be no poison. Indeed I
cannot last without something and if we're to be ready for
for those battles that threaten us, we must be well-sustained.
The stomach carries the heart and not the heart the stomach. Do
you, secretary, reply to my lord the duke, saying that all shall

XIjVII doctor PEDRO REGIO 525

be done according to his commands without bating a jot. You
will add a salute from me to lady the duchess and say that I
pray her to forget not to express my letter and parcel to my
wife Teresa, which I shall take very kindly and be careful to
serve her ladiship with all my power. You can tuck in by the
way a kiss-of-the-hand to my master Don Quijote de La Mancha
that he may see I am grateful bread. And you, like a good secre-
tary and a good Biscayan, may add what you please that comes
to the point. And now let them remove this cloth and give me
to eat, and having eaten I'll have it out with as many spies,
murderers and enchanters as come against me and mine island. '

At that moment entered a page saying : ' Here is a peasant on
business, who would speak with your lordship on a matter of
great importance.' ' 'Tis a strange thing with your men of affairs,'
said Sancho ; ' can they be such dunces as not to see that these
are not hours for transacting business? Perchance we that judge
and govern are not men of flesh and bone? Is it not necessary to
leave us at peace such times as our needs demand, or would
they that we be of marble ? 'Fore God and on my conscience,
if my government last, which I very much doubt, I'll make more
than one of them know their places. Tell the gentleman to enter,
first seeing that he isn't one of the spies or murderers. ' ' He is
not, ' replied the page, ' but seems the soul of a pitcher, and I
know little or he's as good as good bread. ' ' There's naught to be
afraid of, ' said the majordomo, ' whilst all of us are here. ' And
Sancho said : ' Gould it be, seneschal, during Doctor Pedro
Recio's absence, that I eat some little thing of weight and subs-
tance, a crust of bread perhaps or an onion? ' ' To-night at supper
the scantiness of the dinner will be made good and your lordship
will feel satisfied and repaid for waiting. ' ' God grant it, ' replied
the governor.

There now entered the peasant, whose face would have shown
him a good man with good heart at a thousand leagues. His first
word was : ' Which is sir governor ? ' ' Which can he be, ' an-
swered the secretary, ' but he that is seated ? ' ' I humble myself
in his presence ; ' and kneeling the peasant sought Sancho's hand
to kiss. He was refused however and told to stand on his feet

526 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

and say what he would. And he replied : ' I am a peasant, sir,
a native of Miguel Turra, a village two leagues from Giudad
Real.' 'Have we another Tirteafuera ? ' said Sancho ; 'but
continue, brother, for I can assure you that I know Miguel Turra
well as it's not far from my town. ' ' My story then is that by
the mercy of God I was married with the love and license of the
Holy Roman Catholic Church. I have two sons, students ; the
younger studied for the bachelor's degree and the older for the
licentiate's. I am a widower, since my wife died or, better to say,
a poor physician killed her, purging her when with child. Had
God been pleased that she should have been delivered and of a
boy, I should have had him study for the doctor's degree, that he
might not have been envious of his brothers, the bachelor and
the priest. ' ' So then, ' observed Sancho, ' if your wife hadn't
died or they hadn't killed her, you wouldn't be a widower. '
' Surely not, ' replied the peasant. ' So far we are agreed, '
returned the governor, ' but pray, brother, continue, since the
hour is rather for the siesta than business. '

' I say then, ' proceeded the peasant, ' that this my son, the
one destined to be a bachelor, is in love with a girl named Clara
Perlerina, daughter of Andres Perlerino, a rich farmer of our
town. This name of Perlerino doesn't come to them by descent
or from any ancestry, but because all are paralytic (perlaticos)
and the name is better spelt Perlerines, though this particular
member of the family, this daughter, is veritably an orient pearl
and on her right side seems a flower of the field. On the left not
so much, for that eye is missing, lost through small-pox. But
though her face is deeply pitted, those that admire her say these
are not pits but graves where are buried the souls of her lovers.
She is so cleanly that lest she soil her face, she carries her nose
cocked up, till one would fancy it were fleeing the mouth. Yet
withal she is exceeding comely, for she has a large mouth, and
did it not lack ten or twelve front teeth and molars, it might pass
and make show among the best. In speaking of her lips words
fail me, for so thin and delicate are they, that were it the fashion
to wind lips, one could make a skein of them. Moreover they're
of a different colour from ordinary lips and have a wonderful

XLiVII DOCTOR PEDRO RECIO 527

look about them, being a mottle of blue, green and purple. Pardon
me, sir governor, if I paint too minutely the charms of one that
some day or other will be my daughter, but I love and think
well of the lass. '

' Paint her as you please, ' said Sancho, ' for the picture de-
lights, and had I eaten I couldn't ask for better desert than this
full portrait. ' ' That still remains to serve you, ' replied the
peasant, ■ and if I cannot just now, the time will come when I can.
I mean, sir, that could I paint her grace of carriage and stature
of body, 'twould fill you with admiration, but I cannot because
she's bent and contracted with knees to her mouth, though one
can easily see that were she straight, her head would hit the
ceiling. This beauty would have given her hand to my son, only
she can't stretch out the shrivelled thing, but long, furrowed nails
show its fine proportions. ' ' So far so good, ' said Sancho, ' and
now, brother, supposing her painted from head to foot, what
are you after ? come at once to the point without remnants or
extras, turnings or asides. '

' I would, sir, that your worship favoured me with a letter
of recommendation to the girl's father, praying him to sanction
this marriage, for we're not unequal in fortune's goods or
nature's ; to tell the truth, sir governor, my son is bewitched and
three or four times every day evil spirits torment him. From
falling in the fire once upon a time he has a face puckered like
parchment and eyes rather tearful and running. But his disposi-
tion is that of an angel, and were it not that he thumps and
belabours himself, he'ld pass for a saint. ' ' Is there aught else
you wish, my good sir ? ' ' There is, though I lack courage to
tell it ; but let it speak, for after all I can't let it rot in my breast,
come what may. My desire is, sir, that your worship give me
three or six hundred ducats toward my son's portion, to help
him set up house, for they'll have to live by themselves, away
from the impertinences of their fathers-in-law. ' ' And is that
all ? ' asked Sancho ; ' don't hold back from shyness or shame. '
' That is certainly all, ' replied the peasant.

Scarce were the words out of his mouth when rising to his feet
the governor seized the chair whereon he had been sitting and

528 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

cried : ' By all that's good, don countryman, clownish and ill-
bred churl, I swear to break this seat and open your head if you
don't clear out of here and hide yourself from me. Whoreson
rogue, you devil's own painter ! at this time of day do you come
to ask for six hundred ducats ? where have I them, stinkard ?
or why should I give them to you, scoundrel and idiot ? what
care I for Miguel Turra on the whole family of Perlerines ? Out
of here I tell you, or by the life of my lord the duke I'll do what
I say. Not from Miguel Turra do you come but are some limb
Satan has sent here to try me. Tell me, I've not ruled a day and
a half and would you that I have six hundred ducats ? '

The seneschal motioned to the peasant to leave, which he did
with bowed head and assumed fright, lest the governor carry out
his threat, for the rascal knew well how to play his part. Leave
we also Sancho and his wrath ; peace to all the company and let
us return to his master, whom we left with swathed face under
treatment for cat-wounds, unhealed in eight days, on one whereof
occurred what Gid Hamet promises truthfully to relate with his
characteristic fidelity toward the incidents, however trivial, of
this his narrative.

CHAPTER XL VIII

Don Quijote's affair with Dona Rodriguez, duenna to the

duchess, together with other occurrences worthy of record

and perpetual fame

TRIED and dispirited lay the sorely wounded knight, with
bandaged face, marked not with the hand of God but the
claws of a cat : a situation however not foreign to the ways of
chivalry. Six days he appeared not in public, and one night as
he reclined there awake and watchful, brooding on his ill-luck
and the persecutions of Altisidora, he heard a key turn in his
chamber-door. He at once imagined the love-lorn maid was come
to o'erwhelm his continence, reducing him to betrayal of his
fealty to the lady Dulcinea del Toboso. Convinced of this conceit

XIjVIII DOiiA RODRIGUEZ 529

he swore aloud : ' Nay, the greatest beauty in the world cannot
quell mine adoration of her that is stamped and engraven on my
heart's core and the secret recesses of my reins, whether, my
lady-love, thou be transformed into garlic-fed peasant or nymph
of the golden Tagus, weaving cloth of twisted silk and gold, or
whether Merlin or Mentesinos hold thee at his bidding. Wherever
thou art, thou art mine, and everywhere I have been or shall be
am I thine. '

The closing of this declaration coincided with the opening of
the door. The knight stood up in bed, wrapped from top to toe
in a quilt of yellow satin, a close-iitting cap on his head and with
face and moustaches swathed about — the face because of the
scratches, the moustaches to prevent their drooping — in which
array he looked the strangest phantom conceivable. He fixed his
eyes on the door, expecting to see the blighted and love-smit
Altisidora, but saw instead a venerable duenna, clad in a white
pleated veil that cloaked and covered her from head to foot. In
her left hand she bore a lighted half-candle and with her right
shaded her eyes, covered by a huge pair of spectacles. She
advanced with noiseless steps, plying her fe'et softly. From his
watch-tower the knight observed her stealth and attire and fearing
that some witch or sorceress was come to work him harm, he
quickly crossed himself.

The apparition drew nearer and nearer till, as it reached the
middle of the room, it raised its eyes and observed the speed
wherewith the knight was making the cross. If he was frightened
at her figure, she was paralysed by his. Beholding him so long
and yellow in his quilt and bandages she cried : ' Jesu ! what do
I see ? ' and in her fright dropped the candle. Finding herself in
the dark she turned to go, but tripping on her train sufl'ered a
sound fall. Don Quijote tremblingly began : ' I conjure thee,
phantom or what not, to tell me who thou art and what thou
wouldst of me. If thou be a soul in pain, say, and I'll lend all
my power to thy relief, since I am a Catholic Christian and a
friend of doing good to all the world. For that purpose I took
the order of knighthood, which profession extends even to the
helping of souls in purgatory. '

34

530 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

The discomfited duenna, hearing herself thus conjured, by her
own fear guessed Don Quijote's and in low lamenting voice
replied : ' Senor Don Quijote, if it be he I'm addressing, neither
phamtom nor wraith am I nor soul in purgatory as your worship
imagines, but Dona Rodriguez, duenna of honour to my lady
the duchess, come to you with a need of the kind your worship
is wont to satisfy. ' ' Tell it, senora ; perchance your worship
comes as go-between ? If so, you must know I can be of use to
none, thanks to the peerless beauty of my lady Dulcinea. Would
you cast aside all love-messages, with candle lighted you may
return and we'll discuss all your askings and desires, barring as
I say any of amorous suggestion. ' ' I with a message from
anyone ? your worship little knows me. Nay, I'm not sufficiently
advanced in years to resort to such nonsense, and praise God I
still have a soul in my body and all my teeth and molars in my
mouth, save a few lost through catarrh, so prevalent in this
country of Aragon. But wait a little, sir, and I'll be back with a
light to tell my cares to the easer of all the world's. '

Not staying for reply the duenna left the room, where our
knight, pending hei* return, remained calm and pensive, but not
for long, for a thousand conjectures rushed in upon him. It
seemed ill done and worse considered to endanger his sworn
faith with his lady. ' Who knows but that the devil, cunning
and clever, is now making game of me with a duenna, having
failed with empresses, queens, duchesses, marchionesses and
mistresses of counties ? Many times and from wise men have I
heard that, if he can, he'ld rather give you a flat-nosed woman
than an aquiline, and who knows but that this solitude, the
occasion and the silence will awaken my sleeping desires, making
me fall where I've not even tripped in all these years ? Indeed
in cases like the present 'twere better to flee than wait battle. Yet
I must be daft to say and think such nonsense, since it cannot
be that a tall, spectacled, white-hooded duenna should arouse
passion in the most obdurate breast in the world. Is there per-
chance one of her breed living that has fair flesh ? one that isn't
wrinkled, impertinent and prudish ? Avaunt, ye duennesque
crew, worthless for any mortal pleasure ! O how well acted that

XLiVIII DONA RODRIGUEZ 531

senora, of whom 'tis said Ihat at the end of her drawing-room
she kept two carved duennas with spectacles and sewing-
cushions as if at work ; which dummies were as good as veritable
old-maids for preserving the dignity of the house. '

Saying this the knight stepped from the bed with intent of
locking the door, but just then the lady returned with her candle
and when she beheld the knight at close quarters, in quilt, ban-
dages and bonnet or night-cap, she took a second fright and
retreating two steps or so exclaimed : ' Are we safe, sir knight ?
I take it as no honest sign that your worship has left your bed. '
' I put the same question to you, lady : am I secure from
assault ? ' ' Secure from whom, sir knight ? ' ' From you, since
I'm not of marble nor you of brass, nor is it ten in the morning
but midnight — even a little later methinks. Moreover we're in a
room more shut and secret than that wherein bold and treacherous
Aeneas enjoyed the fair and gentle Dido. But give me your hand,
lady ; I wish for no greater security than my modest continence
and that afforded by your reverend hood ; ' saying this he kissed
his right hand, taking hers given with the same ceremony.

In a parenthesis Gid Hamet says that by Mahomet he'ld have
given the better of his two mantles to have seen the two thus
linked move from door to couch, into which Don Quijote got
again while the Rodriguez sate herself in a chair at a little dis-
tance, not removing her spectacles nor setting down the candle.
The knight drew up the bed-clothes, muffling himself till only
his face was visible, and when the two had quieted a little, he
was the first to break the silence : ' Your worship. Dona Rodri-
guez, may now rip open and pour from your burdened heart and
bowels their full content, for 'twill be heard with chaste ears
and helped ^ith merciful deeds. ' ' This I believe, for naught less
than such a Christian response was to be expected from your
worship'* noble and courteous presence. This then is the case,
Senor Don Quijote, that though you see me seated in this chair
in the heart of the kingdom of Aragon, in the habit of a beaten
and reduced duenna, by rights I am a native of the highlands of
Oviedo and of a family that crosses with the best in that province.

' But mine ill fate and the extravagance of my parents, which

532 DON QUHOTE DE LA MANCHA II

led to their untimely impoverishment, brought me I know not
how or why to the court at Madrid, where for the sake of peace
and to forestall worse disasters my parents put me out as serving-
maid to a lady of quality (and let me say here that at back-stitch
and plain work none has surpassed me in all my life). Leaving
me in service, my parents returned home and thence after a little
they surely went to Heaven, since both were exceptionally good
and Catholic Christians. I was left an orphan, with only the
miserable stipend and sorry presents given such servants at
court. But about this time, through no fault of mine, there fell
in love with me a page of the house, a man already on in years,
bearded, fine looking and above all a gentleman like the king,
for he was of the mountains. We did not carry on our affair so
discreetly as to escape the notice of my lady, who to avoid
gossip married us with the leave and license of the Holy Roman
Catholic Church. From this wedlock was born a daughter to
kill my good fortune, if I had any — not that I died in child-bed,
for I had a safe and seasonable time, but very soon my husband
died of a certain shock which, had I time to tell it, I know
'twould make your worship wonder. ' Here the duenna began to
weep piteously, but continued :

' Forgive me, sir, that I lose control but every time I bethink
me of my unfortunate one, mine eyes fill with tears. So help me
God ! with what authority would he carry my lady behind him
on the crupper of a stout mule, black as the very jet ! for at that
time coaches and carriages, which now they tell me are all the
rage, hadn't come in and ladies rode crupper behind pages. And
this one incident I cannot refrain from telling as typical of the
manners and punctiliousness of my good husband. One day as
they were about to enter Calle de Santiago, which is rather
narrow, a judge chanced to come out of it with two officials
before him, and as my good page sighted the party, he turned
his mule about as if to do the other honour. My lady, who was
riding crupper, whispered : ' What is this, wretch ? have you
forgot I am here ? ' The judge politely drew rein saying : ' Do
not change your route, sir ; 'tis I should accompany Dona
Casilda. ' But my husband with cap in hand persisted, and my

XLlVIII Do5^A RODRIGUEZ 533

lady, beside herself with irritation, drew a stout pin, or bodkin I
guess it was, and ran it so far into his loins that, giving a yell
and jump he came with his charge to the ground. Two of her
lacqueys hastened to pick her up, likewise the judge and his
officials. The Guadalajara Gate was in an uproar — that is, the
idle loafers there. My lady came home on foot and her page raa
into a barber-surgeon's shop, crying he had been stuck through
the bowels.

' This his courtesy was so much commented upon that street-
boys ran after him and for this and because he was rather short-
sighted my lady let him go, and without a doubt to my mind
'twas the humiliation of his dismissal caused his death. I was left
a helpless widow with a daughter on my back that daily grew
in beauty like the foam of the sea. But to make a long story
short, my lady the duchess here, then recently married to my
lord the duke, offered to take me, since I had the reputation of
a good worker, to this kingdom of Aragon, and my daughter
as well, who as the days came and went grew up with all the
grace in the world. She sings like a lark, dances quick as thought,
foots it like a gay one, reads and writes like a schoolmaster and
reckons figures like a miset. Of her cleanliness I say nothing,
since running water isn't purer, and she's already, if my memory
serve me, sixteen years, five months and three days, one more
or less.

' But to come to the point. This my daughter is beloved of the
son of a rich farmer, living in one of my lord the duke's villages
not a great way from here. In short, though I know not how,
they were united, and under the promise of marriage the fellow
fooled her and will not keep his word. My lord the duke knows
it for I have complained to him once and many times, asking that
the youngster be compelled to do his duty, but he turns a deaf
ear. And the reason is that the joker's father lends the duke
money, going surety for his pranks on all sides, so the duke
doesn't wish to ruffle him or make trouble. I would therefore
that you, dear sir, undertook righting this wrong, either by
entreaty or arms, since every one says that for this purpose came
you into the world, to right wrongs and lend a hand. Consider

534 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

the orphanage of my child, sir, her youth and gentle blood,
in addition to those good parts already mentioned, for 'fore
God and on my conscience of all my lady's maids-in-waiting
not one comes up to the sole of her shoe. Even Altisidora, whom
they reckon the most lively and gay, doesn't come within two
leagues of my daughter, since your worship must know that all
is not gold that glitters and this Altisidora has more of presump-
tion than beauty and more sauciness than shame. What's more
she's not in good health and has a tainted breath that makes
people keep their distance. And then there's my lady the
duchess — but silence ! for walls have ears they say. '

' By my life, Senora Dona Rodriguez, what of my lady the
duchess?' demanded Don Quijote. 'With such conjuring I
cannot refrain from telling the whole. Have you noticed, sir, the
strange beauty of my lady's face, that wonderful skin, resembling
nothing so much as a burnished sword-blade? those two cheeks
of milk and carmine like the moon and sun and the sprightliness
wherewith she touches, nay, spurns the ground, as if health in
her footing trod ? Well then, your worship may as well know
that she owes all that to God and two issues, one on each leg,
through which is carried off all thd bad humour whereof the
doctors say she has and to spare. ' ' Santa Maria ! ' exclaimed
the knight ; ' and is it possible that my lady the duchess has
two such conduit-pipes ? I shouldn't have believed it had bare-
footed friars told me, but since Senora Rodriguez affirms it, it
cannot but be, though such issues in such places distil not
humours but liquid amber. Now can I see that this question ot
opening issues is an important one for the health. '

Don Quijote had scarce finished when with a great slam the
doors of the chamber flew open, the duenna's candle dropped
from her hand and the place was left dark as a wolf's mouth, as
the saying goes. Instantly the poor woman felt two hands on her
throat, clutching so tightly she couldn't scream, while another
person quickly and quietly raised the woman's skirts and with
what felt like a slipper gave her such a spanking 'twere a pity.
Though the knight felt ruth, he didn't budge from his bed, not
knowing what he could do, and so lay there, calm and silent,

XLlIX GOING THE ROUNDS 535

fearing lest his turn and tuning come next. Nor in vain, fop
having basted the duenna, who dared not open her mouth, the
silent executioners now attacked her accomplice and stripping
him of sheet and quilt pinched him so fast and furiously as to
force him to bring his fists into play. The battle raged near half
an hour, when the plantoms withdrew. The duenna righted her
skirts and bemoaning her fortune passed from the room without
a word to her champion who, pinched and pensive, was left
alone, torn and troubled as to who the perverse enchanter could
have been that did him this turn. This will be told in due time,
but Sancho Panza calls again, and the structure of the story
demands that we answer him.

CHAPTER XLIX
Sancho's experiences in going the rounds of his island

WE left the governor vexed and impatient with the word-,
artist and rascal who, coached by the majordomo as the
raajordomo had been by the duke, tried to get the better of him.
But the governor held his own with them all maugre his crudeness
and corpulence, and now he said to those about him, including
Doctor Recio, who was back again after the reading of the duke's
private letter : ' Henceforth I shall understand why judges and
governors should and must be made of brass that they may not
feel the importunities of business men, who at all hours and
seasons would be heard and attended to, each one thinking but
of himself, come what may. For if the poor judge don't hear
them and help them out, either because he cannot or because
they come at the wrong time, then they slander him, gnaw at his
bones and even rip his family to pieces. Foolish man of aifairs,
addle-pated creature, don't for ever be in such a sweat : abide
the proper time. Don't call at the dinner-hour or when we are
abed ; judges are men of flesh and bone like yourselves and must
give what nature asks, asks of all save me, for I give her nothing,
thanks to Senor Doctor Pedro Recio Tirteafuera here, who

536 DON QUIJOTE DB LA MANCHA II

wants me to perish of hunger, affirming that such a death is life,
which may God grant him and all his breed, the scurvy doctors
I mean, for the skilled ones deserve palms and laurels. '

Those that knew Sancho were taken aback, hearing him speak
so elegantly, not knowing to what to attribute it, unless 'twere
his position of responsibility, which either quickens or deadens
the understanding. And the doctor promised to let him sup that
night, though he broke all the aphorisms of Hippocrates. With
this the ruler was content, though with great restlesness he
awaited the hour : it seemed as if time stood still nor budged
from one place. At length however the moment arrived and they
gave him a beef-and-onion salad and some boiled calves'-feet
a trifle stale, but these Sancho devoured with more relish than
as if Milan francolins, Roman pheasants, Sorrento veal, Moron
partridges or Lavajos geese. Yet he found time to say to the
doctor :

' Look ye, my physician, henceforth trouble not with fancy
dishes, which will knock my stomach off its hinges, since 'tis
used only to kid, beef, bacon, salted meat, turnips and onions,
and if by chance it be given any of your palace-victuals, it
receives them with squeamishness and sometimes with nausea.
What the seneschal can do is to make me up one of those oUa-
podridas, and the further gone they are the better they smell, and
into it he can stuff and cram all he wishes, so long as it be fit to
eat, and some day I'll thank and pay him. But let none try to
fool with me, for either we are or are not. Let us live and eat in
good peace and fellowship, for when God dawns He dawns for
all. I shall rule this post without yielding a right or taking a
bribe. And let everyone keep an eye open and mind his own
shaft, for I'ld have them know the devil's abroad in Gantillana,
and if they give me occasions they'll see marvels. Nay, but make
yourself honey and flies will eat you. '

' Indeed, sir governor, ' replied the seneschal, ' there's plenty
of good sense in what you say, and I offer, in the name of the
islanders, to serve you in all love, fidelity and kindness, since
your pleasant method of ruling in these initial affairs doesn't
admit of thing or thought that would redound to your confusion.'

XlilX GOING THE ROUNDS/' S37

' I believe you, ' said Sancho, and tiiey'ld be fools that did or
thought otherwise. And let me repeat that care must be taken
both of my sustenance and that of Dapple, which is the thing
we must look to as most to the purpose. Now that it's time to go
the rounds, my intention is to clean this island of every kind of
impurity and of all idle and good-for-nothing vagabonds, since
sloth and laziness, friends, are to a republic what drones are to
a hive, eating up the honey made by the working-bees. I shall
encourage labourers, see that hidalgos have their rights, reward
the virtuous and above all respect religion and honour its true
servants. How does that strike you, my friends ? say I aught or
do I but break my head ? ' ' Your worship says so much, '
answered the majordomo, ' that I wonder how one so unlettered,
for I believe you utterly so, can say so many and excellent
things, full of wisdom and counsel — so far beyond what was
looked of your wit by those that sent us here and by us that
came. Eaeb—da^sees newjthings in_the world : jests turn
earnests and jesters are made fools of. '

The night^as atnand-ajtdtKegovernor, after eating, prepared
to set out on his rounds, accompanied by majordomo, secretary,
seneschal and the chronicler whose duty it was to record his
doings, together with other officers and notaries so many they
made half a squadron. Sancho walked in their midst rod in hand,
a sight to do one's heart good. Having traversed a few streets
they heard a clashing of knives and hurrying thither found two
men fighting, though they stopped at once on seeing the author-
ities, and one of them cried : ' Here in God's name and the
king's ! what, are they allowed to rob a man in public and
assault him in the middle of the street ? '

' Calm yourself, my good man, ' ordered Sancho, ' and tell the
cause of all this, for I am the governor. ' Thereupon the other
fighter answered : ' Sir governor, I can tell you in few words.
Your worship shall know that this gentleman has just won in
yon gaming-house more than a thousand reals, though God
knows how. I, being present, adjudged more than one doubtful
cast in his favour though quite against my conscience. The fellow
rose with his winnings and naturally I expected at least a crown

538 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

as fee, which trained men like myself are in the habit of getting.
We stand by to see fair play and foul, to back up wrong prac-
tices and stave off quarrels. Well, what does he do but pocket
his money and leave. I provoked, went after and tried by fair
and curteous words to make him give me at least eight reals. He
knows 1 am a respected man, without trade or position, since
my parents neither taught me nor left me anything, but the
scoundrel, more a thief than Gacus and sharper than Andradilla,
would only give me four. So you may see, sir governor, how
little shame he possesses and how small his conscience. Indeed,
had your worship not come up. Fid have made him vomit forth
his winnings or know with how many pounds the steelyard
was weighted. '

' What say you to this ? ' questioned Sancho of the other,
who replied that what his assailant said was true, but that he
was unwilling to give him more than four reals because he had
given them many times before ; those expecting commissions
should be civil, taking what's offered with a cheerful face, and
not dispute with the winners unless they know them sharpers
for certain and their gains trickily won. To show that he was a
gentleman and not a thief as the other represented, there was
no better evidence than his refusal to pay, for your genuine
sharper is ever a willing tributary to onlookers, by whom they
are known. ' That is true,' interposed the majordomo ; ' let your
worship, sir governor, consider what shall be done with these
men.^ ' What shall be done is this : do you, winner, good, bad
or indifferent, straightway hand over to this your would-be
knifer a hundred reals, and count out thirty more for the poor
at the jail. And do you, knifer and good-for-nothing, since you
have neither trade nor position, take the hundred reals and
some time to-morrow betake you from this isle, banished for
ten years, under penalty of completing the term in another life,
for I, or the hangman at my bidding, will suspend you from
a gibbet. And let none answer or he will feel my hand. '

The one disbursed, the other received, this left the island,
that went home, and the governor continued : ' I am worth little
or I'll put an end to these gaming-houses, for I am sure they're

XlilX GOING THE ROUNDS S39

injurious.' ' Your worship will fail with this one,' said a notary,
' for a person of rank runs it, though the cards lose him far more
each year than they win. Against the smaller dives your wor-
ship may well exert authority ; they do the greatest harm and
harbour the worst abuses, for in those owned by noblemen and
gentlemen notorious sharpers dare not practise their finesse.
Since the vice of gambling has become a national pastime, 'twere
better carried on by persons of degree than in the house of
of some mechanic, where they swoop down upon a poor fellow
after midnight and skin him alive.' ' Well, notary,' said Sancho,
' methinks there is much to be said in this matter. '

There now came up a watchman with a youth in tow, saying :
' Sir governor, this youngster was walking toward us, but when
he espied justice he turned and fled like a buck, showing he
must be an evil-doer of some sort. I set out after but never would
have caught him, had he not stumbled and fallen. ' ' Why did
you run, my boy ? ' asked Sancho. ' To avoid the many questions
these watchmen put to a fellow. ' ' What's your trade ? ' 'A
weaver.' 'And what do you weave?' ' Please, sir, iron-points
for lances. ' ' 'Tis a wag you are, and would you weave your
jokes with me ? Very good, and whither bound ? ' 'To take the
air, sir. ' ' And where on this island do they take the air ? '
' Where it blows. ' ' Good, ' said the governor, ' you answer to
the point. You're shrewd, my son, but take notice that I am the
air and blow astern of you, driving you to jail. Ahoy ! seize him
and lock him up, for to-night I'll have him sleep without air. '

' 'Fore God, ' cried the young man, ' your worship can as
little make me sleep in jail as crown me king. ' ' And why not ?
haven't I the power to arrest you and set you free each and
every time I please ? ' ' Whatever you worship's authority, 'twill
not suffice to make me sleep in jail.' 'What do you say!'
exclaimed Sancho ; ' take him there at once, where he'll see his
mistake with his own eyes. Should the jailer on your behalf
use interested kindness, I'll fine him two thousand ducats, if he
let you put a foot outside the door.' ' Ridiculous,' still persisted
the prisoner ; ' the fact of the matter is that not all the living
can make me sleep in jail. ' ' Tell me, devil, have you some

340 DON QUIJpTE DE LA MANCHA II

angel to set you free from the fetters wherein I think to clap
you ? ' ' Now, sir governor,' replied the other gaily, ' let us talk
and come to the point. Suppose your worship sends me to jail
and they put me in chains and fetters in a cell, with the jailer
under a heavy forfeit if he let me escape, none the less if I keep
awake all night and refuse to sleep, can your worship with all
your power make me ? ' ' Certainly not, ' said the secretary ;
' the fellow has made his point. ' ' You wouldn't sleep then, '
asked Sancho, ' because it was your pleasure ; you wouldn't
think of doing so merely to thwart mine ? ' ' No, sir, not for a
moment. ' ' Then go with God and sleep at home and may He
give you a good one, for I would not rob you of it. But hence-
forth take care not to joke with justice, else some day you'll
meet with such 'twill send the joke to your brain-pan. '

The lad went off and the governor continuing his rounds soon
met two watchmen with another youth. ' Sir governor, ' said
they, ' this that seems a lad is not, but a lass and no homely
one, coming in boys' clothes. ' They then held two or three
lanterns before the prisoner and discovered the face of a girl of
sixteen or a trifle more, with hair gathered into a net of gold and
green silk, herself fair as a thousand pearls. They viewed her
from head to foot and observed she wore stockings of flesh-
coloured silk, with garters of white taffeta edged with gold, and
seed-pearl. Her breeches were of green cloth of gold, her jerkin
or coat of the same hung loose, beneath which she wore a doublet
of finest stuff, gold and white. Her shoes were boys' shoes, only
white. No sword hung at her girdle but a handsome dagger in-
stead and on her fingers were many costly rings ; in a word she
struck all as exceeding fair. The Baratarians were entirely at sea
as to her identity and those privy to the tricks played upon
Sancho were even more puzzled, for this finding was not to
order.

Sancho, though benumbed by the beauty of the girl, asked
her who she was, whither bound and why in that garb. With
eyes on the ground she answered : ' I cannot tell in public, sir,
what it behooves me to keep secret, One thing only I wish to be
understood, that I am no thief or wicked person but an unhappy

XLlIX GOING THE ROUNDS S41

maiden whom the power of jealousy caused to break through the
respect due to modesty. ' Upon this the majordomo said to the
governor : ' Ask the others to retire, sir, that this lady may
speak with less diffidence. ' Sancho gave the order and all with-
drew save the majordomo, seneschal and secretary. The girl,
seeing they were alone, continued : ' I, gentlemen, am a daughter
of Pedro Perez Mazorca, who farms the wool in this village and
often visits my father's house. ' ' That won't hold water, lady, '
said the majordomo, ' for I know the man well — he has neither
son nor daughter. More by token you say he's your father and
then add that he often comes to your father's house. ' ' I noticed
that too, ' remarked Sancho.

' Well, sirs, I was confused and knew not what I said. To
speak trutfuUy, I am the daughter of Diego de la Liana, whom
you all must know. ' ' That well may be, ' responded the major-
domo ; ' I also know that gentleman, a rich and noble hidalgo,
that he has one son and one daughter, and that since he was left
a widower, none in the whole village can say he has seen the
girl's face. He keeps her in such seclusion that he doesn't let
even the sun look at her. Yet rumour has it that she's very beau-
tiful. ' ' You are right, ' replied the girl, ' that daughter am I ;
whether or no rumour lies as to my looks, judge for yourselves,
sirs, for you now see me ; ' and with this she began to weep.
The secretary whispered in the seneschal's ear : ' Surely some-
thing serious has befallen the poor child, walking abroad so far
from home in such a guise and at this late hour.' ' No doubt of it,'
the other replied, ' and her tears confirm our suspicion.' Sancho
consoled the girl with the best words at his command, beseeching
her to tell them without fear just what had happened, since they
would try most earnestly to set things right again, without
leaving a stone unturned.

' It is the truth, sir, ' she went on, ' that my father has kept
me in privacy ten years now, ever since the earth closed over my
mother. At home they say mass in a rich oratory, so in all that
time I've seen neither the sun by day nor the moon and stars
by night, nor do I know what streets are nor plazas nor temples
nor even men save my father, brother and Pedro Perez the col-

542 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

lector, whom, as he frequently visits us, I tried to pass off as my
father. I was not even allowed to go to church and this confine-
ment has for some time made me very restless. I wished to know
the world, at least my native-village and I couldn't see how such
a desire ran counter to the decorum to be observed by maidens
of birth. When I heard them talk of bull-fights, cane-throws and
play-acting, I would ask my brother, who is a year younger
than I, all about these and many other things I had never seen.
He would describe them as vividly as he could, but this only
increased my desire to witness them myself. In the end, to cut
short the story of my ruin, I begged and besought my brother —
ah ! would I had not done so ! ' and the girl began to weep
afresh. But the majordomo encouraged her, saying : ' Continue,
lady, and tell us what befell you, since your words and tears
keep us in suspense. ' ' Few remain for me to say, though many
tears are yet to weep, for misplaced desires entail that atonement.'
By this time the maiden's beauty had sunk deep into the
seneschal's soul and again raising his lantern he felt these were
not tears she shed but seed-pearls or dew of the field. Nay, he
put them a point higher and made orient pearls of them, at the
same time praying that her misfortune was not so great as sighs
and weeping declared. The governor was uneasy under the
child's delay, bidding her relieve their suspense, for 'twas late
and they had still much of the town to inspect. 'Twixt broken
sobs and half-formed sights she again took up the thread, saying :
' This alone is my calamity and misfortune, that I besought my
brother to dress me in one of his suits and while our father slept
take me to see the village. Moved by my entreaties he clothed
me in this suit and donning one of mine which became him as
if born in it (for not having a beard he looked like a lovely
maiden), this night an hour or so ago he and I left home. Guided
by our youthful and intemperate purpose we made the circuit of
the entire village, but as we were about to return, we saw a great
troop of persons coming and my brother said : ' This must be
the watch, sister. Lighten your feet, put wings to them and follow
me, for if they recognise us, there'll be trouble ; ' and with this
he began not to run but fly. Terrified, in less than six steps I fell

XlilX GOING THE ROUNDS 343

and then came the officer that led me here, where as wicked and
capricious I find myself shamed before much people. ' ' Then
no other harm has befallen you, ' asked Sancho, ' and 'twas not
jealousy as you first told us drew you from home ? ' ' No, sir,
solely my desire to see the world, which to nie meant no more
than the streets of this village. '

The truth of what the maiden said was confirmed by the arrival
of other watchmen having in their custody her brother, whom
one had caught in his flight. His garb was naught but a rich
petticoat and a mantle of blue damask with fine gold lacing. His
head was without covering, unadorned save by curly locks hang-
ing like ringlets of gold. The governor, majordomo and seneschal
at once went apart with him and to their questions as to his
disguise he with no less shame and embarrassment told the same
story as his sister, whereat the enamoured seneschal was over-
joyed. And the governor said to the pair : ' Surely, gentlefolk,
this has been but a childish escapade and to tell of it there was
no need of so many tears and sighs. Simply to have said that you
were such and such and that you left home simply to amuse
yourself would have ended the tale, with none of these ahs and
ohs and the rest of it. ' .

' I know, ' said the girl, ' but your worships must consider
that my^ excitement was so great that I couldn't keep within
bounds.' ' No barm has been done,' said Sancho; ' we'll accom-
pany you to your father's house — perhaps he hasn't missed you.
Hereafter don't be such children or so desirous to see the world,
for honest girl and broken leg abide at home, and the woman and
the hen by gadding are soon lost, and she that wishes to see
also wishes to be seen — I say no more. ' The youth gratefully
accepted the governor's offer to lead them home, which they found
not far away. The lad threw a pebble at a casement, a servant
came down to open the door and brother and sister disappeared
within, leaving all pensive in the thought of their bearing and
beauty and their desire to see the world at night without leaving
their village ; but they attributed all to their youth. The seneschal
was left with an aching heart that determined him on the morrow
to ask the damsel's father for her as his wife, assured he wouldn't

544 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

be denied, being in the duke's employ. Even to Sancho there
came the suggestion of marrying her brother with his daughter
Sanchica ; in fact he resolved to arrange for this in due season,
persuading himself that no husband could be refused a governor's
daughter. With this the night-watch came to an end and two
days later the government itself, whereby all Sancho's designs
were demolished and scattered to the winds, as presently will
be seen.

