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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-07 11:41:33 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a19da20 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55106 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55106) diff --git a/old/55106-0.txt b/old/55106-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fcaf12f..0000000 --- a/old/55106-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7038 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Don Qvixote of the Mancha, by Judge Parry - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Don Qvixote of the Mancha - Retold by Judge Parry - -Author: Judge Parry - -Illustrator: Walter Crane - -Release Date: July 13, 2017 [EBook #55106] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DON QVIXOTE OF THE MANCHA *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Nahum Maso i Carcases and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - Transcriber's Notes: - -Obvious punctuation errors and misprints have been corrected. - -Text in Italics is indicated between _underscores_. - -Text in Small Capitals has been replaced by regular uppercase text. - -Blank pages present in the printed original have been deleted in the -e-text version. - - * * * * * - - - - - DON QUIXOTE - OF THE MANCHA - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE TESTING HIS HELMET] - - - - - [Illustration] - - DON QUIXOTE - OF THE MANCHA - - RETOLD - BY - JUDGE - PARRY - - ILLUSTRATED - BY - WALTER - CRANE - - NEW YORK - JOHN LANE COMPANY - 1919 - - - - - PREFACE - - -A version of _Don Quixote_ which is appended to Mr. Walter Crane's -illustrations needs perhaps no apology, but I desire to state briefly -what I have endeavoured to do. No existing abridgment of _Don Quixote_, -known to me, gives in simple narrative form the adventures of Knight -and Squire, with as much of the wisdom and humour of their discourse -as would be within the grasp of the younger generation of readers. -This—_The Story of Don Quixote_, as I call it—I have tried to -produce. In doing it I have made use of all the English translations, -but the basis of this book is Thomas Shelton's translation, the -language of which seems to me better to express the humour of Cervantes -than any other. Many will consider such a task in the nature of -sacrilege or, at the best, verging on the impertinent. With these views -I have much sympathy myself. But at least, let it be understood that -all I have attempted to do is to tell a well-known story in print, as -one who loves it would seek to tell it in words, to those around his -own fireside; in the hope that some may gather from this story that -there is a vast storehouse of humour and wisdom awaiting them in the -book itself. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. An Introduction to that famous gentleman, Don - Quixote of the Mancha, 1 - - II. Of the First Sally that Don Quixote made to - seek Adventures, 7 - - III. Of the Pleasant Manner of the Knighting of Don - Quixote, 14 - - IV. Of what befell our Knight when he left the Inn, 21 - - V. How Don Quixote returned home, and what happened - to his Library, and how he sallied - forth a second time to seek Adventures, 30 - - VI. Of the dreadful and never-to-be-imagined Adventure - of the Windmills, and of the fearful - Battle which the gallant Biscayan fought - with Don Quixote, 38 - - VII. Of what passed between Don Quixote and the - Goatherds, and of the unfortunate Adventure - with the Yanguesian Carriers, 48 - - VIII. How Don Quixote arrived at an Inn which he - imagined to be a Castle, and there cured - himself and Sancho with the Balsam of - Fierabras, 58 - - IX. How Sancho paid the Reckoning at the Inn - which Don Quixote supposed was a Castle, 68 - - X. Of the Adventure of the Two Armies, 75 - - XI. Of a wonderful Adventure which Don Quixote - went through without peril to himself or - Sancho, 83 - - XII. The great Adventure and rich Winning of the - Helmet of Mambrino, 92 - - XIII. How Don Quixote set at liberty many poor - Wretches who were being taken to a - Place to which they had no wish to go, 98 - - XIV. Of what befell Don Quixote in the Brown - Mountains, 108 - - XV. The Story of Cardenio, 118 - - XVI. Of the Strange Adventures that happened to - the Knight of the Mancha in the Brown - Mountains, and of the Penance he did - there in imitation of Beltenebros, 126 - - XVII. Of Sancho's Journey to the Lady Dulcinea, 136 - - XVIII. The Story of Cardenio continued, 143 - - XIX. The Story of Dorothea, who loved Don - Fernando, 152 - - XX. Of the pleasant Plan they carried out to persuade - Don Quixote not to continue his - Penance, 160 - - XXI. Of the Journey to the Inn, 168 - - XXII. The Story Sancho Panza told his Master of - his Visit to the Lady Dulcinea, 177 - - XXIII. What happened during their further Journey - towards the Inn, 184 - - XXIV. Of the extraordinary Battle which Don - Quixote waged with what he took to - be a Giant, 191 - - XXV. Which treats of other rare Adventures which - happened at the Inn, 198 - - XXVI. Wherein is continued the History of the - famous Princess Micomicona, 205 - - XXVII. Of the strange Enchantment of the Unfortunate - Knight, 212 - - XXVIII. Wherein is continued the wonderful Adventures - at the Inn, 220 - - XXIX. Wherein is finally decided the Dispute about - Mambrino's Helmet and the Pannel, 227 - - XXX. In which is finished the notable Adventures - of our good Knight, 236 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - FULL PAGES - - - TITLE-PAGE. - - DON QUIXOTE TESTING HIS VISOR, _Frontispiece_ - - DON QUIXOTE KNIGHTED BY THE INNKEEPER, _facing page_ 14 - - THE WINDMILLS, " 38 - - THE GOATHERDS, " 48 - - THE TOSSING OF SANCHO, " 68 - - THE HELMET OF MAMBRINO, " 92 - - MEETING CARDENIO, " 108 - - DON QUIXOTE'S PENANCE, " 126 - - MEETING DOROTHEA, " 160 - - THE WINE-SKINS, " 191 - - DON QUIXOTE'S ENCHANTMENT, " 212 - - - HALF PAGES - - PAGE - - DON QUIXOTE WATCHING HIS ARMOUR, 7 - - DON QUIXOTE TO THE RESCUE OF ANDREW, 21 - - THE DESTRUCTION OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY, 30 - - THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S TRAVEL TO THE INN, 58 - - OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO ARMIES, 75 - - OF A WONDERFUL ADVENTURE, 83 - - DON QUIXOTE FREES THE GALLEY SLAVES, 98 - - THE STORY OF CARDENIO, 118 - - THE CURATE AND THE BARBER IN DISGUISE, 136 - - THE STORY OF CARDENIO CONTINUED, 143 - - THE DISCOVERY OF DOROTHEA, 152 - - SANCHO PANZA RECOVERS HIS DAPPLE, 168 - - SANCHO'S STORY OF HIS VISIT TO THE LADY - DULCINEA, 177 - - ANDREW SALUTES DON QUIXOTE, 184 - - OF THE RARE ADVENTURES AT THE INN, 198 - - DON QUIXOTE ADDRESSING DOROTHEA, 205 - - THE DISPUTED POMMEL, 220 - - DON QUIXOTE ARRESTED, 227 - - THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S RETURN HOME, 236 - - - - - CHAPTER I - - An Introduction to that famous gentleman, - Don Quixote of the Mancha - - -This is the story that Miguel de Cervantes, Spaniard, published in -1605, which the world has been reading again and again ever since. - -Once upon a time there lived in a certain village in a province of -Spain called the Mancha, a gentleman named Quixada or Queseda—for -indeed historians differ about this—whose house was full of old -lances, halberds, and such other armours and weapons. He was, besides, -the owner of an ancient target or shield, a raw-boned steed, and a -swift greyhound. His pot consisted daily of common meats, some lentils -on Fridays, and perhaps a roast pigeon for Sunday's dinner. His dress -was a black suit with velvet breeches, and slippers of the same colour, -which he kept for holidays, and a suit of homespun which he wore on -week-days. - -On the purchase of these few things he spent the small rents that came -to him every year. He had in his house a woman-servant of about some -forty years old, a Niece not yet twenty, and a lad that served him -both in field and at home, and could saddle his horse or manage a -pruning-hook. - -The master himself was about fifty years old, a strong, hard-featured -man with a withered face. He was an early riser, and had once been very -fond of hunting. But now for a great portion of the year he applied -himself wholly to reading the old books of Knighthood, and this with -such keen delight that he forgot all about the pleasures of the chase, -and neglected all household matters. His mania and folly grew to such a -pitch that he sold many acres of his lands to buy books of the exploits -and adventures of the Knights of old. These he took for true and -correct histories, and when his friends the Curate of the village, or -Mr. Nicholas the worthy Barber of the town, came to see him, he would -dispute with them as to which of the Knights of romance had done the -greatest deeds. - -So eagerly did he plunge into the reading of these books that he many -times spent whole days and nights poring over them; and in the end, -through little sleep and much reading, his brain became tired, and he -fairly lost his wits. His fancy was filled with those things that he -read, of enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, wooings, -loves, tempests, and other impossible follies, and those romantic tales -so firmly took hold of him that he believed no history to be so certain -and sincere as they were. - -Finally, his wit being extinguished, he was seized with one of the -strangest whims that ever madman stumbled on in this world, for it -seemed to him right and necessary that he himself should become a -Knight Errant, and ride through the world in arms to seek adventures -and practise in person all that he had read about the Knights of -old. Therefore he resolved that he would make a name for himself by -revenging the injuries of others, and courting all manner of dangers -and difficulties, until in the end he should be rewarded for his valour -in arms by the crown of some mighty Empire. And first of all he caused -certain old rusty arms that belonged to his great-grandfather, and -had lain for many years neglected and forgotten in a by-corner of his -house, to be brought out and well scoured. He trimmed them and dressed -them as well as he could, and then saw that they had something wanting, -for instead of a proper helmet they had only a morion or headpiece, -like a steel bonnet without any visor. This his industry supplied, for -he made a visor for his helmet by patching and pasting certain papers -together, and this pasteboard fitted to the morion gave it all the -appearance of a real helmet. Then, to make sure that it was strong -enough, he out with his sword and gave it a blow or two, and with the -very first did quite undo that which had cost him a week to make. He -did not at all approve the ease with which it was destroyed, and to -make things better he placed certain iron bars within it, in such a -manner that made him feel sure it was now sound and strong, without -putting it to a second trial. - -He next visited his horse, who though he had more corners than a -Spanish _real_ or shilling, which in those days was anything but -round, and had nothing on him but skin and bone, yet he seemed to -him a better steed than Bucephalus, the noble animal that carried -Alexander the Great when he went to battle. He spent four days -inventing a name for his horse, saying to himself that it was not fit -that so famous a Knight's horse, and so good a beast, should want a -known name. Therefore he tried to find a name that should both give -people some notion of what he had been before he was the steed of a -Knight Errant, and also what he now was; for, seeing that his lord and -master was going to change his calling, it was only right that his -horse should have a new name, famous and high-sounding, and worthy -of his new position in life. And after having chosen, made up, put -aside, and thrown over any number of names as not coming up to his -idea, he finally hit upon Rozinante, a name in his opinion sublime and -well-sounding, expressing in a word what he had been when he was a -simple carriage horse, and what was expected of him in his new dignity. - -The name being thus given to his horse, he made up his mind to give -himself a name also, and in that thought laboured another eight days. -Finally he determined to call himself Don Quixote, which has made -people think that his name was Quixada and not Queseda, as others -have said; and remembering that the great Knights of olden time were -not satisfied with a mere dry name, but added to it the name of their -kingdom or country, so he like a good Knight added to his own that also -of his province, and called himself Don Quixote of the Mancha, whereby -he declared his birthplace and did honour to his country by taking it -for his surname. - -His armour being scoured, his morion transformed into a helmet, his -horse named, and himself furnished with a new name, he considered that -now he wanted nothing but a lady on whom he might bestow his service -and affection. 'For,' he said to himself, remembering what he had -read in the books of knightly adventures, 'if I should by good hap -encounter with some Giant, as Knights Errant ordinarily do, and if I -should overthrow him with one blow to the ground, or cut him with a -stroke in two halves, or finally overcome and make him yield to me, it -would be only right and proper that I should have some lady to whom I -might present him. Then would he, entering my sweet lady's presence, -say unto her with a humble and submissive voice: "Madam, I am the -Giant Caraculiambro, Lord of the Island called Malindrania, whom the -never-too-much-praised Knight Don Quixote of the Mancha hath overcome -in single combat. He hath commanded me to present myself to your -greatness, that it may please your Highness to dispose of me according -to your liking."' - -You may believe that the heart of the Knight danced for joy when he -made that grand speech, and he was even more pleased when he had found -out one whom he might call his lady. For, they say, there lived in the -next village to his own a hale, buxom country wench with whom he was -sometime in love, though for the matter of that she had never known -of it or taken any notice of him whatever. She was called Aldonca -Lorenso, and her he thought fittest to honour as the lady of his fancy. -Then he began to search about in his mind for a name that should not -vary too much from her own, but should at the same time show people -that she was a Princess or lady of quality. Thus it was that he called -her Dulcinea of Toboso, a name sufficiently strange, romantic, and -musical for the lady of so brave a Knight. And now, having taken to -himself both armour, horse, and lady fair, he was ready to go forth and -seek adventures. - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE WATCHING HIS ARMOUR] - - - - - CHAPTER II - - Of the First Sally that Don Quixote made to - seek Adventures - - -All his preparations being made, he could no longer resist the desire -of carrying out his plans, his head being full of the wrongs he -intended to put right, the errors he wished to amend, and the evil -deeds he felt himself called upon to punish. And, therefore, without -telling any living creature, and unseen of anybody, somewhat before -daybreak—it being one of the warmest days in July—he armed himself -from head to foot, mounted on Rozinante, laced on his strange helmet, -gathered up his target, seized his lance, and through the back door -of his yard sallied forth into the fields, marvellously cheerful -and content to see how easily he had started on his new career. But -scarcely was he clear of the village when he was struck by a terrible -thought, and one which did well-nigh overthrow all his plans. For he -recollected that he had never been knighted, and therefore, according -to the laws of Knighthood, neither could he nor ought he to combat with -any Knight. And even if he were a Knight, he remembered to have read -that as a new Knight he ought to wear white armour without any device -upon his shield until he should win it by force of arms. - -These thoughts made him waver a little in his plan; but more for the -reason that his head was full of his folly than for any other, he -determined to cause himself to be knighted by the first he met, as -others had done of whom he had read in the books which had so turned -his brain. As to the white armour, he resolved at the first opportunity -to scour his own until it should be whiter than ermine; and, having -satisfied himself with these intentions, he pursued his way without -following any other road than that which his horse was pleased to -choose, believing that to be the most correct way of meeting with -knightly adventures. And as he rode along he exclaimed to the empty -air as if he had been actually in love: 'O Princess Dulcinea, Lady of -this captive heart, much wrong hast thou done me by dismissing me and -reproaching me with thy cruel commandment not to appear before thy -beauty! I pray thee, sweet Lady, to remember this thy faithful slave, -who for thy love suffers so many tortures.' - -A thousand other ravings, after the style and manner that his books had -taught him, did he add to this as he travelled along, meeting with no -adventure worthy to be set down, whilst the sun mounted so swiftly and -with so great heat that it would have been sufficient to have melted -his brains if he had had any left. - -He journeyed all that day long, and at night both he and his horse -were tired and marvellously pressed by hunger, and looking about him -on every side to see whether he could discover any Castle to which he -might retire for the night, he saw an Inn near unto the highway on -which he travelled, which was as welcome a sight to him as if he had -seen a guiding star. Then spurring his horse he rode towards it as fast -as he might, and arrived there much about nightfall. - -There stood by chance at the Inn door two jolly peasant women who were -travelling towards Seville with some carriers, who happened to take up -their lodging in that Inn the same evening. And as our Knight Errant -believed all that he saw or heard to take place in the same manner as -he had read in his books, he no sooner saw the Inn than he fancied -it to be a Castle with four turrets and pinnacles of shining silver, -with a drawbridge, a deep moat, and all such things as belong to grand -Castles. Drawing slowly towards it, he checked Rozinante with the -bridle when he was close to the Inn, and rested awhile to see if any -dwarf would mount on the battlements to give warning with the sound -of a trumpet how some Knight did approach the Castle; but seeing they -stayed so long, and Rozinante was eager to get up to his stable, he -went to the Inn door, and there beheld the two wenches that stood at -it, whom he supposed to be two beautiful damsels or lovely ladies -that did solace themselves before the Castle gates. At that moment it -happened that a certain swineherd, as he gathered together his hogs, -blew the horn which was wont to bring them together, and at once Don -Quixote imagined it was some dwarf who gave notice of his arrival; -and he rode up to the Inn door with marvellous delight. The ladies, -when they beheld one armed in that manner with lance and target, made -haste to run into the Inn; but Don Quixote, seeing their fear by their -flight, lifted up his pasteboard visor, showed his withered and dusky -face, and spoke to them thus: 'Let not your ladyships fly nor fear any -harm, for it does not belong to the order of Knighthood which I profess -to wrong anybody, much less such high-born damsels as your appearance -shows you to be.' - -The wenches looked at him very earnestly, and sought with their eyes -for his face, which the ill-fashioned helmet concealed; but when they -heard themselves called high-born damsels, they could not contain -their laughter, which was so loud that Don Quixote was quite ashamed -of them and rebuked them, saying: 'Modesty is a comely ornament of the -beautiful, and too much laughter springing from trifles is great folly; -but I do not tell you this to make you the more ashamed, for my desire -is none other than to do you all the honour and service I may.' - -This speech merely increased their laughter, and with it his anger, -which would have passed all bounds if the Innkeeper had not come out at -this instant. Now this Innkeeper was a man of exceeding fatness, and -therefore, as some think, of a very peaceable disposition; and when he -saw that strange figure, armed in such fantastic armour, he was very -nearly keeping the two women company in their merriment and laughter. -But being afraid of the owner of such a lance and target, he resolved -to behave civilly for fear of what might happen, and thus addressed -him: 'Sir Knight! if your Worship do seek for lodging, we have no bed -at liberty, but you shall find all other things in abundance.' - -To which Don Quixote, noting the humility of the Constable of the -Castle—for such he took him to be—replied: 'Anything, Sir Constable, -may serve me, for my arms are my dress, and the battlefield is my bed.' - -While he was speaking, the Innkeeper laid hand on Don Quixote's stirrup -and helped him to alight. This he did with great difficulty and pain, -for he had not eaten a crumb all that day. He then bade the Innkeeper -have special care of his horse, saying he was one of the best animals -that ever ate bread. - -The Innkeeper looked at Rozinante again and again, but he did not seem -to him half so good as Don Quixote valued him. However, he led him -civilly to the stable, and returned to find his guest in the hands of -the high-born damsels, who were helping him off with his armour. They -had taken off his back and breast plates, but they could in no way get -his head and neck out of the strange, ill-fashioned helmet which he -had fastened on with green ribands. - -Now these knots were so impossible to untie that the wenches would -have cut them, but this Don Quixote would not agree to. Therefore he -remained all the night with his helmet on, and looked the drollest and -strangest figure you could imagine. And he was now so pleased with the -women, whom he still took to be ladies and dames of the Castle, that -he said to them: 'Never was Knight so well attended on and served by -ladies as was Don Quixote. When he departed from his village, damsels -attended on him and princesses on his horse. O ladies! Rozinante is the -name of my steed, and I am called Don Quixote, and the time shall come -when your ladyships may command me and I obey, and then the valour of -mine arm shall discover the desire I have to do you service.' - -The women could make nothing of his talk, but asked him if he would -eat, and Don Quixote replying that such was his desire, there was -straightway laid a table at the Inn door. The Host brought out a -portion of badly boiled haddocks, and a black, greasy loaf, which -was all the Inn could supply. But the manner of Don Quixote's eating -was the best sport in the world, for with his helmet on he could put -nothing into his mouth himself if others did not help him to find -his way, and therefore one of the wenches served his turn at that, -and helped to feed him. But they could not give him drink after that -manner, and he would have remained dry for ever if the Innkeeper had -not bored a cane, and putting one end in his mouth, poured the wine -down the other. And all this he suffered rather than cut the ribands of -his helmet. - -And as he sat at supper the swineherd again sounded his horn, and -Don Quixote was still firm in the belief that he was in some famous -Castle where he was served with music, and that the stale haddock was -fresh trout, the bread of the finest flour, the two wenches high-born -damsels, and the Innkeeper the Constable of the Castle. Thus he thought -his career of Knight Errant was well begun, but he was still greatly -troubled by the thought that he was not yet dubbed Knight, and could -not therefore rightly follow his adventures until he received the -honour of Knighthood. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - Of the Pleasant Manner of the Knighting of - Don Quixote - - -When he had finished his sorry supper, he took his host with him to -the stable, and shutting the door threw himself down upon his knees -before him, saying: 'I will never rise from this place where I am, Sir -Constable, until your courtesy shall grant unto me a boon that I mean -to demand of you, something which will add to your renown and to the -profit of all the human race.' - -The Innkeeper, seeing his guest at his feet, and hearing him speak -these words, stood confounded at the sight, not knowing what he would -say or do next, and tried to make him arise. But all was in vain until -he had promised him that he would grant him any gift that he sought at -his hands. - -'Signor,' said Don Quixote, rising from his knees, 'I did never expect -less from your great magnificence, and now I will tell you that the -boon which I demand of you, and which you have so generously granted, -is that to-morrow in the morning you will dub me Knight. This night -I will watch mine armour in the Chapel of your Castle, and in the -morning, as I have said, the rest of my desires shall be fulfilled, -that I may set out in a proper manner throughout the four parts of -the world to seek adventures to the benefit of the poor and needy, as -is the duty of Knighthood and of Knights Errant.' - - [Illustration: THE KNIGHTING OF DON QUIXOTE] - -The Innkeeper, who was a bit of a jester, and had before thought -that the wits of his guest were none of the best, was sure that his -suspicions were true when he heard him speak in this manner. And in -order to enjoy a joke at his expense, he resolved to fall in with his -humour, and told him that there was great reason in what he desired, -which was only natural and proper in a Knight of such worth as he -seemed to be. He added further that there was no Chapel in his Castle -where he might watch his arms, for he had broken it down to build it -up anew. But, nevertheless, he knew well that in a case of necessity -they might be watched in any other place, and therefore he might watch -them that night in the lower court of the Castle, where in the morning -he, the Innkeeper, would perform all the proper ceremonies, so that he -should be made not only a dubbed Knight, but such a one as should not -have a fellow in the whole universe. - -The Innkeeper now gave orders that Don Quixote should watch his armour -in a great yard that lay near unto one side of the Inn, wherefore he -gathered together all his arms, laid them on a cistern near to a well, -and buckling on his target he laid hold of his lance and walked up and -down before the cistern very demurely, until night came down upon the -scene. - -In the meantime the roguish Innkeeper told all the rest that lodged -in the Inn of the folly of his guest, the watching of his arms, and -the Knighthood which he expected to receive. They all wondered very -much at so strange a kind of folly, and going out to behold him from a -distance, they saw that sometimes he marched to and fro with a quiet -gesture, other times leaning upon his lance he looked upon his armour -for a good space of time without beholding any other thing save his -arms. - -Although it was now night, yet was the moon so clear that everything -which the Knight did was easily seen by all beholders. And now one of -the carriers that lodged in the Inn resolved to give his mules some -water, and for that purpose it was necessary to move Don Quixote's -armour that lay on the cistern. - -Seeing the carrier approach, Don Quixote called to him in a loud voice: -'O thou, whosoever thou art, bold Knight, who dares to touch the armour -of the bravest adventurer that ever girded sword, look well what thou -doest, and touch them not if thou meanest not to leave thy life in -payment for thy meddling!' - -The carrier took no notice of these words, though it were better for -him if he had, but laying hold of the armour threw it piece by piece -into the middle of the yard. - -When Don Quixote saw this, he lifted up his eyes towards heaven, and -addressing his thoughts, as it seemed, to his Lady Dulcinea, he said: -'Assist me, dear Lady, in this insult offered to thy vassal, and let -not thy favour and protection fail me in this my first adventure!' - -Uttering these and other such words, he let slip his target or shield, -and lifting up his lance with both hands he gave the carrier so round a -knock on his pate that it overthrew him on to the ground, and if he had -caught him a second he would not have needed any surgeon to cure him. -This done, he gathered up his armour again, and laying the pieces where -they had been before, he began walking up and down near them with as -much quietness as he did at first. - -But very soon afterwards another carrier, without knowing what had -happened, for his companion yet lay on the ground, came also to give -his mules water, and coming to take away the armour to get at the -cistern, Don Quixote let slip again his target, and lifting his lance -brought it down on the carrier's head, which he broke in several places. - -All the people in the Inn, and amongst them the Innkeeper, came running -out when they heard the noise, and Don Quixote seeing them seized his -target, and, drawing his sword, cried aloud: 'O Lady of all beauty, -now, if ever, is the time for thee to turn the eyes of thy greatness -on thy Captive Knight who is on the eve of so marvellous great an -adventure.' - -Saying this seemed to fill him with so great a courage, that if he had -been assaulted by all the carriers in the universe he would not have -retreated one step. - -The companions of the wounded men, seeing their fellows in so evil -a plight, began to rain stones on Don Quixote from a distance, who -defended himself as well as he might with his target, and durst not -leave the cistern lest he should appear to abandon his arms. - -The Innkeeper cried to them to let him alone, for he had already told -them that he was mad. But all the time Don Quixote cried out louder -than the Innkeeper, calling them all disloyal men and traitors, and -that the Lord of the Castle was a treacherous and bad Knight to allow -them to use a Knight Errant so basely; and if he had only received the -order of Knighthood he would have punished him soundly for his treason. -Then calling to the carriers he said: 'As for you base and rascally -ruffians, you are beneath my notice. Throw at me, approach, draw near -and do me all the hurt you may, for you shall ere long receive the -reward of your insolence.' - -These words, which he spoke with great spirit and boldness, struck -a terrible fear into all those who assaulted him, and, partly moved -by his threats and partly persuaded by the Innkeeper, they left off -throwing stones at him, and he allowed them to carry away the wounded -men, while he returned to his watch with great quietness and gravity. - -The Innkeeper did not very much like Don Quixote's pranks, and -therefore determined to shorten the ceremony and give him the order of -Knighthood at once before any one else was injured. Approaching him, -therefore, he made apologies for the insolence of the base fellows -who had thrown stones at him, and explained that it was not with his -consent, and that he thought them well punished for their impudence. -He added that it was not necessary for Don Quixote to watch his armour -any more, because the chief point of being knighted was to receive the -stroke of the sword on the neck and shoulder, and that ceremony he was -ready to perform at once. - -All this Don Quixote readily believed, and answered that he was most -eager to obey him, and requested him to finish everything as speedily -as possible. For, he said, as soon as he was knighted, if he was -assaulted again, he intended not to leave one person alive in all the -Castle, except those which the Constable should command, whom he would -spare for his sake. - -The Innkeeper, alarmed at what he said, and fearing lest he should -carry out his threat, set about the ceremony without delay. He brought -out his day-book, in which he wrote down the accounts of the hay and -straw which he sold to carriers who came to the Inn, and attended by -a small boy holding the end of a candle and walking before him, and -followed by the two women who were staying at the Inn, he approached -Don Quixote. He solemnly commanded him to kneel upon his knees, while -he mumbled something which he pretended to read out of the book that -he held in his hand. Then he gave him a good blow on the neck, and -after that another sound thwack over the shoulders with his own sword, -always as he did so continuing to mumble and murmur as though he were -reading something out of his book. This being done, he commanded one -of the damsels to gird on his sword, which she did with much grace and -cleverness. And it was with difficulty that they all kept from laughing -during this absurd ceremony, but what they had already seen of Don -Quixote's fury made them careful not to annoy him even by a smile. - -When she had girded on his sword, the damsel said: 'May you be a -fortunate Knight, and meet with good success in all your adventures.' - -Don Quixote asked her how she was called, that he might know to whom -he was obliged for the favours he had received. She answered with -great humility that she was named Tolosa, and was a butcher's daughter -of Toledo. Don Quixote replied requesting her to call herself from -henceforth the Lady Tolosa, which she promised to perform. The other -damsel buckled on his spurs, and when Don Quixote asked her name she -told him it was Molinera, and that she was daughter of an honest miller -of Antequera. Don Quixote entreated her also to call herself Lady -Molinera, and offered her new services and favours. - -These strange and never-before-seen ceremonies being ended, Don Quixote -could not rest until he was mounted on horseback that he might go to -seek adventures. He therefore caused Rozinante to be instantly saddled, -leaped on his back, and embracing the Innkeeper, thanked him in a -thousand wild and ridiculous ways for the great favour he had done him -in dubbing him Knight. The Innkeeper, who was only eager to be rid -of him without delay, answered him in the same fashion, and let him -march off without demanding from him a single farthing for his food or -lodging. - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE TO THE RESCUE OF ANDREW] - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - Of what befell our Knight when he left - the Inn - - -It was dawn when Don Quixote went out from the Inn, so full of pleasure -to behold himself knighted that his very horse-girths were ready to -burst for joy. But calling to memory some advice that the Innkeeper had -given him, about the necessity of carrying with him money and clean -shirts when he went on his adventures, he determined to return to his -house and obtain these things, and also find for himself a Squire. For -this office he fixed in his own mind upon a ploughman, a neighbour of -his, a poor man who had many children, but yet a man who was very fit -as he thought to be his Squire. - -With this view he turned Rozinante towards his own village, who, -knowing that he was on his way home, began to trot along with so good a -will that he seemed not to touch the ground. - -He had not travelled far when he heard from a thicket hard by the -shrill cries of some weak and delicate mortal in grievous distress. - -No sooner did he hear them than he exclaimed: 'I am indeed thankful for -the favour done to me by giving me so soon an opportunity of performing -what is due to my profession, and gathering the fruits of my desires. -These cries doubtless come from some distressed man or woman who has -need of my protection and aid.' - -Then turning the reins, he guided Rozinante towards the place whence -the voice seemed to proceed. And within a few paces after he had -entered into the thicket, he saw a mare tied up to one oak, and to -another was tied a youth, all naked from the middle upward, of about -fifteen years of age. Now it was he that cried so pitifully, and not -without cause. For a sturdy fellow of a farmer was beating him soundly -with a girdle, accompanying each stroke with a reproof and piece of -advice, saying: 'The tongue must peace and the eyes be wary.' And the -boy, whose name was Andrew, answered: 'I will never do it again, good -master, I will never do it again. I promise to have more care of your -things from henceforth.' - -Seeing what passed, Don Quixote cried out with an angry voice: 'Ill it -beseems you, discourteous Knight, to deal thus with one that cannot -defend himself. Mount, therefore, on horseback and take thy lance (for -the Farmer had a lance leaning against the very same tree to which -his mare was tied), for I will make thee know that it is the act of a -coward to do that which thou dost.' - -The Farmer, beholding this strange figure buckled in armour, and -brandishing a lance over his head, gave himself up for a dead man, and -answered him with mild and submissive words, saying: 'Sir Knight, the -youth whom I am beating is mine own servant, and keepeth for me a flock -of sheep; but he is grown so negligent that he loseth one of them every -other day, and because I correct him for his carelessness and knavery, -he says I do it through covetousness and miserliness so as not to pay -him his due wages, but on my conscience I assure you he lies.' - -'What? The lie, in my presence, rascally clown!' cried Don Quixote. 