CHAPTER L

Wherin is declared who were the enchanters and execu-
tioners that whipped the duenna and pinched and scratched
Don Quijote ; together with the fortunes of the page that
carried the letter to Teresa, wife of Sancho Panza

GiD Hamet, untiring inquisitor into the details of this true
history, says that at the time Dona Rodriguez slipped from
her room on her visit to Don Quijote, she was observed by
another duenna her bed-fellow, and as all duennas are given to
prying and smelling into things, she followed her and so quietly
as not to be noticed. As soon as the second duenna saw the first
enter the knight's chamber, she immediately went to inform the
duchess thereof, proving herself no exception to the rule that all
of her stripe are tale-bearers. The duchess, telling the duke, asked
leave that herself and Altisidora go and see what the old woman
was about. The duke assented and the pair slowly and cautiously
groped their way to the chamber-door, where they overheard all
that was said within. And when Dona Rodriguez came to tell
of the duchess's secret garden of fountains, the latter could not
suffer it, Altisidora less, and both boiling with wrath and bent
on revenge broke into the room, spanking the duenna and tor-
menting her champion as above described. Insults directed
against the pride and beauty of women awaken ire beyond
control and set aflame vengeful passions.
To his great enjoyment the duchess rehearsed to the duke all

Li TERESA AND SANCHICA 645

that had passed and contmuing to make sport and pastime of her
guest she despatched the page that had impersonated Diilcinea
in the device of her disenchantment (now clean forgot by Sancho
in the cares of government) to Teresa Panza his wife with the
letter from her husband, another from the duchess herself and a
long necklace of rich corals as a gift. The history adds that this
page, a shrewd and clever fellow, in the service of his master
and mistress gladly undertook this mission to Sancho's town.
At a stream just outside its entrance seeing a number of women
washing clothes he asked did there live in that village one Teresa,
wife of a certain Sancho Panza, squire to a knight Don Quijote
de La Mancha. A young girl, washing with the others, rose to
her feet saying : ' This Teresa Panza is my mother, that Sancho
my dear father and the gentleman you name our master. ' ' Gome
then, chick, and lead me to your mother for I bring her a letter
and present from your daddie. '

' That shall I do with a right good-will, ' answered the lass, a
girl of about fourteen ; and leaving the wet clothes with a friend,
without covering head or feet — for she was barefoot and her
hair hung loose — she skipped in front of the page's horse
calling : ' Gome, your worship, for our house is right at the
entrance to the village and my mother in it, worried enough at
not having heard from dad these many days. ' ' Then I bring
such good news that she can well give thanks to God. ' Leaping,
running and skipping the girl came to the town and before
entering her house cried : ' Gome out, mother Teresa, come out,
come out, for here's a gentleman with letters and other things
from my good father. ' At these cries appeared the mother, spin-
ning a bundle of flax, clad in grey petticoat so short it looked
docked as a mark of shame, with smock and grey bodice. She
was not old, a trifle over forty perhaps, hale, hearty and sun-
dried. Seeing her daughter and on horseback the page she asked :
' What is this, child ? what gentleman is this ? '

' A servant of my lady Dona Teresa Panza, ' replied the page ;
and suiting action to word he leapt from his horse and humbly
knelt before her saying : ' Let your worship give me your hands,
my lady Dona Teresa, lawful and particular wife of Senor Don

35

346 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Sancho Panza, rightful governor of the islaad Barataria. ' ' Gome,
dear sir, get up ; don't do that, for I am none of your palace
ones but a poor peasant, daughter of a clod-beater, wife of a
squire-errant, not of a governor. ' ' Your worship is the most
worthy wife to an archworthy governor, as proof whereof behold
this letter and present ; ' and he drew from his pocket a string
of corals with gold clasps. Throwing it over her neck he said :
' This letter is from the lord governor and another here together
with these corals is from my lady the duchess, whose messenger
lam.'

Teresa was struck dumb and the girl no less till she said :
' May they kill me if our master Senor Quijote hasn't a hand in
this ; he must have given father that government or countship so
often promised. ' ' Exactly so, ' said the page, ' for 'tis through
Seiior Don Quijote that Senor Sancho now governs the island
Barataria, as this letter will show. ' ' Please your worship read
it, sir, ' asked Teresa, ' for though I can spin I cannot read a
jot. ' ' And I as little, ' added Sanchica ; ' but wait and I'll fetch
one that can, be it the priest himself or the bachelor ; either will
be glad to come and get news of my daddie. ' ' There's no use
calling anyone, ' said the page, ' for though I cannot spin I can
read, and will read this letter. ' This he now did but as it has
already been given it will not be repeated here. He then produced
the following one from the duchess :

Friend Teresa :

The excellent qualities of wit and goodness in Sancho your
husband induced, nay, compelled my lord the duke to give him
the governorship of one of the many islands in his possession.
I have word that he governs like a jail-bird, whereat I am much
pleased, as is of course my husband. Truly am I grateful to
Heaven that I made no mistake in slating him for that post, for
rid have you know, lady Teresa, a good governor is a rare bird
in this world, and may God do as well for me as Sancho governs.
Herewith I send you, my dear, a string of corals with gold
clasps — I would they were orient pearls, but who gives thee a
bone doesn't wish to see thee dead. The time will come when

Ij TERESA AND SANCHICA S47

we shall know and converse with each other and God knows
what will be. Commend me to Sanchica your daughter ; tell her
to hold herself ready for I mean to marry her highly when least
she thinks it. They tell me that in your neighbourhood are fine
fat acorms ; send me two dozen or so and I shall value them
greatly a^ coming from your hand. Write at length, advising of
your health and welfare, and should you have any need, but
open your mouth and it shall be filled. God keep you.

From this place, your friend that loves you well.
The Duchess

' Ah ! ' exclaimed Teresa, ' what a civil and good and lowly
lady. With such may they bury me and not the kind they have
in this town, who think just because they're gentle the wind
must not touch them, going to church with as many airs as if
queens, till one would think they considered it a disgrace just to
look at a working woman, when here's a good lady that though
a duchess calls me friend and treats me as equal, and equal may I
see her with the tallest belfry in La Mancha. As to the acorns,
sir, I'll send her a peck and such fat ones that they'll come to
see them as a sight and a wonder. And now, Sanchica, see to
this gentleman's entertainment. Put up his horse, fetch some eggs
from the stable, cut plenty of bacon and let's give him a dinner
fit for a prince, since his good news and honest face deserve no
less. In the meantime I'll go tell the neighbours of our happiness,
and the good father priest and the barber Master Nicholas, always
such friends of your father. ' ' I'll do as you say, mother, but
remember to give me half the coral-string, for I can't think my
lady the duchess so foolish as "to have sent you everything.'
' Indeed you shall have it all, daughter, only let me wear it for
a few days about my neck, since it seems to gladden my heart
wonderfully. ' ' Both your hearts will be gladdened when I open
this portmanteau, ' said the page, ' for it contains a suit of the
finest cloth, worn but one day by the governor when out hunting
and sent by him to the lady Sanchica. ' ' May he live a thousand
years, ' cried the girl, ' and the fetcher the same, or two thousand
if need be. '

548 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Teresa now went forth with the letters and the coral-string
about her neck, thrumming the first as if playing a tambourine,
and meeting by chance with the priest and Garrasco she fell into
a dance, saying : ' My faith, but there's no poor relation now,
for we've a little government. Nay, but let your finest gentlelady
close with me to-day and I'll set her down as an upstart. ' ' What
is this, Teresa ? what folly and what papers are these ? ' ' There
is no folly but this, that here I have letters from duchesses and
governors. These beads are fine coral, the avemarias and pater-
nosters are of beaten gold and I am the governor's wife. ' ' God
help us, Teresa, we can't make you out ; what is this you say ? '
' See for yourselves, ' said Teresa, handing out the letters. The
priest that Samson might hear read them aloud. Each looked at
the other in astonishment. The bachelor asked who had brought
them. Teresa for reply bade them come with her and see the
messenger, a youth like a gold brooch, who bore another present
worth as much again. The priest lifted the corals from her neck,
examined them with care and satisfied of their genuineness was
amazed afresh, saying : ' By the habit I wear, I don't know what
to say or think of these letters and presents. On one hand I see
and touch the fineness of these corals yet on the other I read
how a duchess sends and asks for two dozen acorns. ' ' Strike a
balance, ' advised Garrasco ; ' at any rate let us go and interview
the bearer, from whom we can find a way out of our dilemma. '
This they did and Teresa with them.

They found the page sifting barley for his horse, and Sanchica
cutting a rasher to be paved with eggs for his dinner. They were
taken with the fellow's fine appearance and when compliments
had been exchanged Samson asked for any news he might have
of Don Quijote and Sancho ; in spite of the letters they couldn't
understand what it meant for the latter to be governor, especially
of an island, since all or most islands were in the Mediterranean
and belonged to His Majesty. To this the page replied : ' As to
the fact that Senor Sancho Panza is a governor, there can be no
doubt, but that it's an island he rules, I shan't try to decide ;
suffice it that it contains over a thousand souls. As to the acorns
let me say that my lady the duchess is so civil and humble that

Li TERESA AND SANCHICA 549

this asking acoras of peasants signifies notliing. Why, I've known
her to beg the loan of a comb of one of her neighbours. Fid have
your worships realise that the ladies of Aragon, though of as
high birth, are not so punctilious or toploftical as Gastilian ones.
They conduct themselves with greater consideration. '

"While they were thus i^ converse, Sanchica came out with
her lap full of eggs, saying to the messenger : ' Tell me, sir, does
my father wear laced breeches perchance, now he's a governor ? '
' I haven't noticed but doubtless he does. ' ' 'Fore God, ' cried
the girl, ' what a marvel to see him in close-fitting breeches !
is it not strange that ever since I was born I've longed to see
my daddie in tights. ' ' Things like that you shall see if you
live, ' replied the page ; ' I swear, if the government last two
months only, he's likely to wear a hood and mask. ' The priest
and bachelor easily saw how he spake as a wag, but the quality
of the corals and hunting-suit, which Teresa now produced,
befogged them again. Yet they could not refrain from laughter
at Sanchica's longing, nor when the mother said :

' Senor priest, enquire in the village if anyone is going to
Madrid or Toledo soon, that he may buy me a round farthingale,
all proper and complete, and let it be in style and the best that is.
Indeed, indeed I must honour my husband's government as I
can ; nay, if they worry me, I'll go to this court and set me up a
coach like the rest of them, for she that has a governor for hus-
band can afford a coach to be sure. ' ' And why not, mother ?
would to God 'twere to-day rather than to-morrow, though they
that saw me seated in it with my lady mother should say :
' Look at the good-for-nothing, daughter of a garlic- stuffed,
stretched out there as if she-pope. ' But let them tramp in the
mud and let me ride in my carriage with my feet off the ground :
a bad year and a bad month to all backbiters in the world. Let
me go warm and folk may laugh ; do I say right, mother ? '

' Indeed you do, my child. All this good fortune and even
better my good Sancho foretold me. You'll see it won't end till
they make me a countess, for with luck the start is everything,
and many times I've heard your fathersay (for ixe-bifl-not only
yours but is also the father of proverbs), When they hand you

550 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

a heifer, hurry with the halter : when they proffer you a govern-
ment, hold it tight ; a countship, take it in, and when they
whistle with something good, swallow it, O no ! go to sleep and
don't answer when good times come knocking at your door. '
And Sanchica added : ' What do I care if when they see me
puffed up and fantastic they say : ' The dog saw himself in
hempen breeches — and the rest of it ? ' The priest listened and
when the women were done he said : ' Sure am I that each of the
Panzas was born with a sack of proverbs inside, since never
have I met with one of them that hasn't poured them out at all
hours and in our every conversation. ' ' That must be true, '
agreed the page, ' for Senor Governor Sancho speaks them at
every turn, and though many are inapt, they all give pleasure
and my master and mistress set great store by them. '

' But do you still aflirm it true, sir,' asked the bachelor, ' this
matter of Sancho's government, and that there's a duchess in the
world that writes his family and sends them presents ? For
ourselves, though we touch the presents and read the letters, we
do not believe it, suspecting it some ruse connected with Don
Quijote our fellow-townsman, with whom matters are brought
about by enchantment. I would touch and feel of your worship
and see whether a phantom -messenger or one of flesh and bone. '
' All I can say for myself, gentlemen, is that I a genuine ambass-
ador, that Sancho Panza is a bona-fide governor, that my lord
and lady the duke and duchess can give and have given said
government and that word comes that" the aforenamed Panza
bears himself most worthily therein. Whether or no there be
enchantment about this, your worships must decide between
yourselves, for I know naught else by the oath I swear, which
is, by the life of my parents, who are still alive and whom I love
and wish well. '

' It all may be,' replied the bachelor, ' but dubitat Augustinus.'
' Let him doubt that will, but the truth is as I have stated and
the truth always tops falsehood as oil does water. If not, operibus
credite et non verbis : come one of you with me and see with
your eyes what you don't believe with your ears. ' ' I am the
one, ' cried Sanchica ; ' let your worship carry me crupper, for

lil ADMINISTERING THE LAW 331

how glad shall I be to see my dear father again. ' ' Governors '
daughters should not travel without escort but with coaches,
litters and a retinue of servants. ' ' 'Fore God, ' insisted the girl,
' as well can I ride a she-ass as in a coach ; you take me for a
prude. ' ' Hush, child, ' counselled her mother, ' you know not
what you say. This gentleman is right, for as the time so the
tactics : when Sancho, Sancha, and when governor, lady, but I
don't know that I say aught. ' ' The lady Teresa says more than
she thinks, ' the page assured her ; ' but give me to eat and I am
off, since I intend to return this afternoon. ' ' Your worship will
come and do penance with me, ' said the priest, ' since lady
Teresa has more good-will than good cheer to serve so worthy a
guest. '

The page begged off but in the end had to comply, to his own
advantage, and the priest in triumph led him away that he might
question him in detail concerning Don Quijote and his doings.
The bachelor offered Teresa to write letters of reply, but as she
knew him for a wag, she didn't want him meddling in her affairs.
Instead she gave a roll and two eggs to a shaveling friar, who
wrote out the missives, one for her husband and another for the
duchess, dictated out of Teresa's own head and not the worst
letters in this lengthy story, as soon will be seen.

CHAPTER LI

The progress of Sancho's government, with other passages

such as they are

THE day dawned that followed the night of the governor's
rounds, which night the seneschal passed without sleeping,
drowned in the memories of the face, air and beauty of the
disguised maiden. The majordomo passed what remained of it in
writing the duke and duchess of all that Sancho Panza had done
and said, equally amazed by his deeds and words, for both were
streaked with wisdom and folly. The governor took his own
time about rising and by order of Doctor Pedro Recio break-

352 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

fasted upon a little conserve and four draughts of cold water,
which he would willingly have exchanged for a piece of bread
and a bunch of grapes. But finding it a matter of compulsion
rather than choice, he submitted with sufficient sorrow of soul
and grief of stomach, under the persuasion of the doctor who
made him believe that light and delicate viands quicken the
intelligence — a result most essential to persons in office and
authority, where the powers of the body aren't so much called
into play as those of the mind. Bending to this sophistry Sancho
suffered hunger so keen that in his heart he cursed the govern-
ment and him that bestowed it. In spite of his hunger and
conserve, however, that day found him at his post as judge.

The first thing that came before him (the majordomo and other
attendants being present) was a question put him by a stranger :
' Senor, ' said he, ' a certain lord's estate is divided by a deep
river (and may your worships attend, for the case is important
and not a little involved), over which river stretches a bridge, at
whose end stand a gallows and a kind of court-house, in which
last four judges administer this law laid down by the owner of
the river, bridge and manor : Whoever shall cross this bridge
must first swear his business and destination. If he swear the
truth, he may pass over ; if a lie, he shall be strung on the gallows
without hope of reprieve. In the knowledge of this law and its
severe condition many have come to the bridge and as they
appeared to swear truly, were allowed to cross. But so it fell
out that when they came to put the oath to a certain man, he
swore that he came to die on the gallows. The judges pondered ■
his oath and said : ' Should we let this man pass over, he'll have
sworn falsely and in accordance with the law should be hung.
Yet if we string him up as he said we should, he'll have sworn
the truth and by the same law should go free. ' We ask you, lord
governor, what shall we do with the fellow, for even now the
judges are waiting. Being informed of your quick intelligence
they sent me hither to get your worship's opinion on this knotty
and delicate point. ' To this Sancho replied : ' Indeed these judges
who sent you might have spared themselves the trouble, for I
am dull rather than quick. But state the facts again that I may

Ill ADMINISTERING THE LAW 553

understand and maybe I can hit the bull's-eye.' The questioner
twice repealed his original statement and at length Sancho said :
' Methinks I can set this matter right in two words, so listen^
This man, you say, swears he's going to die on the gallows, and
if he die he'll have sworn the truth, and by the ruling law
deserves therefor his freedom and passage over the bridge ;
whereas if they don't hang him, he'll have sworn falsely and by
the same law is liable to death ? ' ' The governor has declared it
plainly, ' said the messenger, ' and as far as a complete under-
standing of the case is concerned there's naught more to be
doubted or questioned. ' ' My judgment then, ' announced the
governor, ' is that they should allow to cross that part of the
man that told the truth, but should string up the part that told
the lie, for thus the condition of the law will be fulfilled to the
letter. ' ' But, sir governor, in that case 'twould be necessary to
divide this man into two portions, a truth-telling and a perjuring,
and if once he be divided, he will perforce die and neither pro-
vision of this most binding law will have been complied with. '

' See here, my good fellow, ' said Sancho ; ' either I'm a clown
or this traveller has as good a right to live and cross the bridge
as to be hung, for if the lie condemn him, the truth equally saves
him, and this being so, as it is, I advise you to say to the gen-
tlemen that sent you that, since the reasons for sentencing and
absolving him hang on a thread, they let him go in peace, for a
good deed is ever more praiseworthy than a bad. And this judg-
ment I'ld seal with my signature if I knew how to make it. I in
this matter have not spoken for myself, but there came to my
mind a certain precept, one of many given by my master Don
Quijote the night before I was sent a governor of this isle, which
precept urges that, when justice hangs in the balance, I favour
mercy, and God has been pleased that I remembered this now,
for it fits the case like a glove. '

' It certainly does, ' echoed the majordomo, ' and I am of
opinion that not Lycurgus, that gave laws to the Lacedemonians,
could have delivered a better decision than has the great Panza.
With this the hearing of the morning stands adjourned and I
shall give order that senor governor eat to pleasure. ' ' That I

§34 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

wish for and fair play, ' said. Sancho ; ' let them give me to eat,
and rain their cases and questions upon me, for I'll dissolve them
in air. ' The majordomo fulfilled his promise, feeling it would
weigh on his conscience to kill with hunger so wise a judge.
Moreover he purposed to end the other's term of office that very
night, playing upon him the last trick for wich he had been
commissioned.

And now it fell out, that when the governor had eaten in the
face of all the rules and aphorisms of Doctor Tirteafuera, as he
was about to rise from the board there arrived a courier with a
letter from Don Quijote. Sancho bade the secretary read it first
to himself and then aloud if he found it contained naught of a
private nature. The secretary glanced over the missive, saying at
the end : ' Easily may this be read aloud, for what Senor Don
Quijote writes deserves to be blazoned in letters of gold :

Letter from Don Quijote de La Mancha to Sancho Panza,
Governor of the island Barataria

' Expecting news of follies and blunders, Sancho friend, I hear
instead of your acts of wisdom, for which I give especial thanks
to Heaven, that can raise the poor from the dunghill and of fools
make wise men. They tell me you govern like a man and play
the man like a beast, such is your humility. But I would that
you observe 'tis ofttimes fitting and requisite for persons in
authority to act contrary to the lowlines of their heart, as for
instance in the adornment of the person, which should conform
to what the office demands rather than to the humble natural
wish of its occupant. Clothe yourself well, since a stick well clad
no longer seemeth a stick. I do not mean you should wear
gew-gaws and trinkets nor that while a judge you should look the
soldier. But your garb should suit the place and above all should
be trim and well fashioned.

' To win your vassals' affection, among other things you must
do these two : first, be civil toward all, but this I have men-
tioned ere now ; secondly, see that there's abundance of the
necessities of life, for naught vexes the hearts of the poor more
than hunger and want. Make not many statutes but see that the

Ill ADMINISTERING THE LAW 555

few you do make are good and above all that they are respected
and obeyed : For statutes ill observed are as if they were not,
making the prince that had wisdom and authority to compose,
seem impotent to enforce them. Laws that merely intimidate,
failing of execution, are like the floating log, which as king of the
frogs was at first held in awe, but in time was despised and sat
upon.

' Be a father to virtue, a step-father to vice. Be not always
severe nor always mild : choose the mean, wherein lieth the
essence of wisdom. Visit the prisons, the shambles and the
markets, for the governor's presence in such places if of great
virtue : it sustains the prisoner in hopes of speedy release, 'tis a
bugbear to the flashers who for the nonce use just weights, and
a scarecrow to the market-women for like reason. Though you
be covetous, which I doubt, don't appear so ; show yourself
neither a lover of women nor a glutton, else the folk that deal with
you, learning your inclination, will on that side open their
batteries to lower you to the depths of perdition. View and
review, consider and reconsider, the counsels and written in-
structions I handed your before you set out, and you will find
them, if you observe them, friends in need to help you over the
labours and difliculties that beset governors at every turn. Write
the duke and duchess, showing yourself grateful, since ingrati-
tude is the daughter of pride and one of the deadliest of sins. He
that is grateful to men, declares he will be to God, that continues
to shower so many blessings on him.

' The duchess despatched a messenger with your suit and a
prj^sent to your wife Teresa ; we hourly expect a reply. I have
been slightly under the weather, owing to a certain cat-clawing
that turned out rather badly for my nose. But 'twas nothing, and
if there are enchanters that persecute, there are also those that
protect me. Advise me whether or no the majordomo with you
was party to that Trifaldi business as you suspected ; and of all that
befalls you keep me informed (since the distance is short) ; the
more that I think soon to quit this life of ease, whereto I was not
born. A certain chance has offered itself that will I fear put me
in disgrace with the ducal pair, but what care I? surely I must

556 DON QUIJOTE DK LA MANCHA II

rather comply with my profession than with their pleasure ;

according to the saying, Amicus Plato, sed magis arnica Veritas.

I quote, supposingyou will understand this Latin, now you are

a governor. God be with you and guard you that none may work

you harm.

Your friend,

Don Quijote de La Mancha. '

This letter was lauded by all for its wisdom ; and Sancho,
having listened with great attention, immediately rose and clos-
eting himself with the secretary resolved to answer without delay.
He told the other to write down just what he said, not adding
or omitting a solitary word. The secretary obeyed, with this
result :

Letter of Sancho Panza to Don Quijote de La Mancha

' The duties of my post are so exacting that I haven't time to
scratch my head, let alone to cut my nails which are now over-
long, so may God help them. I say this, dear master of my soul,
that you may not take amiss my not having informed you of the
welfare or ill-fare of this government, where I am more empty
than when you and I roamed woods and deserts. My lord the
duke wrote the other day warning me that certain spies had
entered this island to kill me, but as yet I've discovered only
one, a certain doctor, salaried in this place to kill off as many
governors as come. He is called Doctor Pedro Recio and hails
from the village of Tirteafuera (take-thyself away), so you may
judge whether I have reason to fear death at his hands. This man
says for himself that he doesn't cure sickness but forestalls it.
His medicines are diet and more diet, till at last he reduces the
patient to clean bones ; as though emaciation weren't worse than
fever. In a word he's killing me with hunger and I am dying
with disappointment, since in coming to this government me-
thought I should eat hot, drink cold and refresh my body 'twixt
hoUand sheets on feather pillows, but now methinks I came to
do penance like a hermit, and as I do it ungraciously, I fear in
the end the devil will fetch me.

' So far I haven't touched bribe or perquisite and can't make

Lil ADMINISTERING THE LAW 557

out what it means, for usually when governors come to this isle,
I'm told that before entering they have either given or lent them
large sums of money, this being the practice not alone here but
toward all that go to governments. Last night in going the rounds
I met with a very beautiful girl in boy's costume and her brother
dressed like a Avoman. With the sister my seneschal is enam-
oured and in his 'magination has chosen her for his wife, so he
says, and I have chosen the lad for my son-in-law. To-day
we'll have a talk with their father, a certain Don Diego de la
Liana, an hidalgo and as good an old Christian as one could wish.

' I visit the markets, as your worship advised, and yesterday
discovered that a shopwoman, selling hazel-nuts, had mixed
with a bushel of new nuts another of old hollow rotten ones.
I confiscated them all for charity-children, who can tell them
apart, and sentenced her to a fortnight's absence. They tell me
I did bravely. All I can say is common report here says there's
no wickeder class than your market-women : that all are shame-
less, soulless, brazen-faced creatures ; what I've seen of them in
other towns would lead me to believe this. That my lady the
duchess has written to my wife and sent her the present your
worship speaks of pleases me greatly and I shall try to show my
gratitude in due course. Please your worship kiss her hands for
me, telling her what I say, that she hasn't thrown the present
into a torn sack, as the end will prove. I would that you have no
differences with my lord and lady, for should you fall out with
them, 'twill clearly hurt me. Nor would it be just, after urging
me to be grateful, for your worship not to be, considering all
the favours they've done you and all the entertainment you've
received at their hands.

' That about the cat-clawing I don't understand, and can only
think 'twas one of the dirty tricks you are in the habit of
experiencing from the deviltry of enchanters. I shall hear when
we meet. I would send your worship a present, but I don't
know what, unless a few clyster-pipes, made in this isle to be
used with bladders — most curious. But if mine office last, I'll
manage to send something by hook or crook. Should my wife
Teresa write me, please your worship pay the carriage and

558 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

forward the letter, for I've the greatest longing to learn the state
of my house, my wife and my children. And so may God deliver
you from ill-minded enchanters and send me whole and in peace
out of this isle; which I doubt, for I think to leave it only with
life, since Doctor Pedro Recio is treating me.

Your worship's servant,

Sancho Panza the Governor. '

The secretary sealing the letter despatched the courier, and
those that were carrying on the joke with Sancho met and
arranged how to despatch him. The governor spent that after-
noon in drawing up ordinances touching the good government
of this place deemed by him an isle. Among other things he
decreed there should be no provision-hucksters in the republic
and that wine could be imported from any point whatever provi-
ded it were labelled with its district ; and whoever changed its
mark or watered the wine should be punished with death. He
lowered the price on all foot-furniture, shoes especially, the
prevailing cost of which he deemed exorbitant. He fixed the rate
of servants' wages, which had been increasing at a headlong
pace, and imposed heavy fines on singers of lewd and lascivious
song, by night or day. He decreed that no blind man should
chant a miracle unless he had authentic testimony of its truth,
for he suspected that most of those chanted by the blind are
fictitious, to the hurt of the genuine. He created an overseer of
the poor, not to pester them but to examine into their condition,
for under the mask of feigned destitution and self-inflicted
wounds go hale thieves and hearty drunkards. In short he made
so many wise provisions that under the title of the Ordinances
of the Great Governor Sancho Panza they continue in force to
this day.

lill LETTERS FROM TERESA S59

CHAPTER LII

The adventure of the second dolorous or distressed duenna,
alias Dona Rodriguez

Now that Don Qaijote was cured of his scratches, Gid Hamet
relates that the life he led in that castle seemed to him
wholly at variance with the role of knighthood he had adopted.
He therefore determined to ask leave of the ducal pair to set out
for Saragossa, where the festival drew nigh whereat he hoped
to gain the armour contended for at such JQUsts. As he sat at
dinner one day about to make known his intention and ask
this favour, who should enter through the great hall-door but two
women, as later appeared for now they were swathed from head
to foot in mourning. One of them, approaching the knight, threw
herself full-length at his feet, to which she sewed her mouth,
groaning so mournfully and distressfully that all hearing and
seeing were put to confusion. Even the duke and duchess, though
thinking this some jest or other of the servants, were befud-
dled, seeing the vehemence wherewith the woman sighed,
groaned and and wept, until Don Quijote in compassion raised
her from the floor, making her drop the mantle from her tearful
countenance.

The woman yielded, showing quite unexpectedly the face of
Dona Rodriguez, duenna to the household, and the other draped
figure proved her daughter, whom the rich farmer's son had
betrayed. All that knew the woman were astonished, but none
so much as the duke and duchess, for though they took her for
a booby and a soft one, they never dreamed she would go this
far. Turning to her master and mistress she now said : ' Please
your worships grant me leave to go apart a little with this cavalier,
that I may succeed in an affair wherein I have been placed by
the deviltry of a wicked villain. ' The duke assented, and she.

360 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

directing her look and words to our knight said : ' It has been
some days, gallant knight, since I gave an account of the wrong
and perfidy practised by a wicked peasant on my nearly beloved
daughter, this unhappy creature here. You then promised to take
her side and right this wrong, yet now I hear you would leave
this castle in search of such good ventures as God may offer.
I would therefore that, before you slip off, you challenge this
obstinate clown, forcing him to marry my child in fulfilment
of the promise he gave previous to yoking with her. For to hope
that my lord the duke will get me justice is to look for pears on
the elm, for the reasons already declared to your worship in
secret. So may our Lord grant you much health and leave us not
without succour. '

Don Quijote with earnestness and dignity replied to these
words : ' Good duenna, lessen your tears, or better, dry them
and check you sighs, since I take as my charge the relief of your
daughter, who'ld have fared better had she been slower in believ-
ing a lover's vows, which are usually simple to give but hard to
fulfil. With the leave of my lord the duke I'll set out at once in
search of this soulless youth and finding will challenge and kill
him each and every time he refuses to comply with his given
word, since the chief business of my calling is to spare the
humble and chastise the proud : in other words to succour the
oppressed and destroy their oppressors. ' Upon this the duke
suggested : ' There's no need to seek out this yokel of whom the
good duenna complains, nor is it necessary to ask my leave to
challenge him, for I consider him as duly invited and myself
will undertake to inform him thereof and to see that he accepts
and answers in person at this my castle, where to both I shall
give fair field, observing all the conditions obtaining at such
times, securing justice to each. In this I do no other than all
princes should that give free field to those fighting within their
borders. '

' With this assurance and the willing license of your worship,'
replied Don Quijote, ' I waive my rank of gentleman for the nonce
and lower myself to the level of the offender, that he may be
qualified for right of combat with me. Though he is absent, I

lil^l LETTERS FROM TERESA 561

challenge him, maintaining he did wrong in seducing this girl,
then a virgin, but who through him is one no longer. He must
fulfil his promise and become her husband, or stake his life upon
the issue ; ' and taking off a gauntlet he threw it into the middle
of the room. The duke picked it up, saying that he accepted the
challenge in the name of his vassal, fixing the time at six days,
the field as the castle-yard and the arms as those customary
among knights, namely lance, shield and full suit of armour
(without deceit, guile or supernatural charm), examined and
passed upon by the judges of the lists. ' But before all else 'tis
requisite that this good duenna and this naughty maid place their
vengeance in the hands of Senor Don Quijote ; in no other way
can this challenge be brought to its due conclusion. ' ' I do so
place it, ' replied the duenna. ' And I, ' added the daughter, all
in tears and much abashed and discomfited. Now that this for-
mality was met and the duke had resolved what was to be done,
the mourners withdrew. The duchess ordered that they no longer
be treated as servants but as lady-adventurers come to seek
justice. They were given quarters apart and attended as stran-
gers, not without awe on the part of the other servants, appre-
hensive as to where this crazy effrontery of Dona Rodriguez and
her ill-faring daughter would end.

At this point to crown the feast with rejoicing there entered
the page that had carried the letters and presents to Teresa
Panza, wife of the governor Sancho Panza. His arrival much
excited the ducal pair, eager to know of his success, but in
answer to their questions regarding his journey the page said he
couldn't inform them thus publicly or in few words, praying
their excellencies to let it be till they were alone ; for the
present they would be interested in these letters ; and producing
two he handed them to the duchess. One bore the address,
Letter for my lady the duchess So-and-so of I know not where ;
and the other. To my husband Sancho Panza, Governor of the
island Barataria, whom may God prosper more years than
myself. As the saying runs, the bread wouldn't bake for the
duchess till she had seen her letter which, having opened, she
read first to herself and then aloud to the company :

36

562 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Letter of Teresa Panza to the Duchess

' The letter your grace sent me gave much pleasure, my lady,
for indeed I found it welcome enough. The string of corals is
very beautiful and my husband's hunting-suit doesn't lag behind.
That your ladyship has made Sancho a governor gives great satis-
faction throughout the village, though none believes it, especially
the priest. Master Nicholas the barber and the bachelor Samson
Garrasco. I don't mind that at all, for since it's a fact, as it is,
let each say what he pleases ; though to tell the truth if the suit
and corals hadn't come, I'ld have doubted it myself, for in this
town they regard my husband as a dullard and cannot imagine
for what government he's fit unless a flock of goats. But God
grant it and prosper him as He sees his children have need.

' With your worship's leave I am determined, lady of my soul,
to take this good day into my house, and go up to court to
stretch in a coach and burst the eyes of a thousand that are
envious of me, and so I beg your worship to ask my husband to
send me a little silver, and let it be plenty, for at court there's
big expense — bread costs a real and meat thirty maravedis a
pound, which is wonderful. Should he not wish me there, let
him advise me in time. My feet are dancing to be on the road,
since my friends and neighbours among the women tell me that
if I and my daughter go showy and pompous about the capital,
my husband will become known because of me rather than I
from him, as many will question : ' Who are those ladies in yon
coach ? ' and one of my servants will answer : ' The wife and
daughter of Sancho Panza, Governor of the island Barataria. '
And so Sancho will become famous and I be made much of ; and
to Rome for all things.

' It grieves me as much as possible that no acorns have been
gathered here this year, though I am sending your highness about
half a peck, for which I went to the woods myself to pick and
choose here one and there one, and these were the fattest —
I would they were like ostrich-eggs. Please your pomposity forget
not to write me and I'll take care to answer, advising of my
health and of all there is to write about in this village, where

IirC LETTERS FROM TERESA 363

I remain praying our Lord to keep your grace and that you in
remembrance will keep me. Sancha my daughter and my son
kiss your worship's hands.

She that has more desire to see your ladyship than to write,

Your servant,

Teresa Panza. '

Great was tke joy of all on hearing this and the duchess asked
Don Quijote if they could open the letter to the governor, for
it was sure to be perfect. The knight replied he would open it,
if 'twould give them pleasure. He did so, finding that it read as
follows :

Letter of Teresa Panza to Sancho Panza her husband

' Your letter I received, Sancho of my soul, and I give my
word and swear as a Catholic Christian that I wasn't two
fingers'-breadth from going mad with joy. Consider, friend,
that when I heard you were governor, I though I should fall dead
on the spot from pure pleasure, for you know how they say that
sudden happiness kills no less than great grief. Sanchica your
daughter wetted herself without knowing it, she was that excited.
The suit you sent I had before me and the corals from my lady
the duchess were about my neck, the letters were in my hand
and the bearer of them present, and still I couldn't but believe
that all I saw and touched was a dream, for who could think
that a keeper of goats would become governor of islands ? Already
you know, brother, how my mother used to say that one has to
live long to see much. I say this because I think to see more if I
live more, since I don't intend to stop till I see you a farmer of
rents or a tax-collector, which, though the devil fetches those
that abuse them, are positions, after all has been said, that ever
have and ever handle money. My lady the duchess will tell you
of my desire to go to court. Think it over and advise me of your
wish, for I shall try to honour you there by going in a coach.

' The priest, barber, bachelor and even the sacristan cannot
believe that you are a sure-enough governor, saying 'tis all jugg-
ling or enchantment, like the rest of your master's affairs, and

564 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Samson says he's going lo hunt you down and get the govern-
ment out of your head and the madness out of Don Quijote's
brain-pan. All I do is laugh and look at my necklace and plan
how I shall turn your suit into one for our daughter. I sent some
acorns to my lady the duchess : I would they were of gold. Send
me some strings of pearls, if they be the fashion in that island.
The news of this place is that Berrueca married her daughter to a
good-for-nothing dabster, that came to this town to take odd
jobs. The council gave him an order to paint His Majesty's arms
over the door of the town-hall, for which he asked two ducats
and these they gave him in advance. He worked eight days with
nothing to show, saying he wasn't meant for such fripperies. He
gave the money back and is married under the name of a good
workman ; the truth is he has dropped his brush and taken up
with the spade, going to the fields like a gentleman.

' Pedro de Lobo's son has taken orders and shaven his crown,
meaning to be a priest. Minguilla, Mingo Silvato's granddaughter,
hearing of it, sues him for breach of promise. Evil tongues say
she's with child by him, which he denies on both feet. This year
there are no olives nor a drop of vinegar in the whole place. A
company of soldiers passed trough the other day and carried off
three of the village-girls. I won't say who they were ; most likely
they'll return and there won't be lacking some to take them for
wives with all their blemishes, good or bad. Sanchica makes
bone-lace and earns eight maravedis a day clear, which she puts
in a money-box to help toward her dower ; but now she's a
governor's daughter, you will give her a portion without her
working for it. The spring in the market-place has gone dry. A
thunderbolt fell upon the pillory, and there may they all light. I
await a reply to this and about my going to the capital, and so
may God keep you for me more years than myself, or as many,
for rid not like to leave you without me in this world.

Your wife,

Teresa Panza. '

The letters were applauded, laughed over, approved and
admired, and to make things perfect arrived the courier with

LlIII ASSAULT OS THE ISLAND S65

Sancho's letter to his master. This too was publicly read and
praised, though grave fears w«re entertained as to the governor's
health. The duchess withdrew that she might learn from the first
messenger of all that befell on his journey, whereof she received
a fall account — not a circumstance untouched. The page gave
her the acorns and a cheese from Teresa, who said the latter was
excellent, better than those of Tronchon. The duchess received
these presents with pleasure and with them we will leave her in
order to describe the downfall of the government of the great
Sancho Panza, flower and mirror of all island-governors.

CHAPTER LIII

The violent end and expiration of Sancho Panza's
governorship

To think that the things of this world are to endure for ever
in their present state is to think topsy-turvy. Rather 'twould
seem as if nature went round and round, one thing after another.
Summer follows spring, harvest summer, autumn the harvest,
winter autumn and spring the winter, and thus doth Time
revolve its ceaseless wheel. Human life alone speeds swiftly to
its end, without hope of renewal save in the life that has no
bounds or limits. Thus speaks Gid Hamet, the Mahometan
philosopher — for many, though sealed to the light of faith, by
the light of nature have come to know the shortness and insta-
bility of our present state and the eternal duration of that which
is hoped for. Our chronicler speaks of this now because of the
speed wherewith the rule of Sancho Panza moved toward com-
pletion, was finished in short and undone — vanished into
shadow and smoke.

On the seventh night of the days of his office-tenure the
governor lay in bed, sated not with loaf or wine but with judg-
ing and passing sentence, with drawing up statutes and ordi-
nances ; and just as sleep in spite and in the teeth of hunger
was drawing the curtains of his eyes, he heard so loud an

566 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

uproar of bells and voices, it seemed to him the whole island
were sinking. He sat up and listened attentively to divine if
possible the cause of this turmoil, but not only was he at
a loss, but as in addition to the voices and bells he could
distinguish the sound of infinite trumpets and arms, his confusion
changed to fear and terror. Leaping from bed he donned slippers
(as the floor was damp) and without dressing-gown or aught
resembling one moved to his chamber-door, just in time to see
coming down the corridor more than twenty persons with
torches lighted and swords unsheathed, shouting at the top of
their voices : ' Arm, sir governor, arm ! for countless foes have
landed and we're lost if your skill and valour succour us not. '

With this uproar, fury and confusion they arrived where
-Sancho stood, paralyzed at what he heard and saw, and one of
them cried : ' Let your worship arm himself at once, if you and
all this island would not perish together. ' ' What have I do with
arming, and what do I know of arms or succours ? These things
were better left to my master Don Quijote, who will despatch
them and set things right in a twinkling. Such turmoils are
unknown to me, sinner that I am before God. ' ' Ah, senor gov-
ernor, ' said another, ' what apathy is this ! Arm, sir, for here
have we arms, offensive and defensive. Gome forth to the
market-place and be our guide and captain, as a governor should. '
' Let them arm me then and welcome, ' said Sancho ; and
instantly they produced a couple of large shields, and not per-
mitting him to assume more clothing, fastened them over his
shirt, one before and the other behind, thrusting his arms
through holes they had made. They tied both shields tightly with
c^rds, leaving him walled and boarded, straight as a spindle,
unable to bend his knees or move a step backward or foreward,
though he could lean and balance with a lance they gave him.

When they had the poor man thus, they bade him lead, guide
and inspire, for while he was their north, their lantern and light,
their affairs were sure to prosper. 'How can I lead, ill-fated that
I am, ' protested the governor, ' when with these boards sewed
to my flesh I cannot bring my knee-pans into play ? What you
must do is raise me in your arms and drop me athwart or stand-

LlIII ASSAULT ON THE ISLAND S67

ing at some postern, which I can guard with this lance or with
my whole body. ' ' Advance, sir governor, ' cried a third ; ' 'tis
fear not boards keeps you back. Have done and bestir yourself,
since it grows late and the enemy increase, the cries grow
louder and louder and danger presses. ' At these persuasions
and vituperations the poor governor attempted a move but came
to the floor with such a crash he thought himself broken to pieces.
He lay there like a turtle encased and enshrouded by its shells,
or like a half-pig 'twixt two salting-boards, or a boat bottom up
on the shore. The sight of his fall worked no compassion in the
devilish crew who, extinguishing their torches, redoubled their
cries and with renewed uproar called to arms, marching over
their lost leader, and upon his shields showering blows so
without number that had he not shrunken within, he'ld have
fared ill, very ill.

In his confinement Sancho sweated and resweated, with all
his heart commending himself to God to deliver him from that
peril. Some stumbled, others fell over him, and one for a good
space stood on top and thence as from a watch-tower directed
the forces, crying : ' This way, this way, for here the enemy most
presses. Gnard yon postern, bar yon gate ! Down with their
scaling-ladders ! hand up the explosives, the pitch and the resin
in stink-pots of boiling-oil, and with mattresses barricade the
streets ! ' As 'twere in great excitement he named all the engines
and implements of war wherewith a city-assault is wont to be
resisted, and the ground squire, hearing and suffering all, said
to himself : ' O that my Lord were pleased to end this losing
of the isle and let me see myself either dead or out of this great
agony ! ' Heaven heard his prayer and when lest expected he
heard shouting ; ' Victory, victory, the enemy is ours and flees !
Arise, sir governor, and enjoy the fruits of conquest, dividing
the spoils taken by the valour of this invincible arm.' ' Help me
then, ' sighed the sufferer pitifully. They lifted him and when on
his feet he said :

' The enemy I have conquered let them nail him on my
forehead. Nor would I divide the spoils of foes, but rather that
some friend if I have one give me a draught of wine for I am

DON QUIJOXE DE LA MANCHA

II

parched, and that he wipe this sweat for I am turning to water.'
They wiped him down, brought wine and unfastened the shields;
but sitting on his bed, from the scare and excoriation he fainted
dead away. The perpetrators of the joke regretted they had
carried it so far and great was their relief when Sancho revived
and asked what the hour. They replied that 'twas now day.
Without a word more he began to dress, none knew why.

When now at length and little by little (bruised as he was he
could not move with ease) Sancho was clad, he went to the
stable, followed by the others, and coming to Dapple embraced
him and gave him the kiss of peace on the forehead saying, not
without tears in his eyes : ' Gome, my companion and friend and
sharer of my toils and miseries, let us go. When I trotted along
with you and my thoughts were only of mending your gear and
of filling your little carcase, happy were my hours, my days and
my years. But since I deserted you and mounted the towers of
ambition and pride, a thousand cares have beset my soul, a
thousand labours and four thousand tribulations. ' While saying
this he was panneling the beast and when that was done, with
great difficulty and pain he mounted and directing his words to
the secretary, seneschal and Doctor Pedro Recio and many
others standing by he said :

' Make way, gentlemen, and let me return to mine ancient
liberty. Let me go in search of my former life, that I may rise
again from this present death. A governor I was not born to be
nor to defend islands and cities from their foes. Better I know
how to plow and dig, prune and trim vines, than to give laws
and protect provinces and kingdoms. Saint Peter is well off at
Rome and so is every one in the business for which he was
brought into the world. Than a governor's rod better a reaping-
hook in my hand and better I love to fill myself with bread-
salads than be subject to want from a busy-body doctor who
would kill me by slow degrees. More I love to lie with my
liberty in the shadow of an oak in summer or wrap me in a
shepherd's cloak of two sheep-skins in winter than to sleep
clogged with a government 'twixt holland sheets, and be in
sable clad. May your worships remain with God and say to my

llIII ASSAULT ON THE ISLAND 669

lord the duke that naked I was born, naked am I still, I neither
win nor lose. In other words I entered this government without
a coin and without a coin I leave it — the reverse of the way
governors are wont to leave other isles. Let them make way
and leave me go, for I go to be plastered. Methinks all my
ribs are crushed, thanks to enemies that this night passed over
me. '

' This must not be, sir governor, ' said the doctor ; ' I'll give
your worship a draught against falls and bruises that will at
once restore you to your first strength and soundness. I promise
also to do better in the matter of meals, letting you eat abund-
ance of all you care to.' ' It is too late,' replied Sancho ; ' I'M
as soon stay as turn Turk : these jokes cannot be played twice.
'Fore God I'ld as soon remain in this or enter another govern-
ment, though offered 'twixt two plates , as fly to Heaven without
wings. I come of the family of the Panzas, a stubborn lot, who
once they cry odds, odds it must be though even despite the
whole world. Here in this stable let the emmet's wings abide that
carried me in the air to be eaten of martins and others birds, and
return we to foot it on the ground. If there be no slashed Cor-
dovan shoes to adorn me, there won't be wanting rough hempen
sandals. Every ewe to her mate and let none stretch his foot
beyond the sheets. And now let me pass, for 'tis getting late. '

To this the majordomo made answer : ' Sefior governor, right
willingly shall we let your worship go, though much 'twill grieve
to lose you, whose intelligence and Christian behaviour force us
to wish here. But 'tis common knowledge that ere quitting the
post he has been ruling, every governor is obliged to go into
residence as it is called, so let your honour abide here on judg-
ment for your ten days in office, and then go in the peace of
God. ' ' None can ask residence of me, save by the duke's orders.
I go to him now and to him I shall give exact account. The more
that as I go forth naked, no other proof is needed that I have
governed like an angel. ' ' 'Fore God, the great Sancho is right,'
quoth the doctor, ' and I am of opinion we should let him go,
especially as the duke will be infinitely pleased to see him. '
They all agreed, offering him escort on his way and anything he

570 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

wished for his person's comfort or convenience. Sancho said all
he wished was a little barley for his Dapple and a half-cheese
and a half-loaf for himself : the way was so short there need be
no more or better provender. All embraced him and he in tears
responded, leaving them in admiration both of his words and
his wise resolve.

CHAPTER LIV
Which treats of things relating to this history and no other

THE duke and duchess resolved that the challenge offered
their vassal by Don Quijote for the cause already mentioned
shouldn't go by default, and as the youth had fled to Flanders
rather than have Dona Rodriguez for mother-in-law, they chose
as substitute a Gascon lacquey named Tosilos, giving him most
careful instructions as to his conduct. Two days later the duke
told their guest that his opponent would in four days present
himself in the field armed as a knight, to maintain that the damsel
lied by half the beard, nay by the whole if she affirmed he had
given any promise of marriage. Don Quijote received only pleas-
ure at this news, and promised himself to perform wonders,
considering it great good fortune that an occasion offered where
these gentlefolk could see how far extended the might of his
puissant arm. These four days therefore were spent in the joy of
anticipation which, however, made them seem four hundred ages.
As we have passed over other things, so will we these and go
to accompany Sancho, who upon Dapple, somewhere between
happy and sorrowful, travelled in search of his master, whose
fellowship meant more than governing all the isles of the world.
And so it befell that when he had not gone far from the island
(for he never troubled to make sure if it were an island, city,
town or village), he saw approaching six pilgrims with their
staves, of the foreign sort that ask alms by singing, and these, as
he drew near, placed themselves in a row and with one voice
began to sing in a tongue unknown to Sancho, save one word

LIV RICOTE 571

that clearly sounded, alms. Being the soul of charity, according
to Cid Hamet, Sancho drew from his saddle-bags the half-cheese
and half-loaf wherewith he had come provided and gave them,
making signs 'twas all he had.

The pilgrims received the gift but kept saying. Geld, geld ! ' I
don't understand what you want, my good people, ' replied
Sancho, whereupon one of them produced a purse from his
bosom. Putting his thumb to his throat and spreading his hand
upwards Sancho indicated that he hadn't a sou, and pricking
Dapple broke through the line. But as he passed, one of the
pilgrims, who had been scrutinising him closely, ran up and
throwing his arms about Sancho's waist cried in good Gastilian :
' So help me God, what do I see ? is it possible that I hold in
mine arms my dear friend, my good neighbour, Sancho Panza ?
Yes, 'tis true, for I am neither drunk nor dreaming. ' Sancho was
mightily surprised to hear himself named and feel himself
embraced by this stranger-pilgrim, and though he silently studied
the other's features for some time, failed to recognise him. Seeing
his suspense the foreigner said : ' What, brother Sancho Panza,
don't you know your neighbour Ricote the Morisco, the village-
shopkeeper ? ' Sancho scrutinised him yet more closely and
making sure of his features one by one at length was certain it
was he. Without dismounting he threw his arms about his neck
saying : ' Who the devil would have known you in this mum-
mer's dress of yours ? who has gone and frenchified you, Ricote,
and how dare you return to Spain where, if they catch you and
find you out, you'll fare hardly enough ? ' 'If, Sancho, you do
not betray me, I am safe, for in this guise none will know me.
But come, let us to that poplar-grove yonder, where my comrades
wish to eat and rest. And you will eat with them for they are
very pleasant fellows, and I shall have time to tell you the story
of my life since I left our village in obedience to His Majesty's
proclamation, that so seriously threatened my unfortunate race,
as you knew.'

Sancho agreed, and when Ricote had spoken to the other
pilgrims, all withdrew to the poplar-grove some little distance
from the high-road. They dropped their staves and shed their

572 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MAIVCHA II

hoods or pilgrims' weeds, remaining in their jackets. They seemed
young handsome fellows, save Rieote who was well on in years.
Each had a wallet, apparently well-filled, at least with things
provocative of thirst, summoning it at a distance of two leagues.
They lay on the ground and making a table-cloth of the grass
placed upon it bread, salt, knives, nuts, pieces of cheese and
clean ham-bones, which, if they didn't permit gnawing, were not
past sucking. They produced as well a black condiment made
of fish-roe called caviar, a loud awakener of thirst. Nor were
lacking olives, which, though dry and unpickeled, were tooth-
some and pleasant. But the honours of the banquet were carried
off by six bottles of wine, one from each wallet. Even the good
Rieote, transformed from a Morisco into a German or Dutchman,
boasted one that competed in size with the other five.

With great zest they fell to, yet proceeded with real delibera-
tion, hanging on each mouthful received at the point of the knife,
a little of each article first, and then suddenly all six men would
raise arms and bottles in air, mouth pressed to mouth, eyes
nailed to the sky, whereat they seemed to aim, and thus would
they sit fixedly for a considerable space, wagging their heads
from side to side, in token of their joy in transferring to their
stomachs the content of these vessels. Sancho saw all and by
nothing was grieved ; rather in order to fulfil the proverb which
he knew very well. When at Rome do what you see them do,
asking Rieote for his bottle he took aim with the rest and with
no less relish than they. Four times did the bottles suflFer this
fusillade, but a fifth ? never — they were more empty and
sapless than reeds, and this not a little withered their jollity.
Yet from time to time one would clap his hand to Sancho's
saying : ' Spaniard and Dutchman all one goot fellow ; ' and
Sancho would reply : ' Goot fellow, by Got ; ' bursting into a
laugh lasting one hour by the clock, with never a thought of his
government, for over eating and drinking care has but little sway.
In a word the finishing of the wine was the beginning of a
drowsiness, till all fell asleep there on the very tables and
cloths. Rieote and Sancho, having eaten more and drunk less,
alone remained awake. Leaving the pilgrims buried in sweet

llIV RICOTE S73

dreams they removed to the foot of a beach tree, and Ricote
without once stumbling into Moorish told the following tale :

' You are well aware, O Sancho Panza, townsman and friend,
how the edict and proclamation issued by His Majesty against
my nation struck terror in us all : I at least, even before the
time allowed us to get out of Spain, felt as if the rigour of the
sentence had been executed on my person and children. I decided
therefore, as a prudent man I think and like one that, knowing
he'll soon have to leave his present house, looks for another,
I decided I say to leave our village without my family and find
a place to which I could remove them with comfort and without
the hurry to which others were subjected. As did all our elders,
I could easily see that these edicts were not mere threats as some
pretended but sentences to be executed at the appointed time.
I was forced to this belief because I know of the wild and
wicked designs my kinsfolk harboured and it seemed to me a
divine inspiration that moved His Majesty to give effect to so
daring a resolution. Not that we were all to blame, for some were
firm and faithful Christians, but so few that we were as nothing
against the others, and 'twould have been folly to shelter the
serpent in the bosom, enemies within one's house. With just
reason were we punished with the sentence of banishment — a
soft and easy measure it seemed to some, but to us the greatest
hardship that could have been inflicted. Wherever we are we
long in tears for Spain : here were we born, here is our father-
land. Nowhere did we meet with the reception warranted by
our misfortune. In Barbary, in all parts of Africa, where we
expected hospitaly, there were we most offended. We know not
good fortune till we lose it, and this our love for Spain is so great
that, leaving yonder our wives and children unprovided for,
nearly all that can speak the language (and there are many and
I among them) have come back. Indeed now I know by expe-
rience that sweet is the love of the fatherland.

' I quitted our village as I said and went over into France,
and though we were welcomed there, I wished to see it all. So
I went on to Italy, thence to Germany, where it seemed to me I
could live with greatest freedom. Its inhabitants don't look into

574 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

niceties : each lives as he pleases and nearly everywhere is liberty
of conscience. I took a house in a town near Augsburg, where I
fell in with these pilgrims, many of whom have the custom of
coming to Spain each year to visit her sanctuaries, regarded by
them as their Indies and most dependable harvest. They wander
the country over, nearly, nor is there a town where they don't
get bread and drink as they call it, and at least a real in money.
By. the end of their stay they have more than a hundred crowns
clear, with which, changed into gold and hid in the hollow of
their staves or the patches of their cloaks or by such devices as
they can, they leave the kingdom and pass over into their own
country, in spite of the searching by the guards of the posts and
ports.

' 'Tis my intention, Sancho, to take the treasure I left buried
outside our village, which I can do without risk since it's some
distance from the place, and either crossing over from Valencia
or writing to my wife and daughter, whom I know to be in
Algiers, arrange how to take them to some port in France, and
thence to Germany, where we can await what God has in store.
For to be plain with you, friend, I can testify that Ricota my
daughter and Francisca Ricota my wife are Catholic Christians
and though not quite that myself, I have more of the Christian
than the Moor about me and ever pray to God to open the eyes
of mine understanding, giving me to know how I can best serve
Him. But what puzzles me is why my wife and daughter chose
Barbary rather than France, where they could have lived as
Christians. ' ' That, Ricote, ' suggested the other, ' may not have
been left to their choice, for Juan Tiopieyo, your wife's brother,
took them away, and he, being a thorough-going Moor, must
have led them where he could go with least trouble. I can tell
you too that methinks you go in vain for your buried treasure,
for we heard how they stripped your wife and brother-in-law of
many pearls and much gold, which they were taking with them
to be passed. '

' Very likely, ' said Ricote, ' but I am positive they didn't
touch my horde, since I told none where it was, fearing just
such treatment. So if you, Sancho, would come with me and

lilV RICOTE S73

help me get and conceal it, I'll give you two hundred crowns
wherewith to relieve your necessities, for you know that I know
you have many. ' ' I should gladly do it, ' replied his friend,
' but I am naught covetous and even if I were, only this morn-
ing I shed a post that would have let me build my house-walls
of gold and let me eat off silver ere six months were past. For
this reason as well as for thinking I should be doing treason to
my king in helping his enemies, I should not go with you even
though, as you promise me two hundred crowns, you here counted
out four hundred. ' ' And what post is this, Sancho ? ' ' The gov-
ernorship of an isle, and such an one that to be plain with you
I shan't find its equal for some time.' ' And where is this place?'
' Where ? two leagues from here, the island Barataria. '

' Peace, friend, islands are in the sea, not on the mainland. '
' What ! I tell you, Ricote friend, only this morning I quit where
yesterday I was governing like a jail-bird. Yet I left it because
it seemed to me fall of peril. ' ' And what have you gained from
this governing ? ' ' The knowledge, brother, that I am not fit to
govern anything, unless perhaps a herd of cattle, and that riches
gained in such offices are at the price of rest and sleep, nay, even
of nourishment, for in islands governors must eat little, especially
if doctors be around to see to their health. ' ' I can't make you
out, Panza. All your talk strikes me as foolery, for who would
be giving you islands to govern ? is there a shortage in the world
of more capable men? Gome, come, friend, return to yourself,
and consider that if you'll take up with me as I suggested, helping
with my treasure, for truly it may be called one, I'll give you the
living promised. ' ' Already have I made plain, Ricote, that I
will not. Rest content that through me yon won't be betrayed
and continue your journey in good hour, letting me follow mine,
for I know that what is well received may be lost, and what ill-
taken, ditto bolh itself and owner. ' ' I shan't persist more,
Sancho, but tell me, were you in the village when my wife,
daughter and brother-in-law departed?'

' I was and can say your daughter went away looking so fair
that all the folk came out to see her, everybody saying she was
the loveliest creature in the world. She was weeping as she

S76 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

embraced her friends and acquaintance and as many as came up,
and from them all she asked that they commend her to God and
Our Lady his Mother. I am no whimperer but she spoke with
such feeling that tears filled mine eyes, and i'faith many wished
to seize her on the road and hide her, but fear of the king's order
stayed their hands. Don Pedro Gregorio, that rich young heir,
seemed the most affected and they say he loved her deeply. He
hasn't been seen since their departure, so we all think be fol-
lowed after to spirit her away, but as yet nothing has been heard.'
' I always suspected this gentleman of loving my daughter, but
trusting in Ricota's virtue I never worried. And you doubtless
have heard tell, friend, that Moorish women seldom or never
mix with old Christians in amours. My child would not regard
the attentions of this noble heir, particulary as, I think, she cared
more to be a Christian than to be loved.' ' God grant it, else
both would suffer,' replied Sancho; 'and now we must part,
Ricote friend, since I hope to reach my master Don Quijote ere
nightfall. ' ' Go with God, Sancho brother. My mates are stir-
ring — 'tis time for us also to take the road. ' The two embraced
and Sancho on Dapple and Ricote with his staff went their ways.

CHAPTER LV

Things that befell Sancho on the road, and others
as fine as you please

HIS visit with Ricote didn't leave Sancho time to reach the
duke's castle that day though he was within half a league
thereof when night, fairly dark and overclouded, descended upon
him. As it was summer he was not afraid, though thinking it
wiser to turn off the road a little and wait till morning. This he
did but his short and ill-spun fate ordained that in looking for a
spot where he best might sleep, rider and ass fell into a deep
dark pit amid deserted ruins. As he fell Sancho with his whole
heart commended himself to God, believing he'ld not stop till he
reached the abyss. But such was not to be, for at little more than

LV SANCHO AND DAPPLE 877

three fathoms the ass touched bottom and his owner found
himself still on his back without break or hurt. He felt all over
his body and drew a deep breath to see were he punctured, but
finding himself all there and catholic in health he couldn't suffi-
ciently thank our Lord God. He had feared he was broken into a
thousand bits at the least.

He next felt along to see could he get out by his own unaided
effort, but the walls were smooth without hold. This grieved
him sore, in particular when he heard Dapple lamenting most
piteously, nor was this odd, since he didn't captiously complain,
but was veritably one large bruise. ' Alas, ' sighed Panza, ' and
what unlooked-for happenings continually befall us in this
world! Who'ld have thought that he that yesterday found himself
throned governor of an isle, surrounded by servants and vassals,
should to-day be buried alive in a pit without hope of rescue
and none to hurry to his relief? Here 1 and mine ass shall perish
of hunger, unless we die first, he of sores and I of sorrows.
At the best I shan't be lucky as my master in the cave of that
enchanted Montesinos where he was better treated than at home,
going to a bed made and table laid one would think. There he
saw lovely and delightful visions, while here methinks I shall
see naught but toads and snakes.

' Unhappy me, and to what a pass have my follies and fancies
brought me ! From this place they'll dig up my bones — when
Heaven sees fit that they find them — white and scraped clean
and those of Dapple at Iheir side, whence perchance they'll iden-
tify us, at least any that have heard never was Sancho Panza
apart from his ass nor his ass from Sancho Panza. Again I say,
wretches that we are, our short fate wouldn't let us die in our
fatherland with our own, where, though no remedy were found
for our mishap, there wouldn't be wanting someone to bewail it
and in the last hour of our thoughts close our eyes. O friend and
comrade, how ill have I rewarded your good services. Forgive
me and ask of fortune as you can to deliver us from our woe.
In return I promise to crown you with laurel like a poet and
double your ration besides. '

In this manner did Sancho lament to his ass, who listened

37

578 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

without a word — such was his agony. And though, after the
night had passed in bitter rue and sorrowings, day came at last,
by its light Sancho saw that of all impossibilities 'twas most
impossible to issue without help. He began to wail and shout,
but 'twas like crying in the wilderness and in the end he gave
himself up for dead. Dapple lay on his back but his owner
managed to put him on his feet again, though the beast could
hardly stand. Opening the saddlebags, which had shared the
fall, Sancho gave a crust to the little animal, who did not take it
ill, his master saying to him as if he understood : ' With bread
all sorrows are less. ' And now he spied in a corner of the pit a
hole large enough, by bending and shrinking, for a man to pass.
Sancho made for it and crouching down passed through and by
the light from above could see that the pit extended far and wide.
Returning to his ass, he began to break away the earth with a
stone till he had enlarged the hole for Dapple, leading whom by
the halter he travelled all through the labyrinth, searching for
egress. At times he walked in darkness and at times without
light, but never without fear.

' So help me Almighty God ! ' he quoth to himself; ' this that
is misfortune to me, to my master would have been a famous
adventure. He, you can bet, would have taken these depths and
dungeons for the flowery grounds and palaces of Galiana,
expecting to issue from this obscurity and confinement onto
some blooming meadow. But I, luckless one, poor in spirit with
nothing to draw on, at every turn am frightened lest another pit,
still deeper, of a sudden yawn beneath me and swallow me whole.
Well come evil if thou come singly. ' In such manner and with
such thoughts he had journeyed a trifle more than half a league,
it seemed to him, when he was conscious that the darkness
became more visible, as if there were an opening at the side —
which appeared no less than the way to the other life.

But here Gid Hamet leaves him, returning to speak of his
master, who was joyously awaiting the combat with the betrayer
of Dona Rodriguez ' daughter, for whom he thought to redress
the wrong and injury so foully done her. So it fell that sallying
forth one morn to train and exercise himself for the great event

LiV SANCHO AND DAPPLE 579

of the morrow, patting Rocinante to the charge or short gallop,
he came to plant the nag's feet so near the opening of a pit
that had he not pulled up short, he couldn't have escaped
falling in. He checked the steed in time however and, approach-
ing nearer, without dismounting peered into the chasm's jaws.
As he sat there looking he heard loud cries from within and
listening attentively could make out the words : ' Hi there above !
is there any Christian hears me or any kind gentleman that will
take pity on a sinner buried alive ? on an unlucky disgoverned
governor ? ' This seemed to the knight the voice of Sancho, and
in fear and suspense, raising his voice as high as possible, he
called : ' Who is it down there ? who cries ? '

' Who could be here or cry but the poor wretch of a Sancho
Panza, governor, for his sins and scant luck, of the island
Barataria, and late squire to the famous knight Don Quijote de
La Mancha ? ' Upon this the knight's astonishment was doubled
— his fear turned terror, thinking Sancho must be dead and this
his soul in torment. So he cried : ' By all that I as a Catholic
Christian can, I conjure thee that thou tell me who thou art — if
a soul in torment, say what I can do for thee. As it is mine
office to succour the needy of this world, so shall it be to aid
those of that, who cannot help themselves. ' ' Then you're my
master Don Quijote de La Mancha ; indeed the sound of the voice
is all one. ' ' Don Quijote I am, he that professes to succour in
their needs both the living and the dead. But tell me who thou
art that keepest me in amaze : if my squire and dead, provided
the devils didn't fetch thee and thou by God's mercy be in purg-
atory, our holy mother the Roman Catholic Church has means
whereby to deliver thee of thy throes. To her shall I plead with
all my substance. Declare thyself therefore and tell me what I
should know. '

' I vow by all, ' replied the voice, • and by the nativity of
whomever your worship pleases, Senor Don Quijote de La
Mancha, I swear that I am your squire Sancho Panza, not once
dead in all the days of my life, but having left the government,
for causes and circumstances that need more time to tell, last
night I fell down this pit, where still I am and Dapple with me

580 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

who will not let me lie. ' The ass seemed to catch his meaning,
for at that moment he began to bray vigorously till all the cave
resounded. ' Famous evidence ! ' called back the knight ; ' that
braying I know as if I were its mother, and your voice too I
recognise, Sancho mine. Remain where you are and I'll fetch
someone from the duke's castle hard by to lift you out of there,
where your sins must have placed you. ' ' Go, sir, go, and return
soon by the only God, for the thought of being entombed makes
me die of terror. '

The knight repaired to the castle where he informed the duke
and duchess of Sancho's plight. They were not a little astonished,
for though they could at once see that he must have fallen into
the cave that had been there from time immemorial, they were
puzzled to understand how he could have left the government
and they not advised. They quickly prepared rope and tackle,
and by dint of many hands and much labour drew ass and rider
from twilight to the light of day. As Sancho came forth, a student
said : ' Thus should all bad governors leave their office, even as
this sinner coming from hell, dying of hunger, pale and penniless
I trust. ' Sancho overhearing him replied : ' 'Tis eight or ten
days, brother backbiter, since I began governing the island given
me, in which time not once did I have my belly filled. Doctors
have persecuted me and enemies have crunched my bones, and
as there has not been time to take bribes or collect dues even,
methinks such an ending wasn't deserved. But man proposes
and God disposes, who knows best what is good for every man,
and as the time so the tactics, and let none say. This water I
will not drink. For where 'tis thought there are flitches, there
are not even hooks, and God understands me and enough : I say
no more, though I could. ' ' Don't be vexed or grieved at what
you hear, my son, ' advised his master, ' or there'll be no end.
Gome with a clear conscience and let them say what they will,
for to tie evil tongues is like trying to put gates to the country.
If the governor leave his post rich, they cry thief; if poor, fool
and doesn't know his business. ' ' 'Tis fool then they'll call me, '
said Sancho, ' not thief. '

Thus discoursing, surrounded by a crowd of men and boys.

LiV SANCHO AND DAPPLE 581

they arrived at the castle, where in a gallery the ducal pair
awaited them, but Sancho wouldn't go up till he had accommo-
dated Dapple in the stable, for the poor thing had passed a sorry
night in his lodging said he. He then went up to his lord and
lady and kneeling said : ' Because your graces wished it and
from no desert of mine, I went to govern your island Barataria,
which naked I entered and naked am I still : I neither win nor
lose. Whether I governed well or ill, witnesses over there will
tell you. I have decided questions and judged lawsuits, dying
of hunger all the while, for so willed Doctor Pedro Recio native
of Tirteafuera, insular physician to the island-chief. Enemies
assaulted us by night, and though put to it for a time we came
off free and victorious through the might of mine arm, the island- •
ers say, and may God give them health as they are truthful.

' In this time, in short, I've been able to measure the duties
and obligations of governing and have concluded my shoulders
cannot bear them : they're not a weight for my ribs nor arrows
for my quiver. And so, rather than have the government fling
me, I flung the government. Yesterday morning I left the island
as I found it — the same streets, houses, roofs it had when I
landed. I've borrowed from none, nor had a hand in any profits,
and though I had hoped to frame some helpful statutes, devil the
one did I make, fearing they wouldn't be kept, which is the same
as not making them. I left as I say with only my Dapple ; fell
into a pit, and searched through it everywhere till by the light
of the sun this morning I saw a way of escape but so difficult an
one that hadn't Heaven sent me my master Don Quijote, there
I should have stopped till the end of time. So it comes to pass,
my lord and lady, that here stands before you your governor
Sancho Panza, who in only ten days has learned he wouldn't give
a copper to be governor not only of an island, but of all the
world. And so, kissing your worhips' feet and imitating the game
where the boys say. You leap first then give me one, I give a
leap o'er the government into the service of my master Don Qui-
jote. After all, with him, though the bread come by fits, when
it does come I get plenty, and 'tis all the same to me whether
my belly have carrots or partriges, so long as it's full. '

S82 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

With this Sancho ended his long speech, during which his
master stood in constant dread lest he make a thousand blunders.
To Heaven he gave thanks when he saw him finished with so
few. The duke embraced the squire saying it grieved him to the
soul that he had so soon left this post, but he would see that
another position was given him of less care and greater profit.
The duchess as well embraced him and gave orders for his
refreshment, since the man showed himself badly beaten and
worse abused.

CHAPTER LVI

The prodigious and unparalleled battle 'twixt Don Quijote

de La Maucha and the lacquey, on behalf the duenna

Dona Rodriguez' daughter

THE duke and duchess had no cause to regret the trick played
on Sancho Panza in the bestowal of the government, and less
when the same day arrived their majordomo and to their delight
rehearsed well-nigh every word and action of their appointee
during his office-tenure, dwelling in particular on the assault of
the island and the fear and flight of its chief. The history then
proceeds to state that the day of the destined tilt was at hand
and the duke, having instructed his lacquey not once but many
times how to accomplish the overthrow of Don Quijote without
killing or wounding him, commanded the steel points to be
drawn from their lances, saying to his guest that Christianity,
by which he set such store, didn't permit that the battle be at
this risk and danger to life. He must be content that he, the
duke, had given a free field within his domain, the more as the
holy council had decreed against such duels, and he should not
wish to push this affair to a fatal conclusion. The knight an-
swered that it was for his excellency to arrange the details as
best suited him, since he would acquiesce in all.

The dread day arrived and to the castle-yard, where the duke

LiVI TosiLos 583

had raised extensive staging for the judges of the lists and the
appellants, mother and daughter, there flocked from all the
neighbouring villages and hamlets a great troop of people to
watch this novel combat, the like of w^hich had ne'er been seen
or heard of in that country by living or dead. The first to enter
the enclosure was the master of ceremonies, who measured and
examined the lists that there might be no guile or hidden thing
upon which to trip and fall. Next entered the duennas and took
the seats assigned them, hooded from eyes to bosom and with
signs of not a little agitation, since their champion was present
below. Soon after, heralded by many trumpets and mounted on
a powerful steed that shook the earth, entered from one side the
great lacquey Tosilos, his beaver down and he wholly encased
in a strong and brilliant suit of armour. His horse was clearly a
Frieslander, broad and flea-bitten, with a quarter hundredweight
of hair at each fetlock.

The gallant combatant came well posted by his lord the duke
as to his bearing toward the valerous Manchegan — warned on
no account to kill him and himself to avoid the first onset and
the certainty of death. The lacquey paced the lists and coming
to where sat the duennas, stood for some time at gaze at her that
sought him for husband. The marshal called to Don Quijote
and with Tosilos on his other side asked the duennas did they
consent that this their champion maintain their right. They said
yes, and that all he might do would be considered well done and
final. Already the duke and duchess had taken their places in a
gallery overhanging the enclosure, which itself was crowned
with a host of people, awaiting the outcome of this unparalleled
life-and-death passage d'armes. The condition of the combat was
that if Don Quijote triumphed, his vanquished foe must wed the
daughter of Dona Rodriguez, but if conquered, the other was
freed from obligation and the penalty. The master of ceremonies
parted the sun betwixt them and stationed each in his proper
place. The drums beat, the blare of trumpets filled the air, earth
trembled under foot. The hearts of the crowd were tense, some
fearing, others wishing, a happy or fatal ending to this joust.
Our knight, commending himself whole-heartedly to God our

384 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCUA II

Lord and lo the lady Diilcinea del Toboso, sat waiting the
signal for the onset, but our lacquey's thoughts were not the
same : he was thinking of what now I shall tell you.

It happened that as he looked upon his fair enemy, she seemed
the most beautiful woman ever he beheld, and the blindling
child that in the streets is wont to be called Love, was anxious
not to lose this occasion of triumphing over a lacquey's heart
and adding it to his list of trophies. Coming up softly and unseen,
he ran a six-foot dart into his left side, piercing the poor fellow's
core quite through. This easily he could do, for Love is invisible
and Cometh and goeth everywhere and none to ask him why. So
it befell that at the signal to charge, our lacquey was deep in
transport, thinking on the beauty of her he had made mistress
of his liberty, nor heeded the sounding of the trumpet, unlike
his adversary, who at once charged and at Rocinante's top speed
rushed to meet his foe, amid the shouts of his good squire
Sancho : ' God guide thee, cream and flower of errant arms. God
give thee victory, since the right is on thy side. '

Though Tosilos saw the other descending, he stood his post,
and in loud voice summoned the master of the field saying :
' Sir, is not my marrying or not marrying this lady the occasion
of this conflict?' ' It is.' ' Then I should be laying a great burden
on my conscience, of which I stand in awe, if I proceeded farther.
I give myself as vanquished and say I am willing to marry her
on the spot. ' The marshal was dumfounded, knowing Tosilos to
be party to the trick. Don Quijote checked himself in mid-career,
seeing that his adversary failed to meet him. The duke cast in
mind what all this signified and when he learned from the
marshal, was embarrassed and vexed almost to a frenzy. In the
meantime Tosilos came and standing before Dona Rodriguez
cried : ' Lady, I am willing to marry your daughter and would
not gain by quarrel and dissension what I can peaceably and
without peril of death. ' The worthy Quijote overheard this
and said : ' Then am I exonerated from mine oath : let them
marry and well ; since God has given her to him, may Saint Peter
add his blessing. ' The duke had now come down and approach-
ing Tosilos said : ' Is it true, knight, that you confess defeat and

LVI TosiLos 685

that at the bidding of your timorous conscience you wish to yoke
with this girl?' ' Yes, senor, ' replied Tosilos. ' He does very
well, ' said Sancho, ' for what you were going to give the mouse,
give the cat and save yourself trouble. '

Tosilos walked off to unlace his helmet, praying them to assist
him promptly, since his breath failed him and he could no longer
abide the smallness of his lodging. They quickly removed the
head-piece and the lacquey stood before them. ' A trick, a trick ! '
cried the two duennas ; ' they've substituted the duke's lacquey
for the true husband. God's justice and the king's against such
mischief, not to say deviltry. ' ' Fret not, ladies, ' said their
champion ; ' it is neither one nor the other, and if it be, 'tis not
the duke's blame but that of the wicked enchanters my per-
secutors, who, jealous of my glory in this victory have turned
the countenance of your husband into that of one you say is
lacquey to the duke. Take my counsel and to spite mine enemies'
malice marry him, the more that he's unquestionably the man
you sought. ' At this the duke was ready to vent his spleen
in laughter, saying : ' So rare are the things that befall Senor
Don Quijote that I'm tempted to think that this my lacquey
really is not he ; but to make sure, let us postpone the marriage
a fortnight — all agreeing — keeping in confinement this person
whose identity we doubt. At the end of that period most likely
he'll become himself again, for the rancour of wizards cannot
last long, the more as their frauds and transformations so little
avail. '

' Indeed, sir, ' offered Sancho, ' 'tis an old story with those
scamps to twist my master's affairs ; why only the other day they
turned a knight he conquered, one he of the Mirrors, into the
person of the bachelor Samson Garrasco, a native of our town
and a great friend, and as you yourself know they madeDulcinea
over into a rustic peasant-wench. I fear therefore that this lacquey
must live and die one all the days of his life. ' Upon this
Rodriguez ' daughter said : ' Be he who he may that asks me for
wife, I shall comply, for I'ld rather be a lacquey's lawful spouse
than the cast-off mistress of a gentleman, though he that tricked
me wasn't one. ' All these sayings and doings ended in Tosilos '

586 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

being shut up to see what he would turn into. The throng
acclaimed the victory for Don Quijote, though most were sad and
forsaken not to have seen the rivals hacked to pieces, even as
are boys when the man they had waited to see hanged, being
pardoned, doesn't appear. The crowd dispersed, the duke and
Don Quijote returned to the castle. Doiia Rodriguez and daugter
were pleased to see that by hook or crook their affair would end
in wedlock and Tosilos felt with them.