'By -the sun that shines above us, I will run thee through and through with -my lance, base Carle! Pay him instantly, without another word, or I -will finish and destroy thee in a moment. Loose him forthwith!' - -The Farmer, hanging down his head, made no reply, but released poor -Andrew, of whom Don Quixote demanded how much his master owed him. -The boy answered that it was nine months' wages at seven _reals_ a -month. Casting it up, Don Quixote found that it amounted to sixty-three -_reals_, and commanded the Farmer to pay the money at once, unless he -had a mind to die for it. - -This the Farmer, who was in a terrible fright, promised to do, but -said he: 'The worst of it is, Sir Knight, that I have no money here. -Let Andrew come with me to my house, and I will pay him his wages to -the last _real_.' - -'I go with him?' said the boy, 'evil befall me if I do. No, Sir. I -don't intend to do that, for as soon as ever we were alone, he would -flay me alive.' - -'He will not dare to do it,' said Don Quixote, 'for my command is -sufficient to make him respect me. And on condition that he will swear -to me to carry out his promise, by the order of Knighthood which he -hath received, I will set him free and assure thee of the payment.' - -'Good your worship,' said the youth; 'mark well what you say, for -this man my master is no Knight, nor did he ever receive any order of -Knighthood. He is John Haldudo the rich, and lives at Quintanar.' - -'That is no matter,' said Don Quixote, 'for there may be Knights of the -Haldudos.' - -'The good Knight speaks well, friend Andrew,' said his master. 'Do me -but the pleasure to come with me, and I swear by all the orders of -Knighthood that are in the world to pay thee, as I have said, to the -last _real_.' - -'With this,' said Don Quixote, 'I will rest satisfied; and see that -thou fulfillest it as thou hast sworn. If not, I swear again to thee by -the same oath to return and seek thee out once more and chastise thee. -And I will find thee out, though thou didst hide thyself closer than a -lizard. And if thou desirest to know who it is that commands thee thus, -know that I am the valiant Don Quixote of the Mancha, the righter of -wrongs and the scourge of injustice.' - -Saying this, the Knight clapt spurs to his Rozinante, and was quickly -gone from him. - -The Farmer followed him with his eyes, and seeing that he was beyond -the wood and quite out of sight, he returned to Andrew and said: 'Come -to me, child, for I will pay thee what I owe thee, as that righter of -wrongs hath commanded.' - -'Upon my word,' said Andrew, 'you do well to fulfil the good Knight's -commandments. And I pray that he may live a thousand years, for he is -so brave and so just a judge that, if you pay me not, he will come back -and do all he promised.' - -'I also do believe the same,' said the Farmer; 'but for the much love I -bear thee, I will increase the debt that I may add to the payment.' - -And seizing him by the arm, he tied him again to the oak, where he gave -him so many blows as to leave him for dead. - -'Call now, Master Andrew,' said he, 'for thy righter of wrongs; and -thou shalt see that he cannot undo this, though I think I have not -finished the doing of it, for I have yet a desire to flay thee alive as -thou didst fear.' - -But he untied him at last, and gave him leave to go and seek out his -Judge, to the end that he might execute the sentence he had pronounced. -Andrew departed somewhat discontented, swearing to search for the -valiant Don Quixote of the Mancha, and relate to him point for point -all that had passed, that the Farmer might be repaid sevenfold. -Nevertheless he wept as he went along, and his master remained behind -laughing, and thus did the valiant Don Quixote right this wrong. - -As for the Knight, it appeared to him that he had made a very happy -and noble beginning to his feats of arms. And as he rode towards his -village, he recited to himself in a low voice these words: 'Well mayest -thou call thyself happy above all other women of the earth, O! above -all beauties, beautiful Dulcinea of Toboso; since it has fallen to thy -lot to hold submissive to thy will a Knight so renowned and valorous as -is and ever shall be, Don Quixote of the Mancha, who, as all the world -knows, but yesterday received the order of Knighthood, and to-day hath -destroyed the greatest outrage and wrong that injustice and cruelty -could commit. To-day hath he wrested the scourge from the hand of the -pitiless foe who so cruelly beat the delicate infant.' - -Soon afterwards he came to a spot where the road branched into four, -and there came into his fancy the cross-ways he had read of, where the -Knights Errant used to ponder which of the roads they should take. -And that he might imitate them, he let slip the reins on Rozinante's -neck, submitting his will to that of his steed, who followed his first -intention, which was to return home to his own stable. And having -travelled some two miles, Don Quixote discovered a great troop of -people, who, as it was afterwards known, were certain merchants of -Toledo, that rode towards Murcia to buy silks. They were six in number, -and came with their parasols or sun umbrellas, and four serving-men -a-horseback, and three lackeys. - -Scarce had Don Quixote perceived them when he straight imagined them -to be a new adventure. And so that he might imitate as far as possible -the passages which he had read in his books, he settled himself with a -gallant air and resolute bearing firmly in his stirrups, grasped his -lance, brought his target over his breast, and stood, waiting, posted -in the middle of the road, for those whom he took to be Knights Errant -like himself. - -And when they were so near that they might hear and see him, he lifted -up his voice and said: 'Let all the world stand and pass no further, -if all the world will not confess that there is not in all the world -a more beautiful damsel than the Empress of the Mancha, the peerless -Dulcinea of Toboso.' - -The merchants stopped at the sound of these words to behold the -marvellous and ridiculous shape of him that spake them, and at once -suspected the madness of the speaker. - -Curious to know the meaning of the confession he demanded from them, -one of the merchants, who was a bit of a wag and very sharp-witted, -said to Don Quixote: 'Sir Knight, we know not who that good lady may be -you speak of. Show her therefore to us, and if she be as beautiful as -you report, we will with right good-will, and without further trouble, -confess the truth of what you demand.' - -'If I did show her to you,' replied Don Quixote, 'what merit would -there be in confessing a truth which is clear to all beholders? The -importance of my demand is that without seeing her you must believe -it, which if you refuse to do I challenge you all to battle, ye -proud preposterous crew. And now come on! One by one as the order of -Knighthood requires, or all at once as is the custom and base usage of -those of your breed. Here I await you, confiding in the right I have on -my side.' - -'Sir Knight,' replied the Merchant, 'I request you in the name of all -the Princes here present, that in order that we may not burden our -conscience by confessing a thing which we have never beheld nor heard, -you will be pleased to show us some portrait of the lady, although -it be no bigger than a grain of wheat. For I do believe that we are -already so much on your side, that though her portrait showed her to us -a-squint of one eye, and wearing a hump on her back, we should say all -that you wish in her favour.' - -'Infamous rabble,' replied Don Quixote, mightily enraged; 'she is -neither crook-eyed nor hump-backed, but is straighter than a spindle -of Guadamara. Dearly shall you pay for the foul words you have uttered -against so immense a beauty as my Lady.' So saying, he lowered his -lance against him who had spoken, with such wrath and fury, that if -Rozinante had not tripped and fallen in the midst of his career, it -would have fared ill with the rash Merchant. - -But, alas! Rozinante fell; his master went rolling some distance across -the field, and though he struggled to arise yet was he never able, so -encumbered was he by his lance, target, spurs, helmet, and the weight -of his old-fashioned armour. And while he strove to rise he shouted; -'Fly not, cowardly brood! Tarry a little, ye base caitiffs! for not by -any fault of mine, but of my horse, am I thus discomfited!' - -One of the lackeys with the company, hearing these saucy speeches of -the poor overthrown Knight, could not forbear returning him an answer -on his ribs, and coming up to him he seized his lance, and having -broken it into pieces, began with one of them to belabour him, so that -in spite of his armour he pounded him like wheat in a mill. His masters -called out to him to let the gentleman be, but the lackey was angry and -would not give up the game. And running for the other pieces of the -broken lance, he shivered them all over the poor fallen Knight, who -never closed his mouth, but cried out against them for brigands and -murderers, for such he took them to be. - -At last the lackey was tired out, and the merchants followed on their -way talking about the poor belaboured Knight, who when he saw himself -alone, again made trial to arise; but if he could not do so when -sound and well, how could he after being pounded and almost beaten -to a jelly? And yet he still considered himself fortunate, for he -persuaded himself that this disgrace was one of those things that must -of occasion happen to a Knight Errant. And though he could not rise on -account of being mauled and bruised from head to foot, he put it all -down to the carelessness of his steed Rozinante. - - - - - [Illustration: THE DESTRUCTION OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY] - - - - - CHAPTER V - - How Don Quixote returned home, and what - happened to his Library, and how he sallied - forth a second time to seek Adventures - - -Finding that he was unable to stir, the Knight pleased himself whilst -lying on the ground by remembering and repeating aloud passages from -his favourite books. - -He was reciting the ballad of the Marquess of Mantua, in which a noble -knight has an adventure similar to his own, when there chanced to pass -by a labouring man, a neighbour of Don Quixote's, who was going to take -a load of wheat to the mill. - -He, seeing a man stretched on the ground, came over to him and asked -who he was and what mishap had befallen him. - -Don Quixote at once believed that the labourer was no other than the -Marquess of Mantua himself, and went on with his ballad which gave an -account of his disgrace. - -The labourer was astonished at all these follies, and taking off the -Knight's visor, which was all broken to pieces with the beating, he -wiped his face, which was covered with dust; and when he had wiped -it he recognised him and cried: 'Senor Quixada (for so was he named -before he became a Knight Errant), who has brought your Worship to this -plight?' - -But the Knight only went on with his ballad, and made no answer. - -Seeing this, the good man took off as well as he could his breastplate -and corselet to see if he had any wound, but he found no blood nor sign -of any. He tried to raise him from the ground, which he did at last -with much ado. Then he mounted him upon his ass, which seemed a safer -carriage than the Knight's steed. Gathering up his arms, even to the -fragments of the lance, he fastened them upon Rozinante, whose bridle -he took hold of, as well as of the ass's halter; and so they journeyed -towards the village, Don Quixote continuing to mutter his nonsensical -stories. - -In this manner they arrived at last at their village about sunset, but -the labourer waited until it grew somewhat dusk, so that folk should -not see the Knight so simply mounted. - -When he entered the village and went to Don Quixote's house, he found -all in uproar there. For the Curate and the Barber—Don Quixote's great -friends—were there, and his Housekeeper was crying to them at the top -of her voice: 'What think ye has befallen my Master? For two days both -he and his horse, together with the target, lance, and armour, have -been missing. Woe is me! I am certain those horrid books of Knighthood -have turned his brain, for I have often heard him say that he would -become a Knight Errant and go and seek adventures throughout the world.' - -And Don Quixote's Niece, who was there also, said to Master Nicholas -the Barber: 'And indeed I have known my dear Uncle continue reading -these unhappy books of "disadventures" two days and two nights -together. At the end of which, throwing down the book, he would lay -hand on his sword and would fall a-slashing of the walls. And when he -was wearied he would say that he had slain four Giants as great as four -towers. And I take great blame to myself that I did not tell you all -this before, that you might have burned those wretched books which have -caused all the mischief.' - -'So I say, too,' said the Curate; 'and to-morrow they shall feed the -flames, so that they may do no further harm.' - -By this time the labourer and Don Quixote had come to the house, and -all the household hearing them arrive, ran to embrace him. And Don -Quixote—who had not yet dismounted from the ass, for he was not -able—said: 'Stand still and touch me not, for I return very sore -wounded and hurt through the fault of my steed. Carry me to bed, and -summon, if it be possible, the wise Urganda, that she may examine and -cure my wounds.' - -'Come, my dear Master,' said his Housekeeper, 'and welcome, for, -without sending for that Urganda, we shall know how to cure thee well -enough. Accursed, say I once again, and a hundred times accursed, may -those books of Knighthood be which have brought you to such a pass.' - -With that they bore him up to his bed, and searching for his wounds -could not find any. Then he said he was all one bruise, through having -a grievous fall with his horse Rozinante, in a fight with ten Giants, -the most enormous and the boldest that could be found on earth. - -'So ho!' said the Curate, 'there are Giants about, are there? By mine -honesty I will burn them all before to-morrow night.' - -The next day, while the Knight was asleep, the Curate asked the Niece -for the keys of the library, which she gave him with a very good will. -Then they all went in, the Housekeeper with them, and found more than a -hundred very large volumes well bound, besides other smaller ones. - -The Curate asked the Barber to hand him down the books from their -shelves one by one, that he might see whether any deserved to escape -the fire. - -'No, no!' cried the Niece, 'you ought not to pardon any of them, seeing -they have all been offenders. Better fling them all out of the window -into the yard and make a heap of them, and then make a bonfire of them -where the smoke will offend nobody.' - -With that the Housekeeper caught hold of some of the largest and flung -them out of the window. But the Curate took down several from the -shelves and began to examine them carefully, whilst the women cried out -for their destruction. - -Whilst they were thus busied, Don Quixote began to cry aloud, saying: -'This way, this way, valorous Knights! Show the force of your valiant -arms lest we lose the tournament.' - -Called away by this noise and clamour they left the books and ran to -Don Quixote, who had risen from his bed and was repeating his outcries -and ravings, cutting about with his sword all over the room with -slashes and back strokes, as wide awake as if he had never been asleep. -Wherefore, taking him up in their arms, they returned him by main force -into his bed. - -With some difficulty they persuaded him to rest where he was, and after -he had eaten his breakfast he fell asleep once again. - -That same night the Housekeeper set fire to and burned all the books -in the yard, and some went to the flames that had no harm in them; and -thus was fulfilled the old proverb, 'The Saint sometimes pays for the -Sinner.' - -Now one of the remedies which the Curate and the Barber suggested for -their friend's malady was to wall up and close his library, so that -when he rose he should not find the books, and they might tell him the -Enchanters had carried them off, room and all. - -This was done, and when two days afterwards Don Quixote rose from his -bed, the first thing he did was to go and visit his books. Not finding -the library where he had left it, he went from one corner of the house -to the other, looking for it. Sometimes he came to the place where the -door had been, and felt it with his hands, then would turn his eyes up -and down, here and there, to seek it, without speaking a word. - -But at last he asked the Housekeeper where his library was. She being -well schooled what she should answer, replied: 'What library? There -is neither library nor books in this house now, for an Enchanter has -carried them all away.' - -'Yes, dear Uncle,' said his Niece, 'while you were away, an Enchanter -came upon a cloud, and, alighting from a serpent on which he was -riding, entered the library, and what he did therein I know not. But -within a while after, he fled out at the roof of the house, and left -all the place full of smoke, and when we went to see what he had done -we found neither room nor books.' - -'This must be the work of the learned Enchanter Freston,' replied Don -Quixote seriously; 'a great enemy of mine who has a grudge against me, -for he knows through his arts and his learning that I am in course of -time to fight and vanquish in single combat a Knight whom he favours. -But I tell him it is useless to oppose what is decreed.' - -'Who doubts that, dear Uncle?' said his Niece. 'But why mix yourself -up in these quarrels? Better stay at home peacefully, for remember the -proverb says, "Many who go for wool come back shorn."' - -'O Niece of mine,' said Don Quixote, 'how little dost thou understand -the matter! Before I am shorn I will pluck the beards of all who think -to touch but a hair of me.' - -To these words the women made no reply because they saw his anger -increase. - -For fifteen days after this he remained quietly at home, without -showing any signs of repeating his follies, and during this time he had -many arguments with his friends the Curate and the Barber about his -favourite Knights Errant. At the same time he was persuading a certain -labourer, his neighbour, an honest man, but one of very shallow wit, -to go away with him and serve him as Squire. In the end he gave him -so many fair words and promises that the poor fellow determined to go -with him. Don Quixote, among other things, told him that he ought to be -very pleased to depart with him, for at some time or other an adventure -might befall which should in the twinkling of an eye win him an Island -and leave him Governor thereof. On the faith of these and other like -promises, Sancho Panza (for so he was called) forsook his wife and -children and took service as Squire to his neighbour. - -Don Quixote then set about to provide himself with money. This he did -by selling one thing, pawning another, and making bad bargains all -round. At last he got a pretty sum, and having patched up his broken -helmet as best he could, he told Sancho Panza the day and hour on -which he meant to start. He also charged him to provide himself with -a wallet, which Sancho promised to do, and said that he also meant to -take a very good Ass named Dapple along with him, which he had of his -own, because he was not used to travel much a-foot. - -In the matter of the Ass, Don Quixote hesitated a little, calling to -mind whether ever he had read that any Knight Errant was ever attended -by a Squire mounted on ass-back, but no such case occurred to his -memory. Nevertheless, he decided that the Ass should be taken, with the -intention of providing his Squire with a more dignified mount, when he -had a chance, by unhorsing the first discourteous Knight he met with. - -All this being arranged, Sancho Panza, without bidding his wife and -children farewell, and Don Quixote, without saying good-bye to his -Housekeeper and Niece, sallied forth from the village one night, -unknown to any person living. They travelled so far that night that at -daybreak they were safe against discovery, even if they were pursued. -And Sancho Panza rode along on his beast like a patriarch with his -wallet and bottle, full of a huge desire to see himself Governor of the -Island which his Master had promised him. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - Of the dreadful and never-to-be-imagined Adventure - of the Windmills, and of the fearful Battle - which the gallant Biscayan fought with - Don Quixote - - -Whilst they were journeying along, Sancho Panza said to his Master: -'I pray you have good care, Sir Knight, that you forget not that -government of the Island which you have promised me, for I shall be -able to govern it be it never so great.' - -And Don Quixote replied: 'Thou must understand, friend Sancho, that it -was a custom very much used by ancient Knights Errant, to make their -Squires Governors of the Islands and Kingdoms they conquered, and I -am resolved that so good a custom shall be kept up by me. And if thou -livest and I live, it may well be that I might conquer a Kingdom within -six days, and crown thee King of it.' - -'By the same token,' said Sancho Panza, 'if I were a King, then should -Joan my wife become a Queen and my children Princes?' - -'Who doubts of that?' said Don Quixote. - -'That do I,' replied Sancho Panza, 'for I am fully persuaded that -though it rained Kingdoms down upon the earth, none of them would sit -well on my wife Joan. She is not worth a farthing for a Queen. She -might scrape through as a Countess, but I have my doubts of that.' - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE AND THE WINDMILLS] - -As they were talking, they caught sight of some thirty or forty -windmills on a plain. As soon as Don Quixote saw them he said to his -Squire: 'Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we could desire. -For behold, friend Sancho, how there appear thirty or forty monstrous -Giants with whom I mean to do battle, and take all their lives. With -their spoils we will begin to be rich, for this is fair war, and it is -doing great service to clear away these evil fellows from off the face -of the earth.' - -'What Giants?' said Sancho amazed. - -'Those thou seest there,' replied his Master, 'with the long arms.' - -'Take care, Sir,' cried Sancho, 'for those we see yonder are not Giants -but windmills, and those things which seem to be arms are their sails, -which being whirled round by the wind make the mill go.' - -'It is clear,' answered Don Quixote, 'that thou art not yet experienced -in the matter of adventures. They are Giants, and if thou art afraid, -get thee away home, whilst I enter into cruel and unequal battle with -them.' - -So saying, he clapped spurs to Rozinante, without heeding the cries -by which Sancho Panza warned him that he was going to encounter not -Giants but windmills. For he would neither listen to Sancho's outcries, -nor mark what he said, but shouted to the windmills in a loud voice: -'Fly not, cowards and vile creatures, for it is only one Knight that -assaults you!' - -A slight breeze having sprung up at this moment, the great sail-arms -began to move, on seeing which Don Quixote shouted out again: 'Although -you should wield more arms than had the Giant Briareus, I shall make -you pay for your insolence!' - -Saying this, and commending himself most devoutly to his Lady Dulcinea, -whom he desired to aid him in this peril, covering himself with his -buckler, and setting his lance in rest, he charged at Rozinante's best -gallop, and attacked the first mill before him. Thrusting his lance -through the sail, the wind turned it with such violence that it broke -his weapon into shivers, carrying him and his horse after it, and -having whirled them round, finally tumbled the Knight a good way off, -and rolled him over the plain sorely damaged. - -Sancho Panza hastened to help him as fast as his Ass could go, and -when he came up he found the Knight unable to stir, such a shock had -Rozinante given him in the fall. - -'Bless me,' said Sancho, 'did I not tell you that you should look well -what you did, for they were none other than windmills, nor could any -think otherwise unless he had windmills in his brains?' - -'Peace, friend Sancho,' said Don Quixote, 'for the things of war are -constantly changing, and I think this must be the work of the same sage -Freston who robbed me of my library and books, and he hath changed -these Giants into windmills to take from me the glory of the victory. -But in the end his evil arts shall avail but little against the -goodness of my sword.' - -'May it prove so,' said Sancho, as he helped his Master to rise and -remount Rozinante, who, poor steed, was himself much bruised by the -fall. - -The next day they journeyed along towards the Pass of Lapice, a -romantic spot, at which they arrived about three o'clock in the -afternoon. - -'Here,' said Don Quixote to his Squire, 'we may hope to dip our hands -up to the elbows in what are called adventures. But take note of this, -that although thou seest me in the greatest dangers of the world, -thou art not to set hand to thy sword in my defence, unless those who -assault me be base or vulgar people. If they be Knights thou mayest not -help me.' - -'I do assure you, Sir,' said Sancho, 'that herein you shall be most -punctually obeyed, because I am by nature a quiet and peaceful man, and -have a strong dislike to thrusting myself into quarrels.' - -Whilst they spoke thus, two Friars of the order of St. Benedict, -mounted on large mules—big enough to be dromedaries—appeared coming -along the road. They wore travelling masks to keep the dust out of -their eyes and carried large sun umbrellas. After them came a coach -with four or five a-horseback travelling with it, and two lackeys ran -hard by it. In the coach was a Biscayan Lady who was going to Seville. -The Friars were not of her company, though all were going the same way. - -Scarcely had Don Quixote espied them than he exclaimed to his Squire: -'Either I much mistake, or this should be the most famous adventure -that hath ever been seen; for those dark forms that loom yonder are -doubtless Enchanters who are carrying off in that coach some Princess -they have stolen. Therefore I must with all my power undo this wrong.' - -'This will be worse than the adventure of the windmills,' said Sancho. -'Do you not see that they are Benedictine Friars, and the coach will -belong to some people travelling?' - -'I have told thee already, Sancho,' answered Don Quixote, 'that thou -art very ignorant in the matter of adventures. What I say is true, as -thou shalt see.' - -So saying he spurred on his horse, and posted himself in the middle -of the road along which the Friars were coming, and when they were -near enough to hear him he exclaimed in a loud voice: 'Monstrous and -horrible crew! Surrender this instant those exalted Princesses, whom -you are carrying away in that coach, or prepare to receive instant -death as a just punishment of your wicked deeds.' - -The Friars drew rein, and stood amazed at the figure and words of Don -Quixote, to whom they replied: 'Sir Knight, we are neither monstrous -nor wicked, but two religious men, Benedictines, travelling about our -business, and we know nothing about this coach or about any Princesses.' - -'No soft words for me,' cried Don Quixote, 'for I know you well, -treacherous knaves.' - -And without waiting for their reply he set spurs to Rozinante; and -laying his lance on his thigh, charged at the first Friar with such -fury and rage, that if he had not leaped from his mule he would have -been slain, or at least badly wounded. - -The second Friar, seeing the way his companion was treated, made no -words but fled across the country swifter than the wind itself. - -Sancho Panza, on seeing the Friar overthrown, dismounted very speedily -off his Ass and ran over to him, and would have stripped him of his -clothes. But two of the Friars' servants came up and asked him why he -was thus despoiling their master. Sancho replied that it was his due -by the law of arms, as lawful spoils gained in battle by his Lord and -Master, Don Quixote. - -The lackeys, who knew nothing of battles or spoils, seeing that Don -Quixote was now out of the way, speaking with those that were in the -coach, set both at once upon Sancho and threw him down, plucked every -hair out of his beard and kicked and mauled him without mercy, leaving -him at last stretched on the ground senseless and breathless. - -As for the Friar, he mounted again, trembling and terror-stricken, all -the colour having fled from his face, and spurring his mule, he joined -his companion, who was waiting for him hard by. - -While this was happening, Don Quixote was talking to the Lady in the -coach, to whom he said: 'Dear Lady, you may now dispose of yourself as -you best please. For the pride of your robbers is laid in the dust by -this my invincible arm. And that you may not pine to learn the name of -your deliverer, know that I am called Don Quixote of the Mancha, Knight -Errant, adventurer, and captive of the peerless and beauteous Lady -Dulcinea of Toboso. And in reward of the benefits you have received at -my hands, I demand nothing else but that you return to Toboso, there to -present yourself in my name before my Lady, and tell her what I have -done to obtain your liberty.' - -All this was listened to by a Biscayan Squire who accompanied the -coach. He hearing that the coach was not to pass on but was to return -to Toboso, went up to Don Quixote, and, laying hold of his lance, said -to him: 'Get away with thee, Sir Knight, for if thou leave not the -coach I will kill thee as sure as I am a Biscayan.' - -'If,' replied Don Quixote haughtily, 'thou wert a gentleman, as thou -art not, I would ere this have punished thy folly and insolence, -caitiff creature.' - -'I no gentleman?' cried the enraged Biscayan. 'Throw down thy lance and -draw thy sword, and thou shalt soon see that thou liest.' - -'That shall be seen presently,' replied Don Quixote; and flinging his -lance to the ground he drew his sword, grasped his buckler tight, and -rushed at the Biscayan. - -The Biscayan, seeing him come on in this manner, had nothing else to do -but to draw his sword. Luckily for him he was near the coach, whence he -snatched a cushion to serve him as a shield, and then they fell on one -another as if they had been mortal enemies. - -Those that were present tried to stop them, but the Biscayan shouted -out that if he were hindered from ending the battle he would put his -Lady and all who touched him to the sword. - -The Lady, amazed and terrified, made the coachman draw aside a little, -and sat watching the deadly combat from afar. - -The Biscayan, to begin with, dealt Don Quixote a mighty blow over the -target, which, if it had not been for his armour, would have cleft him -to the waist. Don Quixote, feeling the weight of this tremendous blow -which had destroyed his visor and carried away part of his ear, cried -out aloud: 'O Dulcinea, Lady of my soul, flower of all beauty, help thy -Knight, who finds himself in this great danger!' To say this, to raise -his sword, to cover himself with his buckler, and to rush upon the -Biscayan was the work of a moment. With his head full of rage he now -raised himself in his stirrups, and, gripping his sword more firmly in -his two hands, struck at the Biscayan with such violence that he caught -him a terrible blow on the cushion, knocking this shield against his -head with tremendous violence. It was as though a mountain had fallen -on the Biscayan and crushed him, and the blood spouted from his nose -and mouth and ears. He would have fallen straightway from his mule if -he had not clasped her round the neck; but he lost his stirrups, then -let go his arms, and the mule, frightened at the blow, began to gallop -across the fields, so that after two or three plunges it threw him to -the ground. - -Don Quixote leaped off his horse, ran towards him, and setting the -point of his sword between his eyes, bade him yield, or he would cut -off his head. - -The Lady of the coach now came forward in great grief and begged the -favour of her Squire's life. - -Don Quixote replied with great stateliness: 'Truly, fair Lady, I will -grant thy request, but it must be on one condition, that this Squire -shall go to Toboso and present himself in my name to the peerless Lady -Dulcinea, that she may deal with him as she thinks well.' - -The Lady, who was in great distress, without considering what Don -Quixote required, or asking who Dulcinea might be, promised that he -should certainly perform this command. - -'Then,' said Don Quixote, 'on the faith of that pledge I will do him no -more harm.' - -Seeing the contest was now over, and his Master about to remount -Rozinante, Sancho ran to hold his stirrups, and before he mounted, -taking him by his hand he kissed it and said: 'I desire that it will -please you, good my Lord Don Quixote, to bestow on me the government of -that Island which in this terrible battle you have won.' - -To which Don Quixote replied: 'Brother Sancho, these are not the -adventures of Islands, but of cross roads, wherein nothing is gained -but a broken pate or the loss of an ear. Have patience awhile, for the -adventures will come whereby I can make thee not only a Governor, but -something higher.' - -Sancho thanked him heartily, and kissed his hand again and the hem of -his mailed shirt. Then he helped him to get on Rozinante, and leaped -upon his Ass to follow him. - -And Don Quixote, without another word to the people of the coach, rode -away at a swift pace and turned into a wood that was hard by, leaving -Sancho to follow him as fast as his beast could trot. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - Of what passed between Don Quixote and the - Goatherds, and of the unfortunate Adventure - with the Yanguesian Carriers - - -As they rode along, Don Quixote turned to his Squire and said to him: -'Tell me now in very good earnest, didst thou ever see a more valorous -Knight than I am throughout the face of the earth? Didst thou ever -read in histories of any other that hath or ever had more courage in -fighting, more dexterity in wounding, or more skill in overthrowing?' - -'The truth is,' replied Sancho, 'that I have never read any history -whatever, for I can neither read nor write. But what I dare wager is, -that I never in my life served a bolder Master than you are, and I only -trust that all this boldness does not land us within the four walls of -the gaol.' - -'Peace, friend Sancho,' said Don Quixote; 'when didst thou read of a -Knight Errant that was brought before the Judge though he killed ever -so many people?' - -'I have read nothing, as you know, good Master; but a truce to all -this, let me attend to your wound, for you are losing a good deal of -blood in that ear, and I have got some lint and a little white ointment -in my wallet.' - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE AND THE GOATHERDS] - -'That,' said Don Quixote, 'would have been unnecessary if I had -remembered to make a bottleful of the Balsam of Fierabras, for with -only one drop of it both time and medicines are saved.' - -'What Balsam is that, then?' asked Sancho Panza. - -'It is a Balsam, the receipt of which I have in my memory, and whoever -possesses it need not fear death nor think to perish by any wound. -Therefore after I have made it and given it unto thee, thou hast -nothing else to do but when thou shalt see that in any battle I be -cloven in twain, than deftly to take up the portion of the body which -is fallen to the ground and put it up again on the half which remains -in the saddle, taking great care to fix it exactly in the right place. -Then thou shalt give me two draughts of the Balsam I have mentioned, -and I shall become as sound as an apple.' - -'If that be true,' said Sancho, 'I renounce from now the government -of the promised Island, and will demand nothing else in payment of my -services but only the receipt of this precious liquor. But tell me, is -it costly in making?' - -'With less than three _reals_,' said Don Quixote, 'a man may make three -gallons of it. But I mean to teach thee greater secrets than this, and -do thee greater favours also. And now let me dress my wound, for this -ear pains me more than I would wish.' - -Sancho took out of his wallet his lint and ointment to cure his -Master. But before he could use them Don Quixote saw that the visor of -his helmet was broken, and he had like to have lost his senses. Setting -his hand to his sword, he cried: 'I swear an oath to lead the life -which was led by the great Marquis of Mantua when he swore to revenge -the death of his nephew Baldwin, which was not to eat off a tablecloth, -nor to comb his hair, nor to change his clothes, nor to quit his -armour, and other things which, though I cannot now remember, I take -as said, until I have had complete revenge on him that hath done this -outrage.' - -'Look, your Worship, Sir Don Quixote,' said Sancho, when he heard these -strange words, 'you must note that if the Biscayan has done what you -told him, and presented himself before my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, then -he has fully satisfied his debt, and deserves no other penalty unless -he commits a new fault.' - -'Thou hast spoken well and hit the mark truly,' answered Don Quixote; -'and, therefore, in respect of that, I set the oath aside. But I make -it and confirm it again, that I will lead the life I have said, until I -take by force another helmet as good as this from some other Knight.' - -'Such oaths are but mischief,' said Sancho discontentedly, 'for tell me -now, if by chance we do not come across a man armed with a helmet, what -are we to do? Do but consider that armed men travel not these roads, -but only carriers and waggoners, who not only wear no helmets, but -never heard them named all the days of their life.' - -'Thou art mistaken in this,' said Don Quixote, 'for we shall not have -been here two hours before we shall see more Knights than went up -against Albraca to win Angelica the Fair.' - -'So be it,' said Sancho, 'and may all turn out well for us, that the -time may come for the winning of that Island which is costing me so -dear.' - -'Have no fear for thine Island, Sancho Panza,' said Don Quixote; 'and -now look if thou hast aught to eat in thy wallet, for soon we should -go in search of some Castle where we may lodge the night and make the -Balsam of which I have spoken, for in truth this ear of mine pains me -greatly.' - -'I have got here an onion and a bit of cheese and a few crusts of -bread, but such coarse food is not fit for so valiant a Knight as your -Worship.' - -'How little dost thou understand the matter,' replied Don Quixote, 'for -it is an honour to Knights Errant not to eat more than once a month, -and if by chance they should eat, to eat only of that which is next at -hand! And all this thou mightest have known hadst thou read as many -books as I have done. For though I studied many, yet did I never find -that Knights Errant did ever eat but by mere chance, or at some costly -banquets that were made for them. And the remainder of their days -they lived on herbs and roots. Therefore, friend Sancho, let not that -trouble thee which is my pleasure, for to a Knight Errant that which -comes is good.' - -'Pardon me, Sir,' said Sancho, 'for since I can neither read nor write, -as I have already told you, I have not fallen in rightly with the laws -of Knighthood. But from henceforth my wallet shall be furnished with -all sorts of dried fruits for your Worship, because you are a Knight, -and for myself, seeing I am none, I will provide fowls and other -things, which are better eating.' - -So saying he pulled out what he had, and the two fell to dinner in good -peace and company. - -But being desirous to look out for a lodging for that night, they cut -short their meagre and sorry meal, mounted at once a-horseback, and -made haste to find out some dwellings before night did fall. - -But the sun and their hopes did fail them at the same time, they being -then near the cabins of some Goatherds. Therefore they determined to -pass the night there. And though Sancho's grief was great to lie out of -a village, yet Don Quixote was more joyful than ever, for he thought -that as often as he slept under the open heaven, so often did he -perform an act worthy of a true Knight Errant. - -They were welcomed by the Goatherds very cordially, and Sancho, -having put up Rozinante and his Ass the best way he could, made his -way towards the smell given out by certain pieces of goat's flesh -which were boiling in a pot on the fire. And though he longed that -very instant to see if they were ready, he did not do so, for he saw -the Goatherds were themselves taking them off the fire and spreading -some sheep-skins on the ground, and were laying their rustic table -as quickly as might be. Then with many expressions of good will they -invited the two to share in what they had. Those who belonged to the -fold, being six in number, sat round on the skins, having first with -rough compliments asked Don Quixote to seat himself upon a trough which -they placed for him turned upside down. - -Don Quixote sat down, but Sancho remained on foot to serve him with -the cup which was made of horn. Seeing him standing, his Master said: -'That thou mayest see, Sancho, the good which is in Knight Errantry, -and how fair a chance they have who exercise it to arrive at honour and -position in the world, I desire that here by my side, and in company of -these good people, thou dost seat thyself, and be one and the same with -me that am thy Master and natural Lord. That thou dost eat in my dish -and drink in the same cup wherein I drink. For the same may be said of -Knight Errantry as is said of Love, that it makes all things equal.' - -'Thanks for your favour,' replied Sancho, 'but I may tell your Worship -that provided I have plenty to eat, I can eat it as well, and better, -standing and by myself, than if I were seated on a level with an -Emperor. And, indeed, if I speak the truth, what I eat in my corner -without ceremony, though it be but a bread and onion, smacks much -better than turkeycocks at other tables, where I must chaw my meat -leisurely, drink but little, wipe my hands often, nor do other things -that solitude and liberty allow.' - -'For all that,' said Don Quixote, 'here shalt thou sit, for the humble -shall be exalted,' and taking him by the arm, he forced his Squire to -sit down near himself. - -The Goatherds did not understand the gibberish of Squires and Knights -Errant, and did nothing but eat, hold their peace, and stare at their -guests, who with great relish were gorging themselves with pieces as -big as their fists. The course of flesh being over, the Goatherds -spread on the skins a great number of parched acorns and half a cheese, -harder than if it had been made of mortar. The horn in the meantime -was not idle, but came full from the wine-skins and returned empty, as -though it had been a bucket sent to the well. - -After Don Quixote had satisfied his appetite, he took up a fistful of -acorns, and beholding them earnestly, began in this manner: 'Happy time -and fortunate ages were those which our ancestors called Golden, not -because Gold—so much prized in this our Iron Age—was gotten in that -happy time without any labours, but because those who lived in that -time knew not these two words, _Thine_ and _Mine_. In that holy age all -things were in common. No man needed to do aught but lift up his hand -and take his food from the strong oak, which did liberally invite them -to gather his sweet and savoury fruit. The clear fountains and running -rivers did offer them transparent water in magnificent abundance, -and in the hollow trees did careful bees erect their commonwealth, -offering to every hand without interest the fertile crop of their -sweet labours.' Thus did the eloquent Knight describe the Golden Age, -when all was peace, friendship, and concord, and then he showed the -astonished Goatherds how an evil world had taken its place, and made -it necessary for Knights Errant like himself to come forward for -the protection of widows and orphans, and the defence of distressed -damsels. All this he did because the acorns that were given him called -to his mind the Golden Age. The Goatherds sat and listened with grave -attention, and Sancho made frequent visits to the second wine-skin -during his discourse. At length it was ended, and they sat round -the fire, drinking their wine and listening to one of the Goatherds -singing, and towards night, Don Quixote's ear becoming very painful, -one of his hosts made a dressing of rosemary leaves and salt, and bound -up his wound. By this means being eased of his pain, he was able to lie -down in one of the huts and sleep soundly after his day's adventures. - -Don Quixote spent several days among the Goatherds, and at length, when -his wound was better, he thanked them for their hospitality, and rode -away in search of new adventures, followed by the faithful Sancho. - -They came to a halt in a pleasant meadow rich with beautiful grass, by -the side of a delightful and refreshing stream, which seemed to invite -them to stop and spend there the sultry hours of noon, which were -already becoming oppressive. - -Don Quixote and Sancho dismounted, and leaving Rozinante and Dapple -loose, to feed on the grass that was there in plenty, they ransacked -the wallet, and without any ceremony fell to eating what they found in -it. - -Sancho had neglected to tie up Rozinante, and, as luck would have it, -a troop of Galician ponies belonging to some Yanguesian carriers, whose -custom it is to rest at noon with their teams in spots and places where -grass and water abound, were feeding in the same valley. - -It must be believed that Rozinante supposed that the grass the ponies -were feeding on was better than his own; but be that as it may, he -started off at a little swift trot to feed among them. They resented -his appearance, and, as he sought to enter their ranks and feed among -them, they received him with their heels and teeth, with such vigour -that in a trice he had burst his girth, and his saddle was stripped -from his back. But the worst of all was that the carriers, taking part -with their own ponies, ran up with stakes and so belaboured him that -they brought him to the ground in a sore plight. - -Upon this Don Quixote and Sancho, who witnessed the basting of -Rozinante, came running up all out of breath, and Don Quixote said -to Sancho: 'From what I see, friend Sancho, these be no Knights, but -base, rascally fellows of low breeding. I say this, that thou mayest -freely aid me in taking vengeance for the wrong which they have done to -Rozinante before our eyes.' - -'What vengeance can we take,' replied Sancho, 'when there are more than -twenty, and we are but two—nay, perhaps but one and a half?' - -'I count for a hundred,' said Don Quixote, and without further parley -he drew his sword and flew upon the Yanguesians, boldly followed by -Sancho Panza. With his first blow Don Quixote pierced a buff coat that -one of them wore, wounding him grievously in the shoulder. Then the -Yanguesians, finding themselves so rudely handled by two men only, they -being so many, betook themselves to their stakes, and hemming in their -adversaries in the midst of them, they laid on with great fury. In fact -the second thwack brought Sancho to the ground, and the same fate soon -befell Don Quixote, whose dexterity and courage availed him nothing, -for he fell at the feet of his unfortunate steed, who had not yet been -able to arise. - -Then seeing the mischief they had done, the Yanguesians loaded their -team with as much haste as possible, and went their way, leaving the -adventurers in a doleful plight and a worse humour. - - - - - [Illustration: THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S TRAVEL TO THE INN] - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - How Don Quixote arrived at an Inn which he - imagined to be a Castle, and there cured himself - and Sancho with the Balsam of Fierabras - - -For some time after the Yanguesian Carriers had gone on their way Don -Quixote and Sancho Panza lay on the ground groaning and saying nothing. - -The first that came to himself was Sancho Panza, who cried in a weak -and pitiful voice: 'Sir Don Quixote! O Sir Don Quixote!' - -'What wouldst thou, brother Sancho?' answered Don Quixote in the same -faint and grievous tone as Sancho. - -'I would, if it were possible,' said Sancho Panza, 'that your Worship -should give me a couple of mouthfuls of that Balsam of Fierabras, if -so be that your Worship has it at hand. Perhaps it will be as good for -broken bones as for wounds.' - -'If I had it here,' sighed Don Quixote, 'we should lack nothing. But -I swear to thee, Sancho Panza, on the faith of a Knight Errant, that -before two days pass, unless fortune forbids, I will have it in my -possession.' - -'I pray you,' asked Sancho, 'in how many days do you think we shall be -able to move our feet?' - -'I cannot say,' said the battered Knight; 'but I take on myself the -blame of all, for I should not have drawn my sword against men that are -not Knights. Therefore, brother Sancho, take heed of what I tell thee, -for it mightily concerns the welfare of us both; and it is this, that -when thou seest such rabble offer us any wrong, wait not for me to draw -sword upon them, for I will not do it in any wise, but put thou thy -hand to thy sword and chastise them at thy pleasure.' - -But Sancho Panza did not much relish his Master's advice, and replied: -'Sir, I am a peaceable, sober, and quiet man, and can let pass any -injury whatever, for I have a wife and children to take care of. -Therefore, let me also say a word to your Worship, that by no manner of -means shall I put hand to sword either against Clown or against Knight. -And from this time forth I forgive whatever insults are paid to me, -whether they are or shall be paid by persons high or low, rich or poor, -gentle or simple.' - -On hearing this his Master said: 'Would that I had breath enough to be -able to speak easily, and that the pain I feel in this rib were less, -that I might make thee understand, Sancho, the mistake thou art making! -How can I appoint thee Governor of an Island when thou wouldst make an -end of all by having neither valour nor will to defend thy lands or -revenge thine injuries?' - -'Alas!' groaned Sancho, 'I would that I had the courage and -understanding of which your Worship speaks, but in truth at this moment -I am more fit for plasters than preachments. See if your Worship can -rise, and we will help Rozinante, although he deserves it not, for he -was the chief cause of all this mauling.' - -'Fortune always leaves one door open in disasters, and your Dapple will -now be able to supply the want of Rozinante and carry me hence to some -Castle where I may be healed of my wounds. Nor shall I esteem such -riding a dishonour, for I remember to have read that old Silenus, tutor -and guide of the merry God of Laughter, when he entered the City of a -hundred gates, rode very pleasantly, mounted on a handsome ass.' - -'That may be,' replied Sancho, 'but there is a difference between -riding a-horseback and being laid athwart like a sack of rubbish.' - -'Have done with your replies,' exclaimed Don Quixote, 'and rise as well -as thou art able and sit me on top of thine Ass, and let us depart -hence before the night comes and overtakes us in this wilderness.' - -Then Sancho, with thirty groans and sixty sighs and a hundred and -twenty curses, lifted up Rozinante—who if he had had a tongue would -have complained louder than Sancho himself—and after much trouble set -Don Quixote on the Ass. Then tying Rozinante to his tail, he led the -Ass by the halter, and proceeded as best he could to where the highroad -seemed to lie. - -And Fortune, which had guided their affairs from good to better, led -him on to a road on which he spied an Inn, which to his annoyance and -Don Quixote's joy must needs be a Castle. Sancho protested that it was -an Inn, and his Master that it was a Castle; and their dispute lasted -so long that they had time to arrive there before it was finished; and -into this Inn or Castle Sancho entered without more parley with all his -team. - -The Innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote laid athwart of the Ass, asked -Sancho what ailed him. Sancho answered that it was nothing, only that -he had fallen down from a rock, and had bruised his ribs somewhat. -The Innkeeper's wife was by nature charitable, and she felt for the -sufferings of others, so she hastened at once to attend to Don Quixote, -and made her daughter, a comely young maiden, help her in taking care -of her guest. There was also serving in the Inn an Asturian wench, -broad-cheeked, flat-pated, with a snub nose, blind of one eye and the -other not very sound. This young woman, who was called Maritornes, -assisted the daughter, and the two made up a bed for Don Quixote in -a garret which had served for many years as a straw-loft. The bed on -which they placed him was made of four roughly planed boards on two -unequal trestles; a mattress which, in thinness, might have been a -quilt, so full of pellets that if they had not through the holes shown -themselves to be wool, they would to the touch seem to be pebbles. -There was a pair of sheets made of target leather; and as for the -coverlet, if any one had chosen to count the threads of it he could not -have missed one in the reckoning. - -On this miserable bed did Don Quixote lie, and presently the Hostess -and her daughter plastered him over from head to foot, Maritornes -holding the candle for them. - -While she was plastering him, the Hostess, seeing that he was in places -black and blue, said that it looked more like blows than a fall. -Sancho, however, declared they were not blows, but that the rock had -many sharp points, and each one had left a mark; and he added: - -'Pray, good Mistress, spare some of that tow, as my back pains are not -a little.' - -'In that case,' said the Hostess, 'you must have fallen too.' - -'I did not fall,' said Sancho Panza, 'but with the sudden fright I -took on seeing my Master fall, my body aches as if they had given me a -thousand blows, and I now find myself with only a few bruises less than -my Master, Don Quixote.' - -'What is this gentleman's name?' asked Maritornes. - -'Don Quixote of the Mancha,' answered Sancho Panza; 'and he is a Knight -Errant, and one of the best and strongest that have been seen in the -world these many ages.' - -'What is a Knight Errant?' asked the wench. - -'Art thou so young in the world that thou knowest it not?' answered -Sancho Panza. 'Know then, Sister mine, that a Knight Errant is a thing -which in two words is found cudgelled and an Emperor. To-day he is the -most miserable creature in the world, and the most needy; to-morrow he -will have two or three crowns of Kingdoms to give to his Squire.' - -'How is it, then,' said the Hostess, 'that thou hast not gotten at -least an Earldom, seeing thou art Squire to this good Knight?' - -'It is early yet,' replied Sancho, 'for it is but a month since we set -out on our adventures. But believe me, if my Master, Don Quixote, gets -well of his wounds—or his fall, I should say—I would not sell my -hopes for the best title in Spain.' - -To all this Don Quixote listened very attentively, and sitting up in -his bed as well as he could, he took the Hostess's hand and said: -'Believe me, beautiful Lady, that you may count yourself fortunate in -having entertained me in this your Castle. My Squire will inform you -who I am, for self-praise is no recommendation; only this I say, that I -will keep eternally written in memory the service you have done to me, -and I will be grateful to you as long as my life shall endure.' - -The Hostess, her daughter, and the good Maritornes remained confounded -on hearing the words of the Knight Errant, which they understood as -well as if he had spoken in Greek, but yet they believed they were -words of compliment, and so they thanked him for his courtesy and -departed, leaving Sancho and his Master for the night. - -There happened to be lodging in the Inn that night one of the Officers -of the Holy Brotherhood of Toledo, whose duty it was to travel the -roads and inquire into cases of highway robbery. He hearing some time -later that a man was lying in the house sorely wounded must needs go -and make an examination of the matter. He therefore lighted his lamp -and made his way to Don Quixote's garret. - -As soon as Sancho Panza saw him enter arrayed in a shirt and a nightcap -with the lamp in his hand, which showed him to be a very ugly man, he -asked his Master: 'Will this by chance be some Wizard Moor come to -torment us?' - -'A Wizard it cannot be,' said Don Quixote, 'for those under enchantment -never let themselves be seen.' - -The Officer could make nothing of their talk, and came up to Don -Quixote, who lay face upwards encased in his plasters. 'Well,' said the -Officer roughly, 'how goes it, my good fellow?' - -'I would speak more politely if I were you,' answered Don Quixote. 'Is -it the custom in this country, lout, to speak in that way to a Knight -Errant?' - -The Officer, finding himself thus rudely addressed, could not endure -it, and, lifting up the lamp, oil and all, gave Don Quixote such a blow -on the pate with it that he broke his head in one or two places, and, -leaving all in darkness, left the room. - -'Ah!' groaned Sancho, 'this is indeed the Wizard Moor, and he must be -keeping his treasures for others, and for us nothing but blows.' - -'It is ever so,' replied Don Quixote; 'and we must take no notice -of these things of enchantment, nor must we be angry or vexed with -them, for since they are invisible, there is no one on whom to take -vengeance. Rise, Sancho, if thou canst, and call the Constable of this -fortress, and try to get him to give me a little wine, oil, salt, and -rosemary to prepare the health-giving Balsam, of which I have grievous -need, for there comes much blood from the wound which the phantom hath -given me.' - -Sancho arose, not without aching bones, and crept in the dark to where -the Innkeeper was, and said to him: - -'My Lord Constable, do us the favour and courtesy to give me a little -rosemary, oil, wine, and salt to cure one of the best Knights Errant -in the world, who lies yonder in bed sorely wounded at the hands of a -Moorish Enchanter.' - -When the Innkeeper heard this he took Sancho Panza for a man out of -his wits, but nevertheless gave him what he wanted, and Sancho carried -it to Don Quixote. His Master was lying with his hands to his head, -groaning with pain from the blows of the lamp, which, however, had -only raised two big lumps; what he thought was blood being only the -perspiration running down his face. - -He now took the things Sancho had brought, of which he made a compound, -mixing them together and boiling them a good while until they came to -perfection. - -Then he asked for a phial into which to pour this precious liquor, but -as there was not one to be had in the Inn, he decided to pour it into a -tin oil-vessel which the Innkeeper had given him. - -This being done, he at once made an experiment on himself of the virtue -of this precious Balsam, as he imagined it to be, and drank off a whole -quart of what was left in the boiling-pot. - -The only result of this was that it made him very sick indeed, as -well it might, and, what with the sickness and the bruising and the -weariness of body, he fell fast asleep for several hours, and at the -end of his sleep awoke so refreshed and so much the better of his -bruises that he took himself to be cured, and verily believed he had -hit upon the Balsam of Fierabras. - -Sancho Panza, to whom his Master's recovery seemed little short of a -miracle, begged that he might have what was left in the boiling-pot, -which was no small quantity. Don Quixote consenting, he took the pot in -both hands, and tossed it down, swallowing very little less than his -Master had done. - -It happened, however, that Sancho's stomach was not so delicate as his -Master's, and he suffered such terrible pains and misery before he was -sick that he thought his last hour was come, and cursed the Balsam and -the thief who had given it to him. - -Don Quixote, seeing him in this bad way, said: 'I believe, Sancho, that -all this evil befalleth thee because thou art not dubbed Knight, for I -am persuaded that this Balsam may not benefit any one that is not.' - -'If your Worship knew that,' replied poor Sancho, 'bad luck to me and -mine, why did you let me taste it?' - -Before Don Quixote could reply to this, Sancho became so terribly sick -that he could only lie groaning and moaning for two hours, at the end -of which he felt so shaken and shattered that he could scarcely stand, -and sadly wished that he had never become Squire to a Knight Errant. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - How Sancho paid the Reckoning at the Inn which - Don Quixote supposed was a Castle - - -Now whilst Sancho Panza lay groaning in his bed, Don Quixote, who, as -we have said, felt somewhat eased and cured, made up his mind to set -off in search of new adventures. And full of this desire he himself -saddled Rozinante and put the pack-saddle on his Squire's beast, and -helped Sancho to dress and to mount his Ass. Then getting a-horseback -he rode over to the corner of the Inn and seized hold of a pike which -stood there, to make it serve him instead of a lance. - -All the people that were staying at the Inn, some twenty in number, -stood staring at him, and among these was the Innkeeper's daughter. Don -Quixote kept turning his eyes towards her and sighing dolefully, which -every one, or at least all who had seen him the night before, thought -must be caused by the pain he was in from his bruises. - - [Illustration: HOW SANCHO PAID THE RECKONING] - -When they were both mounted and standing by the Inn gate, he called -to the Innkeeper and said in a grave voice: 'Many and great are the -favours, Sir Constable, which I have received in this your Castle, and -I shall remain deeply grateful for them all the days of my life. If -I am able to repay you by avenging you on some proud miscreant that -hath done you any wrong, know that it is my office to help the weak, -to revenge the wronged, and to punish traitors. Ransack your memory, -and if you find anything of this sort for me to do, you have but to -utter it, and I promise you, by the Order of Knighthood which I have -received, to procure you satisfaction to your heart's content.' - -'Sir Knight,' replied the Innkeeper with equal gravity, 'I have no need -that your Worship should avenge me any wrong, for I know how to take -what revenge I think good when an injury is done. All I want is that -your Worship should pay me the score you have run up this night in mine -Inn, both for the straw and barley of your two beasts, and your suppers -and your beds.' - -'This then is an Inn?' exclaimed Don Quixote. - -'Ay, that it is, and a very respectable one, too,' replied the -Innkeeper. - -'All this time then I have been deceived,' said Don Quixote, 'for -in truth I thought it was a Castle and no mean one. But since it is -indeed an Inn and no Castle, all that can be done now is to ask you to -forgive me any payment, for I cannot break the laws of Knights Errant, -of whom I know for certain that they never paid for lodging or aught -else in the Inns where they stayed. For the good entertainment that -is given them is their due reward for the sufferings they endure, -seeking adventures both day and night, winter and summer, a-foot and -a-horseback, in thirst and hunger, in heat and cold, being exposed to -all the storms of heaven and the hardships of earth.' - -'All that is no business of mine,' retorted the Innkeeper. 'Pay me what -you owe me, and keep your tales of Knights Errant for those who want -them. My business is to earn my living.' - -'You are a fool and a saucy fellow,' said Don Quixote angrily, and, -spurring Rozinante and brandishing his lance, he swept out of the Inn -yard before any one could stop him, and rode on a good distance without -waiting to see if his Squire was following. - -The Innkeeper, when he saw him go without paying, ran up to get his -due from Sancho Panza, who also refused to pay, and said to him: 'Sir, -seeing I am Squire to a Knight Errant, the same rule and reason for not -paying at inns and taverns hold as good for me as for my Master.' - -The Innkeeper grew angry at these words, and threatened that if he did -not pay speedily he would get it from him in a way he would not like. - -Sancho replied that by the Order of Knighthood which his Lord and -Master had received, he would not pay a penny though it cost him his -life. - -But his bad fortune so managed it, that there happened to be at the -Inn at this time four wool-combers of Segovia, and three needlemakers -of Cordova, and two neighbours from Seville, all merry fellows, very -mischievous and playsome. And as if they were all moved with one idea, -they came up to Sancho, and pulling him down off his Ass, one of them -ran in for the Innkeeper's blanket, and they flung him into it. But -looking up and seeing that the ceiling was somewhat lower than they -needed for their business, they determined to go out into the yard, -which had no roof but the sky, and there placing Sancho in the middle -of the blanket, they began to toss him aloft and to make sport with him -by throwing him up and down. The outcries of the miserable be-tossed -Squire were so many and so loud that they reached the ears of his -Master, who, standing awhile to listen what it was, believed that some -new adventure was at hand, until he clearly recognised the shrieks to -come from poor Sancho. Immediately turning his horse, he rode back at a -gallop to the Inn gate, and finding it closed, rode round the wall to -see if he could find any place at which he might enter. But he scarcely -got to the wall of the Inn yard, which was not very high, when he -beheld the wicked sport they were making with his Squire. He saw him go -up and down with such grace and agility, that, had his anger allowed -him, I make no doubt he would have burst with laughter. He tried to -climb the wall from his horse, but he was so bruised and broken that he -could by no means alight from his saddle, and therefore from on top of -his horse he used such terrible threats against those that were tossing -Sancho that one could not set them down in writing. - -But in spite of his reproaches they did not cease from their laughter -or labour, nor did the flying Sancho stop his lamentations, mingled now -with threats and now with prayers. Thus they carried on their merry -game, until at last from sheer weariness they stopped and let him be. -And then they brought him his Ass, and, helping him to mount it, -wrapped him in his coat, and the kind-hearted Maritornes, seeing him -so exhausted, gave him a pitcher of water, which, that it might be the -cooler, she fetched from the well. - -Just as he was going to drink he heard his Master's voice calling to -him, saying: 'Son Sancho, drink not water, drink it not, my son, for -it will kill thee. Behold, here I have that most holy Balsam,'—and he -showed him the can of liquor,—'two drops of which if thou drinkest -thou wilt undoubtedly be cured.' - -At these words Sancho shuddered, and replied to his Master: 'You forget -surely that I am no Knight, or else you do not remember the pains I -suffered last evening. Keep your liquor to yourself, and let me be in -peace.' - -At the conclusion of this speech he began to drink, but finding it was -only water he would not taste it, and called for wine, which Maritornes -very kindly fetched for him, and likewise paid for it out of her own -purse. - -As soon as Sancho had finished drinking, he stuck his heels into his -Ass, and the Inn gate being thrown wide open he rode out, highly -pleased at having paid for nothing, even at the price of a tossing. The -Innkeeper, however, had kept his wallet, but Sancho was so distracted -when he departed that he never missed it. - -When Sancho reached his Master, he was almost too jaded and faint to -ride his beast. Don Quixote, seeing him in this plight, said to him: -'Now I am certain that yon Castle or Inn is without doubt enchanted, -for those who made sport with thee so cruelly, what else could they be -but phantoms, and beings of another world? And I am the more sure of -this, because when I was by the wall of the Inn yard I was not able to -mount it, or to alight from Rozinante, and therefore I must have been -enchanted. For if I could have moved, I would have avenged thee in a -way to make those scoundrels remember the jest for ever, even although -to do it I should have had to disobey the rules of Knighthood.' - -'So would I also have avenged myself,' said Sancho, 'Knight or no -Knight, but I could not. And yet I believe that those who amused -themselves with me were no phantoms or enchanted beings, but men of -flesh and bones as we are, for one was called Pedro, and another -Tenorio, and the Innkeeper called a third Juan. But what I make out of -all this, is that those adventures which we go in search of, will bring -us at last so many misadventures that we shall not know our right foot -from our left. And the best thing for us to do, in my humble opinion, -is to return us again to our village and look after our own affairs, -and not go jumping, as the saying is, "out of the frying-pan into the -fire."' - -'How little dost thou know of Knighthood, friend Sancho,' replied Don -Quixote. 