CHAPTER LVII

Don Quijote takes leave of the duke and how he fared
with that waggish wanton, Altisidora

IT seemed to our knight 'twas high time to abandon the life
of ease enjoyed at that castle, feeling that his person com-
mitted a grave offence in letting itself be cloistered in idleness
amid infinite pleasures and delights, though proffered him as an
errant. He thought he must yield strict account to Heaven for
this ease and withdrawal and he therefore craved leave to depart.
This was granted, though with sore grief, the ducal pair avowed.
Th duchess handed his wife's letters to Sancho, who wept
over them saying : ' "Who would have thought that hopes so
great as those bred in the breast of my wife Teresa Panza by the
news of my government should end in my returning to the
rough-going adventures of my master ? None the less I am glad
that my Teresa behaved like herself in sending the acorns, for
had she not, I should have been out with her and she would have
shown herself ungrateful. It comforts me to think that this
present can't be called a bribe, since I already had the govern-
ment when she sent them, and it stands to reason that they that
receive some benefit should, though but by trifles, show them-
selves appreciative. The short of it is that naked I entered the
government, naked I left it, with a safe conscience therefore,
which is not a little. Naked was I born, naked am I still,
I neither win nor lose. '

IiVII ALTISIDORA 587

This passed 'twixt himself and Saacho the day of their depart-
ure. Having bade farewell to his hosts the night before, Don
Quijote in the morning presented himself all armed in the castle-
yard. There in the galleries were all the folk to see him off,
not excepting duke and duchess. Sancho was mounted on
Dapple with stores, valise and saddlebags, the soul of pleasure,
for the duke's majordomo, alias Trifaldi, unknown to Don Qui-
jote had presented him with a little purse containing two hundred
gold crowns for the expenses of the journey. And now from
amid the other duennas and damsels who stood watching them
was heard the voice of that waggish wanton, Altisidora, rueing
and cursing her false lover and charging him with the stealth
of portions of her apparel. Don Quijote sat looking at her and
when she had done he turned to Sancho saying :

' By the life of your fathers, squire, I conjure you to tell the
truth : have you on your person the three kerchiefs and garters
mentioned by this enamoured maid ? ' ' The three kerchiefs yes,
but the garters, as much as over the hills of Ubeda. ' The duchess
was amazed at Altisidora's effrontery : though she knew her for
a bold one, gay and wanton, she never dreamed she would push
her license this far, and as she herself was in no way privy to
the jest, her astonishment was the greater. Yet the duke was
willing to second the fun by saying : 'It looks ill to me, sir
knight, that having accepted my hospitality you should make
bold to carry off at least three kerchiefs, if not the garters, of my
serving-maid. This betokens an evil heart and fits not with your
fame. Return the garters or here I challenge you to mortal
combat, nor need you fear lest rascally magicians transform me,
as did they your former foe into that of my lacquey Tosilos. '

' God forbid, ' returned the knight, ' that I unsheathe my
sword against your most illustrious person at whose hands I
have received so many favours. As Sancho says he has them,
the kerchiefs I shall return ; the garters I cannot, for neither of
us has them. If this your maid would search in her hiding-
places, no doubt she will find them. I, sir duke, have never been
a thief nor do I think to be one all my life, if still God hold me
in his hand. As she herself confesses, this woman speaks as

588 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

one in love, but as I am not to blame so is it no{- for me to crave
forgiveness, either of her or of your excellency, whom I beg
to think better of me and grant me new leave to follow my
journey. '

' May God grant you so good an one, ' said the duchess, ' that
ever we may hear of your welfare. Go with God for the longer
you tarry, the hotter burns the fire in the breasts of the damsels
that look upon you. This particular maid I shall so punish that
henceforth neither with eyes nor tongue shall she go astray. '
' One thing let me add, O gallant Quijote, ' spake Altisidora,
' and that is that I crave pardon for charging you with purloining
my garters which, 'fore God and on my soul, I have on, having
made the blunder of him that looked for the ass he was riding.'
' What did I tell you ? ' said Sancho ; ' a pretty one am I to
cloak thefts when, had I wished, there was my goverment made
on purpose. ' Don Quijote made obeisance to his lord, lady and
the others, and turning rein, he on Rocinante and his squire on
Dapple, left the castle behind, directing their course toward
Saragossa.

CHAPTER LVIII

So many adventures come crowding in upon our knight
as to give no elbow-room, one to the other

WHEN Don Quijote found himself in the open country, safe
and free from the wooings of Altisidora, he seemed once
more in his element and his spirit again was strong to pursue
the business of chivalry. Turning to his squire he said : ' Liberty,
Sancho, is one of the most precious gifts given of the skies to
men ; with it no treasures the earth encircles or the sea contains
can be compared. For liberty as for honour one can and should
stake his life, since the direst of misfortunes is captivity. I say
this, Sancho, for you beheld the entertainment and abundance
of this castle we are leaving ; yet in the midst of those highly-
seasoned banquets, those drinks cool as snow, methought

Li VIII THE IMAGES ARCADIA 389

I suffered pangs of hunger, enjoying them less freely than had
they been mine own. The sense of obligation imposed by benefits
and favours received is a fetter that keeps the mind from range-
ing at its own sweet will. Happy is he to whom Heaven gives a
crust of bread and none to thank for it save Heaven. ' ' For all
that, ' replied Sancho, ' 'twere well to be grateful for the two
hundred gold crowns the majordomo gave me in a little pouch,
for like a plaster and comforter I wear it on my heart against
emergency. Not always do we find castles for our regaling but
inns sometimes for our whaling. '

In this and other talk errant knight and squire went journeying
on for a league or more, when they espied near a dozen men
clad as labourers with coats spread on the green grass of the
meadow where they sat, eating their dinner. Close by were what
looked like white sheets, covering things of which some stood
upright and others lay flat side by side. Don Quijote rode up to
the men and first saluting them courteously asked what lay
beneath the cloths. ' Sculptured images for a show we're to give
in our hamlet, ' came the reply ; ' we cover them to keep them
from stains and carry them ourselves lest they be broken. '
' With your consent, ' returned the knight, ' I should like to see
them, for images carried with such care must be fine ones.' ' Ay,
you're right there, ' said the other ; ' not one but is worth more
than fifty crowns. That you may know I speak truth, come your
worship and examine them ; ' and leaving his dinner he arose and
removed the cover from the first, which chanced to be Saint
George mounted on his steed, about whose legs twined a serpent
of the usual ferocity and with mouth transfixed by a lance. The
whole image shone like a blaze of gold and seeing it Don Quijote
said :

' This knight was one of the best errants of the heavenly host.
He was called Saint George and was moreover a champion of
damsels. Let us see this next. ' The man uncovered one that
proved Saint Martin on horseback, dividing his cloak with the
beggar. Scarce had our knight seen him when he said : ' This
one was likewise of the Christians adventurers, more generous
than brave I believe, even as you, my son, can see how he's giving

590 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

half his cloak to the be^ar. It must have been winter or he'ld
have been charitable enough to give the whole.' ' No, not that,'
suggested Sancho, ' but he held no doubt to the proverb. To give
and retain doth need a good brain. ' His master smiled and asked
the men to lift another cloth, beneath which was disclosed on
horseback the patron of Spain with blood-red sword treading
down Moors and trampling on their heads, on seeing whom Don
Quljote said : ' Ay, this was a knight indeed and of the squadrons
of Christ : Don San Diego the Moorsmiter, one of the most
valiant knights and saints of the world and of Heaven now. '
The next image represented Saint Paul's fall from his horse, with
all the detail wont to be found in such representations of his
conversion. When Don Quijote beheld him, so life-like you'ld
have said Christ was speaking and Paul replying, he said : ' This
man in his times was the greatest enemy of the Church, but its
greatest defender since : an errant in his life and a stedfast saint
at his death ; an untiring toiler in the vineyard of our Lord ;
a teacher of the Gentiles that had Heaven as his school and the
very Christ as instructor and master.

This was the last of the images, so Don Quijote bade the men
cover them saying : ' I consider it a good omen, brothers, to
have seen what I have seen, for these saints and knights profess
what I profess, the exercise of arms. Our only difference is that
they were saints and fought after the heavenly manner, while I
a sinner fight after the human. They conquered Heaven by force
of arms, for Heaven suffereth violence ; while I so far know not
what I conquer by force of my toils. Should Dulcinea be deliv-
ered of hers, my fortune and my mind bettered, I might direct
my steps along a fairer road than the one I now pursue. ' ' God
hear it and sin be deaf, ' echoed his squire. The men wondered
at both the figure and the words of Don Quijote without com-
prehending half his meaning. They finished their meal, put their
images on their shoulders and bidding farewell took the road in
their hands. As though he had never known his master, Sancho
marvelled afresh at his learning, believing there wasn't a history
in the world or an event thereof not stowed away under his
finger-nail or locked up in his memory. ' Truly, master of mine.

LVIII THE IMAGES ARCADIA 691

if this that has befallen us may be called one, 'twas the sweet-
est and softest adventure met with in all our wanderings. From
it we have come forth without punches or surprises ; neither
have we put hand to sword nor battered the earth with our
bodies nor been left anhungered. Blessed be God to have let me
see such a thing with these very eyes. '

' You say well, my son, but you must consider how times are
not all one nor run the same course. Reflect too that these the
vulgar call omens, not being based upon any grounds in nature,
by the wise should be held merely as happy accident. One of
your omen-mongers will rise of a morning, leave home and
becauses he chances to meet with a friar of the blessed Saint
Francis order, as though he had met a griffin turns and goes home
again. With another Mendoza some salt is spilt on the table and
straightway is melancholy spilt on his heart, as though by such
trifles nature was bound to announce approaching calamity. The
wise Christian shouldn't attempt to gauge the will of Heaven by
drops in the ocean. Scipio comes to Africa, trips and stumbles as
he lands and his soldiers at once cry bad omen, but their leader,
hugging the earth says : ' Thou'lt not escape me, Afric mine,
for I hold thee tight in mine arms. ' The meeting with these
images has been for me therefore naught but happy accident. '
' I believe it, ' replied Sancho, ' but would your worhip please
tell why Spaniards entering battle invoke that Moorsmiter Senor
Don Diego, crying : ' Santiago and close Spain ! Is Spain open
perhaps, so that it is necessary to close her? or what is this
cirimony?' 'You are very simple, Sancho. Learn then that this
great knight of the Red Gross was given by God to Spain as
patron and protector, particularly in life-and-death struggles
with Moors. Spaniards accordingly invoke him in all battles
and oft have seen him ride over, rout and crush the Hagarene
forces. Of this truth I could off'er abundant evidence from the
truthful Spanish histories. '

Sancho changed the conversion saying : ' Senor, I am amazed
at the boldness of Altistdora, the duchess's waiting-maid. Cruelly
must he they call Love have wounded and transfixed her. They
tell me he's a little youngster that although blear-eyed or better

592 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

say without sight at all, whatever heart he takes for his white,
however small, he pierces it through with arrows. As well have I
heard that by the modesty and reserve of damsels Love's darts
are blunted and dulled, but by Altisidora they seem rather to
have been whetted. ' ' Consider, my son, that Love knows no
respect nor observes any rational restraint, partaking of the
nature of death, which equally attacks the lofty palaces of kings
and humble shepherd-huts. And when Love takes entire posses-
sion of a heart, the first thing he does is to rid it of timidity and
shame. Hence without them Altisidora declared her desires,
engendering in my breast confusion, not compassion. '

' O notable cruelty ! O unheard-of ingratitude ! For myself I
can say I'ld have surrendered and subjected myself to her slightest
moving word. O the jade ! and what heart of marble in you,
master, what reins of brass, what soul of mortar! Nor can I
think what it was in your worship this damsel found, thus to
yield and submit herself. What grace was it, what gallant bear-
ing, what sprightliness or countenance, which of these things by
itself or all together ravished her heart. Verily, verily, often I
stop to look at your worship from the sole of your foot to the
topmost hair of your head, and can see more things to take
fright at than fall in love with. And having heard that beauty is
the first and chiefest thing beloved, and since your worship has
none, I cannot make out why the poor girl was enthralled. '
' Observe then that beauty is of two kinds : of the soul and of
the body. The former is found and flourishes in the understand-
ing, in virtue and good conduct, in liberality and breeding, all
of which can obtain in an ugly man. When the attention becomes
fixed on this beauty and not on that of the body, strong and
violent love is wont to be inspired. 'Tis perfectly apparent
that I am not fine-featured, but neither am I deformed, and it
suffices a good man not to be misbegotten to be well loved,
provided he have this dowry of the soul. '

Thus chatting and conversing they entered a wood that stood
a little from the road, and suddenly the knight found himself
mixed up with some meshes of a green net that stretched from
tree to tree. Unable to imagine its meaning he said to Sancho :

LVIII THE IMAGES ARCADIA 593

' It looks to me, boy, as if this of the nets would prove one of
the rarest adventures conceivable. May I die if my persecutors
the enchanters are not casting to enmesh me and impede my
journey, as vengeance for the cruelty shown Altisidora. But I
can tell them that, though the threads were of hardest diamond
or stronger than those wherewith the jealous god of smithies
entrapped Mars and Venus, I'll break them as if bulrushes or
cotton yarn. ' He was about to suit action to word, when of a
sudden from among the trees came forth and stood before them
two fair stepherdesses, at least so clad, save that their sheepskins
and kirtles were finest brocade — their kirtles indeed were petti-
coats of rich gold tabby. Their hair, which in ruddiness might
vie with the rays of the sun, played loose about their shoulders,
crowned with garlands of green laurel and red amaranth inter-
woven. Their age couldn't have been below fifteen nor over
eighteen.

This was a sight to befuddle Sancho, confound his master and
make the sun stop in his course to look at them. The four pre-
served a marvellous silence till one of the lassies said : ' Stay, sir
knight, break not our nets, extended not for your peril but for
our pastime. As I know you will question how that can be and
who we are, I mean to tell and in few words. In a hamlet about
two leagues from here where live many gentlefolk and many
rich hidalgos, a number of friends and relations arranged with
others their neighbours and kinsfolk that we all come and make
merry in this spot, one of the pleasantest hereabouts, forming
among ourselves a new and pastoral Arcadia and dressing the
maidens as shepherdesses and the lads as shepherds. We have
committed to memory two eclogues, one by the famous poet
Garcilaso, the other (in his own Portugese tongue) by the most
excellent Gamoens, and are soon to present them. Yesterday,
being the first of our coming, we pitched some field-tents among
trees beside a brimming brook that waters all these meadows. In
the night we stretched the nets to snare the silly little birds
which, startled by the noise we make, fly into them. If you will
be our guest, sir, you'll meet with a kindly and generous recep-
tion, since, for a while, care and melancholy shall not enter here.'

38

594 DON QUIJOTK DE LA MANCHA

II

The maiden ceased and in reply Don Quijote said : ' Certainly,
most fair one, Acteeon could not have been more amazed or
admiring when suddenly he beheld Diana bathing than I am in
beholding your beauty. I have but praise for the manner of your
revelry and only gratitude for your bidding, and if I can serve
you, you may command with the assurance of being obeyed. My
calling is no other than to be grateful and the benefactor of all,
especially of those of the rank your appearance bespeaks, and
if these nets, instead of occupying this little space, filled a cir-
cumference of the globe, I should seek out new worlds to avoid
breaking them. That you may give some credit to this my hyper-
bole, know that he that so promises is no less than Don Quijote
de La Mancha, if perchance his name have reached your ears. '

' Ah, friend of my soul ! ' cried the other lass ; ' and how great
a stroke of luck has befallen us ! Do you see that gentleman ?
then I would have you know him the most valiant, enamoured,
courteous in the world, unless a history of his exploits lie and
deceive us. I'll wager too that this good man with him is one
Sancho Panza his squire, whose drolleries none can rival.' ' You
hit it there, ' said Sancho ; ' I am the droll and squire your wor-
ship says and this gentleman my master is that very Don Quijote
de La Mancha, historified and talked about. ' ' Indeed, ' said the
first one, ' let us beseech him to stay, for our parents, brothers
and sisters will derive infinite pleasure therefrom. I too have
heard speak of his valour and courtesies. Above all they say of
him that he's the most constant and loyal lover known and that
his lady is one Dulcinea del Toboso, to whom all Spain gives the
palm of beauty. ' ' With reason, ' said the knight, ' unless your
unequalled loveliness place it in doubt. But try not to detain
me, ladies, for the rigid duties of my calling forbid all repose.'

There now arrived a brother of one of the shepherdesses, clad
as a shepherd and with a richness and gaity in keeping with the
maidens, who at once told him that this gentleman was the
gallant Don Quijote de La Mancha, with his squire Sancho,
whose history he too had read and so now knew him. The gay
shepherd proferred his services and repeated the invitation,
which in the end the knight was forced to accept. At this point

Li VIII THE IMAGES ARCADIA S9S

the birds were startled from their covert and deceived by the
green colour of the net fell into the danger they were flying.
More than thirty persons formed the snaring-party, all bravely
decked out as shepherds and shepherdesses. They were intro-
duced to the two strangers, with pleasure on their side, for they
too were acquainted with their history. Repairing to the tents
they found the tables neatly set with a rich and abundant meal.
Don Quijote was honoured with the head of the company, who
still couldn't keep their eyes from looking and wondering at
him. He, when the cloth was removed, calmly but in a voice
heard by all, delivered himself of the following :

' Of all heinous sins some hold pride the most flagrant, but I,
ingratitude, believing in the saying that of the ungrateful hell is
full. This sin, so far as lay in my power, have I tried to shun
from the moment I had the use of my faculties, and if I find I
cannot return kindness by kindness, I at least have the desire so
to do. When this is not sufficient, I make known their good
deeds, for he that proclaims favours would return them had he
the power. As a rule they that receive are less than they that give,
even as God, the Giver above all, is superior to all ; and the
bounty of men is far from equalling his bounty. Yet this our
poverty and lack gratitude in some measure makes good, and
grateful for the favour here accorded me and which I cannot
repay in the same coin, contenting myself within the narrow
limits of my power, I offer what I can of mine own, which is
that I will maintain for two natural days in the middle of the
king's highway to Saragossa that these make-believe lady-
shepherdesses are the fairest and most courteous damsels living,
save only the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, sole mistress of my
thoughts ; without offence be it said to as many, both men and
women, as are here. '

On hearing this, Sancho, who had been listeneng with great
attention, exclaimed : ' Is it possible that in the world are
persons that dare say and swear my master is mad ? Tell me,
gentlemen-shepherds, is there a village-priest, however wise or
learned, that could speak as my master has spoken ? is there a
knight-errant, however famed for valour, that could match this

396 DON QUUOTE DE LA MANCHA II

offer ? ' Don Quijote's face reddened with rage and turning on
his squire he said : ' Is it possible, O Sancho, there is anyone
on the globe denies you are a blockhead, lined with the same —
with I know not what bands of malice and roguery ? Who put
you to meddling with my affairs, to discover if I be wise or
foolish ? Hold your tongue and without a word saddle my steed
if unsaddled, for I am about to make good my offer, and with
the truth on my side, gentlemen, you may consider as vanquished
all that gainsay it ; ' and in great fury he arose from the table.
The company were dumfounded, not knowing whether to take
him for mad or sound, and tried to dissuade him from this chal-
lenge, saying that the gratitude of his nature was beyond question,
and that as for his valour they needed no new proof, since there
was plenty in the history now published. None the less did Don
Quijote persist in his purpose and mounting Rocinante with
shield embraced and lance on rest rode off to the highway that
skirted the meadow. Sancho followed on Dapple together with
all the pastoral flock, anxious to see what this arrogant and
unparalleled challenge would result in. The knight took stand in
the middle of the road and wounded the air with words such as
these :

' O ye travellers and wayfarers, knights, squires, persons
afoot or ahorse, that pass or shall pass in the next two days
along this road, know that Don Quijote de La Mancha, errant
knight, is here stationed to maintain that all the beauties and
courtesies of the world are surpassed by those crowning the
nymphs dwelling in these meads and greenwood, setting aside the
lady of my soul Dulcinea del Toboso. He that would think other-
wise, let him make haste, for here I await him. ' Twice he
repeated this little speech and twice it was unheard by any
adventurer. But chance, which was leading his lot from better
to better, ordained that soon was descried a troop of mounted
men, a number of them with lances, coming in a crowd and at
double-quick. Nor had the pastoral company clearly perceived
them when they turned and fled, fearing some injury. Don
Quijote with intrepid heart remained alone with Sancho Panza,
who sheltered himself behind Rocinante's haunches.

LlIX THE FALSE SECOND PART 597

The troop of lancers drew near and one at the front cried out :
' Get out of the way, you devil of a man, or the bulls will rip
you to pieces. ' ' Go to, you dog, bulls are nothing to me though
of the fiercest Jarama ever bred on her banks. Confess, mis-
creants, all in a lot, the truth of what I have now declared, or
join at once in battle ! ' The herdsman had no time to answer
nor Don Quijote to get out of the way, even had he wished, for
the whole herd of fierce bulls (on their way to where they were
to be baited on the morrow), together with the tame oxen and all
the herdsmen, passed over rider, horse, Sancho and last of all
the ass, bringing them to earth and scattering them every which
way. There lay the squire trampled on, his master terror-stricken.
Dapple down- trodden and Rocinante not very catholic. However
they all regained their feet after an interval and their leader at
his best speed, stumbling here and falling yonder, chased after
the cattle, crying :

' Hold, hold there, ye cursed crew, since one lone knight
awaits you and he not of the kind or mind that say. To the flying
enemy build a bridge of silver. ' Yet not for this did the run-
aways delay or take note of his threats more than of the clouds
of last year. Exhaustion at length stayed their pursuer and more
vexed than avenged he sate him down in the road, waiting for
his squire, his mount and the ass. They arrived, master and man
remounted, and without taking leave of the feigned and fictitious
Arcadia with more shame than shouting resumed their journey.

CHAPTER LIX

An extraordinary incident, almost to be regarded as an
adventure, that befell Don Quijote

To the relief of the dust and fatigue experienced by Don Qui-
jote and Sancho from the discourtesy of the bulls, ran a
clear and limpid brook, found by them in the greenwood, and
by its margin, after setting free of halter and bridle Dapple
and Rocinante, the wayworn master and man sate them down.

598 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

Sancho hurried to the pantry of the saddlebags, from which
he drew what he was wont to term his consolation. He first
rinsed his mouth while his master washed his face, and from
this refreshment both their wilted spirits revived. Yet from pure
weariness Don Quijote could not eat, and from pure politeness
his servant would not touch the food before him, waiting for the
other to be the taster. Finding however that, carried away by
his musings, his master forgot to carry a morsel to his mouth,
the squire defied every law of good-breeding and silently stowed
away the bread and cheese.

' Eat, Sancho friend, ' said the other : ' sustain life, which
means more to you than to me, and let me die at the hands
of my thoughts and in the power of my misfortunes. I, Sancho,
was born to live dying and you to die eating. That you may see
this to be true, consider how I, that am printed in histories,
celebrated in arms, courteous in action, honoured of princes,
solicited of damsels, just when expecting palms, triumphs and
crowns, won and merited by gallant deeds, this very morning
find myself kicked, trampled on and ground to pieces generally
by the hoofs of animals common and unclean. The remembrance
thereof blunts my teeth, paralyzes my jaws, benumbs my hands
and robs me utterly of desire to eat till I think to let myself
perish of hunger — the most cruel of deaths.' ' In that case,' said
Sancho, still hard at it chewing, 'your worship can't approve the
proverb. Let Martha die but let her die full. I certainly don't
think to end myself, but rather shall I copy the shoemaker, who
with his teeth stretches the leather till he gets it all the way.
In other words I by eating shall stretch my life till it comes to
the limit by Heaven decreed. Believe me, sire, there's no greater
folly than letting one's self perish of despair, the way you are
doing now. Take my advice, and after making a little meal, lie
down and sleep a bit on the green couch of this grass. You'll find
a lighter heart when you waken. '

The knight did as bidden, for these words of his squire sen^d
more those of philosopher than fool. ' If you, O Sancho, for my
sake would but do what now I ask, my restoration would be
more certain and my sorrow not so great, and this is that while

IiIX THE FALSE SECOND PART 599

ia pursuance of your counsel I am refreshing myself with slum-
ber, going to one side and exposing your carcase to the air, give
yourself with Rocinante's reins three or four hundred lashes of
the three tliousand and odd due for tlie disenchantment of Dul-
cinea. 'Tis no small pity that from your delay and negligence this
poor lady continues in her present state. ' ' Much might be said
on that head, ' replied the other ; ' for the present let's both take
a nap and later, God said what will be. Your worship must see
that this business of a man's lashing himself in cold blood is no
trifle, the less if the strokes fall on a body ill nourished and
worse fed. Let my lady Dulcinea be patient and when least she
thinks it, she'll find me streaked with lashes. Until death all is
life : life I have still and the longing to fulfil my promise. '

Thanking him Don Quijote ate a little, Sancho a good deal,
and both laid them down to sleep, letting those two constant
companions and friends, Rocinante and Dapple, feed at will on
the abundant grass. They wakened rather late, again mounted
and resumed their journey, making haste to reach an inn in view
about a league away. I call it an inn because Don Quijote did,
contrary to his custom of turning all inns into castles. They rode
up and on their asking the keeper had he accommodation, were
told yes, with all the comforts and service to be found at Sara-
gossa. They dismounted and Sancho locked up his larder in a
room to which the landlord gave him the key. He put the beasts
in the stable, gave them their feed, and then, offering special
thanks to Heaven that this inn hadn't appeared a castle, went to
look after the needs of his master, whom he found seated on the
bench. The supper-hour arrived, they went within and on San-
cho's asking their host what would be the fare, the other
replied that his mouth would be his measure — he could
ask for what he most wished, for with the birds of the air,
the fowls of the earth and the fishes of the sea that inn was
provided.

' There's no need of all that, ' replied Sancho, ' but a pair of
roasted chickens will suffice. My master is delicate and eats little
and I myself am no great glutton. ' The host replied that he had
no chickens just then, for the kites had sailed away with them.

600 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

' Then let senor host order that a pullet be roasted, provided it
be tender. ' ' Pullet, my father ! ' exclaimed the other ; ' indeed,
indeed, 'twas but yesterday I sent more than fifty to be sold in
the city. But barring pullets let your worship say the first thing.'
' Well then, let it be veal or kid. ' ' To-day we happen to be out
of both, having exhausted our stock, but next week there'll be to
spare. ' ' So much the better, ' replied Sancho, ' for I'll warrant
that all these lacks will be made good by an abundance of eggs
and bacon. ' ' 'Fore God, but my guest has a precious memory :
here I tell him I have neither hens nor pullets and does he
think I have eggs ? Discuss other delicacies if you will, but
don't ask for hens again, ' ' Gome, let us get down to business,
body of me ! Tell me in a word just what you have and leave
your discussions. ' ' Mister guest, ' said the innkeeper, ' that
which really and truly I have is two cow-heels that look like
calves' feet, or two calves' feet that look exactly like cow-heels.
These are cooked with chick-peas, onions and bacon, and are
just at the point of saying, Eat me, eat me. ' ' I mark them for
mine own from this moment, ' said Sancho ; ' let none touch
them, for I'll pay more than the next man. To my mind naught
could be looked forward to with greater relish and I don't care a
rap whether they be feet or no so long as they have heels. ' ' None
will touch them, ' replied the landlord, ' for mine other guests,
being of quality, have their own cook, butler and stores. ' 'As for
your quality, ' said Sancho, ' none could be of more than my
master, but his calling admits neither larder nor cellarage. We
just take our ease in the middle of a lot and have our fill of acorns
or medlars. ' Such was the colloquy 'twixt Sancho and inn-
keeper, nor did the former care to continue it when the latter
asked the calling or profession of his sire.

The supper was soon ready and when the stew was brought
in, such as it was, Don Quijote fell to with no little relish. But
scarce had he sat down when he overheard someone in the next
room (divided from his own by a thin partition) saying : ' On
your life, Senor Don Geronimo, while we're waiting, let's read
another chapter of the second part of Don Quijote de La Mancha.'
Hardly had he heard his name when our knight arose and set

LiIX THE FALSE SECOND PART 601

himself to listen. He now heard the one called Geronimo reply :
' Why read this nonsense, Senor Don Juan ? whoever has read
the first part surely can have no pleasure in reading the second. '
' For all that there's no book so bad but has some good in it.
What I find fault with is that the knight is represented as no
longer in love with Dulcinea del Toboso. '

Afire with indignation Don Quijote cried : ' Whoever would
say that Don Quijote de La Mancha has forgot or can forget
Dulcinea de Toboso, him shall I convince with equal arms that
he's very far from the truth, for the peerless one cannot be forgot
nor her lover forget. His motto is constancy and his profession
to keep it with gentleness and unconstrained. ' ' Who is he that
speaks ? ' came from the other room. ' Who shall he be, ' replied
Saucho, ' but Don Quijote de La Mancha himself, who will
make good all he has said or may say, for pledges never worry
a good paymaster. ' Scarce had Sancho spoken when there entered
the two gentlemen, at least so they seemed, and one falling on
Don Quijote's neck cried : ' Neither can your presence belie your
name nor your name your presence. You, sir, are beyond doubt
the true Don Quijote de La Mancha, north and morning star of
errant arms, despite and in defiance of him that woull! usurp
your title and vilify your deeds, as has been done by the author
of this book, which here I deliver ; ' and he placed in his hands
a book his companion had been holding. The knight received it
and silently began to turn its leaves. After a little he returned it
saying :

' In this short moment I have discovered in the author three
things worthy of reprehension. The first is certain words I read
in the prologue ; the second, that the man is an Aragonese, for
he occasionally drops his articles. And the third thing that
confirms him for a blockhead is that he errs and goes wrong at
the most essential particulars. For example, he speaks of my
squire's wife as Mari Gutierrez, whereas her real name is Teresa
Panza. If he errs in this important matter, it can easily be feared
he does so in all the others of the history. ' And Sancho added :
' A precious thing of a historian indeed ! he must be an old friend
to our affairs if he calls Teresa Panza my wife Mari Gutierrez.

602 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCUA II

Look in the book again, sir, and see if I wander through it and
if my name too has been tampered with. ' ' According to what
you say, ' said Don Geronimo, ' you must be Sancho Panza,
Senor Don Quijote's squire. ' ' I am, ' said Sancho, ' and proud
of it. ' ' Then in faith, ' said the gentleman, ' this modern author
doesn't treat you with the decency your person demands. He
depicts you as glutton and fool and nothing witty, quite different
from the Sancho described in the first part of your master's
history. ' ' God forgive him, ' said Sancho ; ' he should have left
me in my corner and taken no thought of me. He that knows
the strings, let him thrum them, and Saint Peter is well off at
Rome. '

The two gentlemen asked Don Quijote to join them at supper
in their apartment, knowing well the inn could provide nothing
suitable for him. Our knight, always courteous, yielded to their
request and supped with them. Sancho was left in full and
absolute possession of his stew, seated at the table-head, and
with him the innkeeper who no less than his mess-mate had a
partiality for these legs and heels. In the course of their meal
Don Juan asked Don Quijote what news he had had of the lady
Dulcinea del Tobsoso ; was she married, had she been brought
to bed, was she pregnant, or was she a virgin still, preserving
her virtue and decorum and mindful of the amorous thoughts
of her lover. To this his guest replied : ' Dulcinea continues to
be herself and my thoughts are more constant than ever. Our
intercourse is on the old footing but her beauty has been trans-
formed into that a common peasant-wench ; ' and he went on to
tell in detail of her enchantment, together with all that befell in
the cave of Montesinos and the means allowed by sage Merlin for
her release. Supreme was the content of the two hosts at hearing
these rare passages in his story from the knight's own lips,
though the absurdity of it all and the elegant manner in which it
was related left them wondering. Here they regarded him as
sane, there he slipped from them into madness, nor were they
able to decide just how far he went either way.

Sancho had now done with his supper and leaving the landlord
under the table repaired to his master, saying as he entered :

LlIX THE FALSE SECOND PART 603

' May I die, gentlemen, if the authior of this book be against our
eating crumbs together. As he calls me glutton, I trust he doesn't
call me bibber too. ' ' But he does, ' declared Don Geronimo ;
' I don't recall in just what terms, but I remember his words
have an ill sound and are lies to boot, as I can tell by the features
of the real Sancho here present. ' ' Take my word for it, ' said
the squire, ' the Sancho and Don Quijote of this history are not
those in the one composed by Gid Hamet Benengeli, who are
ourselves : my master gallant, discreet and in love, and I simple
and witty, neither glutton nor sot.' ' I believe it,' said Don Juan,
' and were it possible it ought to be decreed that none should
dare treat of the affairs of the great Don Quijote save Cid Hamet
his first author, even as Alexander ordered that none should
paint his portrait save Apelles. ' ' Let him treat of me that will, '
said our knight, ' provided he don't maltreat me, for patience is
wont to fall when they load her with injuries. ' ' None can be
offered Senor Don Quijote for which he cannot avenge himself,'
said Don Juan, ' even if he don't first ward it off with his shield
of long-suffering, which in my opinion is ample and strong. '

In this and other coverse they passed a great part of the night.
Though Don Juan wished our hero to read more in the book,
the latter refused, saying he considered it as read, and confirmed
it all as a piece of stupidity. Furthermore he should not wish
the author, knowing he had held it in his hands, to flatter
himself that he had read it : the thoughts must be kept from
things filthy and obscene, how much more the eyes. They asked
whither his journey and were told to Saragossa to engage in the
annual jousts there. Don Juan informed him that the new history
represented Don Quijote, be he who he might, as present in a
tilting, which tilting was not only barren of invention but poor
of device and destitute of liveries, though rich in imbecilities.
' In that event, ' replied our friend, ' I shan't set foot in Sara-
gossa, that to the light of the world may be exposed this recent
historian's deception and that people may see I am not the
knight he makes me.' ' You will do well, ' said Don Geronimo,
' and there are jousts at Barcelona where your worship can display
your valour.' 'That will I do then, and prithee, gentlemen, giving

604 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

me leave to retire, for it is late, place and keep me in the num-
ber of your greatest servants and friends. ' ' And me no less, '
said Sancho ; ' sometime maybe I shall be good for something. '
With this they parted and master and man repaired to their
chamber, leaving the gentlemen wholly astounded at the hash
our hero made of his understanding and folly, though by it
they were made sure that these, and not those described by the
Aragonese author, were the true Don Quijote and Sancho. The
knight arose early and tapped on the partition by way of farewell
to his entertainers. Sancho paid the landlord magnificently,
throwing in the advice that he laud the accommodation of his
inn less or larder it better.

CHAPTER LX
Of what befell our knight on his way to Barcelona

FRESH was the morning giving promise of a glorious day
when Don Quijote sallied forth from the inn, first informing
himself of the most direct route to Barcelona without touching at
Saragossa — such was his eagerness to give the lie to the new
historian that had so wickedly abused him. Naught befell
worthy of record for more than six days, at close whereof night
overtook him a little off the road amid a grove of oak or cork-
trees, in ascertaining which Gid Hamet doesn't observe his
customary care. Master and man dismounted and accommodating
themselves at the feet of the trees, Sancho, who had lunched that
day, without formality entered the gates of sleep. But his master,
whom fancies more than famishment usually kept awake, could
not close his eyes ; in imagination he kept going and coming by
a thousand devious ways.

Now he seemed to find himself in the cave of Montesinos ;
now watching Dulcinea, turned country-wench, give a leap onto
her she-ass ; and next came sounding in his ears the words of
the sage Merlin, announcing the conditions and performance to
be carried out were the lady to be disenchanted. Seeing the sloth

IjX roqub 60S

and uacharitableaess of his squire he despaired, for he understood
that five lashes only had been given — a number small indeed
and out of all proportion to the infinite yet remaining. There-
from he received such sorrow and annoyance that he drove
himself to say : ' If Alexander the great cut the Gordian knot,
saying that cutting amounted to untying, and for all that ceased
not to be universal lord of Asia, like success may crown the
disenchantment of Dulcinea, if I lash the boy in spite of himself.
If the condition of her release be that Sancho receive three
thousand and odd lashes, what is it to me whether he gives them
himself or another for him : the thing is that he receive them,
come whence they will. '

With this in mind he approached the sleeping squire, having
first provided himself with Rocinante's reins, and commenced to
untie his points ('tis common belief that Sancho had but one, in
front) ; but he had not gone far when the other started up wide-
awake saying : ' What is this ? who is touching and undressing
me ? ' ' 'Tis I, Sancho, who am come to make good your lack
and lighten my weight. I am come to lash you, my son, and so
partly discharge the debt you are beholden for. Dulcinea perishes,
you live in idleness, I die of love. Therefore strip yourself and
of your own free will, for mine holds to give you in this solitude
at least two thousand stripes. ' ' Not so, ' said the other ; ' lie
still, master ; if not, by the only God the deaf shall hear us. The
lashes I owe must be voluntary and not by force, and at present
I am in no mood to thrash myself. Enough that I promise to flog
and flap me whenever I feel like it. '

' There's no leaving it to your charity, Sancho, for you're hard
of heart and though a countryman, tender of flesh ; ' and the
knight thereupon strove and struggled to unbreech him. Sancho
gained his feet and closing with his master tightly with both
arms, gave him the back-trip, landing him on the ground face
upward. Placing his right knee on his chest he gripped the other's
hands in such a way that he could neither move nor breathe.
' How, traitor, do you revolt against your master and natural
lord ? do you affront him that gives you bread ? ' ' I neither mar
king nor make king, ' returned Sancho, ' but stand by myself

606 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

who am mine own lord. Let your worship take an oath to be
quiet and not try to lash me, and I'll let you go. If not —

Here thou diest, traitor,
Enemy of Dona Sancha. '

The knight vowed and swore by the life of his thoughts not to
touch a hair of his clothing even, leaving the flagellation to his
absolute pleasure and whim.