'Peace, and have patience, for a day will come when thou shalt -see with thine own eyes how fine a thing it is to follow this calling. -What pleasure can equal that of winning a battle or triumphing over an -enemy?' - -'I cannot tell,' answered Sancho; 'but this I know, that since we are -Knights Errant, we have never won any battle, unless it was that with -the Biscayan, and even then your Worship lost half an ear. And ever -after that time it has been nothing but cudgels and more cudgels, -blows and more blows,—I getting the tossing in the blanket to boot. -And all this happens to me from enchanted people on whom I cannot take -vengeance.' - -'That grieves me,' replied Don Quixote; 'but who knows what may happen? -Fortune may bring me a sword like that of Amadis, which did not only -cut like a razor, but there was no armour however strong or enchanted -which could stand before it.' - -'It will be like my luck,' said Sancho, 'that when your Worship finds -such a sword it will, like the Balsam, be of use only to those who are -Knights, whilst poor Squires will still have to sup sorrow.' - -'Fear not that, Sancho,' replied his Master; and he rode ahead, his -mind full of adventures, followed at a little distance by his unhappy -Squire. - - - - - [Illustration: OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO ARMIES] - - - - - CHAPTER X - - Of the Adventure of the Two Armies - - -Whilst they were riding on their way, Don Quixote saw a large, dense -cloud of dust rolling towards them, and turning to Sancho said: 'This -is the day on which shall be shown the might of my arm and on which -I am to do deeds which shall be written in the books of fame. Dost -thou see the dust which arises there? Know then that it is caused by -a mighty army composed of various and numberless nations that are -marching this way.' - -'If that be so,' replied Sancho, 'then must there be two armies, for on -this other side there is as great a dust.' - -Don Quixote turned round to behold it, and seeing that it was so, he -was marvellous glad, for he imagined that there were indeed two armies -coming to fight each other in the midst of that spacious plain. For at -every hour and moment his fancy was full of battles, enchantments, and -adventures, such as are related in the books of Knighthood, and all his -thoughts and wishes were turned towards such things. - -As for the clouds he had seen, they were raised by two large flocks of -sheep which were being driven along the same road from two opposite -sides, and this by reason of the dust could not be seen until they came -near. - -Don Quixote was so much in earnest when he called them armies that -Sancho at once believed it, asking: 'What then shall we do, good -Master?' - -'What!' cried Don Quixote. 'Why, favour and help those who are in -distress and need. Thou must know, Sancho, that this which comes on -our front is led by the mighty Emperor Alifamfaron, Lord of the great -Island of Trapobana. This other which is marching at our back is the -army of his foe, the King of the Garamantes, Pentapolin of the Naked -Arm, for he always goes into battle with his right arm bare.' - -'But why do these two Princes hate each other so much?' asked Sancho. - -'They are enemies,' replied Don Quixote, 'because Alifamfaron is a -furious pagan and is deeply in love with Pentapolin's daughter, who is -a beautiful and gracious Princess and a Christian. Her father refuses -to give her to the pagan King until he abandons Mahomet's false -religion and becomes a convert to his own.' - -'By my beard,' said Sancho, 'Pentapolin does right well, and I will -help him all I can.' - -'Then thou wilt but do thy duty,' said Don Quixote, 'for it is not -necessary to be a dubbed Knight to engage in battles such as these.' - -'Right!' replied Sancho, 'but where shall we stow this Ass that we may -be sure of finding him after the fight is over, for I think it is not -the custom to enter into battle mounted on such a beast.' - -'That is true,' said Don Quixote; 'but thou mayest safely leave it to -chance whether he be lost or found, for after this battle we shall have -so many horses that even Rozinante runs a risk of being changed for -another. And now let us withdraw to that hillock yonder that we may get -a better view of both those great armies.' - -They did so, and standing on the top of a hill gazed at the two great -clouds of dust which the imagination of Don Quixote had turned into -armies. And then Don Quixote, with all the eloquence he could muster, -described to Sancho the names of the different Knights in the two -armies, with their colours and devices and mottoes, and the numbers of -their squadrons, and the countries and provinces from which they came. - -But though Sancho stood and listened in wonder he could see nothing -as yet of Knights or armies, and at last he cried out: 'Where are all -these grand Knights, good my Master? For myself, I can see none of -them. But perhaps it is all enchantment, as so many things have been.' - -'How! Sayest thou so?' said Don Quixote. 'Dost thou not hear the horses -neigh and the trumpets sound and the noise of the drums?' - -'I hear nothing else,' said Sancho, 'but the great bleating of sheep.' - -And so it was, indeed, for by this time the two flocks were approaching -very near to them. - -'The fear thou art in,' said Don Quixote, 'permits thee neither to -see nor hear aright, for one of the effects of fear is to disturb the -senses and make things seem different from what they are. If thou art -afraid, stand to one side and leave me to myself, for I alone can give -the victory to the side which I assist.' - -So saying he clapped spurs to Rozinante, and, setting his lance in -rest, rode down the hillside like a thunderbolt. - -Sancho shouted after him as loud as he could: 'Return, good Sir Don -Quixote! Return! For verily all those you go to charge are but sheep -and muttons. Return, I say! Alas that ever I was born! What madness -is this? Look, there are neither Knights, nor arms, nor shields, nor -soldiers, nor Emperors, but only sheep. What is it you do, wretch that -I am?' - -For all this Don Quixote did not turn back, but rode on, shouting in a -loud voice: 'So ho! Knights! Ye that serve and fight under the banner -of Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, follow me, all of you. Ye shall see how -easily I will revenge him on his enemy Alifamfaron of Trapobana!' - -With these words he dashed into the midst of the flock of sheep, -and began to spear them with as much courage and fury as if he were -fighting his mortal enemies. - -The Shepherds that came with the flock cried to him to leave off, but -seeing their words had no effect, they unloosed their slings and began -to salute his pate with stones as big as one's fist. - -But Don Quixote made no account of their stones, and galloping to and -fro everywhere cried out: 'Where art thou, proud Alifamfaron? Where art -thou? Come to me, for I am but one Knight alone, who desires to prove -my strength with thee, man to man, and make thee yield thy life for the -wrong thou hast done to the valorous Pentapolin.' - -At that instant a stone gave him such a blow that it buried two of his -ribs in his body. Finding himself so ill-treated he thought for certain -that he was killed or sorely wounded, and recollecting his Balsam, he -drew out his oil pot and set it to his mouth to drink. But before he -could take as much as he wanted, another stone struck him full on the -hand, broke the oil pot into pieces, and carried away with it three -or four teeth and grinders out of his mouth, and sorely crushed two -fingers of his hand. So badly was he wounded by these two blows that he -now fell off his horse on to the ground. - -The Shepherds ran up, and believing that they had killed him, they -collected their flocks in great haste, and carrying away their dead -muttons, of which there were seven, they went away without caring to -inquire into things any further. - -Sancho was all this time standing on the hill looking at the mad pranks -his Master was performing, and tearing his beard and cursing the hour -when they had first met. Seeing, however, that he was fallen on the -ground, and the Shepherds had gone away, he came down the hill and went -up to his Master, and found him in a very bad way, although not quite -insensible. - -'Did I not tell you, Sir Don Quixote,' said Sancho mournfully, 'did I -not tell you to come back, for those you went to attack were not armies -but sheep?' - -'That thief of an Enchanter, my enemy, can alter things and make men -vanish away as he pleases. Know, Sancho, that it is very easy for those -kind of men to make us seem what they please, and this malicious being -who persecutes me, envious of the glory that I was to reap from this -battle, hath changed the Squadrons of the foe into flocks of sheep. -If thou dost not believe me, Sancho, get on thine Ass and follow them -fair and softly, and thou shalt see that when they have gone a little -way off they will return to their original shapes, and, ceasing to be -sheep, become men as right and straight as I painted them to you at -first.' - -At this moment the Balsam that Don Quixote had swallowed began to make -him very sick, and Sancho Panza ran off to search in his wallet for -something that might cure him. But when he found that his wallet was -not upon his Ass, and remembered for the first time that it was left -at the Inn, he was on the point of losing his wits. He cursed himself -anew, and resolved in his heart to leave his Master and return to his -house, even though he should lose his wages and the government of the -promised Island. - -Don Quixote had now risen, and with his left hand to his mouth that the -rest of his teeth might not fall out, with the other he took Rozinante -by the bridle, and went up to where his Squire stood leaning against -his Ass with his head in his hand, looking the picture of misery. - -Don Quixote, seeing him look so miserable, said to him: 'Learn, Sancho, -not to be so easily downcast, for these storms that befall us are signs -that the weather will soon be fair. Therefore thou shouldst not vex -thyself about my misfortunes, for sure thou dost not share in them.' - -'How not?' replied Sancho; 'mayhap he they tossed in a blanket -yesterday was not my father's son? And the wallet which is missing -to-day with all my chattels, is not that my misfortune?' - -'What, is the wallet missing, Sancho?' said Don Quixote. - -'Yes, it is missing,' answered Sancho. - -'In that case we have nothing to eat to-day,' said Don Quixote. - -'It would be so,' said Sancho, 'should the herbs of the field fail us, -which your Worship says you know of, and with which you have told me -Knights Errant must supply their wants.' - -'Nevertheless,' answered Don Quixote, 'I would rather just now have a -hunch of bread, or a cottage loaf and a couple of pilchards' heads, -than all the herbs that Dioscorides has described. But before thou -mountest thine Ass, lend me here thy hand and see how many teeth and -grinders are lacking on this right side of my upper jaw, for there I -feel the pain.' - -Sancho put his fingers in, and, feeling about, asked: 'How many -grinders did your Worship have before, on this side?' - -'Four,' replied Don Quixote, 'besides the wisdom tooth, all whole and -sound.' - -'Mind well what you say, Sir,' answered Sancho. - -'Four, say I, if not five,' said Don Quixote, 'for in all my life I -never had tooth or grinder drawn from my mouth, nor has any fallen out -or been destroyed by decay.' - -'Well, then, in this lower part,' said Sancho, 'your Worship has but -two grinders and a half, and in the upper, neither a half nor any, for -all is as smooth as the palm of my hand.' - -'Unfortunate I!' exclaimed Don Quixote, 'for I would rather they -had deprived me of my arm, as long as it were not my sword arm. -Know, Sancho, that a mouth without grinders is like a mill without a -grindstone, and a tooth is more to be prized than a millstone. But -all this must we suffer who profess the stern rule of Knights Errant. -Mount, friend, and lead the way, for I will follow thee what pace thou -pleasest.' - - - - - [Illustration: OF A WONDERFUL ADVENTURE—] - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - Of a wonderful Adventure which Don Quixote - went through without peril to himself - or Sancho - - -'Methinks, my Master,' said Sancho, 'that all the mishaps that have -befallen us in these days are without doubt in punishment for the sin -you committed against the rules of Knighthood, in not keeping your vow -which you made, not to eat bread, and all the other things you vowed to -do, until you got the helmet of Malandrino, or whatever his name was.' - -'Thou art very right, Sancho,' said Don Quixote; 'but to tell the truth -it had passed from my memory; but I will make amends as may be done by -the rules of Knighthood.' - -'And doubtless,' replied Sancho, 'all will then be well, and I shall -live to see none so great as Don Quixote of the Mancha, the Knight of -the Rueful Countenance.' - -'Why do you give me that name, good Sancho?' asked his Master. - -'Because truly,' replied his Squire, 'your Worship has now the most -ill-favoured face that any man ever saw, and it must be, I think, -because you are tired out after the battle, or on account of the loss -of your grinders.' - -'I fancy,' said Don Quixote, 'that some sage must have put it into -thy head to give me such a name, for now I remember that all Knights -took a name of that kind, and there was "The Knight of the Flaming -Sword," and "The Knight of the Griffin," and many another. And from -this day forward I shall call myself by no other name than "The Knight -of the Rueful Countenance"; and that the name may become me better, I -will upon the first occasion cause to be painted on my shield a most -ill-favoured and sorrowful face.' - -'There is no need,' said Sancho, 'to waste time and money in having -the countenance painted. All that has to be done is that your Worship -should discover your own, and show your face to those that look at you, -when without doubt they will name you "He of the Rueful Countenance." -Hunger and the loss of teeth have given your Worship so evil a face -that you may spare yourself the painting.' - -Don Quixote laughed at his Squire's pleasantry, but determined -nevertheless to have the painting made on his shield according to his -fancy. - -They had now arrived at a wide but hidden valley between two mountains, -where they alighted; and seeing a meadow on the side of the hill thick -with green and tender grass, they entered it and marched along, feeling -their way, for the night was so dark they could not see a jot. - -They had scarcely gone two hundred paces when they heard a great noise -of water, as if it fell headlong from some great and steep rock, and -being by this time very thirsty, the sound cheered them greatly. - -Stopping to listen whence it came, they heard another loud noise, which -drowned all their joy, especially Sancho's, who, as I have said, was by -nature timid and easily frightened. - -They heard, I say, certain blows, louder than the sound of the rushing -water, and struck in regular beats, accompanied by the ugly sounds of -rattling irons and chains. These, with the furious sounds of the water, -and the surrounding darkness, were enough to strike terror into any -heart less brave than Don Quixote's. - -The night, as I said, was dark, and they were now among some tall -trees, whose leaves, moved by a gentle breeze, made a low whispering -sound, so that the loneliness of the place, the darkness, the noise -of the water, the strange sounds of the heavy beating and rattling -chains, all caused horror and fright, the more so when they found that -the blows never ceased, and morning seemed as though it would never -come. - -But Don Quixote was not disturbed by these things, and leaping on -Rozinante, he seized his shield, brandished his lance, and said: -'Friend Sancho, I am he for whom are reserved all dangerous, great, and -valorous feats. I am he who shall cause the feats of the Knights of -the Round Table to be forgotten. Mark well, trusty and loyal Squire, -the darkness of this night, the strange stillness, the dull, confused -trembling of the leaves, the dreadful noise of the water, which seems -as though it were leaping down from the steep mountains of the moon, -the constant thumping of the blows which wounds and pains our ears, -which all together and each by itself are enough to strike terror, -fear, and amazement into the mind of Mars, how much more in his that is -not accustomed to such adventures. But with me it causeth my heart to -almost burst in my bosom with joy to try this peril, however great it -may be. Therefore tighten Rozinante's girths a little, and may all be -well with thee. Wait for me here three days and no more. And if I do -not return in the end of that time, go back to our village, and from -thence, for my sake, to Toboso, where thou shalt say to my incomparable -Lady Dulcinea that her captive Knight died attempting things that might -make him worthy to be called hers.' - -When Sancho heard his Master say these things he began to weep -piteously, and said to him: 'Sir, I see no reason why you should -undertake this fearful adventure. It is now night, there is no one -sees us, we can easily turn aside and go away from the danger, and -since no one sees us no one can set us down as cowards. Remember that -I left my country, wife, and children to come and serve you, and to -obtain that unlucky and accursed Island you have promised me so often, -and now you mean to forsake me here in this desert. Put it off at least -until the morning, for it can want but little from this to daybreak.' - -'Let it want what it may,' answered Don Quixote, 'it shall never be -said of me that tears or prayers hindered my doing my duty as a Knight.' - -Sancho, seeing that his Master's mind was made up, and that his tears, -entreaties, and prayers were of no avail, determined to use his wits, -and see if by trickery he could make him wait until daybreak. And so, -when he was tightening the horse's girths, he softly and without being -felt tied his Ass's halter to both Rozinante's legs, so fast that when -Don Quixote thought to depart he could not, for his horse was not able -to go a step except by little jumps. - -Sancho, seeing the success of his trick, exclaimed: 'Behold, Sir, how -Heaven, moved by my tears and prayers, has ruled that Rozinante shall -not be able to go a step; and if you persist in urging, spurring, and -striking him, it will be to anger Fortune, and kick, as the saying is, -against the pricks.' - -Don Quixote grew angry at this, and yet the more he spurred Rozinante -the less would he move. But at last he became convinced that it was no -further use attempting to make him go, and resolved to remain quiet -until the morning came, or until Rozinante would please to depart. -And having no idea that Sancho was the cause of this, he said to him: -'Since it is so, Sancho, that Rozinante is not able to move, I am -content to wait here until morning smiles, although I weep to think it -may be so long in coming.' - -'You shall have no cause to weep,' replied Sancho; 'for I will tell you -stories from now till daylight, unless you would like to dismount and -snatch a little sleep upon the green grass, after the custom of Knights -Errant, that you may be the fresher the morrow to finish this terrible -adventure.' - -'Who talks of sleeping?' said Don Quixote angrily. 'Am I one of those -Knights that repose in time of danger? Sleep thou, who wast born to -sleep, or do what thou please, for I shall do what I think right.' - -'Good Sir, be not angry,' said Sancho, 'for I did not mean that'; and -coming as near to his Master as he durst, he placed one hand on the -pommel of his saddle and crept as near as he could, so great was the -fear he had of those blows, which all the while did sound without -ceasing. - -After many hours spent in conversation the dawn approached, and Sancho, -seeing this, unloosed Rozinante very carefully. As soon as the horse -felt himself free, though he was never very mettlesome, he began to paw -with his hoofs, and Don Quixote, noticing that he moved, took it for a -good sign, and believed that it was now time to attempt this fearful -adventure. - -And now the sun had risen, and everything appeared distinctly, and Don -Quixote saw that he was among some tall chestnut-trees that cast a very -dark shadow. He perceived that the hammering did not cease, but could -not discover what caused it, and so without delay he spurred Rozinante, -and turning back again to Sancho to bid him farewell, commanded him to -stay for him there three days at the longest, and that if he returned -not then, to take it for certain that he had ended his days in that -perilous adventure. He again repeated to him the message which he had -to carry to Lady Dulcinea, and assured him that if he came safe out of -this dreadful peril, the Squire might hold the promised Island as more -than certain. - -Here Sancho began to weep afresh at the pitiful words of his good -Master, and determined not to abandon him until the last end of this -adventure. And thereupon Don Quixote rode forward towards the terrible -noises, Sancho following him on foot, leading by the halter his good -Dapple, who was the constant companion of his good or evil fortune. - -Having gone a good distance among those chestnuts and shady trees, they -came to a little meadow which lay at the foot of some high rocks, down -which a mighty rush of water descended. At the foot of the rocks were -some houses, so roughly built that they seemed more like ruins than -houses, from whence came the din and clatter of the strokes which still -never ceased. - -Rozinante started at the noise of the water and the hammering, and -being made quiet by Don Quixote, drew near little by little to the -houses. Don Quixote murmured devoutly the name of his beloved Lady -Dulcinea, and Sancho, never apart from his Master's side, stretched out -his neck and eyes as far as he could, to see if he could make out what -it was that caused them so much terror and dismay. - -And when they had gone about another hundred paces they turned a -corner, and there before their eyes was the cause of that hideous -and terrible noise that had kept them all the night so miserable and -frightened. This was nothing worse than a mill for fulling cloth, whose -six great iron maces or pestles, driven by the water-wheels, kept on -day and night falling and rising from their troughs with successive -hammering blows. And this had caused the terrible noise which had so -terrified the adventurers. - -When Don Quixote saw what it was, he stood mute and ashamed. Sancho -beheld him, and saw that he hung his head on his breast. Don Quixote -looked also at his Squire, and saw that his cheeks were swollen with -laughter, with evident signs that he was in danger of bursting. Don -Quixote's melancholy was not so great that he could help smiling a -little at seeing Sancho, and Sancho, when he saw his Master beginning -to laugh, burst out loud and long, with such force that he had to put -his hands to his sides to prevent them splitting. - -Four times he ended and four times he started again; but what chiefly -enraged Don Quixote was that he began to repeat in a jesting manner, -imitating his Master: 'Friend Sancho, I am he for whom are reserved -all dangerous, great, and valorous feats.' And he went on repeating the -greater part of what Don Quixote had said when they first heard the -fearsome sounds. - -This was more than Don Quixote could bear, and lifting up the end of -his lance, he gave him two such blows on the back, that if he had -caught them on his pate they would have freed his Master from paying -him any more wages. - -Sancho, seeing that he had carried the jest too far, said very humbly: -'Please, good Master, I did but jest.' - -'But why dost thou jest? I tell thee I do not jest,' replied Don -Quixote. 'Come here, Master Merryman, and tell me, am I, being as I am -a Knight, to distinguish noises, and to know which are those of mills -and which are of Giants? Turn me those six hammers into Giants and cast -them at me, one by one, or all together, and if I do not turn all their -heels up, then mock me as much as thou pleasest.' - -'No more, good Sir,' said Sancho, 'for I confess I have been somewhat -too laughsome, but henceforth you may be sure that I will not once -unfold my lips to jest at your doings, but only to honour you as my -Master and Lord.' - -'By doing so thou shalt live on the face of the earth, for next to -our parents we are bound to respect our Masters as if they were our -fathers.' - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - The great Adventure and rich Winning of the - Helmet of Mambrino - - -It now began to rain, and Sancho would have entered one of the -fulling-mills for shelter, but Don Quixote had taken such a dislike to -them, on account of the jest of which he had been the victim, that he -would not go near them. - -Turning to the right, he made away into a highroad not unlike the one -on which they had travelled the day before. Very shortly Don Quixote -espied a man a-horseback who wore on his head something that glittered -like gold. Scarce had he seen him when he turned to Sancho and said: -'Methinks, Sancho, that there is no proverb that is not true, for all -proverbs are sentences taken out of experience itself, which is the -universal mother of all sciences. And there is a proverb which says, -"When one door shuts another opens." I say this because if Fortune -closed the door for us last night, deceiving us in the adventure of -the fulling-mills, to-day it opens wide the door to a better and more -certain adventure. For here, if I be not deceived, there comes one -towards us that wears on his head the helmet of Mambrino, about -which I made the oath thou knowest of.' - - [Illustration: THE RICH WINNING OF THE HELMET OF MAMBRINO] - -'See well what you say, Sir, and better what you do,' said Sancho, -'for I would not meet with more fulling-mills to hammer us out of our -senses.' - -'Peace, fellow!' cried Don Quixote; 'what has a helmet to do with -fulling-mills?' - -'I know not,' replied Sancho; 'but if I might speak as I used to, I -would give you such reasons that your Worship should see that you were -mistaken in what you say.' - -'How can I be mistaken in what I say?' cried Don Quixote. 'Tell me, -seest thou not that Knight who comes riding towards us on a dapple grey -horse, with a helmet of gold on his head?' - -'That which I see and make out,' replied Sancho, 'is nothing but a man -on a grey ass like mine carrying on his head something which shines.' - -'Why that is Mambrino's helmet,' said Don Quixote. 'Stand aside and -leave me alone with him, and thou shalt see how, without a word, this -adventure shall be ended and the helmet I have longed for be mine.' - -'As to standing aside,' muttered Sancho, 'that I will take care to do, -but I trust this is not another case of fulling-mills.' - -'I have already told thee,' said Don Quixote angrily, 'to make no -mention of the mills, and if thou dost not obey me, I vow that I will -batter the soul out of thy body.' - -At this Sancho, fearing lest his Master should carry out his threat, -held his peace. - -Now the truth of the matter as to the helmet, the horse, and the Knight -which Don Quixote saw, was this. There were in that neighbourhood two -villages, the one so small that it had neither shop nor barber, but the -larger one had; and the barber, therefore, served the smaller village -on any occasion when any one wanted his beard trimmed. It so happened -that he was now journeying to the smaller village, bringing with him a -brazen basin, and as he rode along it chanced to rain, and therefore, -to save his hat, which was a new one, he clapped the basin on his -head, and the basin being clean scoured, glittered half a league off. -He rode upon a grey ass, as Sancho said, and that was the reason why -Don Quixote took him to be a Knight with a helmet of gold riding on a -dapple grey steed, for everything he came across he made to fit in with -the things he had read of in the books of Knighthood. - -And when he saw the unfortunate rider draw near, without stopping to -speak a word, he ran at him with his lance, putting Rozinante at full -gallop, and intending to pierce him through and through. And as he -came up to him, without stopping his horse, he shouted to him: 'Defend -thyself, caitiff wretch, or else render to me of thine own will what is -mine by all the rights of war.' - -The barber, who saw this wild figure bearing down on him as he was -riding along without thought or fear of attack, had no other way to -avoid the thrust of the lance than to fall off his ass on to the -ground. And no sooner did he touch the earth than he sprang up more -nimbly than a deer and raced away across the plain faster than the -wind, leaving behind him on the ground the coveted basin. With this Don -Quixote was well content, and said that the Pagan was a wise man in -leaving behind him that for which he was attacked. - -Then he commanded Sancho to take up the helmet, who lifting it said: -'The basin is a good one, and is worth eight _reals_ if it is worth a -farthing.' - -He gave it to his Master, who placed it upon his head, turning it about -from side to side in search of the visor, and seeing he could not find -it, said: 'Doubtless the Pagan for whom this helmet was first forged -had a very great head, and the worst of it is that half of the helmet -is wanting.' - -When Sancho heard him call the basin a helmet he could not contain his -laughter, but presently remembering his Master's anger, he checked -himself in the midst of it. - -'Why dost thou laugh, Sancho?' said Don Quixote. - -'I laugh,' said he, 'to think of the great head the Pagan owner of this -helmet had. For it is all the world like a barber's basin.' - -'Know, Sancho, that I imagine,' replied Don Quixote, 'that this famous -piece of the enchanted helmet must by some strange accident have fallen -into some one's hands that knew not its great worth, and seeing that it -was of pure gold, he hath melted down one half and made of the other -half this, which seems, as thou sayest, to be a barber's basin. But be -that as it may, to me, who know its value, its transformation makes no -matter. I will have it altered at the first village where I can find a -smith, and meanwhile I will wear it as well as I can, for something is -better than nothing, all the more as it will do to protect me against -any blow from a stone.' - -'That is,' said Sancho, 'if they do not shoot from a sling, as they -shot in the battle of the two armies, when they made their mark on -your Worship's grinders and broke the oil-pot wherein you carried that -blessed Balsam.' - -'I do not much care for the loss of the Balsam,' replied Don Quixote, -'for as thou knowest, Sancho, I have the receipt for it in my memory.' - -'So have I too,' groaned Sancho; 'but if ever I make it or try it again -as long as I live may this be my last hour. But letting that pass, what -shall we do with this dapple grey steed that looks so like a grey ass, -that Martino, or whatever his name was, has left behind him? For from -the haste he made to get away I do not think he intends to come back, -and by my beard the beast is a good one.' - -'I am not accustomed to ransack and spoil those whom I overcome, nor is -it the practice of Knighthood to take the horses of others unless the -victor chance in combat to lose his own. Therefore, Sancho, leave the -horse or ass, or what else thou pleasest to call it, for when his owner -sees us departed he will return again for it.' - -'Truly,' said Sancho, 'the laws of Knighthood are strict, and if I may -not change one ass for another, may I at least change the harness?' - -'Of that I am not very sure,' said Don Quixote, 'and as it is a matter -of doubt, you must not change them unless thy need is extreme.' - -'So extreme,' said Sancho, 'that if they were for mine own person I -could not need them more.' - -So saying he decked out his Ass with a thousand fineries robbed from -the other, and made him look vastly better. Then, having taken a drink -at the stream, they turned their backs on the hateful fulling-mills, -and rode along the highroad, Don Quixote all the way describing to -Sancho the successes in store for them, until he was interrupted by an -adventure that must be told in another chapter. - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE FREES THE GALLEY SLAVES] - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - How Don Quixote set at liberty many poor - Wretches who were being taken to a Place - to which they had no wish to go - - -As they rode onwards, Don Quixote lifted up his eyes and saw coming -along the road about a dozen men on foot, strung together on a great -wire chain like beads. The chain was fastened round their necks, -and they had manacles on their hands. There rode with them two men -a-horseback, and two others followed on foot. The horsemen had -firelocks, and those on foot javelins and swords. - -As soon as Sancho saw them he said: 'This is a chain of galley slaves, -people forced by the King to go to the galleys.' - -'How! People forced?' asked Don Quixote. 