Sancho arose and moving some little distance to get him a tree
for a couch, felt something touch his head. Raising his hands he
laid hold of two feet in shoes and stockings. He trembled from
fright, but hurrying to another tree had a like experience. He
then called to his master to come to his rescue. Don Quijote
asked what frightened him, and was told all those trees were
draped with human feet and legs. The knight felt and at once
divining the cause said to his squire : ' There's naught to fear, for
these legs and feet which you feel but cannot see belong to
thieves and highwaymen, whom justice strings to trees by
twenties and thirties. They say to me I am near Barcelona. '

When day dawned, they lifted their eyes and saw the clusters
were indeed bodies of brigands. But if these dead frighted them,
no less were they terrified by more than forty live ones that
suddenly surrounded them, saying in Catalan to make no noise
nor move till their captain came. Don Quijote was afoot, his
horse without bridle, his lance against a tree : he was indeed
quite defenceless, and so thought best to fold his arms, bow his
head and keep himself for better time and opportunity. The
footpads made quick work of rifling Dapple, leaving not a thing
in the saddlebags and valise. It was well for Sancho that he had
the duke's crowns and those from home in a belt about his waist ;
yet these too the good folk would have weeded out in their
search 'twixt clothing and flesh, had not just then arrived the
captaia, a fellow about thirty-four, robust, of more than medium
height, stern aspect and swarthy complexion. He rode a powerful
steed and wore a coat of mail with four pistols at his side of the
type called petronels.

Seeing that his squires (for members of that fraternity are so

IjX roqug 607

called) were about to strip Sancho, the captain ordered them let
be. He was at once obeyed and thus the belly-band escaped.
He wondered to see a lance against the tree, a shield on the
ground and a knight armed and pensive, the most pathetic and
melancholy figure sorrow herself could have fashioned. Approach-
ing him he said : ' Be not so forsaken, my good man, for you've
fallen not into the hands of some cruel Osiris but into those of
Roque Guinart, more considerate than cruel. ' ' My sorrow, '
replied the o^lher, ' is not that I have fallen into your hands,
O gallant Roque, to whose fame the earth knows no bounds,
but that my remissness was such that your soliders took me
without bridle, bound as I am by mine order of errant arras to
live eternally vigilant, being mine own sentinel at all hours.
For I would suggest, O famous one, that had they found me
ahorse whith lance and shield, 'twould have been no joke to
reduce me, that am the Don Quijote de La Mancha whose deeds
fill the world.'

Roque Guinart saw that the man's infirmity sprang from
delirium rather than daring. Though occasionaly he had heard
mention of this don and his doings, he never had believed in
either, nor could he persuade himself that such a humour could
reign in heart of man. He was delighted therefore to have met
with the original that he might touch closely what he had heard
from far. This touching he began by saying : ' Worthy knight,
be not cast down nor hold for evil fortune that wherein you find
yourself, for by these stumblings your twisted lot may right
itself, since Heaven by rare, unheard-of, roundabout ways, ways
undreamt of by men, is wont to raise the fallen and enrich
the poor. '

The knight was about to thank him when they heard a noise as
of a troop of horses, though there proved to be but one, on
which rode at full course a youth of about twenty years, clad in
green damask laced with gold, breeches and a loose frock, with
cap cocked Walloon fashion. His boots were waxed and tight
fitting, his spurs, dagger and sword of gilt, and besides these he
bore a small firelock in his hands and two pistols at his sides.
Roque, turning his head at the noise, beheld this fair figure, who

608 DON QUWOTE DE LA MANCHA II

thus addressed him : ' In search of you I come, O gallant Roque,
to find if not cure at least relief in my distress. And not to keep
you in suspense, for I see you do not recognise me, let me say
I am Claudia Geronimo, daughter of Simon Forte, your especial
friend and the particular foe of Glauquel Torrellas, who equally
is yours, belonging as he does to the rival faction. You are well
aware that this Torellas has a son, Don Vicente, at least so called
two hours back.

' This Don Vicente (and to cut short the story of mine ills,
I'll say in few words what one he worked me), once beholding
wooed me, and I listening loved him, unknown to my father ; for
there's no woman, however secluded or reserved, that won't
have chances and to spare for effecting her precipitate desires. In
the end he promised to marry and I gave my word to be his wife,
but there the matter rested. Yesterday I learned that, forgetting
his debt, he was this morning to marry with another — news
that drove me into a rage and broke my endurance. My father
was not at home, so I donned this garb and pressing on my horse
overtook Don Vicente about a league from here. Not stopping
to make complaint or hear excuse I discharged this musket and
these two pistols, and lodged more than two bullets in his body,
opening passages whereby mine honour, though steeped in his
blood, might escape. There I left him with his servants, who
neither dared nor could do aught in his defence, and rode to ask
you to help me over into France, where I have kinsmen with
whom I may dwell. Also I pray you defend my father lest Don
Vicente's many partisans take undue vengeance. '

Roque, admiring the gallantry, pluck, fine figure and initiative
of the fair Claudia, said to her : ' Come, lady, let's first see if your
enemy be dead and later we can decide what will be best. ' Don
Quijote, who had been all attention, now exclaimed : • Let none
assume the defence of this maid, since I shall consider it my
especial charge. Ho with my horse and arms ! and do you,
lady, await my return, for I'll seek out this gentleman, and dead
or alive make him fulfil his word to beauty so rare. ' ' Let none
doubt of it, ' said Sancho, ' for my master is a great hand at
match-making. Only the other day he performed an office

LX ROQUE 609

exactly similar to this, and had not the enchanters that persecute
him changed the thief's true figure into that of a lacquey, the
maiden by this time would have been one no longer. ' Roque,
who had been thinking more about the fortunes of the lovely
Claudia than of the words of master or man, bade his squires
return to Sancho all they had plundered from the ass, and them-
selves go back to where they had quartered the previous night.
The captain then set out in all haste with Claudia in search of
the wounded or dead Don Vicente.

Arriving at the spot where the girl had come up with him,
they found naught but a pool of blood. But as they looked about,
they descried some persons on a hill-slope and truly concluded
this must be the false lover with his servants, who had borne him
there to care for or to bury him. They easily overtook them, as
the others moved slowly, and found the young gallant in the
arms of his followers, whom he prayed in feeble voice to let
him die, since his agony wouldn't suffer him to be moved further.
Claudia and Roque flung themselves from their horses and drew
near. The servants were terrified by the presence of Roque, and
Claudia was stricken at the sight of her lover. Half-pitying,
half-severe, she seized his hands saying : ' Had you given these
according to our covenant, never would you have come to this
pass. ' The wounded man opened his all but closed eyes and
recognising Claudia said : ' Now I see, fair but mistaken woman,
'twas you that brought me to my death — a punishment unde-
served of my desires, in which or in deed I neither would nor
could do you wrong. ' • Then is it not true you were to marry
this morning with Leonora, rich Balvastro's daughter ? ' ' I was
not, ' replied Don Vicente ; ' mine evil fate must have brought
you this news that in jealousy you should take my life, which
Heave in your hands and arms, considering my lot blessed. To
assure you of this truth, take my hand and receive me for your
husband if you would, for no larger satisfaction have I to grant
in return for the harm you think done you. '

Claudia wrung his hand and so wrung was her heart that she
fell in a swoon upon his breast even as he was seized with a
mortal paroxysm. Roque knew not which way to turn but the

39

610 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

servants ran for water to throw in their faces. The maid returned
from her swoon but not so her lover from his convulsion,
for it ended his life. Realising that her dear bridegroom lived
no more Claudia rent the air with moans, wounded the sky with
wails of woe, tore her hair and gave it to the winds, abused her
face with her hands, together with all demonstrations of pain
and grief whereof a stricken breast is capable. ' O cruel and
thoughtless one ! ' she cried ; ' how easily were you moved to
effect so wicked a design ! O raging power of jealousy, to what
desperate lengths do you lead them that lodge thee in their
bosoms ! O my husband, whose wretched fate through your
being pledged to me hath borne you from the marriage-couch to
the grave ! '

Such and so sad were the ravings of Claudia that they drew
tears from Roque's unaccustomed eyes. The servants sobbed,
the girl swooned again and again and all about her seemed a field
of sorrow and calamity. The brigand ordered the servants to
bear their master home that he might be given burial. Claudia
said she would enter a convent, of which an aunt was abbess,
and there pass her life in the presence of a better and more
eternal spouse. Roque approved, offered himself as escort and
to defend her father from Don Vicente's kinsmen and all the
world that tried to work him harm. Claudia declined the first,
thanked him for the other and departed from them in tears. The
servants bore away the body of their master and Roque returned
to his friends. Thus ended the loves of Claudia Geronima —
what wonder, if we reflect 'twas the cruel and invincible might
of jealousy wove the web of her lamentable fate.

The chieftain found his squires in the spot whither he had
ordered them. In their midst on Rocinante Don Quijote was
delivering an harangue in which he tried to dissuade them from
their present life, perilous to the soul as to the body, but as his
auditors were chiefly Gascons, a rude and lawless lot, his speech
missed fire. Upon his arrival Roque asked Sancho had his men
restored the jewels and possessions they had taken from Dapple.
Sancho said they had, save three handkerchiefs, worth three
cities. ' What do you say, man?' spoke up one of the robbers;

LX HOQUE 611

' I have them here and they're not worth three reals. ' ' True, '
replied Don Quijote, ' but my squire values them so highly
because of the one that gave them. ' The captain commanded
that they at once be restored, and now, forming his men in a
row, ordered that all the clothing, jewels, money and everything
stolen since the last division be laid before him. Making a brief
summary of the value, turning into money whatever couldn't be
divided, he distributed the whole of it with such foresight and
exactness that he neither exceeded nor fell short one point of
distributive justice. The troop were left satisfied, and Roque
turning to Quijote said : ' Were I not this scrupulous with these
fellows, 'twere impossible to live with them. ' To which Sancho
replied : ' According to what I have seen, so good a thing is
justice 'tis necessary to practise it even among thieves. ' One of
the squires, overhearing this raised the butt of his musket and
would certainly have opened Panza's head had not the captain
shouted to hold. Sancho was flabbergasted, determining not
once again to unsew his lips in that company.

At this point arrived one of the men posted as sentinels along
the highway to advise their chief of travellers passing. This one
reported : ' Senor, not far hence on the road to Barcelona comes
a troop of many persons. ' ' Are they of the kind that seek us or
of those we ourselves seek ? ' ' The latter. ' ' Then everybody
off and see that none escapes. ' The men obeyed, and while they
were gone the brigand-chief said : ' A strange mode of life ours
must seem to Senor Don Quijote : new adventures, new occa-
sions and all perilous. Nor can I wonder, for I confess that no
life is more restless or open to surprises. I was led into it by
I know not what desire of vengeance, which has power to pervert
the most equable judgment. I am compassionate by nature and
of honest aims but, as I have said, the thirst to avenge me for a
certain wrong so brings to earth all my good impulses that I
persevere in this calling despite and in defiance of my better
judgment. As deep calleth unto deep and one crime unto another
these acts of revenge have gone on linking themselves till not
only mine but others' wrongs have I taken upon me to satisfy.
But God is pleased that though I find myself in a labyrinth' of

612 DON QUIJOTE DE I-A MANCHA II

coifasions, I've not lost the hope of some day issuing therefrom
to a safe port. ' The knight was amazed at Roque's logic, having
supposed that among thieves and cut-throats judgment vv^as not
to be found ; and he replied :

' Senor Roque, once the disease is located, the first step
toward health is to take the curative prescribed by the physician.
Your worship is ill, you know the cause and Heaven, or better
say God our Physician, will administer the proper palliative,
which is wont to heal, not suddenly or by a miracle but bit by
bit. Wise sinners moreover are nearer to salvation than foolish,
and since your discourse shows your sense, there's naught to do
biit with good hope wait the mending of your conscience. Would
you shorten the road and quickly turn into that of your saving,
come with me, who will teach you to be a knight-at-arms, where
are practised sufficient toils and misventures, if considered as
penance, to transport you to Heaven in a trice. ' Roque smiled
at this exhortation of his new friend, to whom he now told (that
he might change the subject) of the tragic fortune of Claudia
Ger6nima, which grieved Sancho tremendously, for the girl's
spirit and beauty struck him not amiss.

The squires now returned with booty in the shape of two
mounted gentlemen, two pilgrims afoot, a coach-load of women
with some half-dozen servants ahorse or afoot, together with
two muleteers belonging to the gentlemen. The squires led the
train before their great captain, all silent till he should speak.
He first enquired of the gentlemen as to their identity, destination
and money on hand. ' Senor, we are two captains of Spanish
infantry, our companies are at Naples and thither we are to
embark in four galleys said to be at Barcelona with orders for
Sicily. We carry between two and three hundred crowns, and
feel ourselves rich and content, since the soldier's lot admits of
no more. ' Roque put the same questions to the pilgrims and
learned they were about to embark for Rome and that between
them they might have sixty reals. Finally he asked who were in
the coach, its journey and treasure, and one of the mounted
servants replied :

' My mistress Dona Guiomar de Quiiiones, wife of the pres-

liX aoQUE 613

ident of the Naples tribunal, with her little daughter, a maid-
servant and a duenna occupies this carriage ; six servants attend
with six hundred crowns. ' ' In all then, ' said the master-brigand,
' we have here nine hundred crowns and sixty reals. My soldiers
must number about sixty ; figure how much this comes to per
head, for I am a poor accountant. ' To this the other robbers
cried : ' Long live Roque Guinart, despite the thugs that plot his
ruin.' The captains looked crest-fallen, the lady-president mourn-
ful; not even the pilgrims rejoiced at this confiscation of their
goods. Roque held them awhile in this suspense, but not wishing
that their sorrow, apparent a bow-shot off, should continue, he
turned to the captains and said : ' May your worships, sir
captains, be pleased of your courtesy to lend me sixty crowns
and the lady-president eighty, to satisfy mine escort, for the
abbot dines on what he sings. You may then go your road free
and unmolested, for I'll give a safe-conduct, in case you meet
with others of my squadrons scattered hereabouts. 'Tis never
my purpose to handicap soldiers or women, the more if they be
of high birth. '

Many and graciously spoken were the words wherewith the
captains thanked Roque for his courtesy and liberality — for
such they considered his leaving them their money. The lady
Dona Guiomar de Quinones was about to alight to kiss the feet
and hands of the famous bandit, but on no account would he
permit it. Instead he sought her pardon for this detention,
deploring that he was bound to comply with the necessities of
his wicked calling. The lady-president bade one of the servants
hand out the eighty crowns her assessment ; already the captains
had produced their sixty and the pilgrims were about to yield
their mite when Roque told them to stay, and turning to his men
he said : ' Of these crowns two go to each of you, leaving
twenty. Ten of these shall he given the pilgrims and the other
ten this squire, that he may give a good report of this adventure. '
He now made out the passports, addressed to the chiefs of his
hands, and bidding farewell he let all go in admiration of his
magnanimity, gallant nature and rare conduct, affirming him an
Alexander rather than a notorious thief.

614 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

One of his squires murmured in his Gascon-Catalan : ' This
our captain is more friar than brigand. In future would he be
liberal, let him be so with his own and not our property. ' The
poor fellow didn't say this so low but that it was overheard by
his chief, who now with his sword almost split the man's head,
saying : ' Thus do I punish the loose-tongued and bold ; ' nor was
there one that dared speak a word. The leader next wrote a letter
to a friend at Barcelona, advising him of the presence of the
famous Don Quijote de la Mancha, the errant of whom so much
was said, the most agreeable and intelligent fellow in the world.
Four days thence, at the festival of Saint John the Baptist, this
knight would present himself in full armour on the city-strand,
mounted onRocinante and his squire Sancho on an ass. He prayed
him give notice thereof to his friends the Niarros that they might
find diversion in the pair, but he would that his enemies
the Gadells miss the treat. This last was impossible however,
since the actions both shrewd and simple of Quijote and the
drolleries of Panza could not but delight the whole world. He
despatched this letter by one of his squires who, changing his
bandit garb for a peasant's, entered Barcelona and properly
delivered it.

CHAPTER LXI

Don Quijote's entrance into Barcelona, together vnth
passages containing more truth than discretion

THREE days and nights Don Quijote abode with the brigand-
chief, and had they been three hundred years, things to
wonder at and admire in the manner of his life would not have
been lacking. Here they wakened, there they dined ; now they
fled from they knew now whom, again lay in wait for whom
they knew not. They slept on foot and interrupted their dreams
by shifts from place to place. Their life was all setting spies,
hearing scouts, blowing the matches of their fire-locks, though of
these they had but few since all were provided with flint-guns,

liXI BARCELONA 615

Rocque himself slept apart from his men and in places unknown
to them, for the many edicts issued by the viceroy of Barcelona
against his life made him restless and suspicious of every one,
fearful that even his own squires might slay him or deliver him
over to justice : a life wretched and burdened indeed.

By unfrequented roads, short-cuts and blind-paths Roque,
Don Quijote, Sancho and six of the robbers at length arrived at
the Strand between Barcelona and the sea on the night before the
festival of Saint John, and when the chieftain had embraced the
errant and his squire, to whom he now gave the promised ten
crowns, they took leave of one another after a thousand proffers
of service on both sides. Our knight was left alone with his
squire and awaited the day, just as he was, on horseback. Nor
did he have to wait long before Aurora's fair face showed itself
through the balconies of the east, gladdening the herbs and
flowers, and at this instant the ears too were gladdened by the
sound of many clarions and kettle-drums, the ringing of bells,
and the tramp, tramp, tramp, make way, make way ! of horses
and merry-makers pouring out of the city. The dawn made way
for the sun, which with a face broader than a target gradually
rose from the horizon.

Don Quijote and Sancho looked about and there beheld the
sea, of whose presence they had been unaware in the darkness.
It seemed to them very ample and spacious, rather bigger in fact
than the lakes ofRuidera, seen in La Mancha. Along the Strand
stood galleys which having lowered their awnings, appeared
decked out with streamers and pennants that fluttered in the
breeze and swept and kissed the water. From within were heard
clarions, trumpets and hautboys, that near and far filled the air
with sweet martial accents. The vessels themselves began to
move and execute a kind of skirmish upon the calm bay, and in
the same manner, as if in concert, numberless horsemen upon
beautiful steeds and wearing gay liveries issued from the city.
The soldiers on the galleys discharged their guns to which those
of the forts made reply, and the heavy cannon rent the air with
their thunder, answered by the ship-artillery in turn. The spark-
ling sea, the jocund earth, the clear morning air, though darkened

616 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCMA II

at intervals by the cannon-smoke, appeared to thrill the people
into sudden pleasure. Sancho couldn't understand how those
hulks that moved on the sea could have so many feet.

The horsemen of the liveries, with shouts, huzzas and war-
cries, came galloping to where in silent wonderment sat Don
Quijote, and one of them, the man advised by Roque, cried to
our champion : ' Welcome to our city, O mirror, beacon and
star, the north of chivalry ! (with all the rest of it) ; welcome, I
say, to the gallant Quijote of La Mancha — not the false and
apocryphal that stalks abroad in lying books, but the true, lawful
and faithful, described by Cid Hamet Benengeli, flower of his-
torians. ' The knight made no reply, nor did the horsemen wait,
but with the others of their train began to weave circles round
and round him. He turning to Sancho said : ' These evidently
know us. I'll wager they've read not only our history but that of
the Aragonese lately published. ' The horseman that first spoke
now returning said : ' Let your worship be of our company, for
all of us are your servants and great friends of Roque Guinart. '
To which the other replied : ' If courtesies engender courtesies,
yours, sir knight, are daughters or close kinsfolk to those
of the great Roque. Lead whither your will directs for mine
is one with it, especially if it be that I employ myself in your
service. '

With words no less polite the horseman responded, and
gathering him in their midst to the music of clarions and kettle-
drums they returned to the city. As they entered, the evil one,
who is at the bottom of all wickedness, and two small boys,
more wicked than he, mischievously worked their way in among
the crowd, and one raising Rocinante's tail and the other
Dapple's stuck bunches of furze under each. The poor beasts,
feeling these novel spurs, clapped their tails to, increasing the
sting to such an extent that with a thousand capers they landed
their riders on the ground. Vexed and mortified Don Quijote
hastened to rid his animal's tail of its plumage, while Sancho
did the same for Dapple. Their escort would punish this rudeness
but the urchins were now mingled among more than a thousand
processionists. Master and man remounted, and to the same

LXI THE ENCHANTED HEAD 617

music and acclaim rode to the house of their guide. This was
large and princely, in a word the home of a well-to-do gentle-
man, and there shall we leave him for the present, for so Gid
Hamet bids.

CHAPTER LXII

The adventure of the enchanted head, together with other
nonsense that cannot go unrecorded

THE name of our knight's host was Don Antonio Moreno, a
gentleman of means, a man of sense and a lover of harm-
less pleasure. Finding this adventurer at his house he began to
search for such ways of drawing him out as should not tell
against him ; for they are no jests that cause pain nor are worth
while pastimes to another's prejudice. He first made Don Quijote
disarm and exibit himself in that tight chamois-suit of his on a
balcony that overhung one of the city's chief thoroughfares, to
the view of people and children, who stared at him as at a
monkey. The horsemen again ran courses as though they had
donned their gala-dress for him alone and not to gladden that
festive day. All this was to the great delight of Sancho who,
though puzzled to know how, believed he had found another castle
like that of the duke.

That day there dined with Don Antonio several of his friends,
all of whom treated and honoured Don Quijote as an errant
knight ; whereat, proud and important, he couldn't contain
himself for pleasure. As for Sancho, his drolleries were so many
that the servants and indeed all that heard hung upon his lips.
When they were seated Don Antonio said to him : ' We have
heard, good Sancho, you are such a lover of blanc-mange and
mince-meat balls that if any be left you stow them away in your
bosom againl§)the morrow.' 'Nay, senor, this is not true, for
I'm more nice than greedy, and my master Don Quijote here
present knows well that we're both wont to live eight days at a
stretch on a handfuU of acorns and other nuts. I admit that when

618 DON QUUOTE DE LA MA.NCHA II

now and then they hand me a heifer, I hurry with the halter : in
other words I eat what I'm offered and take times as they come.
But whoever may have said that I overeat and am untidy, take
my word he's mistaken ; I should have expressed it differently
hadn't I noticed venerable beards at this board. '

' Indeed, ' his master bore witness, ' my squire's restraint and
tidiness at the table can be written and graven on tables of
bronze to the lasting memory of ages to come. True when hungry
he may be thought a trifle keen, eating rapidly and chewing two
cuds, but neatness he ever regards to a nicety, and when governor
learned to be fastidious almost, lifting his grapes, nay the very
seeds of his pomegranate, with a fork. ' ' How ! ' exclaimed Don
Antonio ; ' has Sancho been a governor ? ' ' Yes, ' acknowledged
the squire, ' of an island Barataria. Ten days I governed it to
perfection, though during that period I lost my peace and learned
to despise all the governments of the world. I gave it the slip,
fell down a cave where I took myself for dead, but from which
I finally came to life again as by a miracle. ' His master then
rehearsed in detail the course of Sancho's rule, to the no small
delight of his audience.

When the cloth was removed, the host took his guest by the
hand and entered with him into another room, where the only
furniture was a table seemingly of jasper resting on a base of the
same. On it was placed, like the busts of Roman emperors, one
that appeared to be of bronze. Don Antonio walked with his
guest many times around the room and the table and at length
said : ' Now that I am closeted with your worship where there is
none to listen and overhear us and the door is closed, I wish to
relate to you one of the rarest adventures, or better say novelties,
that can be imagined, expecting that you will keep all I say in
the innermost vaults of secrecy. ' ' That I swear to do, ' replied
the other ; ' I shall drop a flagstone thereon for greater security,
for rid have your worship know, Senor Don Antonio, that you
are speaking with one that, though he has ears to hear, has not
tongue to utter. Safely therefore your worship can transfer
whatever is in your bosom into mine, resting assured that you
have flung it into the abyss of silence. ' ' On the faith of this

LiXII THE ENCHANTED HEAD 619

promise, I shall now set you wondering at what you see and
hear, and relieve myself of the burden of having none with whom
to share my secret, not of a kind to be trusted to every one.' The
knight wa^ tense, waiting for the mark of so many preambles.
His host, taking his hand, passed it over the head of bronze,
over all the table and over the base of jasper, and then said :

' This head, Senor Don Quijote, was executed by one of the
greatest enchanters and wizards the world has known — a Pole
by birth if I mistake not, and a disciple of the famous Escotillo of
whom so many marvels are related. This Pole abode with me a
while and for a thousand crowns fashioned this head, which has
the property of answering all questions asked at its ear. Its arti-
ficer took his bearings, traced his characters, observed the stars,
marked the minutes, and in the end wrought the head with the
virtue we shall witness on the morrow, for Fridays it is mute.
In the meantime your worship can consider what you wish to
ask, since I know by experience that its answer will be true. '
Don Quijote could not but be astonished at the accomplishments
of the head and found it hard to believe Don Antonio, but
reflecting in how short a time he could find out for himself,
could only thank the other for making him privy to so great a
secret. They then left the room, whose door Antonio locked, and
repaired to the hall where the other gentlemen sat listening to
Sancho, who was telling them many of the adventures and
experiences that had befallen his lord.

That afternoon they took Don Quijote for a walk, not armed
but in a long street-coat of tawny cloth that would have made ice
itself sweat at that season. They left word with the servants to
engage Sancho and not let him leave the house. The knight was
mounted, not upon his own steed but on a large, easy-stepping
and richly-caparisoned mule. On the back of his long coat and
uuperceived by him was sewn a parchment, whereon in large
letters was writ. This is Don Quijote de La Mancha. The scroll
drew the eyes of every one and its wearer was surprised to see
how many looked and called him by name. Turning to Don
Antonio he said : ' Great is the prerogative of errant arms, making
him that professes it known and famous throughout the four

620 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

quarters of the globe. Observe, my friend, how down to the
street-urchins they know me, though now seeing me for the first
time. ' ' So it seems, ' agreed the other ; ' even as fire cannot be
hid or bounded, so virtue will out : that particuldlrly which
proceeds from the profession of arms flourishes and is glorious
above all others. '

It fortuned then that as they moved on amid this acclaim, a
certain Gastilian, chancing to read the scroll, cried : ' The devil
take you for Don Quijote de la Mancha ! what, are you here and
alive after all the countless cudgellings your bear upon your
back ? You are crazy, man, and have the property of turning all
that treat and communicate with you into fools like yourself. If
you doubt it, look at the gentlemen in your train. Go home,
lackwit, look after your estate, your wife and children and quit
these extravagances that serve but to corrode your wit and skim
the cream from your brain-pan. ' ' Brother, ' said Don Antonio,
' go your way and dont't give advice to one that doesn't ask it.
Senor Don Quijote is quite sane and we his escort are not
dunces : virtue is to be honoured wherever found. Go and bad-
luck with you, and don't run where you aren't called. ' ' Egad,
your worship is right, ' returned the Gastilian ; ' to counsel this
man is to kick against the pricks. For all that, it grieves me sadly
that the good mind which they say the fool possesses in all
things should run to waste by the channel of his errantry. But
may the bad-luck your worship mentioned rest upon me and all
my descendants if from this day forward, though I live more
years than Methusalem, I counsel a soul, even though he ask it.'

He departed and the procession moved on but so great was
the press that Don Antonio was forced to remove the placard,
under pretence of doing other thing. The night closed in and
they returned home, where a dance had been arranged. Don
Antonio's wife, a lady of quality, cheerful, comely and discreet
withal, had invited her friends to come and honour their guest
and enjoy his unrivalled vagaries. Several accepted, they supped
gloriously and about ten the dancing began. Among others
were two mischievous dames that though virtuous were rather
free in planning jests to amuse, and not humiliate. These per-

IjXI the enchanted head 621

suaded Don Quijote to dance and so constantly that they ground
him body and soul. But 'twas a sight to see that figure, tall and
gaunt, thin and yellow, in his tight-fitting suit, quite without
grace and not very light on his feet.

These ladies of pleasure also flirted with him on the sly, and
equally on the sly he repelled them, but finding himself put to it
by their attentions, he at length cried out : ' Fugite, partes
adversae : leave me in peace, profane thoughts. Avaunt, ladies,
with your desires, for she that is queen of mine, the peerless
Dulcinea del Toboso, doesn't consent that other than her own
should hold me subject ; ' and saying this, worn out and exhaus-
ted from too much dancing, he sat down in the middle of the
floor. Don Antonio had him carried bodily to bed, but first
Sancho laid hold of him saying : ' In an evil hour you took to
dancing, master mine. Think you that all brave fellows are
dancers and all knights-errant caperers ? If so, you're mistaken :
there's many a man would engage to kill a giant rather than
move in time. Had you wished to fling a clog or two, I could
have given you a lift, for I can jig like a jerfalcon, but on the
dancing I pass. ' With these and other lectures Sancho set the
room in a roar, and accompanying his master to bed he wrapped
him closely that he might sweat out his chill.

The day following Don Antonio thought well to make trial of
the enchanted head, and with his wife, the knight and squire,
two of his friends and the two ladies that had done their worst
with the guest in the ball-room and who had remained over
night with their hostess, he locked himself in the room where
the bronze rested. He informed the others of its peculiar virtue
but charged them with secrecy, saying that this was the first
time he had put it to proof. Save for his two friends none other
knew the mystery of the enchantment, and had he not discovered
it to them, they too would have been as greatly puzzled as the
rest — so cunningly was it fashioned. The first to approach the
head's ear was our host himself, who whispered into it, though
loud enough to be heard by the others :

' Tell me, head, by the virtue thou possessest, what am I now
thinking of?' And the head without moving its lips replied

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

clearly and distinctly : ' I do not judge of thoughts. ' The list-
eners were amazed indeed for in no part of the room was human
being that could have answered. ' How many are we here ? '
again asked Don Antonio, and was answered in the same voice,
slowly : ' Yourself, your wife, two friends of yours and two of
hers, a famous knight Don Quijote de La Maneha and a squire
that answers to the name of Sancho Panza. ' Here surely was
matter for new wonder : their hair stood on end they were so
frightened. Moving a little from the head Don Antonio said to
the others : ' This is enough to convince me I wasn't deceived
by him that sold thee to me, learned, talkative, responsive and
wonderful head. Let another approach and question. ' As women
are commonly eager and curious, the first to come forward was
one of the two friends of Don Antonio's wife. Her question was :
' Tell me, head, what shall I do to be very beautiful ? ' and the
answer : ' Be very chaste. ' ' That will do,' she said. Then her
companion stepped to the ear and whispered : ' I should like to
know, O Mead, whether my husband loves me or not.' ' Consider
what he does for you and tell yourself, ' came the reply. The
married one stepped back again and said : ' Indeed this answer
didn't require a question, for certainly deeds declare the will of
him that does them. '

Next came one of the gentlemen with the question : ' Who
am I ? ' ' You yourself know. ' ' That was not what I asked, but
dost thou know me? ' ' I do ; you are Don Pedro Noriz. ' ' There
is naught else I would question, for this convinces me, O head,
thou knowest all things.' Then came the other friend : ' Tell me,

0 head, what are the wishes of my son and heir ? ' ' Already have

1 said I judge not of desires, but this at least I can assure you
that such as your son has are to bury you. ' ' This is the same
as saying. What I see with mine eyes, with my fingers I touch ;
enough for me. ' Their hostess' turn now came : ' I can think
of nothing to ask, O head, unless it be whether or no I shall
enjoy many years with my good husband. ' ' You shall, for
health and temperance in living promise him long lease of life,
which many shorten by indulgence of one form or another. '
And now came Don Quijote j what could he ask but :

LXII THE ENCHANTED HEAD 623

' Tell me, whosoever answers, was it truth or dream, all that
I relate as having befallen me in the cave of Montesinos? Sec-
ondly, are Sancho's lashes assured, and thirdly, will Dulcinea's
disenchantment result therefrom?' ' As to the cave, much might
be said : it partakes of the nature of both. The lashes of Sancho
will proceed in due course and the release of your lady-love
follow. ' ' No more would I enquire, for as I see Dulcinea
disenchanted, shall I consider all blessings mine. ' The last was
Sancho : ' Perchance, head, I shall have another government ?
shall I ever get out of the squire's hard living and see wife and
children?' 'You will govern in your house; if you return
thither, you will see your wife and children, and quitting service,
you'll no longer be squire. ' ' Good, by God ! ' cried Sancho ;
' I could have told all this myself nor would have told me more
the prophet PerogruUo.' ' Beast!' exclaimed his master ; ' what
do you expect ? isn't it enough that the replies answer the
questions ? ' ' Yes, yet I would that it spoke more to the point
and told me something new.'

With this the questions and answers came to an end, but not
the astonishment of those uninitiated in the secret, and lest the
whole world with them be kept in suspense, thinking some
magician or mysterious power resided in the head, Cid Hamet
Benengeli wishes to declare the truth thereof. So he says that
Don Antonio Moreno, in imitation of another head he had seen
at the capital, fashioned by an image-maker, made this one to
amuse himself and befuddle the ignorant. Its construction was
after this wise. The top of the table was of wood, painted and
varnished like jasper, and its base as well, with four eagles claws
that stood out therefrom, more firmly to support the weight.
The head itself, which resembled the bust of a Roman emperor,
was hollow, even as the table, to which it fitted so nicely that
no sign of juncture was visible.

Through all this cavity of base, table, chest and throat ran
a tin pipe, and in the room below was stationed the oracle.
Applying his mouth to the pipe, he was easily heard above, even
as the question whispered at the ear reached below in unmis-
takeable accents as through an ear-trumpet ; nor was there any

624 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

way of discovering the deception. Don Antonio's nephew, a
bright and clever student, was the medium, and having been
told by his uncle who were to be in the room, he found no
trouble not only in correctly answering the first question but in
giving a shrewd guess at the others. Gid Hamet says more : that
for ten or twelve days this marvellous contrivance was kept
going, but when it became noised abroad that Don Antonio
had an enchanted head that answered any question, fearing lest
it might reach the ears of those watchful sentinels of our faith, he
himself brought the matter to the attention of the inquisitors,
who ordered its disuse lest the ignorant vulgar be scandalised. In
the opinion of Don Quijote and Sancho however, it remained a
magic and responsive head, though to the greater satisfaction of
the former than of the latter.

The gentlemen of the city, to favour Don Antonio and to
flatter his guest, whose antics they would witness, had arranged
a tilting at the ring six days thence, but this did not come to pass
for the reason given below. On one of the intervening mornings,
our knight wished to make a quiet tour of the city on foot,
fearing that if he went on horseback, the small boys would per-
secute him. He and Sanho with two servants as escort sallied
forth. As they passed down a certain street, Don Quijote chanced
to raise his eyes and saw written in large letters above a door,
Books Printed Here ; whereat he was not a little pleased, having
never seen a printing-press and being eager to know its oper-
ation. He entered with the others and in one room found them
drawing the sheets off, revising them in another, composing in
this, correcting in that — in short all the processes to be met
with in a large printing-house. In one department he would ask
what they did ; the workmen would tell, he would watch them
with wonder and then pass on to the next. Among others, in
answer to his question, one of the hands replied :

' That gentlemen yonder' — pointing to a man of good though
rather solemn appearance — ' has translated an Italian book
into Castilian and I am setting it up for the press. ' ' What is
the title of the book ? ' The translator himself replied, saying ;
' In Italian it is called Le Bagatelle. ' ' And what answers to Le

LiXII THE ENCHANTED HEAD 625

Bagatelle in Gastillan ?' ' It is as though we should say, Trifles,
but though it bears this humble title, it contains most excellent
and substantial things. ' ' I know a little Italian myself, ' said the
visitor, ' and, to my pride, can sing a number of Ariosto's verses.
But, prithee, sir, and I ask solely for information and not to test
you, have you ever met with the wordpignata in your reading?'
' Frequently, ' replied the other. ' How then would you render
it in Gastillan ? ' ' How else than by oUa ? ' ' Body of me ! '
exclaimed Don Quijote ; ' but you are advanced in the Tuscan
idiom ! I'll lay a good wager that where the Tuscan says place,
you in Gastilian say place, and where it says piu, you say mas,
siiyou render by arriba and giii by abajo. ' ' I do, 'said the
translator, ' for such are the proper equivalents. ' ' Yet also I
dare swear, ' said the knight, ' that your worship is unknown to
to the world, ever adverse to rewarding choice spirits and laud-
able labours. What gifts are lost, what geniuses made solitary,
virtues sacrificed! And yet, translation from one tongue into
another, unless it be from those queens of languages, Greek and
Latin, seems to me like viewing Flemish tapestries on the wrong
side where, though one can make out the figures, threads blur
them and the smoothness and colour are lost. The translation
of easy tongues argues neither wit nor mastery of style, any
more than copying from one paper to another. I would not have
it inferred that this exercise is not praiseworthy — a man may
be engaged in worse occupations than translating and with less
profit. And two famous translators. Doctor Cristobal de Figueroa
in his Pastor Fido and Don Juan de Jauregui in his Aminta, I
omit from the account altogether, for they place us in a happy
doubt as to which is the translation, which the original. But tell
me, sir, is this book printed at your own expense or have you
sold the copyright to some bookseller?'

' At mine own expense, ' replied the author, ' and on the first
impression alone I hope to realise a thousand crowns at least,
for there will be two thousand copies that will sell like hot-
cakes at six reals apiece. ' ' Your worship is quick at figuring, '
replied Don Quijote, ' but you would seem not to have taken
into account the ins and outs of publishers and the under-

40

6S6 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

standings between them. When you find yourself saddled with
two thousand copies, I promise you your body will be so weary
that you won't know which way to turn, especially if the book be
a little out of the ordinary and nothing picquant. ' ' What then ! '
cried the author, ' would you have me turn it over to some
bookseller, who will give but three farthings for the copyright
and think he is doing a favour at that? I don't publish that
I may acquire fame in the world, for my works have already
made me known. 'Tis money I'm after, without which the best
of fames isn't worth a sou. '

' God grant you success with it, ' Don Qaijote replied, passing
on to another room, where he watched them correct a, sheet of a
book entitled Light of the Soul, and on seeing this he said :
' These are the books, though there are many of their kind, that
should be printed, for many are the sinners that now flourish,
and infinite lights are needed for the legions in darkness. ' He
again moved on and found them correcting still another, and
asking its title was told The Second Part of That Imaginative
Gentleman, Don Quijote de La Mancha, composed by such-an-
one, native of Tordesillas. ' I have heard about this book, ' said
the knight, ' and in truth and on my conscience I thought it was
already burned to ashes for its impertinence. But its Martimas
will come to it as to every hog, for feigned histories are so far
good and delightful as they approach the truth or the semblance
thereof and the true ones are better the truer they are ; ' and
saying this, with evident irritation, he walked out.

Don Antonio had arranged to take him that day aboard the
galleys, to the great joy of Sancho, who had never seen them in
all his life. Their host had written the commodore that he would
visit them that afternoon, bringing with him the famous Don
Quijote de La Mancha, of whom already not only the commodore
but all the city had heard. What befell on this visit will be told
in the following chapter.

llXIII VISIT TO THE GALLEYS 627

CHAPTER LXIII

The ill that overtook Sancho Pauza on the" visit to the
galleys, together with the novel episode of the fair Mooress

M

ANY were Don Quijote's conjectures regarding the answers
of the enchanted head, though none of them afforded a
solution of the problem and all centred on the prophecy which
he regarded as certain of fulfilment, of Dulcinea's disenchant-
ment. Thither he came and went and inwardly rejoiced that he
was soon to see it fact. As for Sancho, though he detested his
experience as governor, he again longed to command and be
obeyed — this curse does authority, even a mock one, bring in
its train. But to continue :

As had been arranged, the visit to the galleys was made that
afternoon, and no sooner had they arrived at the Strand when all
the ships struck awning and sounded their clarions. A pinnace,
cowered with rich carpets and cushions of crimson velvet, was
lowered, and on our knight's setting foot therein the captain's
galley, followed by the others, discharged her midship gun,
and as he mounted the starboard ladder, all the crews saluted
(as is the custom when a person of note boards a galley) with
three times the cry of Hu, hu, hu. The general (for thus we shall
speak of him), a Valencian nobleman, grasped Don Quijote's
hands and embraced him saying : ' This day shall I mark with a
white stone as one of the best I think to enjoy in this life : on it I
first met Senor Don Quijote de La Mancha, in whom is invested
and epitomised the entire worth of chivalry.' With no less court-
eous phrases our knight replied, jubilant at meeting with such a
reception.

All now moved to the poop, fitted up for the occasion, and
seated themselves on the side-benches. First the boatswain
passed down the gangway and whistled for the crew to doff
shirts, .which was done in an instant. Sancho was frightened on

628 DON QUIJOTE DE I-A MANCHA II

seeing so many persons in their skins, and more when the
awning was set so quickly that he believed all the devils of hell
must be at work, But this was cakes and cookies to what will
now be told. He had been seated by the stantrel on the starboard
side near the aftermast oarsman, who now, acting under orders,
lifted the terrified wretch in his arms and passed him along, and
the whole crew, standing ready, sent him flying from bench to
bench with such speed that poor Sancho lost the sight of his eyes,
sure that these were demons carrying him off. Nor had they done
till they sent him down the larboard side and set him on the
poop again, breathless and freely perspiring, not knowing what
had happened.

Don Quijote, seeing this wingless flight of his squire, asked
the general if such ceremonies were practised on all visitors to
galleys ; for himself he had no wish to be initiated, vowing to
God that if anyone came to take him for a flight, he would kick
his soul out. Saying this he rose to his feet, clutching his sword,
but at this very instant they struck awning and lowered the
yard with a deafening noise. Sancho thought the sky, loosed
from its hinges, was falling on his head, which now, in terror,
he ducked between his legs. Nor did his master altogether relish
it, for he too humped his back and lost colour. But the crew
straight- hoisted the yard with the same speed and racket, silent
themselves as if without voice or breath. The boatswain whistled
to weigh anchor, and leaping to the middle of the gangway
began to brush the crew's shoulders with a courbash or knotted
rope, and little by little the galley put out to sea.

When Sancho beheld so many red feet in motion, for such the
oars appeared to him, he murmured to himself ; ' These truly,
and not the kind my master talks about, are things enchanted.
But what have the wretches done that they lash them so, and how
can that one man, that goes whistling there, dare strike so many?
Now methinks this is hell, or purgatory at best. ' Don Quijote,
observing the attention wherewith his squire watched all that
passed, said to him : ' Ah, friend Sancho, how quickly and at
what little cost could you make an end of Dulcinea's enchant-
ment, would you strip to the waist and take a seat with these

liXIII VISIT TO THE GALLEYS 629

gentlemen. There amid the misery and sufferings of so many,
yoa would scarce feel your own. What's more, sage Merlin might
consider each of these strokes, given by so good a hand, equal to
ten of those which you in the end are bound to feel.' The general
was about to ask what strokes were these and what the disen-
chantment of Dulcinea, when a seaman called out :

' Monjuich signals that a craft with oars is on the westward
coast. ' The general leapt to his feet crying : ' Pull away, my
sons, let her not escape us. It must be abrigantine of the Algerian
corsairs. ' The three other galleys now came up to the captain-
galley for orders, and the general commanded that two of them
should put to sea, while he with the other would keep along
shore, that the vessel might not elude them. The crew bent to the
oars, driving the vessel so furiously that she seemed to fly. The
galleys that had put to sea, when about two miles out, discovered
a vessel which they took to be of fourteen or fifteen banks. Such
she was and when she sighted them, took to her heels in the
hope of escape. In this she was frustrated, for the captain-galley
was one of the swiftest afloat and gained upon the brigantine so
rapidly that her master, perceiving no hope, bade his men cease
rowing and give themselves up that our captain might be as little
vexed as possible. But fate ruled otherwise and ordained that just
as the captain-ship drew near enough to hear that they surren-
dered, two Turaquis, two drunken Turks in other words, sailing
with several dozen others in the brigantine, discharged their mus-
kets, killing two soldiers upon our forecastle. At this the general
swore not to leave a man of them alive, but bore down so
furiously that the other slipped away under the oars, and our
vessel shot ahead a good distance. The enemy, seeing they had
missed, sped away again with sail and oar while our galley was
turning. But their diligence helped them less than their treachery
harmed, for the captain-ship overhauled them in little over a
half-mile, and clapping oars upon them took all prisoners.

By this time the two other galleys had come up and all four
with the prize returned to the Strand, where a crowd awaited
them, eager to see the capture. The general cast anchor near land,
and recognising the city-viceroy, commanded the pinnace to be

630 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

launched to bring him aboard. He next ordered the seamen to
lower the yard that they might hang the master of the brigantine
then and there, alongtwith the other Turks, numbering in all
some thirty-six brave fellows, chiefly musketeers. The general
asked which was the master, and was answered in Castilian by
one of the captives (who proved to be a Spanish renegade) :
' That youth yonder, sir, is our master,' pointing to the fairest
and gallantest swain the imagination could picture, of an age
apparently under twenty. The general turned to him and said :
' Tell me, ill-advised dog, what moved you to kill my men, when
you saw 'twas impossible to escape? is this the respect you
bear captain-galleys ? know you not that bravado is not valour ?
Faint hope should render men resolute not rash. ' The master
was about to reply but the general could not hear him then for
he must meet the viceroy, now aboard with a few servants and
townspeople.

' You have had a good chase, general, ' said the viceroy.
' As fine as your excellency shall soon see dangling from this
yard-arm. ' ' How so?' ' Because against all law and right usage
of war they killed two of my best men, and I swore to hang
them every one, in particular this youth, the master of the brig-
antine ; ' and he pointed to him with hands tied and rope about
his neck, awaiting his end. The viceroy looked and seeing him so
beautiful, so gallant, so humble, wished to spare him — his
beauty alone making a sufficient appeal. So he said to the lad :
' Tell me, master, are you Turk by birth or Moor or renegade ? '
To which the youth in Castilian : ' None of these.' ' Then what ? '
' A Christian woman, ' ' A woman and a Christian and in such
dress and here ! 'tis a thing more to bewilder than believe. '
' Delay then mine execution, sirs, for little will be lost in defer-
ring vengeance while I tell my tale. ' What heart so hard that
would not soften at these words or at least hear what she had to
say? The general yielded but added that no pardon could be
hoped for for this outrageous offence. With this the narrative
began :

' Of that nation more unfortunate than discreet, upon whom
a very sea of calamity has swept these days, was I born, the

IlXIII VISIT TO THE GALLEYS 631

child of Moorish parents. In the course of their misfortunes
I was carried by two of mine uncles to Barbary, for it availed me
naught to aver I was a Christian, as I am — not one of your
feigned ones either, but a true and Catholic. This stood me in no
favour with those having our wretched banishment in charge,
nor would mine uncles believe that it was not a lie and subterfuge
that I might remain in the land of my birth. I had a wise and
Christian father and with my mother's milk sucked in the Cath-
olic faith ; was nurtured in good principles ; and neither in them
methinks nor in speech did I betray I was of the Moors.

' On a parity with these virtues, as I believe them, my beauty,
such as it may be, kept pace, and though my seclusion was
close, it could not have been so complete as to escape the notice
of a young gallant named Don Gaspar Gregorio, son and heir to
one of the gentry whose village neighboured ours. How he saw
me, how we spake together, how he became lost for me and I
no gainer through him, would be too long to tell, especially
when I fear that 'twixt my tongue and my neck a cruel rope will
cut me short. He, knowing the language, mingled with the Moris-
coes from other places and, as one of them, made friends with
mine uncles on the way. My father, I must tell you, left our
village the moment he heard of the first proclamation relating to
our banishment, and prudent and foresighted as he was went to
find a home for us in some foreign country. In a place known to
me alone he left buried many pearls and jewels of price, along
with money in cruzadoes and doubloons of gold, commanding
me not to touch the treasure, even were we exiled before his
return.

' I obeyed, and with mine uncles and other kinsmen and
acquaintances passed over into Barbary, to Algiers, which was
as if we were in very hell. The king heard of my beauty and
rumour told him of my wealth, which in part turned out fortu-
nately for me. He called me before him, asked from what part of
Spain I came, and what money and treasures I had. I told him
the name of our village, that the money and gems were hid there
and could easily be found if I myself sought them. All this I said
that his covetousness might prevail over my beauty to blind him.

632 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

While we thus conversed, word was brought that there had
come with me one of the most gallant and beautiful youths con-
ceivable. Of course I at once knew that they referred to Don
Gaspar Gregorio, whose bearing exceeds the fairest that can be
vaunted. When I considered the danger he ran, 1 was distressed,
for among these barbarous Turks a handsome boy or youth is
more prized than a woman, however fair.

' The king bade them bring him in, asking me if what they said
of the youth were true. Whereat, as if inspired by Heaven, I
answered yes, but that 'twas no man but a woman like myself,
and I begged him to let me go and clothe her properly, for then
her beauty would shine most gloriously and she would appear
before him with less diffidence. He told me I might do so and
that we should arrange on the morrow how I should return to
Spain for the hidden treasure. I spake with Don Gaspar, told
him of his danger, clothed him like a Mooress and that after-
noon brought him to the king who, duly impressed, planned to
keep him as a present to the grand vizier. In order to escape the
peril he would run in the seraglio of his own women and in
distrust of himself, he ordered him to be placed in the house
of some Mooresses of station, to protect and attend upon him.
What we both suffered by this separation, for I need not deny
that I love him, may be left to the imagination of those that have
loved and are parted.

' The king then made arrangements for me to return to Spain
in this brigantine, accompanied by two Turks, these that killed
your men. There embarked as well this Spanish renegade, who I
am sure is a Christian disguised, with a greater wish of remain-
ing here than of returning to Barbary. The rest of the crew are
Moors and Turks, who serve at the cars. These two Turks,
insolent and covetous, ignoring the orders to land us in our
Christian garb at the first Spanish land we touched, would first
scour this coast and take some prize if possible, fearing, if they
put us ashore at once and galleys were along the coast, it would
be discovered that a brigantine was in these waters and they
would be seized. Last evening we sighted this shore and unaware
of the nearness of these four galleys were discovered, with the

liXIII VISIT TO THE GALLEYS 633

result you see. In a word Don Gregorio remains a Moorish
woman among Moors, witii almost the certainty of meeting his
end, and I find myself with hands tied, fearing, or rather wishing,
to lose that life whereof I am full weary. So this is the last of my
lamentable story, true as it is distressful. All I ask is that you
let me die like a Christian, as I have shown that in no way I
partake of the error into which my nation has fallen. '

The maiden was silent, her eyes with soft tears, as were those
of many others. The viceroy, tender and compassionate, with
his own hands quietly loosed her lovely ones. While she was
telling her strange narrative, the eyes of an ancient pilgrim that
had boarded the galley with the viceroy fastened upon her, and
barely had she ended, when he threw himself at her feet and
clasping them in his arms, said in words broken by a thousand
sobs and sighs : ' O Anna Felix, unhappy daughter mine, I am
your father Ricote, who returned to find you, since I cannot live
apart from my soul. ' At these words Sancho, raising his head
till then bowed with the humiliation of his late passage, opened
his eyes and recognised in the pilgrim the very Ricote he had
met the day of his leaving the government. He was certain too
that this was his daughter who, now released, embraced her
father, mingling her tears with his. The other, turning to the
general and viceroy, said :

' This, senors, is my daughter, more unhappy in fortunes than
name. Anna Felix is she called, with surname of Ricote, as
celebrated for her beauty as for my wealth. I left my native-
village to search among foreign kingdoms for one to harbour us,
and having found it in Germany, I returned in this guise of
pilgrim in company with some Germans in quest of my child and
to unearth much treasure left behind. I did not find my daughter,
but the treasure I have with me, and by this curious chance I
have now recovered that which I prize above all wealth. If the
slightness of our wrong-doing and our tears through the integrity
of your justice can open a path to your pity, let us feel it, for
never had we thought to offend you, nor have we in any way
made one with the designs of our people, now justly banished. '
It was now Sancho's turn to say : 'I know this Ricote well, and

634 DON QUIJOTE DK LA MANCHA II

that he speaks the truth in saying Anna Felix is his daughter. In
the other trifles of going or coming, of having bad or good
design, I meddle not. ' The company knew not what to think of
this remarkable occurrence, but the general said : ' At all events
your tears will not permit me to fulfil mine oath. Live, fair Anna
Felix, all Heaven's allotted years, and let the bold, bad men that
worked thee wrong suffer the penalty. ' And straightway he
commanded that the two Turks hang from the yard-arm. But
the viceroy pleaded against this, for madness rather than vicious-
ness had been their crime. The general yielded, for vengeance is
not well taken in cold blood.

They next sought to devise a scheme for the rescue of Don
Gaspar Gregorio, Ricote ofl"ering toward this object more than
two thousand ducats in precious stones. Many methods were
discussed but none seemed so good as that of the renegade, who
suggested returning to Algiers in a small craft of some six banks
manned by Christian oarsmen. He said he knew where, when
and how he could and should embark, and knew as well the
house where Don Gregorio stayed. The general and viceroy
doubted whether or no to believe the man and whether or no to
entrust him with the Christians at the oars. But Anna Felix said
she would answer for him and Ricote was ready to ransom them
were they taken. With things thus arranged the viceroy left the
ship, and with him Don Antonio Moreno, who took Ricote and
his daughter home with him. The viceroy charged him to care for
and cherish them as best he could, offering anything of his own
for their comfort — so kind were the feelings and so deep the
charity Anna Felix' beauty stirred in his heart.

liXIV THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE MOON 635

CHAPTER LXIV

An adventure that caused Don Quijote greater discomfort

than any yet

THE wife of Don Antonio Moreno, the history relates, enjoyed
welcoming Anna Felix to her home. She received her with
much grace, as taken by her beauty as her sense, for in both she
was well endowed ; and all the people of the city, as at the sound
of a bell, came to wait upon her. Don Quijote advised his host
that the plan hit upon for Don Gregorio's release was ill-judged,
as more perilous than expedient, and better far 'twould be did
they place himself with arms and steeds in Barbary, where he
would effect the rescue despite all Moordom, even as Don
Gaiferos had rescued his wife Melisendra. ' But consider, sir, '
interposed Sancho, ' that Sefior Don Gaiferos found his wife on
the mainland and on the mainland fetched her back to France,
but in this case, supposing us to have rescued the gentleman,
there's no way of getting him to Spain, for the sea lies between. '
' There's a remedy for all things save death,' declared the knight ;
' a barque coming along just then, we could board her though
all the world said nay. ' ' Your worship paints it well enough
and makes it appear most simple, ' replied Sancho, ' but long
is the run 'twixt said and done, and I hold to the renegade,
for he looks like a fellow of good parts and stout heart. '
Don Antonio promised that, should the latter come to grief,
the recourse of sending the great Don Quijote would certainly
be adopted. Two days later the renegade put out in a light barque
of six oars to a side, manned by a strong crew, and two days
after its departure the galleys set sail for the Levant. The general
asked the viceroy to keep him informed of all that happened
in the affairs of Don Gregorio and Anna Felix ; to which the
viceroy agreed.

636 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

One morning as Don Quijote sallied forth to take the air
along the Strand, armed cap-a-pie (for, as he often said :

Of arms my habit's made
And fighting's my repose,

and never for a moment was he seen without them), he beheld
approaching another knight equipped like himself, bearing on
his shield a resplendent moon. When within ear-shot this knight
called loudly : ' Illustrious and never-adequately-praised Don
Quijote de La Mancha, I, the Knight of the White Moon, whose
unheard-of deeds will perchance bring him to your mind, come
to contend with you and test the strength of your arms, that you
may recognise and declare that my lady, be she whom she may,
is beyond compare more lovely than your Dulcinea del Toboso;
which truth if you admit off-hand, you will avoid your own death
and spare me the labour of its effecting. But if you fight and I
emerge victorious, I shall ask no other satisfaction than that,
dropping arms and adventures, you retire to your village for the
space of one year and there live without putting hand to sword,
in tranquil peace and profitable ease, to the advantage of your
soul. But if I be the vanquished, my head shall be at your dis-
posal, mine arms and steed your spoils and to you will pass
the glory of my deeds. Consider and straight reply, for this day
alone is free to me. '

Don Quijote was transfixed with wonder and amazement, both
at the arrogance of the knight and the occasion of his challenge.
With calm restraint he replied : ' Knight of the White Moon,
whose deeds have but now come to my notice, I take mine oath
that you have never looked upon the noble Dulcinea (else I am
confident you could never have persevered in this demand), the
sight of whom would have convinced you that there has not been
nor could there be beauty compared with hers. Not saying there-
fore that you lie, but that you are at fault in the proposal, with
the conditions named I at once accept your challenge, that the day
to which your are limited may not expire. Alone of your terms I
reject that in which the renown of your deeds shall pass to me,
for, not knowing their nature, I am content with mine own, even
as they are. Take then what part of the field you wish, and I will

LXIV THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE MOON 637

do the same, and whom God shall prosper let Saint Peter bless.'
From the city they had discovered the Knight of the White
Moon, and the Viceroy, hearing of his parley with Don Quijote
and supposing it some fresh adventure planned by Don Antonio
Moreno or other person, at once set forth with that gentleman
and many others for the Strand, just as Don Quijote was turning
Rocinante about that he might measure the course. Seeing that
the two signalled for the encounter, the viceroy put himself
between, demanding the cause of such sudden battle. The Knight
of the White Moon explained that it was a question of the
supremacy of beauty and briefly told what he had said to Don
Quijote, together with the accepted conditions of the challenge.
The viceroy then approached Don Antonio and asked if he knew
this stranger-knight and was this some fresh trick they were
playing upon their guest. Don Antonio said that he neither knew
him nor whether the challenge had been given seriously or in jest.
This answer left the viceroy doubtful as to whether or no he
should let the combat advance further, but finding it impossible
to accept it as other than a hoax, he withdrew from between
them, saying : ' Sir knights, if there be no remedy but to yield
the point or die, and Senor Don Quijote be deaf to advice and
he of the Moon still deafer, in the hand of God be it and fall to. '
In courteous and sensible words he of the Moon thanked
the viceroy ; Don Quijote likewise, and commending himself to
Heaven with all his heart, likewise to his Dulcinea as was his
wont, he turned to take a little more field, seeing his adversary do
the same. And now without trumpet or other martial instrument
to announce the onset, both turned their steeds at even time.
But as the Knight of the White Moon was the nimbler, he met
Don Quijote at two-thirds the course and so irresistably that
without touching him with his lance (which he seemed purposely
to couch high) he brought horse and rider to earth in perilsome
fall. At once upon him and setting lance to the other's visor he
cried : ' You are vanquished and undone, do you not confess the
articles of our combat. ' Knocked almost witless with visor
down and speaking brokenly as from a tomb, Don Quijote
replied : ' Dulcinea del Toboso is the beautifuUest woman in the

638 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

world, nor is it well that I, the most luckless of living knights,
in my fraility gainsay the truth. Drive the lance home, errant,
and rid me of live, having bereft me of honour. ' ' That will
I never do, ' returned the Knight of the Moon ; ' live, live in
its perfection the fame of Dulcinea's beauty. Suffice it that
the great Don Quijote retire to his village for a year, or till
such time as I set, even as we agreed before entering the fight. '
The viceroy, Don Antonio and many more heard all this and
how our fallen champion made answer that as naught was
demanded to the prejudice of his lady, he would comply with
the rest like an upright and faithful knight. He of the White Moon
wheeled about and bending his head in acknowledgement to the
viceroy at half-gallop rode back to the city. The viceroy bade
Don Antonio follow him and try to discover his identity.

They now raised Quijote and found him all-pale and all-pers-
piring. His steed, clean forspent, stirred not, and his squire, all-
sad, all-forlorn, knew not what to say or where to turn. It seemed
to him that all had been a dream and a thing of enchantment.
He saw his master laid low and for a year debarred from arms.
He imagined the light of his deeds obscured and the hopes of his
fresh promises spent like smoke before the wind. He feared lest
Rocinante be crippled for life, and his master fit for nothing,
though a fit or two less would be welcome. Finally, at the bid-
ding of the viceroy, • they made a saddle of hands and carried
Don Quijote to the city, whither as well returned the viceroy,
anxious to learn who it was had done their guest so evil a turn.

CHAPTER LXV

The identity of the Knight of the Moon, the deliverance
of Don Gregorio and other passages

DON Antonio sought after the Knight of the White Moon, and
not singly, for many urchins followed, nay pursued him
to one of the city taverns, where a squire came forth to receive
and disarm him. He entered one of the lower rooms and after

LXV DELIVERANCE OF DON GHEGORIO 639

him Don Antonio, whose bread wouldn't bake till he had placed
the fellow. The knight, seeing that the gentleman didn't leave,
said : ' I know very well, senor, that you come to learn who I
am, and since there's no reason why I should withhold this
knowledge, while my man is disarming me I'll put you in its
true possession. First I will say that they call me the bachelor
Samson Garrasco, and that I am of the same village as Don Qui-
jote de La Mancha, whose mania and mummeries move all his
friends to pity. Among those most aflected am I, and believing
that his health lies in rest at home, I devised this scheme of return-
ing him thither. Three months back I sallied forth as errant,
under the title of the Knight of the Mirrors, with the purpose of
fighting and subduing him, without harm to himself, stating as
the condition of our combat that the vanquished remain at the
will of the victor. What I thought to demand of him (for already I
considered him as laid low) was that he return to his village and
not leave it for a year, in which interim he might be restored.
But fate ruled otherwise : he threw me from my horse and
my intention missed fire. He pursued his journey and I returned
vanquished, vexed and battered from my fall, which was serious
enough. But not for this did my desire rest to seek him out
and reduce him, as to-day I have done. And as he is most faith-
ful in observing the ordinances of errant-arms, there's no doubt
he'll keep this our compact and word. This, sir, is my story ;
prithee betray me not or tell Don Quijote I am here, that my
well-meant resolve may prove effective, and that a man with the
rarest wit may recover it, would this nonsense of chivalry but
leave him. '

' Ah ! ' exclaimed Don Antonio ; ' may God forgive the wrong
you do the world in seeking to make sane its most gracious
madman ! See you not, sir, that no benefit derived from Don
Quijote's restoration can equal the delight his vagaries afford ?
However, I imagine that all this industry of senor bachelor will
never reclaim a mind so wholly gone, and were it not unchari-
table I should say may Don Quijote never be hale again, for with
his health we shall lose not only his own pleasantries but those
of Sancho Panza his squire, either of which can turn melancholy

DON QUUOTE DB LA MANCHA

II

itself to mirth. However, I shall seal my lips and keep mum,
that we may see if I am right in suspecting that Senor Garrasco's
trouble will prove fruitless. ' The other replied that the affair
was at any rate well started and he hoped for happy issue. And
with armour packed upon a mule, mounting the same steed
wherewith he had done battle, he left the city and returned
home, naught occurring worthy of note in this faithful history.
Don Antonio told the viceroy the bachelor's plot, and from it the
latter received little pleasure, for upon Don Quijote's retirement
all would be lost that his escapades furnished.

Six days the knight remained in bed, sad, pensive, sorrowful
and disgruntled, viewing his misfortune in all lights. Sancho
tried to console him, saying among other things : ' Let your
worship raise your head, master mine. Cheer up a bit if you can
and thank Heaven that though you came to the ground, 'twas
not with broken rib. You know that where they give them,
they take them, and that not always are flitches were there are
hooks. A fig for the doctor, for there's no need of him in curing
this ailment. Let us go home and drop looking for adventures in
towns and countries unknown to us, for, if it be rightly consid-
ered, I am the greater loser, though your worship is the most
afflicted. For though with the government I lost all desire to rule,
I still should relish being a count, which I never can be if your
worship, taking my advise, drop your chivalry and cut off your
chance of kingship and all my hopes go up in smoke. ' ' Peace,
Sancho, for you know my withdrawal is to last but a year, when
I shall return to mine honoured calling, nor will there be lacking
a kingdom to gain and a countship to give. ' ' God hear it and
sin be deaf, ' said Sancho, ' and ever have I heard that a good
hope is better than a bad holding. '

At this moment Don Antonio entered, saying with signs of
pleasure : ' Good news, good news, Seiior Don Quijote : Don
Gregorio and the renegade who went to his deliverance are on
the Strand. On the Strand do I say ? they are by this time at the
viceroy's house and in a second will be here. ' Don Quijote was
little cheered and said : ' Verily I was on the point of saying that
I should have been pleased had it resulted otherwise, for that

LXV DELIVERANCE OF DON GRBGORIO 641

would have necessitated my crossing to Barbary, where by the
puissance of mine arm I should have liberated not only Don
Gregorio but all the Christian captives there. But what do I say,
miserable that I am ? am not I the enslaved one, the undone ?
am not I he that cannot take arms for a twelvemonth ? Then
what do I propose ? wherefore do I boast, when the distaff suits
me rather than the sword ? ' ' Enough of that, sir,' said Sancho;
' let the hen live though it be with the pip, and to-day for thee
and to-morrow for me, and in these matters of cuffs and encoun-
ters there's no use troubling, for he that is down to-day will be
up to-morrow, unless he lie abed, unless he give way to despair
I mean and pluck not fresh courage for new combats. Let your
worship rise to welcome Don Gregorio. The people are making
a hubbub and he must be in the house. '

Such was the case, for as soon as Don Gregorio and the ren-
egade had given account to the viceroy of their going and return,
they hurried to the iiouse of Don Antonio, since the former
was eager to see Anna Felix. Though when rescued from Algiers
the lover had been in woman's clothes, on the barque he had
changed garb with a captive that had fled with him ; but whatever
his dress, he would appear a person to be sought, courted and
esteemed, for great was his beauty — of the age apparently of
seventeen or eighteen years. Ricote and his daughter came forth
to greet him, the father in tears, the girl with diffidence. The
onlookers were amazed at the combined beauty of these lovers,
who even now embraced not, for true love shuns demonstration.
Silence here spake for them and their eyes were the tongues that
told the depth of their affection.

The renegade now described the manner and means of Don
Gregorio's rescue, while the other briefly related the dangers and
difficulties he had had to face with the women with whom he had
been cloistered, but all briefly, showing that his discretion sur-
passed his years. Ricote paid the renegade and his crew liberally,
and the former was reincorporated with the Church and from
a rotten member became sound and clean through penance and
contrition. Two days later the viceroy and Don Antonio con-
sulted as to how Anna Felix and her father might abide in Spain,

41

642 DON QtJIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

seeing no reason why daughter so Christian and father palpably
of such honest aims should suffer the general banishment. Don
Antonio offered to go to court, whither other matters called him,
and negotiate for this, believing that there through gifts and
favour difficulties are made smooth.

' No, ' said Ricote, ' naught can be expected of favour or gifts,
for with the great Don Bernadino de Velasco, Count of Salazar,
into whose hands His Majesty placed our expulsion, nor pray-
ers nor promises nor bribes nor griefs avail. Though he mingles
pity with justice, he applies the cautery that burns rather than
the ointment that mollifies, for he sees our whole state rotting
through contamination. By prudence, by sagacity, by industry
and the terror he inspires, on his broad shoulders he has carried
the weight of this business to due execution, our tricks, ruses,
stratagems and petitions having no power to dazzle his Argus
eyes, ever alert that not one of us may be left hid like a root to
blossom later and bear poisonous fruit here in Spain, now freed
and purified of the fears wherein the greatness of our numbers
kept her. Heroic resolve of the great Philip the third and excep-
tional foresight in entrusting all to the said Don Bernadino de
Velasco ! '

' At all events , replied Don Antonio, ' being there I shall
exert myself to the utmost and Heaven adjust it as it will. Don
Gregorio shall go with me to relieve the anxiety his parents must
feel at his absence, Anna Felix shall remain here with my wife
or in a nunnery, and I am sure that sefior viceroy will be glad
to have Ricote at his house till it is seen how I fare. The viceroy
agreed, but Don Gregorio, remembering the past said on no
account could or would he leave Anna Felix ; but considering
that after he had seen his parents he could return, he too fell in
line. The day of departure arrived, not without tears, sighs,
swoons and moans on the lovers' part. Ricote offered his future
son-in-law a thousand crowns, if he wished them, but the latter
took only five lent him by Don Antonio. Don Quijote with
Sancho, since his fall permitted not earlier, set out two days
after, the knight in riding gear, the squire afoot, since Dapple
was armour-laden.

LXVI MEETING WITH TOSILOS

CHAPTER LXVI

Which treats of what will be seen of him that reads or
hears that listens

ON leaving Barcelona Don Quijote turned to view the place
of his downfall, saying : ' Here was Troy ! here my luck,
not my lack, robbed me of all glory. Here fortune made me the
sport of her change and change-about and here my deeds were
darkened. Here in short fell my felicity, never to rise again. ' On
this Sancho said : ' 'Tis as much the part of gallant breasts,
master mine, to be faithful in darkness as to wear a cheerful face
in the sun. This I learn from myself, for if when governor I was
happy, now that I am a squire and afoot, I am not sad. For I
have heard tell that this they call fortune hereabouts is a drunken
capricious woman and blind withal, so sees not what she does,
nor whom she casts down or sets up. '

' You are much of a sage, Sancho, and speak wisely ; I do not
know who taught you. But this I can tell, that there's no such
thing as fortune, nor do things that befall us, good or bad as
they may be, happen by chance, but by the particular providence
of Heaven. Hence arises the common saw, every man is forger
of his fate. I have been of mine, though not with the needed
prudence ; therefore has my pride cast me down. I should have
foreseen that the leanness of Rocinante would be as naught
before the great bulk of the other. I did my best however, and
though overthrown and dishonoured, I lost not, nor could I
lose, the virtue of fulfilling my vow. While errant, bold and
valiant, with works and with hands I accredited my deeds, and
now, though but a squireling of the road, I'll accredit my words
by making good my promise. Trudge on then, Sancho friend,
and let us homeward hie to keep the year of our novitiate, in
which seclusion we shall receive new strength for returning to
the never-by-me-forgotten exercise of arms. '

644 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

' Senor, ' said Sancho, ' this trudging is not so cheerful that it
incites and inspires me to cover long distances. Let's leave these
arms hanging from some tree like a hanged man and with me on
Dapple and my feet off the ground we can make runs such as
your worship wills and measures. To think I shall go all the way
on foot and cover the ground nimbly is to think topsy-turvy. '
' Well spoken, Sancho : let mine arms be hung for a trophy and
at their feet or near by we shall grave on the trees what was
writ on Roland's arms :

Let none these arms remove
That cannot his deserts with Roland prove. '

' It couldn't be done better, ' said Sancho, ' and were it not
that we should miss him on the journey, it might be well to hang
Rocinante also. ' ' Neither he nor the arms should I wish to see
strung up,' returned the other, ' lest it be said, to good service,
poor pay. ' ' Indeed your worship says well, for in the opinion
of the wise the fault of the ass should not be laid on the pannel,
and since your worship is alone to blame for this affair, 'tis
yourself should bear the punishment; your wrath should not be
vented on the already broken and bloody armour, on the
meekness of Rocinante, nor yet on the softness of my feet, asking
them to travel further than is right. '

In this and other discourse they passed all that day and the
four following with naught occurring to iinpede their journey,
but on the fifth being a festival, on entering a village they found
much' people making merry about the door of an inn. As Don
Quijote rode up, a peasant cried : ' One of these two gentlemen,
since they don't know the parties, can decide what shall be done
about our wager. ' ' I shall be pleased to, ' replied Don Quijote,
' and fairly, if I am made to understand it. ' ' This, then, is the
case, ' began the peasant : ' a man of this village, so fat that he
weighs twenty stone, has challenged his neighbour, who weighs
only nine, to run a hundred yards even weights, but when asked
how they were to be made equal, suggested that the challenged
carry eleven stone of iron on his back. '

' Never ! ' struck in Sancho before his master could reply ;
' I, that only the other day ceased to be governor and judge, as

IjXVI meeting with tosilos 645

all the world knows, can settle and give judgment on the whole
case. ' ' Give it then and welcome, Sancho friend, ' vouchsafed
his master, ' for I am not fit to give crumbs to a cat, my wits
are that shaken and gone. ' ' With this leave, ' said Sancho to the
peasants (who had drawn round him with open mouths, await-
ing the delivery of his sentence), ' let me tell you, brothers,
that what mister fatman seeks won't hold water and hasn't the
shadow of justice, for, if as 'tis said the challenged has choice
of weapon, it's unfit that the other should choose for him, and
of a kind to hinder and prevent his winning the race. My opinion,
then, is that mister fatman-challenger prune, peel, pare, scrape,
trim and clear away eleven stone of his flesh, somewhere or
other on his body, as may seem and be best for him, and then at
nine stone both can run on fair terms. '

' I vow, ' said a peasant, ' this gentleman has spoken like a
saint and adjuged like a canon. But on my faith the fat one is
loth to part with an ounce of his flesh, to say nothing of eleven
stone. ' ' 'Twere better to call the wager off then, ' said another,
' that the lean one may not collapse beneath the weight nor the
fat one be defleshed. Let half the bet be spent for wine and let us
lead these gentlemen to the tavern where the dear old stuff is
waiting, and on me the cloak when it rains. ' ' I thank you,
gentlemen,' replied Don Quijote, ' but not a moment can I delay,
for sad thoughts and trials force my discourtesy, urging me
apace.' And letting Rocinante feel the spur he passed on, leaving
all in wonder at his strange comportment as well as at the per-
ception of his squire, and a peasant said : ' If the man is that
wise, what must be the master ? I'll wager they've just come
from Salamanca, and in a trice they'll come to be judges at the
capital. 'Tis all a trick, naught but study and more study, a little
favour and fortune, and when least he looks for it he finds
himself with staff in hand or mitre on head.'

Master and squire passed the night in an open field beneath
the bare unclouded sky. Next day as they pursued their journey
they saw approaching a man on foot with wallet around his neck
and a javelin or pike in his hand, the proper outfit of a courrier.
As he drew near he mended his pace and reaching them on the

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

half-run embraced the errant's thigh (for he could reach no
higher), crying with high jubilation : ' O my Senor Don Quijote
de La Mancha, and what delight will thrill the heart of my
master when he hears your worship is returning to his castle,
where still he is and the duchess. ' ' I know you not, friend, '
replied Don Quijote, ' nor can I think who you are, if you don't
tell me. ' ' I, Senor Don Quijote, am Tosilos the duke's lacquey,
that refused to fight with your worship over the marrying of
Doiia Rodriguez' daugther.' ' So help me God ! ' cried the knight;
' is it possible you are he whom mine enemies the enchanters
transformed into the lacquey you speak of that I might lose the
glory of that battle ? '

' Nay, nay, good sir, ' responded the messenger, ' there was
no enchantment there nor change of face : the same lacquey
Tosilos entered the lists that came out of it. I meant to marry
me without a set-to, for the chit looked well to me. Yet it turned
out quite differently, since as soon as your worship had gone,
my master made them give me a hundred whalings for disobeying
orders, and it ended in the lass becoming a nun and the mother's
returning to Castile. I am now bound for Barcelona with a
packet of letters from my master to the viceroy. Should your
worship like a little draught, pure if a bit warm, I have a cal-
abash of the dear old stuff, with some slices of Tronchon cheese,
a caller and wakener of thirst, should it be napping. ' ' I accept, '
spoke up Sancho, ' and let all other courtesy pass. Pour out,
good Tosilos, despite and in defiance of all the magicians of the
Indies. ' ' Of a truth, Sancho, you are the greatest glutton in the
world and the greatest booby, not to see this messenger is en-
chanted and this Tosilos a hoax. Abide with him and fill your
belly ; I'll go slowly and wait till you come. '

The lacquey laughed, unsheathed his calabash, unwalleted the
cheese, and taking out a little bread he and Sancho sitting on
the greensward in good peace and fellowship touched bottom
with the wallet, and with such relish that they licked the packet
of letters because it smelt of cheese. Said Tosilos : ' Surely, friend
Sancho, this your master is bound to be mad. ' ' How bound?'
quoth the other; ' he owes nothing to nobody, for he pays as he

LlXVII THE PASTORAL LIFE 647

goes, expecially when the money is folly. I see it plainly enough
and tell him so, but what's the use? the more thai all is over
with now, for he has been vanquished by the Knight of the White
Moon.' Tosilos prayed him tell of that incident, but Sancho
said 'twould be unmannerly to keep his master waiting ; another
day, should they meet, he would find opportunity. Rising from
the ground he shook the crumbs from coat and beard and bid-
ding Tosilos good-bye drove Dapple before him and after his
master whom he found waiting in the shade of a tree.