'Is it possible that the King -will force anybody?' - -'I say not so,' answered Sancho, 'but they are people condemned for -their offences to serve the King in the galleys.' - -'In fact,' replied Don Quixote, 'however you put it, these folk are -being taken where they go by force and not of their own free will.' - -'That is so,' said Sancho. - -'Then if it be so,' continued his Master, 'here I see before me my duty -to redress outrages and to give help to the poor and the afflicted.' - -'I pray you, Sir,' said Sancho, 'consider that Justice, representing -the King himself, does wrong or violence to nobody, but only punishes -those who have committed crimes.' - -By this time the chain of galley slaves came up, and Don Quixote in -very courteous words asked those in charge of them to be good enough to -inform him why they carried people away in that manner. - -One of the guardians a-horseback answered that they were slaves -condemned by his Majesty to the galleys, and that there was no more to -be said, nor ought Don Quixote to desire any further information. - -'For all that,' replied Don Quixote very politely, 'I would fain learn -from every one of them the cause of his disgrace.' - -To this the guardian a-horseback answered: 'Although we carry here the -register of the crimes of all these wretches, yet if you wish to do so, -ask it from themselves; and no doubt they will tell you their stories, -for they are men who take delight in boasting of their rascalities.' - -With this permission, which Don Quixote would have taken for himself if -they had not given it, he went up to the chain and asked of the first -one for what sins he had found himself in such straits. - -He answered that his offence was no other than for being in love. - -'For that and no more?' cried Don Quixote; 'but if folk are sent there -for being in love, I should have been pulling an oar there long ago.' - -'My love was not of the kind your Worship imagines,' replied the galley -slave, 'for mine was that I loved overmuch a basket stuffed with fine -linen, which I embraced so lovingly, that if the law had not taken it -from me by violence, I should not of my own free will have forsaken -it till now. I was taken in the act and sent for three years to the -galleys.' - -Don Quixote now inquired of the second his cause of offence, but he -answered him not a word, seeming too downcast and melancholy to speak. - -But the first one spoke for him, and said: 'Sir, this man goes for -being a Canary bird—I mean a musician or singer.' - -'Is it possible,' said Don Quixote, 'that musicians and singers are -sent to the galleys?' - -'Yes, indeed,' said the slave, 'there is nothing worse than to sing in -anguish.' - -'I do not understand it,' said Don Quixote, 'but I have heard say that -he who sings scares away sorrow.' - -But one of the guards interrupted him and said: 'Sir Knight, among -these wretches "to sing in anguish" means to confess on the rack. They -put this poor wretch to the torture, and he confessed that he was a -stealer of beasts. And because he has confessed he is condemned to the -galleys for six years. And he is sad and pensive because the other -thieves maltreat, abuse, and despise him. For, as they say, a _nay_ has -as many letters as a _yea_, and it is good luck for a criminal when -there are no witnesses and proofs, and his fate depends on his own -tongue, and in my opinion there is much reason in that.' - -'I think so likewise,' said Don Quixote, and he passed on to where the -third slave stood, and put to him the same question as to the others. - -The man replied very coolly, saying: 'I go to the galleys because I -wanted ten ducats.' - -'I will give thee twenty with all my heart to free thee from that -misfortune,' said Don Quixote. - -'That,' replied the Slave, 'would be like one that hath money in the -midst of the sea, and yet is dying of hunger because he can get no meat -to buy with it. If I had had the twenty ducats your Worship offers me -at the right time, I would have greased the lawyer's pen with them, and -so sharpened the advocate's wit, that instead of being trailed along -here like a greyhound, I should now have been walking about in the -market-place of Toledo. But patience. What must be must be!' - -Don Quixote went from one to another, receiving different answers, -until he came to the last, who was a man about thirty years old, of -very comely looks, except that he had a squint. He was differently tied -from the rest, for he wore a chain to his leg, so long that it wound -round his whole body. He had besides round his neck two iron rings, -from one of which two wires came down to his waist, on which were -fastened two manacles. These held his hands fast locked with a great -hanging lock, so that he could neither put his hand to his mouth nor -bend down his head to his hands. - -Don Quixote asked why he was so loaded with iron more than the rest. - -The Guard answered that it was because he had committed more crimes -than all the rest put together, and that he was such a desperate -scoundrel that although they carried him tied up in that fashion, they -were not sure of him, but feared that he might make an escape. 'He -goes,' continued the Guard, 'to the galleys for ten years; and when -I tell you he is the infamous Gines of Passamonte, you will need, I -think, to know no more about him.' - -At this, Gines, who seemed very impatient at the Guard's history, broke -out into a torrent of abuse, and then, turning to Don Quixote, said: -'Sir Knight, if you have anything to bestow on us, give it us now, and -begone, for you do but weary us by wanting to know the stories of -other men's lives; and if you want to learn more, know that I am Gines -of Passamonte, whose life has been written by his own hand.' - -'He speaks truly,' said the Guard, 'for he himself hath penned his own -history.' - -'And how is the book called?' asked Don Quixote. - -'It is called the _Life of Gines of Passamonte_,' replied the Slave. - -'And is it yet ended?' inquired the Knight. - -'How can it be finished,' replied Gines, 'seeing my life is not yet -finished? I intend to finish it in the galleys.' - -'You seem to be a clever fellow,' said Don Quixote. - -'And an unlucky one,' replied Gines, 'for bad luck always pursues -genius.' - -'It pursues knaves,' interrupted the Guard; and at this Gines burst out -again into abuse and bad language, which ended in the Guard threatening -to beat him with his rod if he did not hold his peace. - -At this Don Quixote put himself between them, and entreated the Guard -not to use him hardly, seeing that it was not much that one who carried -his hands so tied should have his tongue free. - -Then turning himself towards the slaves he said: 'I have gathered from -all you have said, dear brethren, that although they punish you for -your faults, yet the pains you suffer do not please you, and that you -march towards them with a very ill will. All this prompts me to do that -for you, for which I was sent into the world, and for which I became a -Knight Errant, and to which end I vowed at all times to succour the -poor and help those that are oppressed. But as it is prudent not to do -by foul means what can be done by fair, I will entreat these gentlemen -your guardians that they will unloose you and let you depart in peace, -for it seems to me a harsh thing to make slaves of those who are born -free.' And turning to the guards he continued: 'These things I ask of -you in a peaceable and quiet manner, and if you grant my request I -shall give you my thanks; but if you will not do it willingly, then -shall this lance and sword of mine, guided by the invincible valour of -mine arm, force you to do my will.' - -'This is pretty fooling,' replied the Guard. 'Would you have us release -to you those the King has imprisoned? Go your way, good Sir, settle the -basin on your head more straightly, and study to find out, if you have -wits enough, how many feet a cat has.' - -'You are a cat and a rat and a knave!' said Don Quixote in a rage. -And without a word he set on him so fiercely, and without giving him -time to defend himself, that he struck him to the earth badly wounded -with his lance. Luckily for the Knight this was the Guard that had the -firelock. - -At first the other guards stood astounded at this unexpected event. -Then they recovered themselves, and the horsemen drew their swords, the -footmen grasped their javelins, and all of them attacked Don Quixote, -who quietly prepared to receive them. No doubt he would have been in -some danger, but the slaves, seeing a chance of liberty, broke the -chain by which they were linked together. The hurly-burly was such that -the guards first ran to prevent the slaves getting free, then to defend -themselves from Don Quixote who attacked them, so that they could do -nothing to any purpose to keep their prisoners. Sancho, for his part, -helped to loose Gines of Passamonte, who was the first to leap into -the field free from all fetters, and setting upon the other overthrown -guard, he took his sword and firelock from him. With the latter in his -hand, by pointing it at one and aiming it at the other, he cleared the -field of all the guards, who were the more easily got rid of because -the galley slaves were now all at liberty, and showered at their late -keepers volleys of stones. - -When their victory was complete, Don Quixote called all the slaves -together, and they gathered round to hear what he commanded, when he -spoke to them as follows: 'It is the duty of well-bred people to be -grateful for benefits received, and ingratitude is one of the worst of -sins. I say this, Sirs, because you know what good you have received -at my hand, and the only reward I ask, is that you all go from here -laden with the chains from which I have just freed your necks to the -City of Toboso, and there present yourselves before the Lady Dulcinea -of Toboso, and tell her that her Knight of the Rueful Countenance sends -you there to do her service. Relate unto her the way in which I won -your freedom; and this being done, you may then go your ways.' - -Gines answered for all the rest, saying: 'That which you demand is -impossible to perform, because we must not travel the roads together, -but go alone and divided, to the end that we be not captured again -by the guards of the Holy Brotherhood, who will make search for us. -To tell us to go to Toboso is as absurd as to seek for pears on an -elm-tree, and we shall not do it.' - -At this Don Quixote was mightily enraged, and said: 'I tell thee, Don -Gines, or whatever thy name is, that after what thou hast said thou -shalt go thyself alone, with thy tail between thy legs and bearing the -whole length of the chains with thee.' - -Gines, who was a violent fellow, and quite understood that Don Quixote -was not very wise, seeing the foolish way in which he had set them at -liberty, would not stand this abuse, and winked at his companions, who, -stepping aside, sent such a shower of stones against Don Quixote that -he had not time to cover himself with his shield, and poor Rozinante -was in such terror that he would not move forward to the attack. Sancho -ran behind his Ass, and by this means sheltered himself from the -tempest of stones that rained on both of them. Several stones struck -Don Quixote on the body with such force that at last he fell from his -horse and on to the ground, and no sooner was he fallen than Gines -leaped upon him, and, taking the basin from his head, gave him three -or four blows with it on the shoulders, and afterwards struck it on -the ground so as to break it into pieces. They then stripped him of a -tunic he wore over his armour, and would have taken his stockings if -they could have got them from under his armour. From Sancho they took -his coat, leaving him in his shirt sleeves, and, dividing the spoils of -battle among themselves, they made the best of their way off, each one -as it pleased him, with no further thought of their benefactor or his -Lady Dulcinea of Toboso. - -The Ass, Rozinante, Sancho, and Don Quixote remained alone. The Ass, -with drooping head, stood shaking his ears every now and then as if he -thought the storm of stones was not yet over, Rozinante lay overthrown -by his Master, who was lying on the ground, Sancho stood trembling at -the thought of the bullets of the Holy Brotherhood, and Don Quixote was -amazed to see himself so wickedly used by those to whom he had done so -great a service. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - Of what befell Don Quixote in the - Brown Mountains - - -Don Quixote, finding himself in such a bad plight, said to his Squire: -'I have often heard it said that to do good to ungrateful men, is to -cast water into the sea. If I had listened to your advice, I might have -avoided this trouble. But, now that it is over, there is nothing for it -but to be patient and to be wise another time.' - -'If you take warning by this or anything else,' replied Sancho, 'call -me a Turk. But, as you say, you might have avoided this trouble by -taking my advice. Listen to what I say now, and you will avoid a -greater danger. For let me tell you that it is no use talking about -Knighthood and its customs to the Holy Brotherhood, for it cares not -two farthings for all the Knights Errant in the world, and for myself, -I seem to hear their arrows buzzing round my ears already.' - -'Thou art by nature a coward, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote; 'but that -thou mayest not say that I am obstinate, and that I never follow thine -advice, I will take thy counsel this time, and hide myself from the -attacks thou fearest so greatly. But it must be on one condition, -that thou never tell to any mortal creature that I withdrew myself out -of this danger for fear, but only to humour thy wishes. For if thou -sayest anything else thou liest.' - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE MEETING CARDENIO] - -'Sir,' answered Sancho Panza, 'to retreat is not to run away, nor is it -wise to wait where there is more danger than hope, and it is the part -of a wise man to spend to-day in keeping himself safe for to-morrow. -Therefore, rude clown as I am, take my advice, and mount Rozinante and -follow me as quickly as you are able.' - -Don Quixote mounted Rozinante without another word, and, Sancho leading -the way on his Ass, they entered that part of the Brown Mountains that -was near them, a favourite haunt for outlaws and robbers in those days, -and a spot where they would be safe from pursuit. For it was Sancho's -plan to hide themselves for some days among the crags, so as not to be -found even if the Holy Brotherhood should come and look for them. - -They arrived that night in the very midst of the mountains, and there -Sancho thought it best to spend the night, and, indeed, as many days -as their food lasted; and with this intention they took up their abode -among a number of tall trees that grew between two rocks. - -It happened, however, that Gines of Passamonte, the famous cheat and -robber whom Don Quixote by his valour and folly had released from his -chains, resolved to hide himself also among the same mountains, and -destiny led him to the very spot where Don Quixote and his Squire -were hiding, and at the very moment that they had fallen asleep, tired -out with the day's toil. And as the wicked are always ungrateful, and -necessity forces them to evil deeds, Gines, who was neither grateful -nor good natured, resolved to rob Sancho Panza of his Ass, not caring -for Rozinante, as he thought he was not worth riding or selling. Sancho -Panza slept soundly, and, while he slept, Gines stole his Ass, and -before morning he was so far off as to be past finding. - -The morning sun arose bringing joy to the earth, but only grief to poor -Sancho, for he missed his Dapple, and, finding himself deprived of -him, he began the saddest and most doleful lamentation possible, and -when Don Quixote awoke he heard him mourning in a most melancholy way, -crying out: 'O my beloved Ass, born in mine own house, the sport of my -children, the comfort of my wife, the envy of my neighbours, the ease -of my burdens, and, beyond all, the support of my household, for with -what I gained daily by thee did I pay half of mine expenses!' - -Don Quixote, who heard this lament, and knew the cause of it, comforted -Sancho as best he could, and desired him to have patience, promising -to give him a letter to command those at his house to hand over to him -three out of five ass foals that he had at home. Sancho was comforted -by this, dried his tears, moderated his sobs, and thanked Don Quixote -for the favours he had done him. - -And as they entered farther among the mountains the Knight felt glad -at heart that he had come to a place so suitable for the adventures he -was in search of. They reminded him of marvellous stories he had read -of what had happened to Knights Errant in similar wild places, and -his mind was so full of these things that he thought of nothing else -whatever. As for Sancho, he trudged behind his Master, loaded with the -things that his Ass should have carried. - -While Sancho was thus walking along, he raised his eyes and saw that -his Master had come to a stop, and was trying with the point of his -lance to lift what seemed like a bundle that was lying on the ground. -Upon which he ran to see whether his Master wanted his aid, and came up -to him just as he was lifting up a saddle cushion with a portmanteau -fast to it. These were half rotten and falling to pieces, yet they -weighed so much that Sancho's help was required to lift them up. His -Master ordered him to see what was in the portmanteau, and Sancho -obeyed him as quickly as might be. And although it was shut with a -chain and a padlock, yet Sancho could see through the rents and tears -what was inside it, namely, four fine Holland shirts and other linen -clothes, both curious and delicate, besides a handkerchief containing a -good quantity of gold. - -'At last,' cried Sancho, 'we have met with an adventure worth -something,' and searching on he came across a little memorandum book -very richly bound. - -Don Quixote asked him for this, but bade him keep the money for himself. - -For this rich favour Sancho kissed his hands, and taking all the -linen, he crammed it into their provision-bag. - -Don Quixote, having considered awhile, said: 'Methinks, Sancho, that -some traveller having lost his way must have passed over the mountains, -and being met by thieves, they slew him and buried him in this secret -place.' - -'It cannot be so,' answered Sancho, 'for if they had been thieves they -would not have left the money behind them.' - -'Thou sayest true,' said Don Quixote, 'and therefore I cannot guess -what can have happened. But stay, we will look at the pocket-book, and -see whether there is anything written in it by which we may discover -what we want to know.' - -He opened it, and the first thing he found in it was a poem, which was -all about the author's love for some fair Chloe who would not care for -him. Don Quixote read this aloud to Sancho. - -'Nothing can be learned from these verses,' said the Squire, 'unless by -that clue which is there we may get some help.' - -'What clue is there here?' said Don Quixote. - -'I thought your Lordship mentioned a clue there.' - -'I did not say _clue_, but _Chloe_,' replied Don Quixote, 'which -no doubt is the name of the lady of whom the author of this poem -complains.' - -After looking through the book again, Don Quixote found a despairing -love-letter, and several other verses and letters full of laments and -misery, from which he came to the conclusion that the owner of the -book was some sad rejected lover. - -The Knight of the Rueful Countenance was very desirous to know who was -the owner of the portmanteau, believing from what he had seen that he -must be a man of some position, whom the disdain and cruelty of a fair -lady had driven to desperate courses. But as there was no one in this -remote and solitary place to satisfy his curiosity, he rode on, taking -any road that Rozinante chose, in the firm belief that he would find -some strange adventure among the mountains. - -And as he rode he saw a man on top of a little mountain, leaping from -rock to rock and tuft to tuft with marvellous agility. He made him out -to be half-naked, with a black and matted beard, his hair long and -tangled, his feet unshod, and his legs bare. He wore some breeches of -tawny velvet, but these appeared so torn to rags that his skin showed -in many places. His head, too, was bare, and although he ran by with -all haste, yet was the Knight able to mark all these things. But he -could not follow him, because it was not in Rozinante's power, being -in a weak state and naturally very slow and steady-going, to travel -over these rough places at any speed. Don Quixote at once came to the -conclusion that he was the owner of the portmanteau, and resolved to go -in search of him, even if he should have to spend a whole year in the -mountains till he found him. So he commanded Sancho to go on one side -of the mountain, while he went the other, and, said he, 'one of us -may thus come across this man who has vanished so suddenly out of our -sight.' - -'I dare not do so,' replied Sancho, 'for on parting one step from -you, fear seizes me and fills me with a thousand kinds of terror and -affright. Let me say, once for all, that henceforth I do not stir a -finger's-breadth from your presence.' - -'Well,' replied Don Quixote, 'I am glad that thou dost build upon my -valour, which shall not fail thee even though everything else fails -thee. Follow me, then, and keep thine eyes open, so that we may find -this strange man, who is no doubt the owner of the portmanteau.' - -'Surely,' said Sancho, 'it were better not to find him, for if we -should meet him, and he turned out to be the owner of the money, we -should have to return it to him. Let us rather keep it faithfully until -some one turns up to claim it, when perhaps I shall have spent it all, -and in that case I shall be free from blame.' - -'In that thou art mistaken, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote, 'for now that -we have a suspicion who the owner is, we are bound to search him out -and restore him his money.' - -So saying Don Quixote led the way, and in a little time they came upon -a dead mule, half devoured by dogs and crows; and as they were looking -at it they heard a whistle, such as shepherds use, and there appeared -at their left hand a great number of goats, and behind them on the top -of the mountain was the Goatherd, who was quite an old man. - -Don Quixote called to him, and begged him to come down to where they -stood; and the Goatherd, after looking at them for a few minutes, in -surprise at seeing them in this lonely spot, descended to where they -stood. - -'I wager,' he said, as he came towards them, 'that you are wondering -how the mule came there that lies dead in that bottom. Well, it has -been lying there these six months. Tell me, have you come across his -master as yet?' - -'We have fallen in with nobody,' replied Don Quixote, 'but a saddle -cushion and a portmanteau, which we found not far from here.' - -'I have also found the same portmanteau,' said the Goatherd, 'but I -would never take it up nor approach it for fear some ill-luck should -come upon me, or lest some one should accuse me of theft.' - -'Tell me, my good fellow,' said Don Quixote, 'do you know who is the -owner of these things?' - -'All I can tell you is this,' said the Goatherd, 'that some six months -ago, more or less, there arrived at one of our sheepfolds, some three -leagues off, a young gentleman of comely presence mounted on that mule -which lies dead there, and with the same saddle cushion and portmanteau -that you have seen. He asked us which was the most hidden part of the -mountain, and we told him that this was, which is certainly true, for -if you go a league further on perhaps you might not find your way out, -and indeed I marvel how you found your way in so readily. As soon as -the young man had heard our answer he turned his bridle and went -towards the place we showed him, and made towards these mountains. -After that we did not see him for a good many days, until one day, when -one of our shepherds came by with provisions, he attacked him and beat -him, and carried off all the bread and cheese that he carried, and then -fled away back again to the mountains. When we heard of this, some of -us goatherds went to look for him, and spent almost two days in the -most solitary places in the mountains, and in the end found him lurking -in the hollow part of a large cork-tree. He came out to us very meekly, -his clothes torn and his face burned by the sun, so that we hardly knew -him again. He saluted us courteously, and in a few civil words told -us not to wonder at his condition, for he was working out a penance -placed upon him for the sins he had committed. We begged him to tell -us who he was, but he would not do so. We begged him also that when -he had need of food he would tell us where we might find him, and we -would willingly bring it to him, and told him there was no need to take -it by force. He thanked us very much for our offer, and asked pardon -for his violence, and promised in future to ask food of our shepherds -without giving annoyance to any one. But even while he was speaking to -us, he bit his lips and bent his brows, and it was clear some fit of -madness was upon him, for he cried out: "O treacherous Fernando, here -thou shalt pay me the injury thou didst me; these hands shall rend thy -heart!" and many other wild and whirring words which he addressed to -some Fernando. But at the same time he fell upon one of our goatherds, -and we had no little trouble to get him away. Then without another word -he fled to the briars and the brambles, where we could not follow him. -By this we think that he has a madness which comes upon him at times, -for sometimes he will take his food from our shepherds with courtesy -and humanity, at others he seizes it by force, though they are ever -willing to give it. We have thought to take him by force to the town -of Almodavar, to see if he can be cured, or to find out if he has any -relatives to whom we can restore him. This, Sirs, is all that I can -tell you of what you have asked me, and for certain he it is who is the -owner of the things you have found.' - -Don Quixote was greatly amazed by what he had heard, and determined to -search for him through the mountains, without leaving a corner or cave -unsought until he had found him. - - - - - [Illustration: THE STORY OF CARDENIO] - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - The Story of Cardenio - - -Fortune favoured Don Quixote in his search for the strange owner -of the portmanteau, for, even as he was speaking to the Goatherd, -he appeared at that very instant through a gorge of the mountain, -murmuring to himself words which one could not have understood near at -hand, much less afar off. His clothes were such as have been described, -only differing in this, that when he drew near, Don Quixote noticed -that he wore a leather jerkin, which, though tattered and torn, was -perfumed with amber. From this he guessed that the man who wore such -garments was a person of quality. On coming towards them, the youth -addressed them in a hoarse tone but with great courtesy, and Don -Quixote returned his greetings with equal kindness, and, alighting from -Rozinante, went to meet him, and clasping him in his arms, embraced him -as though he had known him for a very long time. - -Then the stranger, whom we may call the Tattered One, addressed the -Knight of the Rueful Countenance in the following words: 'Truly, good -Sir, whoever you may be, for I know you not, I thank you with all my -heart for your grace and courtesy towards me, and wish only that I -could repay you some of the kindness you shower on me.' - -'So great is my desire to serve you,' replied Don Quixote, 'that I was -fully resolved never to part out of these mountains until I had found -you, and heard from your own lips whether there was any remedy for your -grief. For it is a consolation in sorrow to have some one to condole -with you. And I entreat you, Sir, tell me who you are, and what has -brought you to live and die in these solitudes like a brute beast. For -I swear by the high honour of Knighthood which I have received, that if -you will tell me everything, I will either help you in all good earnest -to overcome your troubles, or, if that cannot be, then I will assist in -lamenting them.' - -The Tattered One looked at Don Quixote from head to foot, and stared -at him in amazement for a long time. At length he said: 'If you have -anything to eat, give it to me, and after I have eaten I will do all -that you ask in return for the kindness you show me.' - -Sancho and the Goatherd then gave him what food they had, and this -he devoured with the eagerness of a wild beast, so that he seemed to -swallow the food rather than chew it, and whilst he ate the others left -him in peace. Having ended his dinner, he made signs to them to follow -him, which they did, and he took them to a little meadow hard by that -place at the back of the mountain. - -Arriving there he laid himself down on the grass, the others doing the -same, and he began as follows:— - -'If it is your pleasure, Sirs, to hear of my misfortunes, you must -promise me that you will not interrupt the thread of my sad story by -questions or anything else, for directly you do I shall stop telling -it.' - -Don Quixote promised in the name of them all, and the Tattered One -commenced his story. - -'My name is Cardenio; the place of my birth one of the best cities in -Andalusia; my lineage noble, my parents rich, and my misfortunes so -great that I think no one was ever to be pitied as I am. There dwelt -in the same city wherein I was born a damsel as noble and rich as I -was, whose name was Lucinda. I loved, honoured, and adored Lucinda -from earliest childhood, and she loved me with all the earnestness of -youth. Our parents knew of our love, and were not sorry to see it, and -so we grew up in mutual esteem and affection. Ah! how many letters have -I written, and how many verses have I penned, and how many songs has -she inspired! At length the time came when I could wait no longer, and -I went to ask her of her father for my lawful wife. He answered that -he thanked me for the desire I showed to honour him and to honour -myself with his loved treasure, but that my father being alive, it was -by strict right his business to make that demand. For if it were not -done with his good will and pleasure, Lucinda was not the woman to be -taken or given by stealth. I thanked him for his kindness, and, feeling -there was reason in what he said, I hurried to my father to tell him -my desires. At the moment I entered his room he was standing with a -letter open in his hand, and before I could speak to him he gave it to -me, saying as he did so: "By that letter, Cardenio, you may learn the -desire that the Duke Ricardo has to do you favour." This Duke Ricardo, -you must know, gentlemen, is a Grandee of Spain, whose dukedom is -situated in the best part of all Andalusia. I took the letter and read -it, and it was so very kind that it seemed to me wrong that my father -should not do what he asked. For he wanted me as a companion—not as -a servant—to his eldest son, and offered to advance me in life if he -should find me worthy. I read the letter, and could see that it was no -time now to speak to my father, who said to me: "Cardenio, thou must be -ready in two days to depart, and to do all that the Duke desires, and -be thankful that such a future lies open before thee." - -'The time for my departure arrived. I spoke to my dear Lucinda and also -to her father, and begged him to wait for a while until I knew what the -Duke Ricardo wanted of me, and until my future was certain. He promised -not to bestow his daughter elsewhere, and she vowed to be always -faithful to me, and so I left. - -'I was indeed well received by the Duke Ricardo and nobly treated. His -elder son liked me well, and was kind to me, but the one who rejoiced -most at my coming was Fernando, his second son, a young man who was -both noble, gallant, and very comely. In a short time he had so made me -his friend that there were no secrets between us, and he told me all -his thoughts and desires, and confided to me a love affair of his own -which caused him much anxiety. - -'He had fallen in love with the daughter of a farmer, his father's -vassal, whose parents were rich, and she herself was beautiful, modest, -and virtuous. But he did not dare to tell his father of his love -because of their difference in rank, and though he had promised to -marry this farmer's daughter, he had come to fear that the Duke would -never consent to let him carry out his desire. He told me that he could -find no better mode of keeping the remembrance of her beauty out of his -mind, than by leaving home for some months; and he suggested that we -should both depart for awhile to my father's house, under the pretence -of going to buy horses, for the city where I was born was a place where -they bred the best horses in the world. - -'When I heard of his wishes I did all I could to strengthen them, and -urged him to carry out his plan, which offered me a chance of seeing -once more my dear Lucinda. - -'At last the Duke gave him leave, and ordered me to go with him. We -arrived at my native city, and my father gave him the reception due -to his rank. I again saw Lucinda. My love for her increased, though -indeed it had never grown cold, and to my sorrow I told Don Fernando -all about it, for I thought by the laws of friendship it was not right -to hide anything from him. I described her beauty, her grace, and her -wit, with such eloquence, that my praises stirred in him a desire -to see a damsel enriched by such rare virtues. To my misfortune I -yielded to his wish, and took him with me one night to a window where -Lucinda and I were wont to speak together. He stood mute, as one beside -himself, and from that moment he could speak nothing but praises of -my Lucinda. Yet I confess that I took no pleasure in hearing her thus -praised, because it roused in me a strange feeling of jealousy. I -did not fear the faith and honour of Lucinda, but at the same time I -felt a hidden terror of the future. Now Don Fernando continued, as my -friend, to read all the letters I sent to Lucinda, or she to me, under -the pretence that he took great delight in the wit of both of us, and -it fell out that Lucinda asked me to send her a book of the Knightly -Adventures of Amadis of Gaul.' - -No sooner did Don Quixote hear the name of one of his favourite heroes -than he interrupted the story, saying: 'If, my good Sir, you had told -me that your Lady Lucinda was a reader of knightly adventures, you -need not have said anything else to make me acknowledge her wit. Waste -no further words on her beauty and worth, for now I assert that from -her devotion to books of Knighthood, the Lady Lucinda is the fairest -and most accomplished woman in all the world. Pardon my interruption, -but when I hear anything said of the books of Knights Errant, I can no -more keep from speaking of them than the sunbeams can help giving forth -warmth. Therefore forgive me, and proceed.' - -While Don Quixote was speaking, Cardenio held his head down, his face -grew sullen, and he bit his lip. When he looked up, he seemed to have -forgotten all about his story, and in a burst of rage said: 'A plague -on all your books of Knighthood! Amadis was a fool, and the Queen -Madasima was a wicked woman.' - -'By all that is good,' replied Don Quixote, in great anger—for this -Queen was a favourite heroine of his—'it is a villainy to say such a -thing. The Queen Madasima was a very noble lady, and whoever says or -thinks the contrary lies like an arrant coward, and this I will make -him know a-horseback or a-foot, armed or disarmed, by night or day, as -he liketh best.' - -Cardenio stood gazing at Don Quixote strangely—for now the mad fit -was on him—and hearing himself called liar and coward, he caught up -a stone that was near him, and gave the Knight such a blow with it -that he threw him backwards on the ground. Sancho Panza, seeing his -Master so roughly handled, set upon the madman with his fists, but the -Tattered One overthrew him with one blow and trampled him under his -feet like dough. After this he departed into the wood very quietly. - -Sancho got up and wanted to take vengeance on the Goatherd, who, he -said, should have warned them about the madman. The Goatherd declared -he had done so, and Sancho retorted that he had not; and from words -they got to blows, and had seized each other by the beards, when Don -Quixote parted them, saying that the Goatherd was in no way to blame -for what had happened. He then again inquired where Cardenio was likely -to be found, and the Goatherd repeated what he had said at first, that -his abode was uncertain, but that if they went much about in those -parts they would be sure to meet with him either mad or sane. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - Of the Strange Adventures that happened to the - Knight of the Mancha in the Brown Mountains, - and of the Penance he did there in - imitation of Beltenebros - - -Don Quixote took leave of the Goatherd, and, mounting once again on -Rozinante, he commanded Sancho to follow him, who obeyed, but with -a very ill will. They travelled slowly, entering the thickest and -roughest part of the mountains, and at last Sancho Panza, who was -growing very impatient, burst out: 'Good Sir Don Quixote, let me speak -what is on my mind, for it is a hard thing to go about looking for -adventures all one's life, and find nothing but tramplings under the -feet, and tossings in blankets, and stoning, and blows, and buffets.' - -'Speak on,' replied his Master, 'for I will hear what thou hast to say.' - -'Then,' replied Sancho, 'I would know what benefit your Worship could -reap by taking the part of the Queen Magimasas, or whatever you call -her. For if you had let it pass, I believe the madman would have -finished his tale, and I should have escaped a beating.' - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE DOING PENANCE] - -'In faith, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote, 'if thou knewest as well as I -do, how honourable a lady was Queen Madasima, thou wouldst rather say -I behaved with great patience. Cardenio knew not what he was saying to -call her wicked, and must have been out of his senses.' - -'So say I,' said Sancho, 'and you ought not to take notice of the words -of a madman.' - -'Against sane and mad,' replied Don Quixote, 'is every Knight Errant -bound to stand up for the honour of women, whoever they may be. Be -silent, therefore, and meddle not with what does not concern thee. -Understand that all I do is guided by the rules of Knighthood, which -are better known to me than to any Knight that ever lived.' - -'Sir!' replied Sancho, 'is there any rule of Knighthood which obliges -us to wander among the mountains looking for a madman, who, if he is -found, will probably break our heads again?' - -'Peace, I say, Sancho, once again!' exclaimed Don Quixote, 'for thou -must know that it is not only the desire of finding the madman that -brings me into these wilds, but because I have in mind to carry out an -adventure that shall bring me eternal fame and renown over the whole -face of the earth.' - -'Is it a dangerous adventure?' asked Sancho. - -'That is according as it turns out,' replied Don Quixote. 'But I will -keep you no longer in the dark about it. You must know that Amadis -of Gaul was the most perfect of all the Knights Errant. And as he -was the morning star and the sun of all valiant Knights, so am I wise -in imitating all he did. And I remember that when his Lady Oriana -disdained his love, he showed his wisdom, virtue, and manhood by -changing his name to Beltenebros and retiring to a wild country, there -to perform a penance. And as I may more easily imitate him in this than -in slaying giants, beheading serpents, killing monsters, destroying -armies, and putting navies to flight, and because this mountain seems -to fit for the purpose, I intend myself to do penance here.' - -'But what is it that your Worship intends to do in this out of the way -spot?' asked Sancho. - -'Have not I told thee already,' replied his Master, 'that I mean to -copy Amadis of Gaul, by acting here the part of a despairing, mad, and -furious lover?' - -'I believe,' continued Sancho, 'that the Knights who went through these -penances must have had some reason for so doing, but what cause has -your Worship for going mad? What Lady hath disdained you? How has the -Lady Dulcinea of Toboso ever treated you unkindly?' - -'That is just the point of it,' said Don Quixote: 'for a Knight Errant -to go mad for good reason has no merit in it, but the whole kernel of -the matter is to go mad without a cause. Therefore, Sancho, waste no -more time, for mad I am, and mad I shall remain, until thou return -again with the answer to a letter which I mean to send with thee to my -Lady Dulcinea. If the answer is such as I deserve, my penance will end, -but if the contrary, I shall run mad in good earnest. But tell me, -Sancho, hast thou kept safely the helmet of Mambrino?' - -'Really, Sir Knight,' answered Sancho, 'I cannot listen patiently to -some things your Worship says, and I sometimes think all you tell me of -Knighthood is nothing but a pack of lies. For to hear your Worship say -that a barber's basin is Mambrino's helmet, and not to find out your -mistake in four days, makes one wonder whether one is standing on one's -head or one's heels. I carry the basin right enough in my baggage, all -battered and dented, and intend to take it home and put it to rights, -and soap my beard in it when I return to my wife and children.' - -'Ah, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote, 'I think that thou hast the -shallowest pate that ever any Squire had or hath in this world. Is it -possible thou hast so long travelled with me and not found out that all -the adventures of Knights Errant appear illusions, follies, and dreams, -and turn out all contrariwise? So this that thou callest a barber's -basin is to me Mambrino's helmet, and to another person has some -other shape altogether. Not that it has all these shapes, but these -things are the work of wicked enchanters or magicians, who transform -everything, making things seem what they please in order to annoy us.' - -By this time they had arrived at the foot of a lofty mountain, which -stood like a huge rock apart from all the rest. Close by glided a -smooth river, hemmed in on every side by a green and fertile meadow. -Around were many fine trees and plants and flowers, which made the -spot a most delightful one. - -'Here!' cried Don Quixote in a loud voice, 'I elect to do my penance. -Here shall the tears from my eyes swell the limpid streams, and here -shall the sighs of my heart stir the leaves of every mountain tree. O -Dulcinea of Toboso, day of my night and star of my fortunes, consider -the pass to which I am come, and return a favourable answer to my -wishes!' - -With this he alighted from Rozinante, and, taking off his saddle and -bridle, gave him a slap on his haunches, and said: 'He gives thee -liberty that wants it himself, O steed, famous for thy swiftness and -the great works thou hast done!' - -When Sancho heard all this he could not help saying: 'I wish Dapple -were here, for he deserves at least as long a speech in his praise; but -truly, Sir Knight, if my journey with your letter, and your penance -here, are really to take place, it would be better to saddle Rozinante -again, that he may supply the want of mine Ass.' - -'As thou likest about that,' said Don Quixote; 'but thou must not -depart for three days as yet, during which time thou shalt see what I -will say and do for my Lady's sake, that thou mayest tell her all about -it.' - -'But what more can I see,' asked Sancho, 'than what I have already -seen?' - -'Thou art well up in the matter, certainly,' replied his Master, 'for -as yet I have done nothing, and if I am to be a despairing lover, I -must tear my clothes, and throw away mine armour, and beat my head -against these rocks, with many other things that shall make thee -marvel.' - -'For goodness' sake,' cried Sancho, 'take care how you go knocking -your head against rocks, for you might happen to come up against so -ungracious a rock that it would put an end to the penance altogether. -If the knocks on the head are necessary, I should content yourself, -seeing that this madness is all make-believe, with striking your head -on some softer thing, and leave the rest to me, for I will tell your -Lady that I saw you strike your head on the point of a rock that was -harder than a diamond.' - -'I thank thee, Sancho, for thy good will,' replied the Knight, 'but the -rules of Knighthood forbid me to act or to speak a lie, and therefore -the knocks of the head must be real solid knocks, and it will be -necessary for thee to leave me some lint to cure them, seeing that -fortune has deprived us of that precious Balsam.' - -'It was worse to lose the Ass,' said Sancho, 'seeing that with him we -lost lint and everything; but pray, your Worship, never mention that -horrible Balsam again, for the very name of it nearly turns me inside -out. And now write your letter, and let me saddle Rozinante and begone, -for I warrant when I once get to Toboso I will tell the Lady Dulcinea -such strange things of your follies and madness, that I shall make her -as soft as a glove even though I find her harder than a cork-tree. And -with her sweet and honied answer I will return as speedily as a witch -on a broomstick, and release you from your penance.' - -'But how shall we write a letter here?' said Don Quixote. - -'And how can you write the order for the handing over to me of the -ass-colts?' asked Sancho. - -'Seeing there is no paper,' said the Knight, 'we might, like the -ancients, write on waxen tablets, but that wax is as hard to find -as paper. But now that I come to think of it, there is Cardenio's -pocket-book. I will write on that, and thou shalt have the matter of -it written out in a good round hand at the first village wherein thou -shalt find a schoolmaster.' - -'But what is to be done about the signature?' asked Sancho. - -'The letters of Amadis were never signed,' replied Don Quixote. - -'That is all very well,' said Sancho, 'but the paper for the three -asses must be signed, for if it be copied out they shall say it is -false, and then I shall not get the ass-colts.' - -'Well, then, the order for the ass-colts shall be signed in the book,' -said Don Quixote; 'and as for the love-letter, thou shalt put this -ending to it, "Yours till death, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance." -And it will be no great matter that it goes in a strange hand, for as -well as I remember Dulcinea can neither read nor write, nor has she -ever seen my handwriting. For indeed, during the twelve years I have -been loving her more dearly than the light of my eyes, I have only -seen her four times, and I doubt if she hath ever noticed me at all, -so closely have her father Lorenzo Corchuelo, and her mother Aldonza -brought her up.' - -'Ha! ha!' cried Sancho, 'then the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is the -daughter of Lorenzo Corchuelo, and is called Aldonza Corchuelo?' - -'That is she,' said Don Quixote, 'and a lady worthy to be the Empress -of this wide universe.' - -'I know her very well,' replied Sancho, 'and can tell you that she -can throw an iron bar with the strongest lad in our village. She is a -girl of mettle, tall and stout, and a sturdy lass that can hold her -own with any Knight Errant in the world. Out upon her, what an arm she -hath! Why, I saw her one day stand on top of the church belfry, to call -her father's servants from the fields, and, though they were half a -league off, they heard her as though she were in the next field; and -the best of her is there is nothing coy about her, but she jokes with -all and makes game and jest of everybody. To be frank with you, Sir -Don Quixote, I have been living under a great mistake, for, really and -truly, I thought all this while that the Lady Dulcinea was some great -Princess with whom your Worship was in love.' - -'I have told thee, Sancho, many times before now,' said Don Quixote, -'that thou art a very great babbler. Understand, then, that my Lady -Dulcinea is to me as good and beautiful as any Princess in the world, -and that is enough.' - -With these words he took out the pocket-book, and, going aside, began -to write with great gravity. When he had ended, he called Sancho to him -and read him the following letter:— - - 'SOVEREIGN LADY, - - 'The sore wounded one, O sweetest Dulcinea of Toboso, sends thee the - health which he wants himself. If thy beauty disdain me, I cannot - live. My good Squire Sancho will give thee ample account, O ungrateful - fair one, of the penance I do for love of thee. Should it be thy - pleasure to favour me, I am thine. If not, by ending my life I shall - satisfy both thy cruelty and my desires. - - 'Thine until death, - 'THE KNIGHT OF THE RUEFUL COUNTENANCE.' - -'By my fathers life,' said Sancho, 'it is the noblest thing that ever -I heard in my life; and now will your Worship write the order for the -three ass-colts?' - -'With pleasure,' answered Don Quixote, and he did as he was desired. - -'And now,' said Sancho, 'let me saddle Rozinante and be off. For I -intend to start without waiting to see those mad pranks your Worship is -going to play. There is one thing I am afraid of, though, and that is, -that on my return I shall not be able to find the place where I leave -you, it is so wild and difficult.' - -'Take the marks well, and when thou shouldst return I will mount to the -tops of the highest rocks. Also it will be well to cut down some boughs -and strew them after you as you go, that they may serve as marks to -find your way back, like the clue in Theseus' labyrinth.' - -Sancho did this, and, not heeding his Master's request to stay and see -him go through some mad tricks in order that he might describe them to -Dulcinea, he mounted Rozinante and rode away. - -He had not got more than a hundred paces when he returned and said: -'Sir, what you said was true, and it would be better for my conscience -if I saw the follies you are about to do before I describe them to your -Lady.' - -'Did I not tell thee so?' said Don Quixote; 'wait but a minute.' - -Then stripping himself in all haste of most of his clothes, Don Quixote -began cutting capers and turning somersaults in his shirt tails, until -even Sancho was satisfied that he might truthfully tell the Lady -Dulcinea that her lover was mad, and so, turning away, he started in -good earnest upon his journey. - - - - - [Illustration: THE CURATE & THE BARBER IN DISGUISE] - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - Of Sancho's Journey to the Lady Dulcinea - - -Don Quixote, left to himself, climbed to the top of a high mountain, -and spent his days making poems about the beautiful Dulcinea, which he -recited to the rocks and trees around him. In this, and in calling upon -the nymphs of the streams, and the satyrs of the woods, to hear his -cries, did he pass his time while Sancho was away. - -As for his Squire, turning out on the highway, he took the road which -led to Toboso, and arrived the next day at the Inn where he had been -tossed in a blanket. He no sooner saw it than he imagined that he was -once again flying through the air, and he half made up his mind that he -would not enter the Inn, although it was now dinner-hour and he felt -a marvellous longing to taste some cooked meat again, as he had eaten -nothing but cold fare for a good many days. - -This longing made him draw near to the Inn, remaining still in some -doubt as to whether he should enter it or not. - -As he stood musing, there came out of the Inn two persons who -recognised him at once, and the one said to the other: 'Tell me, Sir -Curate, is not that horseman riding there Sancho Panza, who departed -with Don Quixote to be his Squire?' - -'It is,' said the Curate, 'and that is Don Quixote's horse.' - -They knew him well enough, for they were Don Quixote's friends, the -Curate and the Barber, who not so long ago had helped to burn his books -and wall up his library; so, wanting to learn news of Don Quixote, they -went up to him and said: 'Friend Sancho Panza, where have you left your -Master?' - -Sancho Panza knew them instantly, but wanted to conceal the place and -manner in which the Knight remained, and answered that his Master was -kept in a certain place by affairs of the greatest importance of which -he must say nothing. - -'That will not do, friend Sancho,' said the Barber. 'If thou dost not -tell us where he is, we shall believe that thou hast robbed and slain -him, seeing that thou art riding his horse. Verily thou must find us -the owner of the steed, or it will be the worse for thee.' - -'Your threats do not trouble me, for I am not one who would rob or -murder anybody, and, for my Master, he is enjoying himself doing -penance in the Brown Mountains, where I have just left him.' - -Then Sancho told them from beginning to end how his Master was carrying -out his penance, and of the mad pranks he intended to perform, and how -he, Sancho, was bearing a letter to the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, who -was none other than the daughter of Lorenzo Corchuelo, with whom the -Knight was head and ears in love. - -Both of them were amazed at what they heard, although they knew -something of Don Quixote's madness already. They asked Sancho to show -them the letter he was carrying to the Lady Dulcinea. Sancho told them -it was written in the pocket-book, and that he was ordered to get it -copied out at the first village he came to. - -The Curate told him that if he would show it to them, he would make a -fair copy of it for him. Then Sancho thrust his hand into his bosom -to search for the little book, but he could not find it, nor would he -have found it if he had hunted until Doomsday, for he had left it with -Don Quixote, who had quite forgotten to give it to him, nor had he -remembered to ask for it when he came away. When Sancho discovered that -the book was lost, his face grew as pale as death, and feeling all over -his body he saw clearly that it was not to be found. Without more ado -he laid hold of his beard, and with both his fists plucked out half his -hair and gave himself half a dozen blows about his face and nose, so -that he was soon bathed in his own blood. - -Seeing this, the Curate and the Barber asked him what was the matter, -that he should treat himself so ill. - -'What is the matter?' cried poor Sancho. 'Why, I have let slip through -my fingers three of the finest ass-colts you ever saw.' - -'How so?' asked the Barber. - -'Why, I have lost the pocket-book,' replied Sancho, 'which had in it -not only the letter for Dulcinea, but also a note of hand signed by my -Master addressed to his Niece, ordering her to give me three ass-colts -of the four or five that were left at his house.' So saying, he told -them the story of his lost Dapple. - -The Curate comforted him by telling him that as soon as they had found -his Master they would get him to write out the paper again in proper -form. With this Sancho took courage, and said if that could be done all -would be right, for he cared not much for the loss of Dulcinea's letter -as he knew it by heart. - -'Say it then, Sancho,' said the Barber, 'and we will write it out.' - -Then Sancho stood still and began to scratch his head and try to call -the letter to memory. He stood first on one leg and then on the other, -and looked first to heaven and then to earth, while he gnawed off half -his nails, and at the end of a long pause said: 'I doubt if I can -remember all, but it began, "High and unsavoury Lady."' - -'I warrant you,' interrupted the Barber, 'it was not "unsavoury" but -"sovereign Lady."' - -'So it was,' cried Sancho; 'and then there was something about the -wounded one sending health and sickness and what not to the ungrateful -fair, and so it scrambled along until it ended in "Yours till death, -the Knight of the Rueful Countenance."' - -They were both much amused at Sancho's good memory, and praised it -highly, asking him to repeat the letter once or twice more to them, so -that they might be able to write it down when they got a chance. Three -times did Sancho repeat it, and each time he made as many new mistakes. -Then he told them other things about his Master, but never a word about -being tossed in a blanket, although he refused, without giving any -reason, to enter the Inn, though he begged them to bring him something -nice and hot to eat, and some barley for Rozinante, when they had -finished their own repast. - -With that they went into the Inn, and after a while the Curate brought -him some meat, which Sancho was very glad to see. - -Now whilst the Curate and the Barber were in the Inn they discussed -together the best means of bringing Don Quixote back to his home, and -the Curate hit upon a plan which fitted in well with Don Quixote's -humour, and seemed likely to be successful. This plan was, as he -told the Barber, to dress himself like a wandering damsel, while the -Barber took the part of her Squire, and in this disguise they were to -go to where Don Quixote was undergoing his penance, and the Curate, -pretending that he was an afflicted and sorely distressed damsel, was -to demand of him a boon, which as a valiant Knight Errant he could not -refuse. - -The service which the damsel was to ask was that Don Quixote would -follow her where she should lead him, to right a wrong which some -wicked Knight had done her. Besides this, she was to pray him not to -command her to unveil herself or inquire as to her condition, until he -had done her right against the wicked Knight. And thus they hoped to -lead Don Quixote back to his own village, and afterwards to cure him of -his mad ideas. - -The Curate's notion pleased the Barber well, and they resolved to carry -it out. They borrowed of the Innkeeper's wife a gown and a head-dress, -leaving with her in exchange the Curate's new cassock. The Barber made -for himself a great beard of a red ox's tail in which the Innkeeper -used to hang his horse-comb. - -The Innkeeper's wife asked them what they wanted these things for, and -the Curate told her shortly all about Don Quixote's madness, and how -this disguise was necessary to bring him away from the mountains where -he had taken up his abode. - -The Innkeeper and his wife then remembered all about their strange -guest, and told the Barber and the Curate all about him and his Balsam, -and how Sancho had fared with the blanket. Then the Innkeeper's wife -dressed up the Curate so cleverly that it could not have been better -done. She attired him in a stuff gown with bands of black velvet -several inches broad, and a bodice and sleeves of green velvet trimmed -with white satin, both of which might have been made in the days of -the Flood. The Curate would not consent to wear a head-dress like a -woman's, but put on a white quilted linen nightcap, which he carried to -sleep in. Then with two strips of black stuff he made himself a mask -and fixed it on, and this covered his face and beard very neatly. He -then put on his large hat, and, wrapping himself in his cloak, seated -himself like a woman sideways on his mule, whilst the Barber mounted -his, with a beard reaching down to his girdle, made, as was said, from -a red ox's tail. - -They now took their leave, and all at the Inn wished them a good -success; but they had not gone very far when the Curate began to dread -that he was not doing right in dressing up as a woman and gadding about -in such a costume, even on so good an errand. He therefore proposed to -the Barber that he should be the distressed damsel, and he, the Curate, -would take the part of the Squire and teach him what to say and how to -behave. Sancho now came up to them, and, seeing them in their strange -dresses, could not contain his laughter. - -The Curate soon threw off his disguise, and the Barber did the same, -and both resolved not to dress up any more until they should come -nearer to Don Quixote, when the Barber should be the distressed damsel -and the Curate should be the Squire. - -Then they pursued their journey towards the Brown Mountains, guided by -Sancho, to whom they explained that it was necessary that his Master -should be led away from his penance, if he was ever to become an -Emperor and be in a position to give Sancho his desired Island. - - - - - [Illustration: THE STORY OF CARDENIO CONTINUED] - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - The Story of Cardenio continued - - -The next day they arrived at the place where Sancho had left the boughs -strewn along his path, and there he told them they were near to Don -Quixote, and that they had better get dressed. For they had told Sancho -part of their plan to take away his Master from this wretched penance -he was performing, and warned him not to tell the Knight who they were. -They also said that if Don Quixote asked, as they were sure he would, -whether he had delivered his letter to Dulcinea, he was to say that he -had done so; but as his Lady could not read, she had sent a message -that he was to return to her. Sancho listened to all this talk, and -said he would remember everything, for he was anxious that his Master -should give up penances and go forth again in search of Islands. He -also suggested that it were best he should go on in advance, as perhaps -the message from Dulcinea would of itself be enough to bring Don -Quixote away from the mountains. - -With that, Sancho went off into the mountain gorges, leaving the other -two behind by a stream overhung with pleasant trees and rocks. - -It was one of the hottest days of August, when in those parts the heat -is very great, and it was about three in the afternoon when Sancho left -them. The two were resting in the shade at their ease when they heard -the sound of a voice, not accompanied by any instrument, but singing -very sweetly and melodiously. The song surprised them not a little, for -this did not seem the place in which to find so good a singer. - -The singer finished his song, and the Barber and Curate, in wonder and -delight, listened for more. But as silence continued, they agreed to go -in search of this strange musician. As they were moving away he again -burst into song, and at the end of this, uttered a deep sigh, and the -music was changed into sobs and heart-rending moans. - -They had not gone far in their search when, in turning the corner of -a rock, they saw a man of the same figure that Sancho had described -to them when he had told them the story of Cardenio. The Curate at -once went up to him, and in a kindly manner begged him to quit this -wretched, wandering life, lest he should perish among the mountains. - -Cardenio, who was in his right mind at this time, and quite free from -his mad fit, replied: 'Whoever you may be, good Sirs, I see clearly -that, unworthy as I am, there are yet human beings who would show -me kindness by persuading me to live in some better place; and I -know myself how this terrible madness masters me, and many blame my -outrageous conduct rather than pity my misfortunes. But if you will -listen to my story, you will know why I have been driven here, what has -made me mad, and will understand how far I ought to be blamed, and how -much I may be pitied.' - -The Curate and the Barber, who wanted nothing better than to learn the -cause of his woe from his own lips, asked him to tell his story, and -promised they would do all they could for his consolation. - -Upon this Cardenio began his story, and told them all that he had told -Don Quixote, until he came to the book that Lucinda had borrowed about -Amadis of Gaul. There was no interruption from Don Quixote on this -occasion, so Cardenio went on to tell them how, when Lucinda returned -the book he found in it a letter full of the most tender wishes -beautifully expressed. - -'It was this letter,' continued Cardenio, 'that moved me to again ask -Lucinda for wife; it was this letter also which made Don Fernando -determine to ruin me before my happiness could be complete. I told Don -Fernando how matters stood with me, and how her father expected mine to -ask for Lucinda, and how I dared not speak to my father about it for -fear he should refuse his consent; not because he was ignorant of the -beauty and worth of Lucinda, but because he did not wish me to marry -so soon, or at least not until he had seen what the Duke Ricardo would -do for me. I told Don Fernando that I could not venture to speak to my -father about it, and he offered to speak on my behalf, and persuade my -father to ask for Lucinda's hand. - -'How could I imagine that with a gentleman like Fernando, my own -friend, such a thing as treachery was possible? But so it was! -And my friend, as I thought him, knowing that my presence was a -stumbling-block to his plans, asked me to go to his elder brother's -to borrow some money from him to pay for six horses which Fernando -had bought in the city. It never entered my thoughts to imagine his -villainy, and I went with a right good will to do his errand. That -night I spoke with Lucinda, and told her what had been arranged between -me and Fernando, telling her to hope that all would turn out well. As -I left her, tears filled her eyes, and we both seemed full of misery -and alarm, tokens, as I now think, of the dark fate that awaited me. -I reached the town to which I was sent, and delivered my letters to -Don Fernando's brother. I was well received, but there seemed no haste -to send me back again, and I was put off with many excuses about the -difficulty of raising the money that Don Fernando needed. In this way I -rested several days, much to my disgust, and it seemed to me impossible -to live apart from Lucinda for so long a time. - -'But on the fourth day after I had arrived, there came a man in -search of me with a letter, which, by the handwriting, I knew to be -Lucinda's. I opened it, not without fear, knowing that it must be some -serious matter which would lead her to write to me, seeing she did it -so rarely. I asked the bearer, before I read the letter, who had given -it to him, and how long it had been on the way. He answered that, -passing by chance at midday through a street in my native city, a very -beautiful lady had called to him from a window. "Poor thing," said he, -"her eyes were all bedewed with tears, and she spoke hurriedly, saying: -'Brother, if thou art a good man, as thou seemest to be, I pray thee -take this letter to the person named in the address, and in so doing -thou shalt do me a great service. And that thou mayest not want money -to do it, take what thou shalt find wrapped in that handkerchief."' - -'"So saying she threw out of the window a handkerchief in which was -wrapped a hundred _reals_, this ring of gold which I carry here, and -this letter which I have given you. I made signs to her that I would -do what she bade, and as I knew you very well I made up my mind not to -trust any other messenger, but to come myself, and so I have travelled -this journey, which you know is some eighteen leagues, in but sixteen -hours." - -'Whilst the kind messenger was telling his story, I remained trembling -with the letter in my hand, until at last I took courage and opened it, -when these words caught my eyes:— - -'"The promise Don Fernando made to you to persuade your father to speak -to mine, he has kept after his own fashion. Know, then, that he has -himself asked me for wife, and my father, carried away by his rank -and position, has agreed to his wishes, so that in two days we are to -be privately married. Imagine how I feel, and consider if you should -not come at once. Let me hope that this reaches your hand ere mine be -joined to his who keeps his promised faith so ill." - -'Such were the words of her letter, and they caused me at once to set -out on my journey without waiting for the despatch of Don Fernando's -business, for now I knew that it was not a matter of buying horses, -but the pursuit of his own wretched pleasure, that had led to my being -sent to his brother. The rage which I felt for Don Fernando, joined -to the fear I had of losing the jewel I had won by so many years of -patient love, seemed to lend me wings, and I arrived at my native city -as swiftly as though I had flown, just in time to see and speak with -Lucinda. I entered the city secretly, and left my mule at the house -of the honest man who had brought my letter, and went straight to the -little iron gate where I had so often met Lucinda. - -'There I found her, and as soon as she saw me she said in deep -distress: "Cardenio, I am attired in wedding garments, and in the hall -there waits for me the traitor, Don Fernando, and my covetous father, -with other witnesses, who shall see my death rather than my wedding. Be -not troubled, dear friend, for if I cannot persuade them to give me my -freedom, I can at least end my life with this dagger." - -'I answered her in great distress, saying: "Sweet lady, if thou -carriest a dagger, I also carry a sword to defend thy life, or to kill -myself, should fortune be against us." - -'I believe she did not hear all I said, for she was hastily called -away, and I aroused myself from my grief, as best I could, and went -into the house, for I knew well all the entrances and exits. Then, -without being seen, I managed to place myself in a hollow formed by the -window of the great hall, which was covered by two pieces of tapestry -drawn together, whence I could see all that went on in the hall without -any one seeing me. - -'The bridegroom entered the hall, wearing his ordinary dress. His -groomsman was a first cousin of Lucinda's, and no one else was in the -room but the servants of the house. In a little while Lucinda came out -of her dressing-room with her mother and two of her maids. My anxiety -gave me no time to note what she wore. I was only able to mark the -colours, which were crimson and white; and I remember the glimmer with -which the jewels and precious stones shone in her head-dress. But all -this was