CHAPTER LXVII

Don Quijote resolves to turn shepherd and pursue the

pastoral life during the year of probation, along with other

passages verily delightful and good

IF many thoughts were wont to harass our knight before his
overthrow, how many more now he was fallen. There, as he
rested in the shade of a tree, they swarmed as flies about honey.
Some ran on the disenchantment of Dulcinea and others on the
life he should lead during his enforced withdrawal. Sancho,
arriving, praised the liberal nature of the lacquey Tosilos, and
his master said : ' Can you still think him a veritable lacquey ?
One would think there had vanished from your thought that you
had seen Dulcinea transformed into a peasant and the Knight of
the Mirrors into the bachelor Samson Carrasco. But tell me, did
you question this you call Tosilos what God had done with
Altisidora, whether or no she wept mine absence ? or were the
thoughts of love that goaded her in my presence already given
into oblivion ? ' ' Mine own were not of the sort, ' said Sancho,
' to let me ask moonshine. Body of me, sire, is your worship
now in a position to enquire after others' fancies, especially
amorous ones ? '

' Look, boy, ' said the knight, ' there's big diflference 'twixt
acts of love and of gratitude. It might easily be that a knight
becomes disenamoured, but, speaking in all strictness, he can

DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA

II

never be an ingrate. Altisidora, 'twould seem, loved me deeply :
she gave me three kerchiefs as you know, wept my leaving,
cursed me, calling me names and shamelessly abusing me in
public : all signs of her adoration, for lovers' rage is wont to
take the form of anathema. I had no hopes to proffer nor treas-
ures to bestow, for mine hopes are pledged to Dulcinea and an
errant's treasures like an elf s exist in the air only. I can but
give her then these memories, without prejudice to those I keep
of Dulcinea, her whom you wrong by postponing the flaying of
your carcase, which may I see eaten by wolves, since you'ld
sooner hold it for the worms than for the relief of that unfortu-
nate fair one. '

' Senor, ' replied the other, ' if the truth must be told, I can't
persuade myself that the beating my backsides has aught to do
with disenchanting the enchanted, which is as if we should say.
If the head ache, anoint the knee-pan. At least I dare swear that
in all the histories of knights-errant your worship has read, you
have never come across a disenchanting by stripes. But whether
you have or not, I'll give them when I please and there's plenty
of time. ' ' God grant it, and may Heaven make you aware of the
debt you owe my lady, and yours, since you are mine. ' With
these words they went travelling along till they came to the spot
where they had been run over by the bulls. Don Quijote rec-
ognised it and said to Sancho :

' This is the mead where we fell in with the gay shepherdesses
and gallant shepherds that would revive and emulate the pastoral
Arcady : an idea no less novel than good, and in its imitation,
if it seem well to you, I could wish, O Sancho, that you and I
during the period of my retreat likewise transform ourselves
into shepherds. I'll buy a few ewes and other requisites of the
pastoral life, and calling myself the shepherd Quijotiz and you
the shepherd Pancino, we'll wander over wood over mountain
over field over fountain, here singing, there mourning, drinking
the liquid crystal of the springs, now of the clear water-brooks,
now of the brimming rivers. The oaks shall give us with bountiful
hand of their luscious fruit, the trunks of the rock-hard cork will
afford us seats, the willows shade, the roses perfume, the broad

LiXVII THE PASTORAL LIFE 649

meads carpets of a thousand varied colours. Breath we shall draw
of the transparent air and light from the moon and stars maugre
the darkness ; song will lend us pleasure, and weeping joy. Nor
will Apollo deny us verses nor Love his conceits, whereby we
shall make us famous and immortal, not only now but in the
times to come. '

' Egad, ' quoth the other, ' but this life squares nay corners
with me to a T ; ay, if the bachelor and barber but glimpse us,
they'll wish to turn shepherd too. Nay, God grant it may not
come into the priest's head to enter the fold, for he's a jolly one,
fond of good times. ' ' You say well ; the bachelor, when he
leaps the pale, as he surely will, can call himself Samsino or
Garrascon, while Nicholoso will just fit the barber, even as old
Boscan named himself Nemoroso. Our priest and curate I know
not what we can call unless a name derived from his office, such
as Curiambro. As for the shepherdesses of whom we're to be
enamoured, as among pears we can choose their names. My
lady-love's happens to sort as well with the pastoral as the
princely calling, so why should I trouble for another, but you,
Sancho, can call yours what you please. '

' Teresona (big Teresa) I shall call mine, which fits well with
her size. 'Tis her I shall celebrate in my verses, discovering my
chaste thoughts, for I don't go looking in others' houses for
better bread than wheat. The priest would look as well without
a shepherdess, for the sake of example, but let the bachelor have
whom he please — his soul is in his hand. ' ' So help me God,'
cried the other, ' and what a life we shall lead, son ! What
hautboys shall fill our ears ! what Zamoran bagpipes, what tam-
bourines, timbrels and rebecks ! And if amid this variety there
also sound the albogues, nigh all the pastoral instruments will
be represented. ' ' And what are these last?' enquired Sancho;
' I never heard them named or played in all my life. '

' Albogues are copper plates resembling candlestick-bottoms
which, when struck together on the hollow side make a sound
that, if not very harmonious and pleasing, is yet not offensive
and fits in well with the crudeness of the bagpipe and tambour-
ine. The word is Moorish, like all that in Gastilian commence

650 DON QUIJOTE DB LA MANCHA II

with al, such as almohaza, almorzar, alhombra, alguacil, alhuzema,
almacen, alcanciaand others, for there are sure to be a few more.
Three words only in our tongue that end in i are Moorish, namely
borcegui, zaquizami and maravedi ; alheli and alfaqui, as much by
the initial al as by the final i are also recognised as Arabic —
this I have said in passing, having been prompted by the word
albogues. The fact that I am something of a poet as you know
and the bachelor a good deal of a one will help not a little in
forwarding our plans. Of the priest I say nothing, though he too
I venture smacks a little of the poet and as for the barber I am
certain, for all or most of his calling are ballad-mongers and
thrum the guitar. I shall complain of absence ; you will discover
your constancy ; the shepherd Carrascon will praise himself as
a rejected suitor and the priest Guriambro may sing what most
pleases him, and so the business will go forward and leave
naught to be desired. '

To this the squire made answer : ' I, sir, am so unlucky that
I tremble lest the day that finds me in this calling will never
come. For O ! what bright and shiny spoons shall I make when I
see myself a shepherd ! what bread-puddings and cream-cheeses,
what garlands and all manner of shepherds ' baubles ! which,
though though they won't win me the name of wise man, will be
sure to win me reputation as a wit. Sanchica my daughter will
bear our dinner to the fold — but take care, she's good-looking
and there are shepherds more roguish than simple and I wouldn't
that she went for wool and came home shorn. Your love-makings
and evil desires are as prone to walk the country as the cities,
into shepherds' huts as into royal palaces. Remove the cause and
you remove the sin, and if eyes don't see, heart doesn't break,
and better a leap o'er the hedge than the prayers of good men. '
' No more refrains, boy ; any one of them would have made
plain your thought and oft have I warned you not to be so open-
handed with these sayings — to show a little self-restraint. I feel
as if 'twere all preaching in the desert : my mother beats me, yet
I whip the top. '

' And I feel that your worship is like the saying, Quoth the
frying-pan to the kettle, Get out, black eyes : you chide me for

LiXVIII ADVENTURE OF THE HOGS 6S1

Uttering proverbs and then your worship strings them in pairs. '
' Yes, Sancho, but I introduce them pertinently, fitting them
like a ring to the finger, whereas you drag them in by the hair
rather than lead them. If my memory serve me, I have before
remarked that proverbs are words of wisdom drawn from the
experience and reflection of our fathers, and that a saw spoken
at random is nonsense, not a maxim. But enough of this : the
night is coming, so let us retire from the high road and find
where we may pass it, for God knows what the morrow will
be. ' They retired accordingly and supped late and ill, to the
distress of one that could not but think of the hard lines errantry
had to follow in woods and mountains, even though occasionally
plenty showed her face in castles and homes, as there with Don
Diego de Miranda, again at the nuptials of the rich Gamacho and
last of all with Don Antonio Moreno. But realising that it
couldn't always be day nor for that matter always night, unlike
his master he passed that one in sleep.

KSf-.'

GHAPTER LXVIII

The bristly adventure that overtook the errant
of La Mancha

THE night was fairly dark for though the moon was in the
sky she wasn't in a quarter to be seen — at times mistress
Diana takes the air at the antipodes, leaving our own mountains
and valleys black and shadowy. Don Quijote complied with
nature and slept out the first sweet sleep but yielded not to the
second ; quite the reverse of Sancho, who never knew a second,
since his first lasted from twilight to dawn, manifesting a sound
constitution and few cares. Those of his master so beset him that
he roused the squire saying : ' I am amazed at the liberties you
take, Sancho son. Methinks you must be of marble or unyielding
bronze, wherein is neither emotion nor feeling. I wake while you
slumber, I weep while you sing, I faint from fasting while you,
sluggard, are torpid from satiety. Good servants should share

6S2 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

their masters' ills and feel their sorrows, for decency's sake at
least. Note the night's serenity, the utter solitude, inviting us to
mingle vigils with our sleep. On your life, arise and go apart, my
son, and with cheerful heart and grateful spirit let fall three or
four hundred strokes toward the disenchantment of Dulcinea.
This I ask as a favour, not caring to come to arms with you
again, knowing the weight of yours. This done we shall pass the
remainder of the night singing, I my severance, you your con-
stancy ; and so make beginning of the life we are to follow in
our village. '

' Master,' replied the other, ' I am no friar to rise in the middle
of my sleep and flog me, and little methinks can one pass from
the extreme of whipping-pains to that of music. Let me sleep,
your worship, nor hurry me in this matter of the scourging, or
I shall be driven to vow never to touch a hair of my coat, to
say nothing of my flesh.' ' O obdurate heart, O pitiless squire,

0 bread ill-bestowed and favours ill-considered, both those
already done and those I think to do ! Through me you found
yourself governor, through me you find yourself with present
hopes of becoming a count or its equivalent ; nor shall they be
but hopes beyond the year, for. Post tenebras spero lucem. '
' That is beyond me,' returned Sancho ; • all I know is that while

1 sleep, I've neither hopes nor fears nor toil nor glory. Blessed
be the man that invented sleep, the cloak that covers all men's
thoughts, meat that satisfies hunger, water that quenches thirst,
fire that warms, cold that tempers, a common coin in short that
buys all things, a balance and weight that makes equal shepherd
and king, fool and wise man. One fault alone can be found with
sleep, so I've heard tell, that she's akin to death, for 'twixt the
sleeping and dead, there's little to be said. ' ' Never have I heard
you speak so elegantly as now, Sancho, whence the truth of
the proverb I've heard on your tongue. Not with whom thou art
bred, but with whom thou art fed. ' ' Woe's me, master, master !
no longer blame me for stringing saws, when they fall from your
lips in pairs and though there's the difference that yours hit and
mine are beside the mark, yet all are saws. '

They had proceeded this far when they heard a frightful and

LiXVIII ADVENTURE OF THE HOGS 653

deafening noise resound through those valleys. The knight arose
and put hand to sword, but his squire hid beneath Dapple,
piling the armour on one side and the ass's pannel on the other.
Gradually the sound increased, approaching the timorous ones
or one, for the other's valour can be taken for granted. The case
was that six hundred hogs were being driven for sale at a fair,
yet so great was the noise of their snorting that with ears
stunned neither master nor man could guess what might be. The
wide-winged and grunting troop came on pell-mell and with no
respect of persons passed straight over Don Quijote and Sancho,
demolishing the latter's card-house and carrying knight and
steed on its tide. The number, the noise, the speed wherewith
the unclean beasts advanced, brought to chaos and the ground
pack-saddle, arms. Dapple and the rest. Sancho rose as he
could and asked his master for the sword, saying he'ld kill a
half-dozen of these gentlemen and their unmannerly swine, as he
now perceived them. But his master counselled :

' Let them be, friend ; this affront is but penalty for my sin :
just chastisement from Heaven on a vanquished errant is it that
jackals eat him, wasps sting him and hogs trample him under
fool. ' ' As well must it be on their squires, ' said the other,
' that flies bite them, lice devour them and hunger surrounds
them on all sides. Were squires sons or close kin of knights,
'twouldn't be strange if they suffered the punishment of their
masters' sins down to the fourth generation. But with you and
me, what have the Panzas to do with the Quijotes ? Ah well, let's
sleep what little of the night be left ; God will dawn and we shall
thrive. ' ' Sleep then, for you were born to sleep, but I to watch,
and in the interval I'll give rein to my thoughts, venting them in
a little madrigal, which unknown to you just now I composed. '
And the other : ' It has always seemed to me that the thoughts
that make room for the writing of verses can't be very great ones.
But let your knightship verse it as you please and I'll sleep as I
can. ' And taking the ground he coiled himself up and slept an
easy slumber, undisturbed by promises or debts or any woe.
His master leaned against a beach or oak (Gid Hamet doesn't
specify) and sang to the music of his sighs. Each line he accom-

634 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

panied with not a few tears, like one whose heart was transfixed
with the pain of his overthrow and of absence from Dulcinea.

And now dawn came and the sun darted his rays into Sancho's
eyes. He wakened, shook himself and stretched his drowsy
limbs, gazing at the havoc wrought by the swine on his stores
and cursing them and not them alone. The pair took up their
journey and late in the afternoon beheld approaching some ten
mounted men and four or five afoot. The knight's heart shook
and Sancho's fell, for the group bore lances and shields in all the
guise of war. Turning to his squire the master said : ' Had I the
wielding of my weapons and my word had not lied mine arms,
this rout that bears down upon us would be to me but cakes and
cookies ; but it may result other than we fear. ' Here the mounted
men came up and raising spears silently surrounded Don Quijote
as if threatening death. One of the footmen, finger to mouth to
enjoin silence, seized Rocinante's bridle and led him from the
road, while the others, hemming in Sancho and the ass, followed
their chief, all preserving a marvellous silence.

Two or three times Don Quijote would have questioned whither
they carried him and why, but scarce came the words to his lips,
when forced back with lance-points. And with Sancho the
same, for barely would he open his mouth when a footman
pricked him with a goad, and Dapple too, as if he also were
about to speak. The night closed in, they quickened their pace
and the captives' fear increased, particularly as they heard the
men call to them from time to lime : ' Gel a move on. Troglo-
dytes ; hold your tongues, barbarians ; pay up. Anthropophagi;
stop your whining, Scythians ; shut your eyes, murderous Poly-
phemi, cannibal lions ; ' and other ephitets wherewith they teased
the ears of the wretched pair. Sancho skipped along, saying to
himself : ' Are we frogs and eels ? we barbers and popinjays ?
we bitchlings with your hist, hist? It likes me not these names ;
by an ill wind the corn is threshed. Every ill berates us at
once, like blows on a dog, and God grant they may stop here
with what this misadventurous adventure promises. '

The knight rode bewildered, nor for all his conjectures could
surmise what meant these imprecations. Alone he gathered it

IjXIX pin-pricks and pinches 6S5

boded no ill and threatened much evil. About an hour after dark
they arrived at a castle which at once Don Quijole knew to be
the duke's where he had stopped such a short space before. ' So
help me God ! ' he cried as he saw the dwelling, ' and what does
this mean ? Truly in this house all is courtesy and attention, yet
for the vanquished good is changed to bad and bad to worse. '
They entered the large court of the castle and found it decorated
and embellished in a way that increased their astonishment and
doubled their fears — as will be seen in the following chapter.

CHAPTER LXIX

The rarest and most original occasion that ever befell
Don Quijote in the whole course of his chivalries

THE horsemen dismounted and assisted by the footmen quick-
ly caught up the captives in their arms, bearing them into
the court, about which blazed in their sconces well-nigh a
hundred torches and about the galleries more than five hundred
lamps, so that in spite of the darkness, which was sufficiently
dense, daylight was not missed. In the very centre of the court
rose a tomb some two yards from the ground, entirely covered
by a spacious canopy of black velvet, around which on the steps
were burning candles in more than a hundred candlesticks. Upon
the tomb lay the corpse of a damsel so fair she made death itself
beautiful. Her head rested upon a pillow of brocade, crowned
with a garland of many sweet-smelling flowers ; her hands were
crossed above her breast and between them a branch of the
yellow and triumphal palm. Along one side of the court ran a
staging, seated upon which were two persons whose crowns and
sceptres betokened them kings, real or feigned. At the side of the
staging and approached by steps were two chairs, upon which
their captors now made the knight and squire take seats, them-
selves silent and making signs to the pair to be the same ; but
such warning was superfluous for they were tongue-tied with
wonder.

656 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

There now mounted the staging, followed by a great concourse,
two notable personnages, whom the knight at once saw were the
duke and duchess his former hosts, and these sat themselves on
two richly ornamented chairs next the apparent kings. Who
wouldn't have marvelled at all this, the more to see as Don
Quijote did that the body on the tomb was that of the lovely
Altisidora ? As the ducal pair mounted to their places, master
and man made profound obeisance, acknowledged by a slight
inclination of the head. Next an officer came across and threw
over Sancho's shoulders a robe of black buckram, painted with
flames, and removing his cap put in its place a mitre resembling
those worn by penitents of the Holy Office, whispering to him
that he mustn't unsew his lips, else they would either gag or kill
him. Sancho looked all over his person and found it ablaze with
flames, but as they didn't burn, he cared not two coppers. He
removed the mitre and found it painted with devils, and muttered
as he put in on again : ' All's well, for those do not burn me nor
these carry me off.' Don Quijote also looked him over and
though fear had stunned his senses, he couldn't but smile at the
figure cut by his squire.

And now from beneath the tomb to all seeming there began
the low and pleasant sound of flutes which, unbroken by human
voice, for silence itself there kept silent, came soft and amorous.
Then suddenly there arose, near the pillow of the corpse, a fair
swain clad in Roman garb, who to his harp-music in sweet clear
voice sang two verses of a song. ' Enough, ' cried one of the
royal pair ; ' no more, songster divine ! for you would never
have done were you to rehearse the death and graces of the
peerless Altisidora — not dead as the ignorant world believes
but alive in the tongues of fame and in the penance which, to
restore her to light, Sancho Panza here present has to undergo.
Therefore, do thou, O Rhadamanthus, that judgest with me in
the dismal depths of Dis, since thou knowest all the inscrutable
fates have decreed concerning the resurrection of the maid, speak
and declare forthwith, that the joy we anticipate at her return
may be no longer delayed. ' Scarce had Minos, the companion
judge of Rhadamanthus, said this when rising to his feet the other

LXIX PIN-PRICKS AND PINCHES 657

cried : ' Ho there, officers of the house ! high and low, big and
little, hurry one and all and seal Sancho's face with four and
twenty slaps, a dozen pinches and twice three pin-pricks on
arms and thighs, for in these rests the salvation of the fair one, '

At this Sanclio broke silence and cried : ' I swear by all things
that I will as soon let my face be sealed or my cheks fingered as
turn Moor. Body of me, and what has the handling of my coun-
tenance to do with the resurrection of this girl ? The old woman
went daft over the spinach : they enchant Dulcinea and then
flay me to get her out again ; Altisidora dies of diseases it pleased
God to send her, and to revive the wench they must slap me four
times and twenty, cripple my body with pin-pricks and pinch
mine arms black and blue. These jokes for your brother-in-law,
for I'm an old hog : none of your, Here, here, with me. ' ' Thou
shalt die, ' quoth Rhadamanthus ; ' yield, tiger ; humble thyself,
proud Nimrod ; suffer and be silent, since only possibilities are
asked. Don't argue the difficulties of this case ; slapped thou
must be, pricked thou hast to see thyself ; pinched, thou shalt
groan. Ho officers, I say, execute my bidding ! or by the faith of
an honest man ye shall know why ye were born. '

Hereupon through the court marched six duennas in single
file, four with spectacles and all with right hands on high and
wrists bared to the length of four fingers, as is now the fashion
to make the hand appear larger. Sancho, seeing them, roared like
a bull : ' I might let the whole world handle my face, but allow
duennas to touch me — never ! Let them cat-claw my features as
they did my master's in this same castle ; let them transfix my
body with sharp daggers or tear mine arms with burning pincers
and I'll bear it patiently for the sake of these gentlefolk. But that
duennas should touch me, I'll not consent though the devil fetch
me. ' But here his master broke silence, saying : ' Have patience,
my son, and satisfy this lord and lady, giving thanks to Heaven
that such virtue resides in your person that by its martyrdom
you liberate the enchanted and restore the dead. '

The duennas were now about Sancho who, a trifle less rabid
and a trifle more resigned, fixing himself firmly in his seat, lent
his face and beard to the first comer who gave him a slap well

42

658 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

sealed and made him a low bow. ' Less courtesy, less cosmetics,
mistress duenna ; by God but your hands smell of vinegar-
wash.' The other duennas sealed him and many of the household
pinched him, but what proved the overload were the pin-pricks,
for rising in a rage the penitent seized a lighted torch and running
after his persecutors cried : ' Avaunt, ye ministers of hell ; I am
no brass not to feel these outrageous torturings.' But straightway
Altisidora, weary of her position, turned a little and all the host
cried : ' She liveth, Altisidora liveth ; ' and Rhadamanthus
shouted to Sancho to ease his wrath for all was achieved.

And now Don Quijote, who had seen Altisidora move, knelt
defore his squire saying : ' Child of my bowels, not to say my
shield-bearer, now is the time to practise some of the strokes due
the disenchantment of Dulcinea. Now I repeat is the hour when
your virtue is seasoned and prepared to work the expected good.'
But he received for reply : ' Dodge upon dodge methinks this
and not honey upon pancakes. A pleasant thing 'twould be if on
top of pinches, slaps and pin-pricks lashes were to follow. The
only thing left is to tie a big stone round my neck and drop me
down a well, which wouldn't much grieve me if I'm to continue
the wedding-heifer for others' ailments. Avaunt ! if not, by God
I'll fling out all by the dozen, though it spoil the sale. '

Altisidora now raised herself to a sitting posture on the tomb,
and instantly the clarions sounded, accompanied by the flutes
and many voices acclaiming : ' Long live Altisidora, long and
long ! ' The duke, the duchess and the kings then a rose and with
Don Quijote and Sancho went to receive the resurrected damsel
and help her off the tomb. She, almost fainting, bowed to the
ducal pair and the kings, and glancing across at Don Quijote
thus addressed him : ' May God forgive thee, lacklove knight,
by whose cruelty I have been in the other world it seemed more
than a thousand years ! But thee, O most compassionate squire
the globe can boast, I thank for the life I now enjoy. From this
day forth thou mayst call thine own sixs smocks I now bequeathe,
which will make so many shirts for thee, for if not all are without
holes, not one but what is clean. ' Holding his mitre and with
knees to the ground Sancho kissed her hands. The duke bade

LiXX LEAVING THE CA.STLE 659

them return him his cap and cloak and relieve him of mitre and
robe of flames, but the squire prayed that he might keep these as
marks and mementos of that rare occasion. The duchess said he
might, as he already knew how much she was his friend. The
duke then ordered the servants to clear the court and all retire to
their rooms, and that Don Quijote and Sancho should be shown
those they had previously occupied.

CHAPTER LXX

Following on the sixty-ninth and necessary to the clear
understanding of this history

THAT night Sancho slept on a truckle-bed in the same room
with his master, a thing not to his liking, since he knew
that sleep was impossible what with questions and replies and
he was particularly in a mood not to talk much — the pains of
his past martyrdom being still present wouldn't let his tongue
move in perfect freedom. He 'Id have preferred to sleep alone in a
hut than in that rich hall with another. And his fear proved so
well-founded that scarce had his master touched the bed when he
spake out : ' How did the evening's adventure strike you, Sancho ?
Verily great and puissant is the power of a lover's disdain ! with
your own eyes you saw Altisidora dead — killed by no arrow,
sword, instrument of war or fatal poison but by her brooding
on the utter lack of affection wherewith I ever treated her. ' ' She
might have died and welcome, how and when she pleased, '
replied the other, ' and left me at home in mine house, for I
neither loved nor disdained her in my life. I do not know nor
can I think how the health of Altisidora, a damsel more whimsical
than wise, can have aught to do with the torturing of Sancho
Panza. But indeed I come to see clearly and distinctly that
enchanters and enchantments do exist in the world ; from whom
may God deliver me since I cannot myself. And now prithee let
me sleep and don't put one single question more unless you
would that I fling myself from the window. ' ' Sleep, Sancho

660 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

friend, if the pinchings, pin-pricks and sealed slaps on the cheek
will allow. ' ' No pain equalled the insult of the slaps, ' declared
the other, 'for they were given by duennas, whom may God
confound. But again prithee let me sleep, for slumber is the
soother of all woes. ' ' Be it so, ' said his master, ' and God be
with you. '

The pair fell asleep and GidHamet, author of this great history,
takes this opportunity to write and explain how the duke and
duchess came to concoct the aforementioned episode. He says
that the bachelor Garrasco, still remembering how as Knight of
the Mirrors he was vanquished and laid low by Don Quijote and
all his plans upset, would again try his hand, hoping for better
issue. Accordingly, having learnt from the page that brought the
letter and present to Sancho's wife where Don Quijote was to be
found, he sought out another mount and new armour, painting
on the shield a white moon. This and his arms he loaded on a
mule, led not by Tome Gecial but by a peasant, so as to escape
detection by Sancho and his master. He arrived then at the castle
of the duke, who informed him of the road and route taken by
the knight for the purpose of the jousts at Saragossa. The duke
also told him of the tricks played upon the pair, in particular the
scheme for Dulcinea's disenchantment, namely at the cost to
Sancho's posteriors.

In brief he described the deception Sancho had practised on
the master, making him believe that Dulcinea was enchanted,
transformed into a peasant- wench, and how the duchess had in
turn made Sancho believe that he was the one that had been
tricked and that Dulcinea really was under a charm. At all of
which the bachelor smiled and wondered, reflecting on the
shrewdness and simplicity of the servant no less than at the
complete obsession of the lord. The duke prayed him, should he
meet with and conquer Quijote or no, to return that way and
relate to them the event. The bachelor promised, set out on his
search, found nothing at Saragossa, passed on and at length
experienced what is already known. He returned by the duke's
castle and related all, together with the articles of combat, and
that Don Quijote like a good errant was now on his way home to

^XX LEAVING THE CASTLE 66i

fulfil his promise of resting for a year ; in which time, added the
bachelor, he may be cured of his frenzy. It seemed to him most
pitiful that so brilliant a gentleman should continue distraught,
and he had therefore been moved to take all this trouble.

With this he left the duke and returned home, waiting there
for the other that was to follow. Thus it was the duke had the
chance to play this jest, such was his joy in the concerns of the
roving twain. He sent out servants far and near ahorse and afoot
to patrol the roads by which Don Quijote might return and to
bring him, if captured, willingly or by force to the castle. They
were successful and sent word to the duke who, with his plans
well-laid, ordered the lamps and torches in the court lighted and
Altisidora ascend to her tomb, with all the other devices, so
natural and well-contrived that 'twixt them and reality was
small space. But Gid Hamet adds that he peronally considers
the tricksters as mad as the tricked and not two fingers' breadth
from appearing fools in making fools of real ones.

Upon them, the one lost in sound sleep, the other in unbridled
fancies, the day fell and upon the latter the desire to rise, for
victor or vanquished him the downy couched ne'er pleased. The
wench Altisidora, who in the opinion of her chosen knight had
been restored to life, following the humour of her lord and lady,
crowned with the same garland she had worn on the tomb and
clad in a gown of white taffeta flowered with gold, her hair loose
upon her shoulders and herself leaning on a staff of finest ebony,
entered the chamber of her beloved. Excited and confused he
tucked himself almost out of sight beneath sheets and quilts,
tongue-tied and unable to offer any courtesy. The damsel sat
herself on a chair near the bed's head and heaving a deep sigh
in a faint voice and feeble thus began : ' When ladies of quality
and modest girls trample honour under foot and let the tongue
break down every obstacle, revealing to the world the secrets of
the heart, they certainly are far gone. I, Senor Don Quijote de
La Mancha, am one of these : caught, conquered and in love, yet
virtuous and enduring, wherefore my soul burst through my
silence and I lost my life. Two days, from brooding on the
rigour of your treatment, O heart harder than marble to my

662 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

plaints, stony knight, have I been dead or at least so deemed by
all that beheld me, and were it not that Love out of compassion
set my release in the sufferings of this good squire, there in the
other world I should have continued. '

' Love might well have placed it in the sufferings of my Dapple,'
said Sancho, ' for I should have thanked him for it. But tell me,
lady, and may Heaven grant you a softer lover than my master,
what did you see in t'other world ? what is going on down in
hell, for she that dies in despair, that must be her tavern.' ' To tell
the truth I couln't have died outright for I didn't get inside hell,
and had I, verily I couldn't have got out again had I wished. The
truth is that I arrived at the gate, where some half-dozen demons
were playing tennis, all in breeches and waistcoats, their collars
trimmed with Flemish lace and ruffles of the same used as cuffs
that left four finger-breaths of arm exposed, to give the effect
of long hands, in which they held rackets of fire. But what most
struck me was that in place of balls they used books that seemed
puffed with wind and nonsense — a thing wonderful to behold.
Still more was I amazed to see that, whereas winners in a game
are usually happy and losers sad, down there everybody grum-
bled and snarled and called names.' 'No,' said Sancho, ' that
isn't to be wondered at, for devils, game or no game, win or no
win, are never satisfied. '

' So must it be, ' agreed the girl ; ' but there's still another
thing that surprises me or did then, and this was that with the
first the ball was of no further service, and the way they chewed
up books old and new was a marvel. To one in particular they
gave such a fillip that, brand-new and finely bound though it
was, out came its guts and the leaves went flying. One devil said
to another : ' What book is that ? ' and his friend replied : ' The
Second Part of Don Quijote de la Mancha, not the one by Cid
Hamet its first author but that by an Aragonese, claiming Tor-
desillas as his birth-place. ' ' Clear it out then, ' said the other;
' drop it in the bottom of the abyss that mine eyes may never
see it more.' ' Is it so bad?' ' So bad that if I tried mine utmost
to make it worse, I should fail. ' The game went on with other
books for balls, but this particular vision I took care should

IjXX leaving the castle 663

abide with me, since then I heard the name of him I love and
adore. ' ' A vision it must have been, ' said the knight, ' for
there's no other I in the world. That history up here too is
bandied about from hand to hand and stays in none for all give
it the foot. It matters naught to me to hear that I go like a phantom
through the shades of hell or amid the brightness of the earth,
since I am not he of whom this history treats. Were it a good
one, faithful and true, 'twould live for ages, but being false, from
birth to burial 'twill be a short road. '

Altisidora was about to continue her complaint of Don Quijote
when the other said : ' Oft have I told thee, lady, that it distresses
me you should have set your thoughts upon me, since mine can
only ackowledge and not cure them. I was born to be Dulcin-
ea's : the fates, if such there be, dedicated me to her. To think
that another beauty will replace her in my soul is to think topsy-
turvy. Sufficient plain-speaking this for you to withdraw within
the bounds of your modesty, since no man can be forced to do
the impossible. ' Altisidora, considerably vexed apparently,
exclaimed : ' God's life, Don Poor-Jack, soul of a brass mortar,
you date-stone, more dumb and unmoved than a questioned
peasant when taking aim at a mark ! if I get at you, I'll tear your
eyes out. Think you perchance, don vanquished and don cud-
gelled, that I really died for you? All that you witnessed last
evening was pretence : I am no woman to let myself, for such
camels, grieve the black of my nail — much less die. ' ' I believe
you, ' said Sancho, ' for this dying for lovers is all poppycock.
Easily can they say they will, but as for doing it — believe it,
Judas. '

There now entered the singer and poet that had sung the two
verses the night before, who making a low bow to Don Quijote
said : ' May your worship, sir knight, count and keep me in the
number of your greatest servants ; 'tis many days I've been
drawn to you, as well by your fame as your achievement. ' The
other returned : ' Prithee tell me whom I have the pleasure of
addressing, that my courtesy may correspond to your deserts. '
The youth then told him he was the musician and panegyrist that
sang beneath the tomb. ' Indeed,' said the knight, ' your worship

664 DON QCIJOTE DE LA. MANCHA II

has a wonderful voice, but what you sang didn't seem to me very
pertinent ; what had those stanzas of Garcilaso to do with this
lady's death ? ' ' Don't worry about that, ' was the answer, ' for
with the unshorn poets of our age 'tis the fashion to write each as
he pleases and steal from whom he will, to the point or not, and
every stupidity sung or scribbled is attributed to poetic license. '

Don Quijote was about to reply but was prevented by a call
from the duke and duchess, with whom passed a long and pleas-
ant conversation, wherein Sancho said so many sharp and witty
things that his listeners wondered afresh first at his simplicity
then at his shrewdness. The knight asked leave to depart that
day, since to vanquished errants like himself a pigsty were more
suitable than a palace ; and this request they conceded. The
duchess enquired whether or no Altisidora was still in his good
graces ; to which he answered : ' Madam, let your ladyship
realise that all this damsel's trouble springs from idleness, whose
antidote is virtuous and constant employment. She has been
saying to me that they wear lace in hell ; since she surely knows
how to make it, let it never leave her hands. While engaged in
making her bobbins dance, the image or images of her fancy will
not dance before her mind. This is the truth, this my view of the
matter and this my advice. '

' And mine ' said Sancho, ' for in all my life I've never seen a
lace-maker die from love : girls at work think more of getting it
done than of cooing. I speak from myself, for while digging in
the fields I quite forget the old woman, I mean my Teresa Panza,
whom I love better than mine eyelids. ' ' You say well, Sancho,'
approved the duchess, ' and I'll see to it that my Altisidora
busies herself hereafter in some kind of needlework, which she
does to perfection. ' ' There's no need of a remedy, ' interposed
the damsel, ' for the memory of this vagabond's cruelty will blot,
him from my thoughts. And now with your grace's permission
I would leave, that I may no longer behold, not his sorry
aspect, but his ugly, abominable countenance. ' And the duke
said : ' This suggests the common saying. He that insults is near
to forgive. ' The maid pretended to wipe away tears with a
kerchief and making obeisance to her lord and mistress left the

liXXI SANCHO'S PENANCE 665

room. ' Ill-luck I promise thee, poor girl, ' said Sancho, ' ill-luck
I promise thee, for thou hast to do with a soul of a reed and
heart of oak. I' faith had thou to do with me, another cock
would crow for thee. ' Their talk came lo an end, Don Quijote
dressed, dined with his hosts, and knight and squire sallied
from the castle.