as nothing to the singular beauty of her fair golden hair. - -'When they were all stood in the hall, the Priest of the parish -entered, and, taking each by the hand, asked: "Will you, Lady Lucinda, -take the Lord Don Fernando for your lawful husband?" I thrust my -head and neck out of the tapestry to hear what Lucinda answered. The -Priest stood waiting for a long time before she gave it, and then, -when I expected, nay, almost hoped, that she would take out the dagger -to stab herself, or unloose her tongue to speak the truth, or make -some confession of her love for me, I heard her say in a faint and -languishing voice, "I will." - -'Then Don Fernando said the same, and, giving her the ring, the knot -was tied. But when the Bridegroom approached to embrace her, she put -her hand to her heart and fell fainting in her mother's arms. - -'It remains only for me to tell in what a state I was, when in that -"Yes!" I saw all my hopes at an end. I burned with rage and jealousy. -All the house was in a tumult when Lucinda fainted, and, her mother -unclasping her dress to give her air, found in her bosom a paper, which -Fernando seized and went aside to read by the light of a torch. Whilst -he read it he fell into a chair and covered his face with his hands in -melancholy discontent. - -'Seeing every one was in confusion I ventured forth, not caring where I -went, not having even a desire to take vengeance on my enemies. I left -the house, and came to where I had left my mule, which I caused to be -saddled. Then without a word of farewell to any one I rode out of the -city, and never turned my head to look back at it again. - -'All night I travelled, and about dawn I came to one of the entrances -to these mountains, through which I wandered three days at random. I -then left my mule, and such things as I had, and took to living in -these wilds. My most ordinary dwelling is in the hollow of a cork-tree, -which is large enough to shelter this wretched body. The goatherds who -live among these mountains give me food out of charity. They tell me, -when they meet me in my wits, that at other times I rush out at them -and seize with violence the food they would offer me in kindness. - -'I know that I do a thousand mad things, but without Lucinda I shall -never recover my reason, and I feel certain that my misery can only be -ended by death.' - - - - - [Illustration: THE DISCOVERY OF DOROTHEA] - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - The Story of Dorothea, who loved Don - Fernando - - -As soon as Cardenio had finished his melancholy story, the Curate was -about to offer him some consolation, when he was stopped by hearing a -mournful voice calling out: 'Oh that I could find an end to this life -of misery! Alas, how much more agreeable to me is the company of these -rocks and thickets than the society of faithless man! Would that I had -any one to advise me in difficulty, to comfort me in distress, or to -avenge my wrongs!' - -This was overheard by the Curate and all who were with him, and -thinking that the person who spoke must be hard by, they went to -search, and had not gone twenty paces when they saw behind a large rock -a boy sitting under an ash-tree. He wore a peasant's dress, but as he -was bending down to wash his feet in the brook, his head was turned -from them. They approached softly and without speaking, while his whole -attention was employed in bathing his legs in the stream. They wondered -at the whiteness and beauty of his feet, that did not seem formed to -tread the furrows, or follow the cattle or the plough, as his dress -seemed to suggest. The Curate, who was ahead of the rest, made signs -to them to crouch down, or hide themselves behind a rock. This done, -they all gazed at the beautiful youth, who was clad in a grey jacket, -and wore breeches and hose of the same cloth, with a grey hunting-cap -on his head. Having washed his delicate feet, he wiped them with a -handkerchief which he took out of his cap, and in doing so he raised -his head, showing to those who were looking at him a face of such -exquisite beauty that Cardenio murmured: 'Since this is not Lucinda, it -can be no earthly but some celestial being.' - -The youth took off his cap, and, shaking his head, a wealth of hair, -that Apollo might have envied, fell down upon his shoulders, and -discovered to them all that the peasant was not only a woman, but -one of the most delicate and handsome women they had ever seen. Even -Cardenio had to admit to himself that only Lucinda could rival her in -beauty. Her golden locks fell down in such length and quantity that -they not only covered her shoulders, but concealed everything except -her feet, and the bystanders more than ever desired to know who this -mysterious beauty might be. Some one advanced, and at the noise the -beauteous phantasy raised her head, and thrust aside her locks with -both hands, to see what it was that had startled her. No sooner did she -perceive them than she started up, and, without staying to put on her -shoes or tie up her hair, seized her bundle, and took to flight full -of alarm, but she had not run six yards when her delicate feet, unable -to bear the roughness of the stones, failed her, and she fell to the -ground. - -They all ran to her assistance, and the Curate, who was first, said: -'Stay, Madam, whosoever you are; those you see here have no desire to -harm you, and there is therefore no necessity whatever for flight.' - -To this she made no reply, being ashamed and confused, but the Curate, -taking her hand, continued in a kindly manner: 'Madam, it can be no -slight cause that has hidden your beauty in such an unworthy disguise, -and brought you to this lonely place where we have found you. Let us at -least offer you our advice and counsel in your distress, for no sorrow -can be so great that kind words may not be of service. Therefore, -Madam, tell us something of your good or evil fortune, that we may help -you in your troubles as best we can.' - -At first, while the Curate spoke, the disguised damsel stood rapt in -attention, and gaped and gazed at them all as if she were some stupid -villager, who did not understand what was said; but finding that the -Curate understood something of her secret, she sighed deeply, and -said: 'Since these mountains cannot conceal me, and my poor hair -betrays my secret, it would be vain for me to pretend things which you -could not be expected to believe. Therefore I thank you all, gentlemen, -for your kindness and courtesy, and I will tell you something of my -misfortunes, not to win your pity, but that you may know why it is I -wander here alone and in this strange disguise.' - -All this was said in such a sweet voice, and in so sensible a manner, -that they again assured her of their wish to serve her, and begged that -she would tell them her story. - -To this she replied by putting on her shoes and binding up her hair, -and seating herself upon a rock in the midst of her three hearers. -Then, brushing away a few tears from her eyes, she began in a clear -voice the story of her life. - -'In the Province of Andalusia there is a certain town from which a -great Duke takes his name, which makes him one of our Grandees, as they -are called in Spain. He has two sons. The elder is heir to his estates, -the younger is heir to I know not what, unless it be his father's evil -qualities. To this nobleman my parents are vassals, of humble and low -degree, but still so rich that if nature had gifted them with birth -equal to their wealth, I should have been nobly born, nor should I -now have suffered these strange misfortunes. They are but farmers and -plain people, and what they mostly prized was their daughter, whom they -thought to be the best treasure they had. As they had no other child, -they were almost too affectionate and indulgent, and I was their spoilt -child. And as I was the mistress of their affection, so also was I -mistress of all their goods. I kept the reckoning of their oil-mills, -their wine-presses, their cattle and sheep, their beehives—in a word, -of all that a rich farmer like my father could possess. I engaged and -dismissed the servants, and was the stewardess of the estate. The spare -hours that were left from the management of the farm I spent with the -needle, the lace cushion, and the distaff, or else I would read some -good book or practise upon my harp. - -'This was the life that I led in my father's house. And though I seldom -went abroad except to church, yet it seems I had attracted the eyes of -the Duke's younger son, Don Fernando, for so he was called.' - -No sooner did she mention the name of Don Fernando than Cardenio's face -changed colour, and the Curate and Barber noticing it, feared that -he would burst out into one of his mad fits. But he did nothing but -tremble and remain silent, and the girl continued her story. - -'No sooner, then, had Don Fernando seen me than he was smitten with -love for me, and from that moment I had no peace. I could not sleep for -his serenades. I had numerous letters from him, full of declarations -of love, and at last at his earnest entreaty we had many meetings. -But though he talked much of love, yet I knew that his father would -not allow him to marry the daughter of one of his own vassals, and -my parents both assured me that the Duke would never consent to our -marriage. - -'One evening Don Fernando gave me a beautiful ring, and promised that -he would always be true to me, and from that moment I felt that I was -betrothed to him, and that he really intended, in spite of the Duke's -opposition, to make me his wife. For some days I lived in the greatest -joy, and Don Fernando came constantly to see me, but after a while his -visits grew less frequent, and at last ceased altogether, and I heard -that he had gone on a visit to another city. - -'I waited in hopes of receiving a letter from him, but none came. Ah, -how sad and bitter those days and hours were to me, when I first began -to doubt and even to disbelieve in my lover's faith! I had to keep -watch on my tears, and wear a happy face for fear my parents should -find out the reason of my unhappiness. All this time of doubt, however, -came to an end at an instant. For at last it was announced in the town -that Don Fernando had married, in the city where he was visiting, a -damsel of exceeding beauty and of very noble birth called Lucinda, and -there were many strange tales told of their wedding.' - -Cardenio, hearing the name of Lucinda, did nothing but shrug his -shoulders, bow his head, and shed bitter tears. But yet, for all that, -Dorothea, for such was the maiden's name, did not interrupt the thread -of her story, but continued. - -'When this doleful news reached my ears, I was inflamed with rage -and fury. I ordered one of my father's shepherds to attend me, and -without saying a word to my parents, I packed up some dresses and some -money and jewels, and set off on foot for the city where Don Fernando -had gone, that I might get from him at least some explanation of his -wickedness. In two days and a half I arrived at my journey's end, and -the first person I asked told me the whole story of Don Fernando's -wedding. He told me that at the time of the wedding, after Lucinda had -uttered her consent to be Fernando's wife, she had fainted, and there -fell from her bosom a letter written in her own hand, in which she -said that she could not be the wife of Don Fernando, because she was -betrothed to Cardenio, a gentleman of that city. The letter went on to -say that she intended to kill herself at the end of the ceremony, and -upon her was found a dagger, which seemed to bear out what she said. -Don Fernando seeing this, and thinking that Lucinda had mocked him, -would have stabbed her with the dagger had her parents not prevented -him. After this, I was told, Don Fernando fled, and I learned that this -Cardenio had been present at the wedding, and, hearing her words, had -vanished from the city in despair, leaving a letter behind, declaring -the wrongs Lucinda had done to him. The whole city were talking of -these terrible things, and they talked the more when it was known that -Lucinda was missing from her father's house, and that her parents -had almost lost their reason in their distress. When I heard all -these things I made up my mind I would find Don Fernando, married or -unmarried. But before I left the city on my search, I was told there -was a proclamation made by the public crier, offering a large reward -for any one who should bring me back to my parents. Fearing that this -might tempt the shepherd to betray my whereabouts, I made my escape -from the city, and in this disguise came to the Brown Mountains, where -I have lived for some months with an old Goatherd, and I help him to -tend his goats. Here I have managed to pass as a peasant lad until -my hair betrayed me to you gentlemen as what I am, a distressed and -unfortunate maiden. This is indeed the true story of my tragedy, for -which consolation is in vain, and relief, I fear me, impossible.' - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - Of the pleasant Plan they carried out to persuade - Don Quixote not to continue his Penance - - -When the unfortunate Dorothea had finished her story, she remained -silent, her face flushed with sorrow; and as the Priest was about to -comfort her, Cardenio took her by the hand and said: 'Lady, thou art -the beautiful Dorothea, daughter unto rich Cleonardo.' - -Dorothea was amazed when she heard her father's name spoken by a -person of such wretched appearance as Cardenio, and answered: 'Who art -thou, friend, that knowest so well my father's name? For, unless I am -mistaken, I did not once name him throughout all my story.' - -'I am,' said Cardenio, 'the unlucky one to whom Lucinda was betrothed; -and I, too, had thought that I was without hope of comfort. But now -I hear that Lucinda will not marry Fernando because she is mine, and -Fernando cannot marry Lucinda because he is yours, it seems to me that -there is yet some consolation for both of us. And I vow, on the faith -of a gentleman, not to forsake you until I see you in the possession of -Don Fernando.' - - [Illustration: THE MEETING OF DOROTHEA & DON QUIXOTE] - -The Curate now told them both the nature of his errand, and begged that -they would join him in his travels, and stay as long as they pleased at -his village. By this time they heard the voice of Sancho Panza, who, -not finding them where he had left them, was calling out as loudly as -he might. - -They went to meet him, and asked for Don Quixote. Sancho told them that -he had found him almost naked to his shirt, lean and yellow, half dead -with hunger, and sighing for the Lady Dulcinea; and although he had -told him that she commanded him to journey to Toboso, yet he declared -that he had made up his mind not to appear before her until he had done -feats worthy of her great beauty. - -The Curate now returned and told Dorothea of their plan, and she at -once offered to act the part of the distressed damsel, for she had a -lady's dress in the bundle which she carried. - -'The sooner, then, we set about our work the better,' said the Barber. - -Dorothea retired to put on her robe of a fine rich woollen cloth, a -short mantle of another green stuff, and a collar and many rich jewels -which she took from a little casket. With these things she adorned -herself so gorgeously that she appeared to be a Princess at least. When -Sancho saw her he was amazed, and asked the Curate with great eagerness -to tell him who the lady was, and what she was doing in these out of -the way places. - -'This beautiful lady, brother Sancho,' replied the Curate, 'is the -heiress in direct line of the mighty Kingdom of Micomicon, who has come -in search of thy Master, to ask of him a boon, which is to avenge her -of a wrong done by a wicked Giant. And, owing to the great fame of thy -Master which has spread through all lands, this beautiful Princess has -come to find him out.' - -'A happy searcher and a happy finding,' cried Sancho; 'my Master shall -soon slay the great lubber of a Giant, unless he turn out to be a -phantom, for he has no power over those things. And when this is done, -my Lord shall marry the Princess, whose name, by the bye, you have not -yet told me, and by this means shall he become an Emperor, and have -Islands to give away.' - -'Her name,' replied the Curate, 'is the Princess Micomicona, and as to -your Master's marriage, I will do what I can to help.' - -Sancho was quite satisfied with these answers, and, when Dorothea had -mounted the mule, he guided them towards the spot where Don Quixote was -to be found. And as they went along, the Barber told Sancho he must in -no way pretend to know who he was, for if he did, Don Quixote would -never leave the mountains and would never become an Emperor. The Curate -and Cardenio remained behind, promising to join them again on the first -opportunity. - -Having travelled about three-quarters of a league, they found Don -Quixote clothed, though still unarmed, sitting amidst the rocks. No -sooner did Sancho tell Dorothea that this was his Master than she -whipped up her palfrey, closely followed by the well-bearded Barber, -who jumped from his mule, and ran to help his lady alight. - -Quickly dismounting, she threw herself on her knees before Don Quixote, -and refusing his efforts to raise her, spoke as follows: 'Never will I -rise from this position, most valiant and invincible Knight, until you -grant me a boon which will not only add to your honour and renown, but -also assist the most injured and unfortunate damsel that ever the sun -beheld. And if the valour of your mighty arm be equal to what I have -heard of your immortal fame, you can indeed render aid to a miserable -being who comes from a far-distant land to seek your help.' - -'Beauteous lady,' replied Don Quixote, 'I will not answer one word, nor -hear a jot of your affairs, until you rise from the ground.' - -'I will not rise, my Lord,' answered the unfortunate maiden, 'until I -have obtained from you the boon I beg.' - -'Dear Lady,' replied Don Quixote, 'it is granted, so that it be not -anything that touches my duty to my King, my country, or the chosen -Queen of my heart.' - -'Your kindness shall in no way affect them,' replied Dorothea. - -At this moment Sancho came up and whispered softly in his Master's ear: -'Sir, you may very well grant the request she asketh, for it is a mere -nothing; it is only to kill a monstrous Giant, and she that demands it -is the Princess Micomicona, Queen of the great Kingdom of Micomicon in -Ethiopia.' - -'Let her be what she will,' said Don Quixote, 'I will do my duty -towards her.' And then turning to the damsel, he said: 'Rise, most -beautiful Lady, for I grant you any boon you shall please to ask of me.' - -'Why, then,' said Dorothea, 'what I ask of you is, that you will at -once come away with me to the place where I shall guide you, and that -you promise me not to undertake any new adventure, until you have -revenged me on a traitor who has driven me out of my Kingdom.' - -'I grant your request,' said Don Quixote, 'and therefore, Lady, you may -cast away from this day forward all the melancholy that troubles you, -for this mighty arm shall restore you to your Kingdom.' - -The distressed damsel strove with much ado to kiss his hand, but Don -Quixote, who was a most courteous Knight, would not permit it, and, -making her arise, treated her with the greatest respect. - -He now commanded Sancho to saddle Rozinante and help him to arm -himself, and this done the Knight was ready to depart. The Barber, who -had been kneeling all the while, had great difficulty to stop laughing -aloud at all this, and his beard was in danger of falling off. He -was glad to get up and help his Lady to mount the mule, and when Don -Quixote was mounted, and the Barber himself had got upon his beast, -they were ready to start. As for Sancho, who trudged along on foot, -he could not help grieving for the loss of his Dapple; but he bore it -all with patience, for now he saw his Master on the way to marry a -Princess, and so become at least King of Micomicon, though it grieved -him to think that that country was peopled by blackamoors, and that -when he became a ruler his vassals would all be black. - -While this was going on, the Curate and Cardenio had not been idle. -For the Curate was a cunning plotter, and had hit on a bright idea. He -took from his pocket a pair of scissors, and cut off Cardenio's rugged -beard and trimmed his hair very cleverly. And when he had thrown his -riding-cloak over Cardenio's shoulders, he was so unlike what he was -before, that he would not have known himself in a looking-glass. This -finished, they went out to meet Don Quixote and the others. - -When they came towards them, the Curate looked earnestly at the Knight -for some time, and then ran towards him with open arms, saying: 'In -a good hour is this meeting with my worthy countryman, the mirror of -Knighthood, Don Quixote of the Mancha, the Champion of the distressed.' - -Don Quixote did not at first know him, but when he remembered the -Curate he wanted to alight, saying: 'It is not seemly, reverend Sir, -that I should ride whilst you travel on foot.' - -But the Curate would not allow him to dismount and give him his horse, -but suggested that he might ride behind the lady's Squire on his mule. - -'I did not think of that, good Master Curate,' said Don Quixote; 'but I -know my Lady the Princess will for my sake order her Squire to lend you -the use of his saddle.' - -'That I will,' said the Princess; 'and I know my Squire is the last man -to grudge a share of his beast to this reverend Father.' - -'That is most certain,' said the Barber, and got off his steed at once. - -The Curate now mounted, but the misfortune was that when the Barber -tried to get up behind, the mule, which was a hired one, lifted up her -legs and kicked out with such fury that she knocked Mr. Nicholas to the -ground, and, as he rolled over, his beard fell off and lay upon the -earth. Don Quixote, seeing that huge mass of beard torn from the jaw -without blood, and lying at a distance from the Squire's face, said: -'This, I vow, is one of the greatest miracles I ever saw in my life. -The beard is taken off as clean by the heel of the mule as if it had -been done by the hand of a barber.' - -The Curate, seeing the risk they ran of their plan being found out, -came to where Master Nicholas was lying, and with one jerk clapped it -on again, muttering as he did so some Latin words, which he said were a -charm for fixing on beards. - -By this means, to Don Quixote's amazement, the Squire was cured again, -and he asked the Curate to tell him this charm, which, he said, since -it could heal a wound of this kind, must be good for even more -dangerous injuries. - -The Curate agreed to tell him the secret some other day, and, having -mounted the mule, the party rode slowly away towards the Inn. - - - - - [Illustration: SANCHO PANZA RECOVERS HIS DAPPLE] - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - Of the Journey to the Inn - - -The Curate rode first on the mule, and with him rode Don Quixote and -the Princess. The others, Cardenio, the Barber, and Sancho Panza, -followed on foot. - -And as they rode, Don Quixote said to the damsel: 'Madam, let me -entreat your Highness to lead the way that most pleaseth you.' - -Before she could answer, the Curate said: 'Towards what Kingdoms would -you travel? Are you for your native land of Micomicon?' - -She, who knew very well what to answer, being no babe, replied: 'Yes, -Sir, my way lies towards that Kingdom.' - -'If it be so,' said the Curate, 'you must pass through the village -where I dwell, and from thence your Ladyship must take the road to -Carthagena, where you may embark. And, if you have a prosperous -journey, you may come within the space of nine years to the Lake Meona, -I mean Meolidas, which stands on this side of your Highness's Kingdom -some hundred days' journey or more.' - -'You are mistaken, good Sir,' said she, 'for it is not yet fully two -years since I left there, and, though I never had fair weather, I -have arrived in time to see what I so longed for, the presence of the -renowned Don Quixote of the Mancha, whose glory was known to me as soon -as my foot touched the shores of Spain.' - -'No more,' cried Don Quixote. 'I cannot abide to hear myself praised, -for I am a sworn enemy to flattery. And though I know what you speak is -but truth, yet it offends mine ears. And I can tell you this, at least, -that whether I have valour or not, I will use it in your service, -even to the loss of my life. But let me know, Master Curate, what has -brought you here?' - -'You must know, then,' replied the Curate, 'that Master Nicholas, the -Barber, and myself travelled towards Seville to recover certain sums of -money which a kinsman of mine in the Indies had sent me. And passing -yesterday through this way we were set upon by four robbers, who took -everything that we had. And it is said about here, that those who -robbed us were certain galley slaves, who they say were set at liberty, -almost on this very spot, by a man so valiant that in spite of the -guard he released them all. And doubtless he must be out of his wits, -or else he must be as great a knave as they, to loose the wolf among -the sheep, and rebel against his King by taking from the galleys their -lawful prey.' - -Sancho had told the Curate of the adventure with the galley slaves, and -the Curate spoke of it to see what Don Quixote would say. The Knight, -however, durst not confess his part in the adventure, but rode on, -changing colour at every word the Curate spoke. - -When the Curate had finished, Sancho burst out: 'By my father, Master -Curate, he that did that deed was my Master, and that not for want of -warning, for I told him beforehand that it was a sin to deliver them, -and that they were great rogues who had been sent to the galleys to -punish them for their crimes.' - -'You bottlehead!' replied Don Quixote. 'It is not the duty of Knights -Errant to examine whether the afflicted, enslaved, and oppressed whom -they meet by the way are in sorrow for their own default; they must -relieve them because they are needy and in distress, looking at their -sorrow and not at their crimes. And if any but the holy Master Curate -shall find fault with me on this account, I will tell him that he knows -nought of Knighthood, and that he lies in his throat, and this I will -make him know by the power of my sword.' - -Dorothea, who was discreet enough to see they were carrying the jest -too far, now said: 'Remember, Sir Knight, the boon you promised me, -never to engage in any other adventure, be it ever so urgent, until -you have seen me righted. And had Master Curate known that it was the -mighty arm of Don Quixote that freed the galley slaves, I feel sure he -would have bit his tongue through ere he spoke words which might cause -you anger.' - -'That I dare swear,' said the Curate. - -'Madam,' replied Don Quixote, 'I will hold my peace and keep my anger -to myself, and will ride on peaceably and quietly until I have done -the thing I promised. Tell me, therefore, without delay, what are your -troubles and on whom am I to take revenge.' - -To this Dorothea replied: 'Willingly will I do what you ask, so you -will give me your attention.' - -At this Cardenio and the Barber drew near to hear the witty Dorothea -tell her tale, and Sancho, who was as much deceived as his Master, was -the most eager of all to listen. - -She, after settling herself in her saddle, began with a lively air -to speak as follows: 'In the first place, I would have you know, -gentlemen, that my name is ——' Here she stopped a moment, for she had -forgotten what name the Curate had given her. - -He, seeing her trouble, said quickly: 'It is no wonder, great Lady, -that you hesitate to tell your misfortunes. Great sufferers often lose -their memory, so that they even forget their own names, as seems to -have happened to your Ladyship, who has forgotten that she is called -the Princess Micomicona, heiress of the great Kingdom of Micomicon.' - -'True,' said the damsel, 'but let me proceed. The King, my father, was -called Tinacrio the Sage, and was learned in the magic art. By this -he discovered that my mother, the Queen Xaramilla, would die before -him, and that I should soon afterwards be left an orphan. This did -not trouble him so much as the knowledge that a certain Giant, called -Pandafilando of the Sour Face, Lord of a great Island near our border, -when he should hear that I was an orphan, would pass over with a mighty -force into my Kingdom and take it from me. My father warned me that -when this came to pass I should not stay to defend myself, and so cause -the slaughter of my people, but should at once set out for Spain, where -I should meet with a Knight whose fame would then extend through all -that Kingdom. His name, he said, should be Don Quixote, and he would be -tall of stature, have a withered face, and on his right side, a little -under his left shoulder, he should have a tawny spot with certain hairs -like bristles.' - -On hearing this, Don Quixote said: 'Hold my horse, son Sancho, and help -me to strip, for I would know if I am the Knight of whom the sage King -spoke.' - -'There is no need,' said Sancho, 'for I know that your Worship has such -a mark near your backbone.' - -'It is enough,' said Dorothea, 'for among friends we must not be too -particular, and whether it is on your shoulder or your backbone is of -no importance. And, indeed, no sooner did I land in Osuna than I heard -of Don Quixote's fame, and felt sure that he was the man.' - -'But how did you land in Osuna, Madam,' asked Don Quixote, 'seeing that -it is not a sea town?' - -'Sir,' said the Curate, 'the Princess would say that she landed at -Malaga, and that Osuna was the first place wherein she heard tidings of -your Worship.' - -'That is so,' said Dorothea; 'and now nothing remains but to guide you -to Pandafilando of the Sour Face, that I may see you slay him, and once -again enter into my Kingdom. For all must succeed as the wise Tinacrio, -my father, has foretold, and if the Knight of the prophecy, when he -has killed the Giant, so desires, then it will be my lot to become his -wife, and he will at once possess both me and my Kingdom.' - -'What thinkest thou of this, friend Sancho? Did I not tell thee this -would come about? Here we have a Kingdom to command and a Queen to -marry.' - -When Sancho heard all this he jumped for joy, and running to Dorothea -stopped her mule, and asking her very humbly to give him her hand to -kiss, he kneeled down as a sign that he accepted her as his Queen and -Lady. - -All around could scarcely hide their laughter at the Knight's madness -and the Squire's simplicity, and when Dorothea promised Sancho to make -him a great lord, and Sancho gave her thanks, it roused their mirth -anew. - -'Madam,' continued Don Quixote, who appeared to be full of thought, 'I -repeat all I have said, and make my vow anew, and when I have cut off -the head of Pandafilando I will put you in peaceable possession of your -Kingdom, but since my memory and will are captive to another, it is not -possible for me to marry.' - -So disgusted was Sancho with what he heard that he cried out in a -great rage: 'Surely, Sir Don Quixote, your Worship is not in your right -senses. Is it possible your Worship can refuse to marry a Princess like -this? A poor chance have I of getting a Countship if your Worship goes -on like this, searching for mushrooms at the bottom of the sea. Is my -Lady Dulcinea more beautiful? She cannot hold a candle to her. Marry -her! Marry at once, and when you are King make me a Governor.' - -Don Quixote, who heard such evil things spoken of his Lady Dulcinea, -could not bear them any longer, and therefore, lifting up his lance, -without speaking a word to Sancho, gave him two blows that brought him -to the earth, and if Dorothea had not called to the Knight to spare -him, without doubt he would have taken his Squire's life. - -'Think you, miserable villain,' cried Don Quixote, 'that it is to be -all sinning on thy side and pardoning on mine? Say, scoffer with the -viper's tongue, who dost thou think hath gained this Kingdom and cut -off the head of this Giant and made thee Marquis—for all this I take -to be a thing as good as completed—unless it be the worth and valour -of Dulcinea using my arm as her instrument? She fights in my person, -and I live and breathe in her. From her I hold my life and being. O -villain, how ungrateful art thou that seest thyself raised from the -dust of the earth to be a nobleman, and speakest evil of her who gives -thee such honours!' - -Sancho was not too much hurt to hear what his Master said. He jumped -up nimbly and ran behind Dorothea's palfrey, and from there said to -his Master: 'Tell me, your Worship, if you are not going to marry this -great Princess, how this Kingdom will become yours, and how you can -do me any favours. Pray marry this Queen now we have her here. I say -nothing against Lady Dulcinea's beauty, for I have never seen her.' - -'How, thou wicked traitor, thou hast not seen her!' cried Don Quixote. -'Didst thou not but now bring me a message from her?' - -'I mean,' replied Sancho, 'not seen her for long enough to judge of her -beauty, though, from what I did see, she appeared very lovely.' - -'Ah!' said Don Quixote, 'then I do excuse thee, but have a care what -thou sayest, for, remember, the pitcher may go once too often to the -well.' - -'No more of this,' said Dorothea. 