CHAPTER LXXI
On their way to their native-village

UTTERLY sad on the one hand and almost jubilant on the
other the vanquished and wayworn Don Quijote rode along.
His defeat caused his sorrow, and the thought of Sancho's
potency, as revealed in the resurrection of Altisidora, occasioned
his joy, though it had been a struggle to persuade himself that
the enamoured maid had been dead indeed. Sancho was cheerful
neither way, for he grieved to find that the girl had not kept her
word with regard to the smocks. With this thought running to
and fro in his mind he said to his master : ' Of a truth, senor,
I am the most unlucky doctor in the world, in which are physi-
cians that expect to be paid for treating a sick man whom they
killed, when all their trouble was to sign a scrap of paper for
some medicines, which not they but the apothecaries make, and
lo ! 'tis done. But to me, whom another's cure costs drops of
blood, slaps in the face, pinchings, pin-pricks and lashes, they
don't give a copper. I swear then that if they put another patient
into my hands, they must grease them before I cure him, for the
abbot dines by what he sings, and I cannot persuade myself that
Heaven has lent me this virtue that I should be giving it away
free gratis for nothing. '

' You are right, Sancho friend, and Altisidora has done ill in
omitting to give the promised smocks, though your virtue was
given without cost or study, save how to receive torturings. For
myself I can say that should you desire reimbursement for
Dulcinea's disenchantment, I'll stand for what's fair, though not

666 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MAXCHA II

sure that the paying will mix well with the curing and I shouldn't
wish the meed to counteract the medicine. However, methinks
there's no harm in trying. See, boy, how much you ask, and
strike away. You have the money, so count the sum out and pay
with your own hand. ' At this Sancho opened his eyes and ears
a palm wide and in his heart consented to a sound thrashing.
' Well now, senor, I'm willing to suit myself to your pleasure
in what you wish for my profit, for the love I bear my children
and my wife makes me seem interested. Let your worship say
how much you'll give for each lash. ' ' Were I to pay in accord-
ance with the greatness and quality of the remedy, the treasures
of Venice, the mines of Potosi, were little for your recompense.
Look and see how much you have of mine and put a price on
each stroke. '

' As to the strokes,' said Sancho, ' there are three thousand
three hundred and so many : I have given some five, the rest
remain. Let these five count as the odd ones and let us get down
to just the three thousand three hundred, which at a quarter-real
apiece, and I won't take less though all the world bid, amount
to three thousand three hundred quarter-reals. Now the three
thousand make one thousand five hundred half-reals or seven
hundred and fifty reals ; and the three hundred make one hundred
and fifty half-reals or seventy-five reals, and these with the seven
hundred and fifty make in all eight hundred and twenty-five
reals. These I will disburse from what I have of your worship and
enter mine house rich and content, and though well whipped,
trout are not caught — I say no more. ' ' O blessed Sancho, O
amiable squire ! and how bounden shall we be, Dulcinea and I,
to serve you all the days Heaven may grant us. If she return to
her lost state (and 'tis impossible that she shouldn't), her misfor-
tune will be turned to joy and my defeat to happy triumph. Tell
me, son, when will you begin this scourging, for provided you
hasten it, I'll add a hundred reals ?' ' This night without fail, '
replied the other ; ' see that we spend it in the open beneath the
unclouded sky and I'll lay open my flesh. '

It seemed to Don Quijote that the day lingered more than
usual, to his great unrest, for he feared lest the wheels of Apol-

IjXXI sancho's penance 667

lo's chariot had broken — even as lovers fear, who never can
adjust time to their desires. But night came at last and the pair
entered beneath some pleasant trees that stood a little from the
road. Emptying Rocinante's saddle and Dapple's pannel they
reclined upon the green grass and supped of Sancho's stores,
till the squire, making a strong and flexible scourge of Dapple's
halter and headstall, retired amid some beech-trees some twenty
paces from his master. Seeing him step off" lively, the other said :
' Take care, friend, lest you lash yourself to pieces ; allow
plenty of room 'twixt the strokes ; don't hurry so much at the
beginning of the course that your breath will give out in the
middle. In other words don't lay on so vigorously that your life
will fail you before the full number is told. I'll count the strokes
on my rosary here that you may not lose by a card too much or
too little, and may Heaven favour you, as your good purpose
deserves ! ' ' Pledges never worry a good paymaster. I mean to
scourge me in a manner to hurt without harming, for surely
therein abides the essence of this miracle. '

With this he stripped to the waist and seizing the lash com-
menced the laying on and his master the counting. He had
administered six or eight ropings when the joke seemed to him
too costly and the price he was charging too cheap. So he mod-
erated his zeal and said to his master that he appealed against a
fraud, for every stroke was worth a half-real, not a quarter.
' Proceed, Sancho friend, faint not, for I'll double the stake. '
' 'Tis in God's hands then and let Him rain lashes ; ' but the
rogue took them from his back and let the trees have a taste,
groaning now and then as though his soul were being uprooted
with every stroke. His master was so tender that, fearful lest
Sancho end his life and his own desire be left high and dry, he
called to him : ' On your life, friend, let the business rest, for the
medicine seems bitter to me and 'twill be well to take it at
intervals only ; Zamora wasn't captured in an hour. If I haven't
miscounted, you have already received a thousand strokes, which
will suffice for the present. To use a homespun phrase, the ass
bears the load but not the overload. '

' Nay, master, it must not be said of me, Money given, arms

668 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANGHA II

riven ; stand apart a little while more that I may give myself at
least another thousand, and then in tvv^o bouts we shall have
finished with the lot, and cloth to spare. ' ' Since you find your-
self in pliant mood, ' said the other, ' Heaven help you and flog
away, for I am not near. ' Sancho returned to his task with such
good-will that many a tree lost its bark, but finally and just
before smiting a beech with one fell blow he cried : ' Here
Samson shall die and all that are with him. ' The knight ran to
his rescue and seizing the twisted courbash exclaimed : ' Fate
doesn't permit, O Sancho my friend, that for my pleasure you
should lose the life whereby your wife and children are sustained.
Let her of el Toboso await a better opportunity and I shall keep
within the limits of my present hope, waiting till fresh power
come to you whereby to conclude this business to the satisfaction
of all. ' ' Since your worship wills.it,' replied Sancho, 'be it
so, and fling your cloak over these shoulders, for I am sweating
and would not get a chill — a danger all we novitiates run. '

Remaining in his doublet the master covered the servant, who
slept till the sun awakened him. Then then pursued their jour-
ney, to which a temporary end was given in a village three
leagues on. They alighted at a tavern, recognised as such by Don
Qaijote, and not as a castle with moat, turrets, portcullises and
drawbridge for, since his overthrow, he had shown clearer
judgment in all things, as will now be seen. They lodged him
in a lower room, round which there served for leather hangings
some old painted serges, as is the fashion in small country-
villages. On one was depicted by a vile hand the rape of Helen
at the very moment when his bold guest stole her from Mene-
laus, and on another the story of Dido and Aeneas — she upon a
high tower making signal with half a bed-sheet to her fugitive
lover who was flying over sea in a frigate or brigantine. In the
first picture it was noticeable that Helen fled with no very ill
grace, for she was smiling to herself on the sly. The fair Dido on
the other hand dropped tears the size of walnuts.

On seeing the tapestries Don Quijote remarked : 'These two
ladies were most unfortunate in that they were not born in the
present age, and I unhappy above all in not having been born in

LXXI SANCHO'S PENANCE 669

theirs, for had I met with these gentlemen, Troy would never
have been burned nor Carthage destroyed — the slaying of Paris
would have forestalled these catastrophes.' ' I'll wager,' said his
squire, ' that ere long there won't be wine-stall, tavern or
barber-shop without the pictorial history of our doings. But I
trust they'll be painted by a better dabster than the hand that
did these. ' ' I could wish so too, ' said the other, ' for this
artist reminds me of the Ubedan painter, Orbaneja, who when
asked what he painted replied, Whatever it turns out. If perchance
he painted a cock, he wrote below. This is a cock — lest it
be taken for a she-fox. Of this sort methinks was the painter or
writer, for it's all one, that composed the new Don Quijote,
painting or writing whatever might turn out. Or he may be
likened to a poet named Mauleon, who flourished some years
ago at the capital, who was wont to answer any question off-hand
and without thinking. This fellow, when asked once what Deum
de Deo meant, replied : ' De donde diere (let him hit where he
will). ' But leaving this aside, tell me, my son, whether or no
you think to administer another dressing to-night, and whether
you wish it under cover or the open sky. '

' Egad, sire, what I think to give me may be given in house
or field. Yet I seen to prefer that it be amid trees, which keep
me company and wonderfully help to bear the pain. ' ' Indeed
this must not be, Sancho friend ; you must get new strength.
We'll reserve the rest till we reach our village, which will be
the day after to-morrow at the latest.' Sancho replied he would
suit the other's pleasure ; personally he'ld like to give brief end
to that business while the blood was hot and the mill agrind.
' Danger lurks in delay, master, and pray to God and ply the
hammer, for one take is better than two I'U-give-thees, and a
sparrow in the hand than a vulture flying. ' ' No more, by the
only God ! I fear you are returning to. As it was in the beginning.
Speak plainly and simply, as many times I have bid, and you'll
see how one loaf is as good as a hundred. ' ' I can't make out
what bad luck this is of mine, but I cannot speak sense without
a proverb or a proverb that doesn't seem to me sense. But I'll
do better if I can ; ' and with this their colloquy ended.

670 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER LXXII
Don Quijote and Saucho arrive at their village

ALL that day the pair remained at this village and inn,
awaiting the night, Sancho that he might finish his count
in the open country and Don Quijote that he might see it
finished, since it meant the fulfilment of his desire. In the mean-
time arrived at the tavern a traveller with three or four servants,
one of whom said to his master : ' Seiior Don Alvaro Tarfe,
your worship may pass the siesta here, for the place seems clean
and cool. ' On hearing this Don Quijote said to his squire :
' Look, Sancho : when I turned the leaves of the false second
part of my history, methinks I chanced upon this name of Don
Alvaro Tarfe. ' ' That might easily be, ' replied Sancho ; ' let him
aUght and we will question him. ' The gentleman dismounted and
the innmistress gave him a lower room with painted serges like
that of our knight and opposite to him. The gentleman put on a
light summer suit and coming out onto the large and airy tavern-
porch, where Quijote was pacing up and down, he said to him :
' Whither is your worship travelling, sir ? ' And the other
replied : ' To a village not far away, whereof I am a native ; and
you ? ' ' To Granada, my fatherland. ' ' And a good one, ' said
the knight ; ' but out of courtesy tell me your name, for methinks
it concerns me to know it more than I can easily say. ' ' Don
Alvaro Tarfe, ' replied the traveller.

' Surely then, ' returned Don Quijote, ' you are the gentleman
of that name figuring in the second part of the History of Don
Quijote de la Mancha, recently printed and published by a
modern author. ' ' I am, ' said the other, ' and that Don Quijote
was one of my greatest friends. I was the one that drew him from
home or at least moved him to come to the jousts at Saragossa,
whither I was going. Indeed I did him many a friendly turn
and saved him from getting his shoulders slapped by the hangman
for his foolhardiness. ' ' And tell me, sir, do I look at all like

LlXXII THE DECLARATION 671

this Don Quijote?' ' Not in the least. ' ' And this Don Quijote,
did he have for a squire one Sancho Panza ? ' ' Yes, but though
the fellow had the reputation of a wit, I never heard him say
anything to justify it. '

' That I can easily believe, ' broke in Sancho. ' for to be witty
is not for all, and this Sancho your worship speaks of must be a
rascal, thief and booby in one, for the true Sancho Panza is I that
have more humours than are rained. If not, let your worship
make a test and walk behind me for just a year, and you'll find
that they drop from me at every step, such and so many, that
usually without my knowing why everybody laughs. And the
true Don Quijote, the famous, the valiant, the wise, the enam-
oured, the righter of wrongs, the guardian of minors and orphans,
the bulwark of widows, the slayer of damsels, he that has for
his sole mistress Ihe peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, is my master,
this gentleman before you. Every other Don Quijote and every
other Sancho Panza is a delusion and a dream. ' ' 'Fore God I
believe it, ' replied Don Alvaro, ' for in few words you have
shown more sense than the other Panza ever spoke in my hear-
ing. He was more the glutton than the good talker and more the
witless than the wag, and I haven't a doubt that the enchanter-
persecutors of the good Don Quijote have tried to persecute
me with the bad one. But I know not what to say, for I dare
take an oath that I left him confined in the Nuncio's house in
Toledo for treatment, yet here appears another Quijote and a
very different one. '

' I,' began our own, ' am not certain that I am good, but I can
say that I am not the bad one. As proof of this, your worship
should know that in all the days of my life I have never seet foot in
Saragossa. Having heard that this fictitious Quijote had appeared
at the jousts there, I refused to enter, that I might proclaim his
lie to the face of the world. Instead I went openly to Barcelona,
that treasure-house of courtesy, asylum of strangers, hospital of
the poor, fatherland of the brave, avenger of the injured and
and pleasant garner of firm friendships, in site and beauty une-
qualled. And though affairs there didn't turn out to my pleasure,
to my great sorrow rather, without it I suffer them because

672 DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA "

her have I seen. In a word, Seiior Don Alvaro Tarfe, I am Don
Quijote de La Mancha of whom fame reports, and not that
chicken-hearted fool that has tried to usurp my name and honour
himself with my thoughts. And I pray your worship as a gen-
tleman, that it please you to declare before the mayor of this
place that this is the first time your worship has seen me and
that I am not the Don Quijote of the false second part, nor this
Sancho Panza my squire the one your worship knew. '

' This I shall be only too willing to do, ' replied Don Alvaro,
' though it confuses me to have met with two Quijotes and two
Sancho Panzas alike in names, so different in actions. But again
I say and swear I have not seen what I have seen, nor experienced
what I have experienced.' ' No doubt your worship is enchanted
like myladyDulcinea del Toboso,' suggested Sancho, ' andwould
to Heaven your restoration lay in my giving myself three thou-
sand and odd lashes like those I am giving for her, for you could
have them without interest. ' ' I don't understand about these
lashes.' Sancho replied that it was a long story but that he would
tell it in case they went the same road.

The dinner-hour had now arrived and the two gentlemen ate
together. There chanced to enter the tavern the mayor of the
village with a notary and before him Don Quijote laid a petition
to the effect that his rights demanded that Don Alvaro Tarfe, the
gentleman there present, should declare before his honour that
he was not acquainted with Don Quijote de La Mancha, also
present, and that he was not the one figuring in a history enti-
tled : Second Part of Don Quijote de La Mancha, composed by a
certain Avellaneda, native of Tordesillas. The mayor thereupon
disposed of the matter judicially and the statement was drawn
up with all neded formalities. Don Quijote and Sancho rejoiced
at this declaration, as though the difference 'twixt the two Qui-
jotes and Panzas were not made plain by their own acts and
words. Many courtesies and proffers of service passed between
Don Alvaro and our knight, in which the great Manchegan
showed his sanity by ridding Don Alvaro of his error in thinking
he must be enchanted when he could touch with his hand two
such unlike men of the same name. Evening come they set out

LXXII THE DECLARATION 673

on their road, the same for a matter of half a league. In this
short space Don Quijote told the other of the disgrace of his
overthrow, and of the enchantment and treatment of Dulcinea,
which moved new wonder in Don Alvaro, who now embracing
master and squire separated from them.

That night they passed amid some trees that Sancho might
have opportunity to fulfil his penence, which he accomplished
in the same manner as on the previous night at the cost of the
barks of beech-trees, tougher than his shoulders, of which he
took such care that the lashes wouldn't have disturbed a fly, had
one been there. The deceived master lost not a stroke of the
count, which with those of the night before came to three thou-
sand and twenty-nine. The sun appears to have risen early to
witness this sacrifice, and by its light they continued their journey,
conversing of Don Alvaro's mistake and what a lucky idea it was
to take his declaration before justice and so authentically. That
day and that night they pushed on with naught befalling them
worth relating, save that Sancho finished his tally. At this Don
Quijote was jubilant beyond measure, waitning for the dawn to
show him the now disenchanted Dulcinea somewhere on the
road. Every woman they met as they travelled along he rode
up to see were she the one, considering that Merlin's promises
could not fail.

In these thoughts and desires they mounted a hill from whose
crest they beheld their village lying below, and Sancho, catching
sight of it, was on his knees saying : ' O my longed-for native
country, open thine eyes and behold to thee returning thy son
Sancho Panza, covered with lashes if not with gold. Open thine
arms and receive likewise thy son Don Quijote, who comes,
though conquered by another, triumphant over himself, and
this he tells me is of all victories the most to be desired. Money
I bring ; if they gave me many lashes, I had a good mount. '
' Enough of this nonsense, ' said his master, ' and let us descend
with right foot foremost into our village, where we shall give
reign to our fancies and our sclieme of the pastoral life. ' With
this they descended toward the town.

43

674 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER LXXIII

The omens Don Quijote met with on entering his native

village, together with other passages that adorn and

accredit this great history

GiD Hamet says that as Don Quijote approached the village,
two boys were quarreling on her threshing-floor, and one
was saying to the other : ' Don't wear yourself out, Periquillo,
for you'll never see it in all the days of your live. ' The knight
overheard this and said to his squire : ' Did you notice, friend,
what that urchin said? ' ' Well, and what of it ? ' ' What, do you
not see that it means I am not to see Dulcinea more ? ' Sancho
was about to reply when he was prevented by the sight of a
hare that, fleeing before many dogs and hunters, came to take
shelter beneath the feet of Dapple. Picking it up safe in his
hands, Sancho presented it to his master, who was saying :
' Malum signum, malum signum : hare flees, hounds pursue her,
all's over with Dulcinea. ' ' My, but you're a queer one, ' said
the squire ; ' suppose this hare then is Dulcinea and these hounds
the cut-throat enchanters that transformed her ; she flees, I pick
her up and hand her to your worship who hold her in your arms
and caress her. What bad token is this or what evil omen can
be here?'

The urchins now came to get a look at the hare and Sancho
asked what their quarrel was about. The one whose words they
had overheard answered that he had snatched from the other a
cage of crickets which he didn't mean to restore in all his life.
Producing four quarter-reals, Sancho gave them to the boy for
the cage, which he then put in his master's hands saying : ' Here
are your omens, sire, broken and worthless, and though a fool
methinks they have no more to do with our affairs than last year's
clouds. If my memory serve me, I've heard our village-priest
say 'twas not the part of wise and Christian beings to regard
these mummeries. Indeed you yourself told me the other day

IjXXIII the omens 673

that all those Christians that looked to signs were asses. But
there's no need to make a fuss ; let us on and to our village. '
The hunters coming up asked for their hare, which the knight
accordingly restored.

As they neared the entrance to the town, *hey found the priest
and the bachelor in a little meadow praying. Now Sancho had
thrown the buckram fiery robe over his^asNby way of sumpter-
cloth and on the beast's head had fitted the mitre — the most
novel transformation and adornment ever ass experienced in the
world. Their friends immediately recognised them however and
came with open arms to greet them. Don Quijote dismounted
and embraced them warmly, and the small boys, lynxes whom
naught escapes, seeing the mitre on Dapple, ran to get a nearer
view, calling to others : ' Gome, fellows, and see Sancho Panza's
ass, gayer than Mingo, and Don Quijote's nag leaner than ever. '
And so, surrounded by urchins and attended by priest and
bachelor, entering the town they went straight to Don Quijote's
house, at whose door they found niece and housekeeper, the
news of their coming having preceeded them.

It likewise had reached the ears of Teresa Panza, and she,
dishevelled and half-naked, holding Sanchica by the hand
hastened to meet her husband, and finding him not so far
advanced as she had been thinking a governor should be, said :
• How come you thus, husband dear ? methinks you come
afoot and foundered, more like a gadabout than a governor. '
' Tut, tut, Teresa, for many times where are hooks are no
flitches. But let us go home, where you shall hear marvels.
Money I bring, which is what counts, earned by my diligence
and to no one's hurt. ' ' Fetch it along, my good husband, for
be it earned by this or by that, you won't have set a new
fashion in the world. ' Sanchica embraced her father, asking him
did he bring her anything, for she had been longing for him like
rain in May. And seizing his girdle on one side and the wife the
other hand, they marched off home, the daughter leading the
ass.

Considering neither time nor season, Don Quijote at once
closeted himself with the bachelor and priest, and in few words

676 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

told them of his overthrow and the vow he had taken not to
leave his village under a year, which oath, as became a knight-
errant, he meant to keep to the letter, not trespassing upon it
one tittle, bound by the rigourous rule of his order. He purposed
to fill this interval by turning shepherd and diverting himself in
the solitude of the fields where he could give range to his amorous
thoughts, busying himself with the virtuous pastoral life. And
he prayed them, were they free, to accompany him, since he
would buy ewes and stock sufficient to entitle them to the name
of shepherds. He gave them to understand as well that the
main part of the affair had been attended to — he had already
assigned them names that fitted them like gloves. The priest
asked what they were. The shepherd Quijotiz was his own ; the
bachelor was to be called Garrascon, the priest Curiambro and
Sancho the shepherd Pancino.

Both were dumfounded by this new fondness of their friend,
but that he might not again range about on his chivalries, and
trusting that one year would work his cure, they stamped his
folly wisdom and offered themselves as companions in the enter-
prise. ' The more, ' said Samson, ' in that I am a famous poet,
as all the world knows, and at every step I shall be composing
pastoral or courtly verses, as may best suit our aim, that we
may divert ourselves off there in the wildwood. But our greatest
need, gentlemen, is that each select the shepherdess he means to
celebrate, that he may not leave a tree however hard ungraven
with her name, after the manner and usage of enamoured
shepherds. '

' There you've hit it,' cried Don Quijote, ' I myself need not
look for an imaginary shepherdess, when I have at Hand the
peerless Dulcinea, glory of these river-banks, ornament of these
meads, prop of beauty, cream of graces, in short the object
whereon all praise may rest, hyperbole though it be. ' ' True, '
said the priest, ' and for ourselves, we shall look for some tract-
able shepherdesses hereabouts, whom, if they don't square with
us, we may corner.' And Samson Garrasco added : ' And should
these be wanting, we'll chose names from those already in vogue
in books whereof the world is full : Filidas, Amaryllises, Dianas,

liXXIII THE OMENS 677

Fleridas, Galateas and Belisardas, whom, as they are sold in
the market-place, we can buy and keep for our own. If my lady,
or to speak more correctly, my shepherdess, be called Anna, I'll
celebrate her under the name Anarda, and if Francisca, Francenia
will hit it off; it Lucia, Lucinda, for so it goes. Sancho Panza,
if he enter our fraternity, can celebrate his wife as Teresaina ; '
which application brought a smile to Don Quijote's face. The
priest showered praises on his virtuous and honourable resolve
and again offered to bear him company such times as he was free
from imperative calls. And with this his friends left him, advising
and begging that he look to his health, eating only what was
wholesome.

Fate willed that the niece and housekeeper overheard this
converse of the three, so no sooner were they with their master
than the niece said : ' What is this, dear uncle ? when we were
thinking you would settle at home and live a quiet and decent
life, would you fall into new labyrinths, turning yourself into,
Gentle shepherd, thou that goest ; Gentle shepherd, thou that
comest ? Indeed the straw is too old to make pipes of. ' And to
this the housekeeper added : ' And out there in the fields will
your worship be able to stand the hot afternoons of summer, the
night-dews of winter and the howling of the wolves ? Nay, surely
not, since this is the calling and office of robust men, reared and
trained thereto almost from swaddling-clothes. Indeed, evil for
evil, better knight-errant than shepherd. See here, master, heed
my advice, not given on a stomach filled with bread and wine,
but on fasting and more than fifty years of age. It is that you
abide at home, look to your estate, confess often and help the
poor. I'hen if ill betide you, on my soul let it rest. '

' Peace, children, for I know well where I stand. Bring me to
my bed, for I seem not strong. But be assured that whether
errant knight or wandering shepherd I shall not cease to attend
to your needs, as you'll find in the testament. ' The good chidren
(for children they were) carried him to bed, where they gave
him to eat and did all that was possible for his comfort.

678 DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA II

CHAPTER LXXIV

Of how Don Quijote fell ill, of the testament he made

and his death

As nothing human lasts for ever, all things declining from
tiieir first term to their last, in particular tlie lives of men,
and as Don Quijote's had no heavenly privilege to stay its course,
it's end and fulfilment came and when least he expected. Whether
it was from the sorrow of his downfall or the deposition of
Heaven, he contracted a fever that kept him in bed six days,
during which time he was frequently visited by his friends the
priest, bachelor, and barber, nor did once quit his bedside
Sancho Panza his faithful squire. His friends, thinking his sense
of defeat and the miscarriage of his desire anent Dulcinea's dis-
enchantment kept him there, did all they could for his cheer,
the bachelor urging that he bestir himself and rise that they
might enter upon their pastoral calling, for he had already com-
posed an eclogue that put all Sannazaro's to shame. Moreover,
on his own account, he had bought two famous dogs to guard
the fold, Barcino and Butron, sold him by a drover of Quintanar.
But not for all this did our knight cast his melancholy, and
his friends called in the doctor, who, taking his pulse, didn't like
the beat of it, saying he should look to the welfare of his soul
for that of his body was in jeopardy. Don Quijote heard him
in calmness ; not so the housekeeper, niece and squire who wept
as if he already lay dead before them. The leech gave as his
opinion that grief and dejection were hastening his end. The
knight prayed them to depart for he would rest a little. They
yielded and he slept more than six hours at a stretch as the
saying is, till the women feared he might abide in that dream.
At the end he wakened, crying in loud voice : ' Blessed be
Almighty God that has done me this great good ! Verily his
mercies are limitless, nor checked nor shortened by the sins
of men. '

liXXIV DISILLUSION AND DISSOLUTION 679

The niece overheard these words, and as they sounded more
rational than he was wont to utter, during his illness at least,
she questioned him : ' what is it you say, uncle? have we some-
thing new ? what mercies or what sins of men are these ? ' ' The
mercies, niece, are those God at this moment has shown toward
me, nor are they lessened by my sins, as I say. For my mind is
now clear, free from the dismal shadows of ignorance wherein
my incessant and disastrous reading in the detestable books of
chivalry enshrouded me. Now I see their folly and fraud, and my
sole regret is that this disillusion has come too late to permit my
reading other books that might prove the light of my soul. I feel
that I am at the point of death and I could wish so to meet it that
my life may not be judged bad enough to gain me the sobriquet,
madman, for though one I have been, I would that my death
belie it. Summon my good friends the priest, the bachelor and
Master Nicholas the barber, for I wish to confess and make my
will. ' But the niece was spared this by the entrance of the three,
on seeing whom Don Quijote cried :

' Good news, my friends, good news ! no longer do you behold
Don Quijote de la Mancha, but Alonso Quixano, whose manners
earned him the epithet, the good. Now am I the foe of Amadis
of Gaul and his infinite progeny. Now are all the profane books
of chivalry hateful to me, for now I know my folly and the peril
they placed me in. Now, schooled in my right senses, do I abhor
them ! ' On hearing this the three thought some new perversion
had seized him, and Samson said : ' Just when we have heard
Dulcinea is disenchanted, do you come forth with this ? And
when we were on the point of turning shepherds, passing our
lives in song like princes, would you make yourself a hermit ?
Tut, tut, on your life. Gome back again and leave these fairy
.tales. ' ' Those that till now, ' replied the other, ' have been true
ones to me to my damage, my death with the help of Heaven
shall turn to my profit. I feel that at post-haste I am dying,
gentlemen, so, jesting aside, summon a confessor to confess me
and a notary to draw up my will, for in straits like this a man
mustn't trifle with his soul. While senor priest confesses me,
prithee let them go for a scrivener. '

680 DON QUIJOTE DB LA MANCHA

II

Amazed they looked at one another, but, though doubting
these words, they were yet inclined to believe them. One of the
signs that led them to think he was dying was the ease where-
with he turned from mad to sane. And to the words above he
added so many more, so well-spoken, so Christian and so sensible
that in the end they were convinced of his restoration. The priest
made the others leave the room : he alone received his confession.
The bachelor went for the notary and soon returned with him
and Sancho Panza, who having already heard from the bachelor
of his master's state and finding the niece and housekeeper in
tears, burst into blubbering. The confession was now over and
the priest came out saying : ' Truly he is dying and truly is he
sane. All must enter that he may make his will. '

This news came with sudden impact on the swollen eyes of
housekeeper, niece and Sancho Panza his good squire, who now
poured forth the tears in floods with a thousand sobs from the
breast, for verily, as has been said once before, whether plain
Alonso Quixano the good or Don Quijote, knight-errant of La
Mancha, his was ever a gentle nature and loveable way, and he
numbered all that knew him as friends. The notary entered with
the others and having drawn up the preamble of the will,
wherein the knight ordered his soul with all the requisite Christ-
ian circumstances, coming to the bequests, he was told to write :
' Item : 'tis my will that of certain inonies in the possession of
Sancho Panza, whojt 1 in my madness made my squire, inas-
much as between us are certain outstanding accounts, I would
that no reckoning be taken thereof, but that if aught remain after
what I owe him has been paid, it shall be his, which little may
it do him good. And if I, while mad, was party to giving him the
government of an isle, being sane I would if I could give him
that of a kingdom, for the simplicity of his nature and the fidelity
of his services deserve no less. '

And turning he said to Sancho : ' Forgive me, friend, that I
gave thee occasion to appear like myself, making thee fail into
mine own error of believing there were and are knights-errant in
the world. ' ' Ah, sir, ' replied the other weeping, ' don't die,
master mine, but take my advice which is to live many years.

LXXIV DISILLUSION AND DISSOLUTION 681

for the maddest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself
die off-hand without anyone's killing him, nor other weapon
working his end than that of melancholy. Don't be slothful,
senor, but rise from this bed and we'll off to the country like
shepherds, as we agreed. Maybe we'll find the lady Dulcinea
behind some bush, disenchanted and as fine as you please. And
if you be dying from grief at your overthrow, lay the blame on
me, saying that I girthed Rocinante badly. The more that your
worship in your books of chivalry must have seen that often
knights get the better of others : that he that is vanquished to-day
may be victor to-morrow. ' ' True, ' seconded Samson ; ' the
good Sancho is quite right in these matters. ' ' Slowly, friends, '
said the knight ; ' don't look for birds in last year's nests. Mad I
was but now am I sane — Don Quijote de La Mancha of old but
now again Alonso Quixano the good. May the sincerity of my
repentance restore me to your esteem. And now, seiior notary,
the second clause :

' Item : I bequeathe all my estate, without reserve, to Antonia
Quixana my niece here present, after there have been deducted
certain small bequests. The first such payment I desire to be to
my housekeeper as wages for the period of her service, plus
twenty ducats for a dress. Senor priest and seiior bachelor
Samson Garrasco here present I leave as my executors. Item :
'tis my will, should Antonia Quixana my niece wish to marry,
that she wed a man of whom it has first been ascertained that
he's ignorant of works of chivalry. Should it be proven that he
knows them and my niece persist in marrying him, she shall
forfeit this my bequest and my executors shall distribute the same
in pious works as they see fit. Item : I pray said gentlemen, if for-
tune make them acquainted with a certain author, said to have
written a history that walks abroad under the title of the Second
Part of the Deeds of Don Quijote de La Mancha, on my behalf
I would that they beseech him as earnestly as may be to pardon
the occasion I unwittingly afforded him of writing so many and
such great enormities, for I leave this life with compunction at
having occasioned them. '

With this he brought the testament to a close and being over-

DON QUIJOTE DB LA MANCHA

II

taken with faintness lay extended at full length upon his ancient
bed, to the great alarm of all, who hastened to his relief. In the
three days following he fainted frequently and the house was
never at rest. Yet the niece ate, the housekeeper drank and
Sancho Panza made merry, for this inheriting blurs or softens
the sense of grief a man may be supposed to leave behind. At
length, after he had received the sacraments and in many and
moving terms heaped further execrations on books of chivalry,
our knight's last hour was at hand. And the scrivener, being
present, attested that in no book of knightly deeds had he read
of an errant that passed away so quietly and like a Christian as
did Don Quijote ; who, amid the tears and compassion of all,
gave up his spirit — died in other words. And the priest bade
the scrivener write a declaration, affirming that Alonso Quixano
the good, commonly called Don Quijote de La Mancha, had
passed naturally from this life, that other authors might not
falsely revive him and scribble interminable narratives of his
deeds.

Such an end had this imaginative gentleman of La Mancha,
whose village Gid Hamet didn't care to specify, that all the towns
and hamlets of that district might contend for the honour and
claim him as their own, even as the seven cities of Greece con-
tended for Homer. The lamentations of Sancho, the niece and
housekeeper are not set down, together with the epitaphs on
his tomb, though here is the one Samson Garrasco placed there :

Here lies a gallant gentleman
Whose boldness to such measure ran
That though at last death laid him low,
Her naught availed his overthrow.

The world he deemed of little worth,
And he the bugbear of the earth,
Her scarecrow. Lo ! his destiny :
Insane to live, and sane to die.

And the considerate Gid Hamet said to his pen : ' Here shalt
thou rest suspended from this rack by copper wire, O my goose-
quill ! whether of skilful or careless cut I know not. Here shalt
thou rest long ages, if rude and presumptuous historians take

IjXXIV disillusion and dissolution 683

thee not down to profane thee. But ere they touch thee, warn
them, saying as best thou canst :

Hands off, hands off, ye infidels !
I must be touched of none.
My worthy monarch, this emprise
Was meant for me alone.

' For me alone was Don Quijote born_and I^one for him. He
knew to act and I to tell. Together we make one, maugre the
fase Tordesillescan scribe that dared or may dare with coarse and
clumsy pen write the deeds of my gallaut hidalgo — no burden
for his shoulders, no subject for his frozen wit. Whom shouldst
thou meet, warn to let lie in his tomb the weary, mouldering
bones of Don Quijote de La Mancha ; nor carry him, against all
canons of death, off to Old Castile, dragging him from the vault
where now he lies with leg outstretched, dead to another sally.
Sufficient to shame the many made by the mobs of errant knights
are the two on which he issued, to the pleasure and delight of
all, both in these and foreign realms. So wilt thou fulfil thy
Christian calling, giving good counsel to one that would work
thee ill. And I shall rest content, proud to have been the first to
jiossess these documents in full ; wherewith my sole desire has
i een to expose to the abomination of mankind the vain and vapid
b3oks of chivaries which, hard pressed by my Don Quijole's
genuine ones, even now stumble and certainly shall fall. Vale. '

&84

DON QUIJOTE DE L,A MANCHA

ADVENTURES

Andres 16-9

balsam 88-90, 98-9

Biscayan 39-47

blanket 91-2

Braytown 414-7

bulls 595-7

car of Death 306-10

cat-and-bell scare 519-21

cave of Montesinos 379-90

corpse 102-7

dolorous duenna 471-96

Dona Rodriguez' night-visit 528-33

dubbing 11-6

Dulcinea's enchantment 297-304

enchanted bark 422-7

friars 39-41

fulling-mills 108-19

galley-slaves 129-38

government of the isle 508, 513-8,
521-8, 535-44, 551-8, 565-70, 580-2
hogs 652-3
inn, 80-93

island-assault 565-70
Knight of the Mirrors 313-32
Knight of the White Moon 636-40
Uons 342-7

Mambrino's helmet 119-23
merchants 19-22
pit, Sancho in the 576-81
puppet-show 404-11
sheep 94-101
Mrindmills 36-7
wine-sacks 196-201
wooden-horse 485-96
Yanguesans 74-80

INCIDENTS

ape 400-4, 413
Arcadia 592-7
Barcelona 615-42, 671-2
beard-washing 442-3, 448-9
books, burning of the 26-32
Camacho's wedding 356-74
Claudia and Don Vicente 607-10
cross-roads 19
curds 340-2
dance 620-1
Dapple found 181
Dapple stolen 148-9, 266, 412
death of Don Quijote 678-82
Dulcinea's disenchantment 460-9
Dulcinea's enchantment 297-304
el Toboso 293-304
enchanted head 618-9, 621-4
enchantment of Don Quijote 208-40
fat man and lean man 644-5
fencing 359-60
galleys 626-34

gold crowns 140-2

hanged men 606

home-coming 673-5

hunt 457-60

images 589-91

lashes 460-9, 490-1, 599, 605, 648,

652, 658, 665-8, 669, 673
omens 674-5

pastoral life 648-50, 675-7
penance 145-70
pin-pricks and pinches 656-8
PrincessMicomicona 167-80, 198-202
printing-house 624-6
raped woman 516-8
robbers 607-15
Rocinante and Dapple 312-3
Sancho's visit with Dulcinea 182-5
squires, talk of the 315-20
stick with crowns inside 515-6
tailor and caps 514-5
will of Don Quijote 680-1

INDEX

685

LETTERS, STORIES, SUBJECTS

arms versus letters 202-7

brayers 397-9

bridge and gallows 552-3

books of chivalry 26-32, 192-5,

215-8, 227-33, 252-4, 335-6, 679-83
Charles V at the Rotonda 290
death, Sancho on 368-9
Don Quijote to Dulcinea 155
Don Quijote to Sancho 554-6
Doiia Rodriguez' husband 532-3 >

559-61
drama 219-22
duchess to Teresa 546-7
enchanted, the 223-6
false second part 601-3, 662-3, 669-

72
fame 289-91
famiUes 279
goats at the river 111-4
golden age 53-4

governing, art of 498-506, 554-5
head of the table 436-7
insult and injury 440-1
knights versus friars 391-3

knights-errant 62-3, 124-8, 185-6,
231-3, 250, 347-9, 351-2, 439

liberty 588-9

madman and pointer 243

madman and cane-tube 243

madman Neptune 247-51

Marcela and Ghrysostom 56-61,
67-73

marriage 357-8, 375-6

poverti^y 510-1

Sancho and his blacks 170-1

Sancho to Don Quijote 556-8

Sancho to Teresa 470-1

sleep, Sancho on 652

stage, the world a 310-1

studies 337-40

talk of the squires 315-20

Teresa to duchess 562-3

Teresa to Sancho 363-4

wages of a squire 35, H8-9, 282-4,
420-1

war 395-6

wine-tasters 320

word-artist's tale 525-8

PERSONS

Don Quijote

Sancho Panza

rocinante

Dapple

Dulcinea

Enchanters

Altisidora 511-12, 519, 587-8, 591-2,

655-65
Ambrosio 56-61, 67, 73
Andres 16-19
Anna FeUx 629-35, 640-2
bachelor, Alonso Lopez 104-6
barber 2, 24-34, 160-255, 679-81

BasiUo 357-77

Biscayan 39-47

Camacho 356-74

canon 212-38

Gardenio 140-2, 166-80, 198-202,

2112
carrier 81-6

Claudia Geronima 607-10
cousin 377-411
daughter of Doiia Rodriguez 533,

559-61, 570, 582-6, 646
Doctor Pedro Recio 521-3, 536,

551-2
Don Antonio Moreno 616-42

m

DON QUIJOTB DE LA MANCHA

fon Fernando 198-202, 211-2
Ion Lorenzo 337-8, 349-55
loiia Molinera 7-16
lona Rodriguez 432-3, 452-3, 456,

474-5, 528-33, 560-1, 582-6, 646
lona Tolosa 7-16
lorothea 166-80 198-202, 211-2
uchess 428-588, 654-65
uke 428-588, 654-65
jclesiastic 435-40
irmer, Juan Haldudo, 16-19
■iars 39-41
alley-slaves 129-38
fines de Pasamonte 134-8, 148,

181, 399-413
oatherds 52
ousekeeper 1, 24-34, 238-9, 245,

254-5, 276-82, 287, 675-81
mkeeper, Juan Palomeque 80-6,

90-3, 192-200
inkeeper of the cow-heels 599-604
mkeeper of the the dubbing 8-16
inkeeper of the puppet-show 396-

413
night of the Green Cloak 334-55
lajordomo 461-570
lan from Braytown 393, 396-411
[arcela 56-61, 67-73

Maritornes 80-6, 92

merchants 19-22

niece 1, 24-34, 238-9, 245, 254-5,

276-80, 287, 675-81
officer of the Brotherhood 85-8
page, on his way to enlist 394-411
page to duchess 545-51
peasant, the Marquis of Mantua

Pedro, the goatherd 57-61

penitents 235-7

priest 2, 24-34, 160-255, 548-51, 675-

81
puppet-show interpreter 404-8
Quit^ria 356-77
Ricote 570-6, 633-5, 640-2
Roque Guinart 607-15
Samson Carrasco 258-76, 281-2,

284-7, 313-32, 548-51, 636-40,

660-1, 675-81
Sanchica 545-51, 675
students 356-61
Teresa Panza 35, 238-9, 271-6, 545-

51, 561-4, 675
travellers 61-9, 73.
travellers at the inn 600-4
Tome Cecial 313-32
Tosilos 570, 582-6, 645-7

Captains, carriers, commodore, corpse, fishermen, gamblers, hanged
len, hermit's deputy, herdsmen, hunters, innfolk, islanders, ladies,
on-keeper, millers, mourners, officers, peasants, pilgrims, renegade,
sbbers, seamen, secretary, seneschal, servants, shepherds, shepher-
esses, travellers, Turks, urchins, viceroy.

I