'Run, Sancho, kiss your Master's -hand, and ask his pardon. Henceforth speak no evil of the Lady -Dulcinea, and trust that fortune may find you an estate where you may -live like a Prince.' - -Sancho went up hanging his head and asked his Lord's hand, which he -gave him with a grave air, and, after he had kissed it, the Knight gave -him his blessing, and no more was said about it. - -While this was passing, they saw coming along the road on which they -were a man riding upon an Ass, and when he drew near he seemed to be a -gipsy. But Sancho Panza, whenever he met with any asses, followed them -with his eyes and his heart, and he had hardly caught sight of the man -when he knew him to be the escaped robber, Gines of Passamonte, and the -Ass to be none other than his beloved Dapple. - -Gines had disguised himself as a gipsy, but Sancho knew him, and called -out in a loud voice: 'Ah! thief Gines, give up my jewel, let go my -life, give up mine Ass, give up the comfort of my home. Fly, scoundrel! -Begone, thief! Give back what is none of thine.' - -He need not have used so many words, for Gines leaped off at the first -and raced away from them all as fast as his legs could carry him. - -Sancho then ran up to Dapple, and, embracing him, cried: 'How hast thou -been cared for, my darling and treasure, Dapple of mine eyes, my sweet -companion?' With this he stroked and kissed him as if he had been a -human being. But the Ass held his peace, and allowed Sancho to kiss and -cherish him without answering a word. - - - - - [Illustration: SANCHO'S STORY OF HIS VISIT TO THE LADY DULCINEA] - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - The Story Sancho Panza told his Master of his - Visit to the Lady Dulcinea - - -When the rest came up they all congratulated Sancho on finding his -ass, and Don Quixote promised that he would still give him the three -ass-colts, for which Sancho thanked him heartily. - -While the Knight and his Squire rode on ahead, the Curate said to -Cardenio: 'Is it not marvellous to see the strange way in which this -good gentleman believes all these inventions, and this only because -they wear the style and fashion of the follies he is so fond of -reading?' - -'It is so,' said Cardenio, 'and indeed, if he were a character in a -story-book no one would believe in him.' - -'There is another thing, too,' said the Curate, 'that apart from his -folly about Knighthood, no one would esteem him to be other than a man -of excellent judgment.' - -Don Quixote at the same time was saying to Sancho: 'Friend Sancho, let -us bury all injuries, and tell me when, how, and where didst thou find -Dulcinea. What was she doing? What saidst thou to her? What answer -made she? How did she look when she read my letter? Who copied it for -thee? Tell me all, without adding to it or lying, for I would know -everything.' - -'Master,' replied Sancho, 'if I must speak the truth, nobody copied out -the letter, for I carried no letter at all.' - -'Thou sayest true,' said Don Quixote, 'for I found the pocket-book, -wherein it was written, two days after thy departure, and I did expect -that thou wouldst return for it.' - -'I had done so,' said Sancho, 'if I had not carried it in my memory -when you read it to me, so that I could say it to a parish clerk, who -copied it out of my head, word for word, so exactly that he said that -in all the days of his life he had never read such a pretty letter.' - -'And hast thou it still by heart, Sancho?' asked Don Quixote. - -'No, Sir, for after I gave it, seeing that it was to be of no more -use, I let myself forget it. If I remember, it began, _Scrubby Queen, -Sovereign Lady_, and the ending—_yours till death, the Knight of the -Rueful Countenance_—but between these things I put in three hundred -_hearts_, and _loves_, and _dear eyes_.' - -'All this I like to hear, therefore say on,' said Don Quixote. 'Thou -didst arrive; and what was the Queen of Beauty doing then? I daresay -thou foundest her threading pearls or embroidering some curious device -with golden threads for this her captive Knight.' - -'No, that I did not,' said Sancho, 'but winnowing two bushels of wheat -in the yard of her house.' - -'Why, then,' said Don Quixote, 'thou mayest reckon that each grain of -wheat was a pearl, seeing they were touched by her hands. But tell me, -when thou didst deliver my letter, did she kiss it? Did she use any -ceremony worthy of such a letter? Or what did she?' - -'When I went to give it to her,' said Sancho, 'she was all in a bustle -with a good lot of wheat in her sieve, and said to me: "Lay down that -letter there on the sack, for I cannot read it until I have winnowed -all that is here."' - -'O discreet Lady!' said Don Quixote; 'she must have done that, so that -she might read and enjoy it at leisure. Go on, then, Sancho, and tell -all she said about me, and what thou saidst to her.' - -'She asked me nothing,' replied the Squire, 'but I told her the state -which I left you in for her sake, doing penance all naked from the -girdle up among these rocks like a brute beast, and I told her how you -slept on the ground and never combed your beard, but spent your time -weeping and cursing your fortune.' - -'There thou saidst ill,' said Don Quixote, 'for I do not curse my -fortune, but rather bless it, seeing that it hath made me worthy to -merit the love of so beautiful a lady as Dulcinea of Toboso. But tell -me, after she had sifted her corn and sent it to the mill, did she then -read my letter?' - -'The letter,' replied Sancho, 'she did never read, for she said she -could neither read nor write, and therefore she tore it into small -pieces, and would allow no one to read it lest the whole village might -know her secrets. Lastly, she told me that I was to say to your Worship -that she kissed your hands, and that she had a greater desire to see -you than to write to you. Therefore she begged, as you loved her, that -you should quit these bushes and brambles, and leave off these mad -pranks, and set out for Toboso, for she had a great longing to see -your Worship. She laughed a good deal when I told her they called your -Worship the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. I asked her whether the -beaten Biscayan came there. She said yes, and that he was a very good -fellow. I asked also after the galley slaves; but she told me that she -had seen none of them as yet.' - -'All goes well, then,' said Don Quixote; 'but tell me, what jewel did -she bestow on thee at thy departure for reward of the tidings thou -hadst brought? For it is a usual and ancient custom among Knights -Errant and their Ladies to give to their Squires, damsels, or dwarfs -who bring good tidings, some rich jewel as a reward for their welcome -news.' - -'It may well be,' replied Sancho; 'and I think it was a most excellent -custom, but I doubt if it exists nowadays, for it would seem to be the -manner of our age only to give a piece of bread and cheese; for this -was all that my Lady Dulcinea bestowed on me when I took my leave, and, -by the way, the cheese was made of sheep's milk.' - -'She is marvellous liberal,' said the Knight; 'and if she gave thee -not a jewel of gold, it was doubtless because she had none then about -her. But that will be put right some day. Knowest thou, Sancho, at what -I am astonished? It is at thy sudden return, for it seems to me thou -wast gone and hast come back again in the air, for thou hast been away -but a little more than three days, although Toboso is more than thirty -leagues from hence. Therefore I do believe that the wise Enchanter, -who takes care of my affairs and is my friend, must have helped thee -to travel without thy being aware of it. For there are sages that take -up a Knight Errant sleeping in his bed, and, without knowing how or -in what manner, he awakes the next day more than a thousand leagues -from the place where he fell asleep. For otherwise Knights Errant -could not help one another in perils as they do now. For it may be -that one is fighting in the mountains of Armenia with some dragon or -fierce serpent, and is at the point of death, and, just when he least -expects it, he sees on a cloud, or in a chariot of fire, some other -Knight, his friend, who a little before was in England, who helps him -and delivers him from danger. And all this is done by the craft and -wisdom of those sage Enchanters who take care of valorous Knights. -But, leaving all this apart, what dost thou think I should do about my -Lady's commands to go and see her?' - -'Tell me, good your Worship,' replied Sancho, 'do you intend to journey -to Toboso and lose so rich and noble a prize as this Princess? Peace! -take my advice and marry her in the first village that hath a parish -priest, or let the Curate do it, for he is here, and remember the old -saying, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."' - -'Look you, Sancho,' said his Master, 'if you counsel me to marry, to -the end that I may be King when I have slain the Giant and be able to -give you an Island, know that I can do that without marrying, for I -will make it a condition that upon conquering this monster they shall -give me a portion of the Kingdom, although I marry not the Princess, -and this I will bestow upon thee.' - -'Let it be so, then,' said Sancho. 'And trouble not your mind, I pray -you, to go and see the Lady Dulcinea at this moment, but go away and -kill the Giant and let us finish off this job, for I believe it will -prove of great honour and greater profit.' - -'I believe, Sancho,' said Don Quixote, 'that thou art in the right, and -I will follow thy advice in going first with the Princess rather than -visiting Dulcinea.' - -At this moment Master Nicholas the Barber called out to them to stay -awhile, for they wished to halt and drink at a small spring hard by. -Don Quixote stopped, to Sancho's very great content, as he was already -tired of telling so many lies, and feared that his Master would entrap -him in his own words. For although he knew that Dulcinea was a peasant -lass of Toboso, yet he had never seen her in all his life. - - - - - [Illustration: ANDREW SALUTES DON QUIXOTE] - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - What happened during their further Journey - towards the Inn - - -They all dismounted at the spring, and by this time Cardenio had -dressed himself in the boy's clothes that Dorothea had worn, which, -though by no means good, were better than those he cast off. The Curate -had brought some scanty provisions from the Inn, and they sat down near -the spring to satisfy, as well as they could, the hunger they all felt. - -Whilst they took their ease, a young lad passed by, who looked very -earnestly at all those who sat round the spring, and after a moment ran -up to Don Quixote, and embracing his legs, burst into tears, crying: -'Ah, my Lord, do not you know me? Look well upon me. I am the boy -Andrew whom you unloosed from the oak-tree to which I was tied.' - -Don Quixote knew him at once, and, taking him by the hand, turned to -those who were present and said: 'That you may see how important it -is to have Knights Errant in the world to set right the wrongs and -injuries which are done by insolent and wicked men, you must know that -a few days ago, as I rode through a wood, I heard piteous screams and -cries as of some person in sore distress. I hastened instantly to the -place, and there I found tied to an oak this boy whom you see here, -and I am glad that he is here, because if I shall not say the truth, -he may check me. He was tied to an oak-tree, stark naked from the -waist upward, and a certain clown, whom I afterwards learned to be his -master, was beating him with a horse's bridle. As soon as I saw him I -asked the master the reason of his cruelty. The Farmer replied that he -was beating him because he was his servant, and that he had been guilty -of carelessness due rather to knavery than stupidity. At which the -lad said, "Sir, he beats me only because I ask him for my wages." The -Farmer answered with many excuses, which I heard but did not believe. I -made him at once untie the boy, and forced him to swear me an oath that -he would take him home with him and pay him every _real_ upon the nail. -Is not all this true, son Andrew? Answer, nor hesitate in anything. -Tell these gentlemen what passed, that they may learn how necessary it -is to have Knights Errant up and down the highways.' - -'All that your Worship says is very true,' replied the lad;' but the -end of the business was very contrary to what you imagine.' - -'How contrary?' asked Don Quixote. 'Did not the clown pay thee, then?' - -'He not only did not pay me,' answered the boy, 'but as soon as you -had passed out of the wood, and we were alone again, he tied me to -the same tree and gave me afresh so many blows that I had like to be -flayed alive. And at each blow he uttered some jest to make a mock of -your Lordship, and if I had not felt so much pain, I could have found -it in my heart to have laughed very merrily. In fact, he left me in -such a wretched plight that I have been in hospital ever since. And -you are at fault in all this, for if you had ridden on your way, and -not come meddling in other folk's affairs, perhaps my master would -have contented himself with giving me a dozen blows or so, and would -presently have let me loose and paid me my wages. But, because you -abused him so harshly, his anger was aroused, and as he could not -revenge himself on you, as soon as he was alone he let loose the storm -of his wrath upon me, in such a manner that I fear I shall never be a -man again as long as I live.' - -'The mischief was,' said Don Quixote, 'in my going away, for I should -not have departed until I had seen thee paid. For I might well have -known that no churl will keep his word if he finds that it does not -suit him to keep it. But yet, Andrew, thou dost remember how I swore -that if he paid thee not, I would return and seek him out, and find -him though he should hide himself in the belly of a whale.' - -'That is true,' replied Andrew, 'but it is all of no use.' - -'Thou shalt see whether it is of use or no presently,' said Don -Quixote, and so saying he got up hastily and commanded Sancho to bridle -Rozinante, who was feeding whilst they did eat. - -Dorothea asked him what it was he meant to do. He answered that he -meant to go in search of the Farmer and punish him for his bad conduct, -and make him pay Andrew to the last farthing, in spite of all the -churls in the world. To which she answered, entreating him to remember -that he could not deal with any other adventure, according to his -promise, until he had finished hers; and as he knew this better than -any one else, he must restrain his anger until he returned from her -Kingdom. - -'That is true,' answered Don Quixote; 'and Andrew must have patience -until my return, for I once more vow and promise anew never to rest -until he be satisfied and paid.' - -'I do not believe these vows,' said Andrew; 'I would rather just now -have as much money as would help me on my way to Seville than all the -revenge in the world. Give me something to eat, and let me go, and may -all Knights Errant be as erring to themselves as they have been with -me.' - -Sancho took out of his bag a piece of bread and cheese, and, giving it -to the lad, said: 'Take it, brother Andrew, for each of us has a share -in your misfortune.' - -'What share have you in it?' asked Andrew. - -'This piece of bread and cheese which I give thee,' said Sancho, 'for -no one knows whether I shall have need of it again or not. For you must -know, my friend, that we Squires to Knights Errant suffer great hunger -and ill-luck, and many things which are better felt than told.' - -Andrew laid hold of his bread and cheese, and, seeing that no one gave -him anything else, bowed his head and went on his way. And as he went -he turned to Don Quixote and said: 'I pray you, Sir Knight Errant, if -you meet me again, although you should see me being cut to pieces, do -not come to my aid, but leave me to my ill fate. For it cannot be so -great but that greater will result from your help, and may you and all -the Knights Errant that ever were born in the world keep your paths -away from mine.' - -Don Quixote started up to chastise him, but he set off running so fast -that no one tried to pursue him. The Knight was greatly ashamed at -Andrew's story, and the others had much ado not to laugh outright, and -so put him to utter confusion. - -When they had finished their dinner, they saddled and went to horse -once more, and travelled all that day and the next without any -adventure of note, until they arrived at the Inn, which was the dread -and terror of Sancho Panza, and though he would rather not have entered -it, yet he could not avoid doing so. The Innkeeper, the Hostess, -her daughter, and Maritornes, seeing Don Quixote and Sancho return, -went out to meet them with tokens of great love and joy. The Knight -returned their compliments with grave courtesy, and bade them prepare a -better bed than they gave him the last time. - -'Sir,' said the Hostess, 'if you would pay us better than the last -time, we would give you one fit for a Prince.' - -Don Quixote answered that he would, and they prepared a reasonable good -bed for him in the same room where he lay before. Then he went off to -bed at once, because he was tired and weary, both in body and mind. - -He had scarcely locked himself in, when the Hostess ran at the Barber, -seizing him by the beard, and cried: 'By my troth, but my tail shall no -longer be used for a beard, for the comb which used to be kept in the -tail gets tossed about the floor, and it is a shame.' - -But the Barber would not give it up for all her tugging, until the -Curate told him to let her have it, for there was no longer any need -of a disguise, as the Barber might now appear in his own shape, and -tell Don Quixote that after he had been robbed by the galley slaves he -had fled for refuge to that Inn. As for the Princess's Squire, if the -Knight should ask after him, they could say he had been sent on before -to her Kingdom, to announce to her subjects that she was returning, -bringing with her one who should give them all their freedom. On this -the Barber gave up the tail to the landlady, together with the other -things they had borrowed. - -All the people of the Inn were struck with Dorothea's beauty and the -comeliness of the shepherd Cardenio. The Curate made them get ready a -dinner of the best the Inn could produce, and the Innkeeper, in hope -of better payment, prepared them very speedily a good dinner. All this -was done whilst Don Quixote slept, and they agreed not to wake him, for -they thought it would do him more good to sleep than to eat. - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE'S EXTRAORDINARY BATTLE] - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - Of the extraordinary Battle which Don Quixote - waged with what he took to be a Giant - - -Don Quixote was still asleep when the dinner was served, and during -dinner—the Innkeeper, his wife, his daughter, and Maritornes being -there, as well as all the travellers—they talked of Don Quixote's -strange craze, and of the state in which they had found him. The -Hostess told them of what had happened between him and the Carrier, and -glancing round to see if Sancho were present, and not seeing him, she -told them the story of his being tossed in the blanket, to the no small -entertainment of all the company. - -The Curate told him it was the books of Knighthood that Don Quixote had -read that had turned his head. - -'I know not how that can be,' said the Innkeeper, 'for to my thinking -there is no finer reading in the world; and when it is harvest-time, -the reapers here often collect during the midday heat, and one who can -read takes one of these books in hand, while some thirty of us get -round him, and sit listening with so much delight that I could find it -in my heart to be hearing such stories day and night.' - -'And I think well of them, too,' said the Hostess, 'for when the -reading is going on, you are so full of it that you forget to scold me, -and I have a good time of it.' - -'Ah,' said her daughter, 'I too listen, and though I like not the -fights which please my father, yet the lamentations which the Knights -make when they are away from their Ladies make me weep for pity, and I -enjoy that.' - -'We have need here,' said the Curate, 'of our friends, the old woman -and the Niece. Beware, my good Host, of these books, and take care that -they carry you not on the road they have taken Don Quixote.' - -'Not so,' said the Innkeeper, 'I shall not be such a fool as to turn -Knight Errant; for I see well enough that it is not the fashion now to -do as they used to do in the times when these famous Knights roamed -about the world. All that is of no use nowadays.' - -Sancho came in in the midst of this, and was amazed to hear them say -that Knights Errant now were of no use, and that books of Knighthood -were full of follies and lies, and he made up his mind to see the end -of this voyage of his Master, and if that did not turn out as happily -as he expected, to return home to his wife and children and to his -former labours. - -At this moment a noise came from the room where Don Quixote was lying, -and Sancho went hastily to see if his Master wanted anything. - -In a few moments he returned, rushing wildly back, and shouting at the -top of his voice: 'Come, good Sirs, quickly, and help my Master, who is -engaged in one of the most terrible battles my eyes have ever seen. -I swear he has given the Giant, the enemy of my Lady, the Princess -Micomicona, such a cut, that he has sliced his head clean off like a -turnip.' - -'What sayest thou, friend?' said the Curate. 'Art thou in thy wits, -Sancho? How can it be as you say, when the Giant is at least two -thousand leagues from here?' - -By this time they heard a marvellous great noise within the chamber, -and Don Quixote shouting out: 'Hold, thief, scoundrel, rogue! now I -have thee, and thy scimitar shall not avail thee!' - -And it seemed as if he were striking a number of mighty blows on the -walls. - -'Do not stand there listening,' cried Sancho, 'but go in and part the -fray, or aid my Master. Though I think it will not now be necessary, -for doubtless the Giant is dead by now, and giving an account of the -ill life he led; for I saw his blood was all about the house and his -head cut off, which is as big as a great wine-bag.' - -'May I be hewed in pieces,' cried the Innkeeper on hearing this, 'if -Don Quixote has not been slashing at one of the skins of red wine that -are standing filled at his bed head, and the wine that is spilt must be -what this fellow takes for blood.' - -So saying he ran into the room, and the rest followed him, and found -Don Quixote in the strangest guise imaginable. He was in his shirt, -which did not reach to his knees. His legs were very long and lean, -covered with hair, and not over clean. On his head he wore a greasy -red nightcap which belonged to the Innkeeper. Round his left arm he had -folded the blanket from off his bed, at which Sancho gazed angrily, for -he owed that blanket a grudge. In his right hand he gripped his naked -sword, with which he laid round about him with many a thwack, shouting -out as if indeed he was at battle with some terrible Giant. The best -sport of all was that his eyes were not open, for he was indeed asleep, -and dreaming that he was fighting a Giant. For his imagination was -so full of the adventure in front of him that he dreamed that he had -already arrived at Micomicon, and was there in combat with his enemy; -and he had given so many blows to the wine-bags, supposing them to be -the Giant, that the whole chamber flowed with wine. - -When the Innkeeper saw this, he flew into such a rage that he set upon -Don Quixote with his clenched fist, and began to pummel him, so that if -Cardenio and the Curate had not pulled him off, he would have finished -the battle of the Giant altogether. In spite of this, the poor Knight -did not awake until the Barber got a great kettleful of cold water from -the well, and threw it right over him, when Don Quixote woke up, but -even then did not understand where he was. - -As for Sancho, he went up and down the floor, searching for the -Giant's head, and seeing he could not find it, said: 'Now I know that -everything I see in this house is enchanted, for this head is not to be -seen here, though I myself saw it cut off with my own eyes, and the -blood running from the body as from a fountain.' - -'What blood or what fountain dost thou cackle of here?' cried the -Innkeeper. 'Thou thief! dost thou not see that the blood and the -fountain is no other thing but the wine-bags which are ripped open, and -the red wine which swims up and down the room?' - -'I know nothing but this,' replied Sancho, 'that if I cannot find the -Giant's head, my Earldom will dissolve like salt cast into water.' For -indeed Sancho awake was worse than his Master asleep, so greatly had -his Master's promises turned his brain. - -The Innkeeper was at his wits' end at seeing the stupidity of the -Squire and the mischief done by his Master, but he determined that they -should not as before go away without paying; that Knighthood should be -no excuse for this, and he would make them pay for the very patches in -the wine-skins that had been ruined. - -All this time the Curate was holding Don Quixote's hands, who, -believing that he had finished the adventure and was in the presence of -the Princess Micomicona herself, fell on his knees before the Curate, -and said: 'Your Highness, exalted and beautiful Lady, may live from -henceforth secure from any danger that this wretched Giant might have -done to you; and I am also freed this day from the promise I made to -you, seeing that I have, with the assistance of her through whose -favour I live and breathe, so happily completed my labour.' - -'Did I not say so?' cried Sancho, hearing his Master. 'I was not -drunk. My Master has salted the Giant down this time, and my Earldom is -secure.' - -Who could help laughing at the follies of the two, Master and man? All -of them laughed except the Innkeeper, who burst out into fits of anger -ten times worse than before. - -At length the Barber, Cardenio, and the Curate managed, not without -much ado, to get Don Quixote to bed again, and presently left him -sleeping, with every sign of being worn out. They let him sleep, and -went out to comfort Sancho Panza, whose grief was great at not finding -the Giant's head. But they had more to do to pacify the Innkeeper, who -was almost out of his wits at the sudden death of his wine-skins. - -His wife, too, was running up and down, scolding and crying out: 'Alas, -the unlucky hour when this Knight Errant came to my house! Would that -mine eyes had never seen him, for he has cost me dear. The last time he -was here he went away scot free for his supper, bed, straw, and barley -for himself, his man, his horse, and his ass, because he said he was -a Knight Errant. Then for his sake the other gentlemen came and took -away my good tail, and have returned it damaged, and now he breaks -my wine-skins and spills the wine. I wish I may see as much of his -blood spilt.' And backed up by Maritornes, the good Innkeeper's wife -continued her lamentations with great fury. - -At length the Curate quelled the storm, promising to satisfy them for -the wine and the skins, and also for the damage to the tail, about -which there was so much fuss. Dorothea comforted Sancho, telling him -that as soon as ever it was made certain that his Master had slain the -Giant, and placed her safely in her Kingdom, she would give him the -best Earldom she had. - -With this he was consoled, and told her that he himself had seen the -Giant's head cut off, and that it had a beard which reached down to his -girdle, and that if the beard could not now be found it was because the -affairs of this house were all guided by enchantment, as he knew to his -cost by what had happened to himself in his last visit. - -Dorothea replied that she was of the same opinion, and bade him be of -good cheer, since all would be well ended to his heart's desire. - - - - - [Illustration: OF THE RARE ADVENTURES AT THE INN] - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - Which treats of other rare Adventures which - happened at the Inn - - -Later in the day the Innkeeper, who was standing at the door, cried -out: 'Here is a fine troop of guests coming. If they stop here, we may -sing and rejoice.' - -'Who are they?' asked Cardenio. - -'Four men on horseback,' answered the Innkeeper, 'with lances and -targets, and all with black masks on their faces. With them comes a -woman dressed in white, on a side-saddle, and her face also masked, and -two lackeys that run with them on foot.' - -'Are they near?' asked the Curate. - -'So near,' replied the Innkeeper, 'that they are now arriving.' - -Hearing this, Dorothea veiled her face, and Cardenio went into Don -Quixote's room; and they had hardly time to do this when the whole -party, of whom the Innkeeper had spoken, entered the Inn. The four -who were on horseback were of comely and gallant bearing, and, having -dismounted, went to help down the Lady on the side-saddle; and one of -them, taking her in his arms, placed her upon a chair that stood at -the door of the room into which Cardenio had entered. All this while -neither she nor they took off their masks, or said a word, only the -Lady, as she sank into the chair, breathed a deep sigh, and let fall -her arms as one who was sick and faint. The lackeys led away the horses -to the stable. - -The Curate, seeing and noting all this, and curious to know who they -were that came to the Inn in such strange attire and keeping so close a -silence, went after one of the lackeys, and asked of him what he wanted -to learn. - -'Faith, Sir, I cannot tell you who these are, but they seem to be -persons of good quality, especially he who went to help the Lady -dismount. The rest obey him in all things.' - -'And the Lady—who is she?' asked the Curate. - -'I cannot tell you that neither,' replied the lackey, 'for I have not -once seen her face during all the journey, though I have often heard -her groan and utter deep sighs.' - -'And have you heard the name of any of them?' asked the Curate. - -'Not I, indeed,' replied the man; 'they travel in silence, and nothing -is heard but the sighs and sobs of the poor Lady, and it is our firm -belief that, wherever she is going, she is going against her will.' - -'May be it is so,' said the Curate, and he returned to the Inn. - -Dorothea, who heard the disguised Lady sigh so mournfully, moved by -pity, drew near to her and asked: 'What ails you, good Madam, for I -offer you my service and good-will, and would help you as much as lies -in my power?' - -To this the unhappy Lady made no reply; and though Dorothea again spoke -kindly to her, yet she sat silent and spoke not a word. - -At length the masked gentleman came across and said to Dorothea: 'Lady, -do not trouble yourself to offer anything to that woman; she is of a -most ungrateful nature, and not wont to return any courtesy.' - -'I have never spoken,' said the silent Lady, 'since I am too unhappy to -do so, and am almost drowned in my misfortunes.' - -Cardenio overheard these words very clearly and distinctly, for he was -close to her who uttered them, the door of Don Quixote's room being the -only thing that separated them, and he cried aloud: 'What is this I -hear? What voice is this that hath touched mine ear?' - -The Lady, moved with a sudden passion, turned her head at these cries, -and as she could not see who uttered them, she rose to her feet and -would have entered the room, but the gentleman stopped her and would -not let her move a step. - -This sudden movement loosened the mask, which fell from her face, -discovering her marvellous beauty. But her countenance was wan and -pale, and she turned her eyes from place to place as one distracted, -which caused Dorothea and the rest to behold her with a vast pity. - -The gentleman held her fast by the shoulders, and was so busied that he -could not hold up his own mask, which fell from his face, and, as it -did so, Dorothea looked up and discovered that it was her lover, Don -Fernando. - -Scarce had she known him than, breathing out a long and most pitiful -'Alas!' from the bottom of her heart, she fell backward in a swoon. -And if the Barber had not been by good chance at hand, she would have -fallen on the ground with all the weight of her body. - -The Curate removed the veil from her face, and cast water thereon, and -Don Fernando, as soon as he looked upon her, turned as pale as death. -Cardenio, who had heard the moan which Dorothea uttered, as she fell -fainting on the floor, came out of the room, and saw Don Fernando -holding his beloved Lucinda. - -All of them held their peace and beheld one another; Dorothea looking -on Don Fernando, Don Fernando on Cardenio, Cardenio on Lucinda, and -Lucinda on Cardenio, all stood dumb and amazed, as folk that knew not -what had befallen them. - -Lucinda was the first to break the silence. 'Leave me, Don Fernando,' -she cried, 'for the sake of what is due to yourself. Let me cleave to -the wall whose ivy I am, to his support from whom neither your threats -nor your promises could part me.' - -By this time Dorothea had come to herself, and seeing that Don Fernando -did not release Lucinda, she arose, and casting herself at his feet, -shed a flood of crystal tears as she thus addressed him: 'If the sun -of Lucinda's beauty hath not blinded thine eyes, know that she who -is kneeling at thy feet is the hapless and miserable Dorothea. I am -that lowly country girl to whom thou didst promise marriage. Know, my -dear Lord, that the matchless love I bear thee may make amends for the -beauty and nobility of her for whom thou dost abandon me. Thou canst -not be the beautiful Lucinda's, because thou art mine; nor she thine, -for she belongs to Cardenio. And all this being so, as in truth it is, -and seeing that thou art as good as thou art noble, wherefore put off -making me once more happy again? Do not vex the declining years of -my parents, who have ever been loyal vassals to thine. For remember, -whether thou wilt or no, thou must ever remain my promised husband.' - -These and many other reasons did the grieved Dorothea use, with so -much feeling and so many tears, that all who were present, even those -who had come with Don Fernando, could not help from giving her their -sympathy. - -As for Don Fernando, he stood gazing fixedly at Dorothea for some -time, and at last, overwhelmed with remorse and admiration, he took her -to his arms, saying: 'Thou hast vanquished, O beautiful Dorothea. Thou -hast vanquished!' - -At the same moment, Cardenio, who had stood close to Don Fernando, -started forward to catch the fainting Lucinda, who threw both her arms -around his neck, crying: 'Thou, and thou only, art my Lord and Master.' - -Thus were the true lovers all united, and the good Curate, the Barber, -and even Sancho Panza joined in their tears, delighted that so much -joy had taken the place of so much misery. As for Sancho, he excused -himself afterwards for his tears, saying he wept only because he saw -that Dorothea was not the Queen of Micomicona as he had imagined, from -whom he hoped to have received such mighty gifts and favours. - -Each in turn told his or her story, and Don Fernando gave an account of -all that had befallen him in the city, after he had found the scroll -that Lucinda had written in which she declared her love for Cardenio. - -And it appeared that, the day after the interruption of the wedding, -Lucinda had secretly departed from her father's house, and had fled no -one knew whither; but within a few months Don Fernando had learned that -she was in a certain convent, intending to remain there all the days -of her life, if she could not pass them with Cardenio. As soon as he -had learned that, choosing three gentlemen to aid him, he went to the -place where she was. One day he surprised her walking with one of the -nuns in the cloisters, and carried her off without giving her a chance -to resist. From there they brought her to a certain village, where -they disguised themselves, and so rode on until they came to the Inn. -But Lucinda, after she was in his power, did nothing but weep and sigh -without speaking a word. - -Thus in silence and tears had they reached this Inn, which to him and -all of them would always remain the most beautiful place in the world, -since it had seen the end of so many troubles, and brought him back to -his own true love. - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE ADDRESSING DOROTHEA] - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - Wherein is continued the History of the - famous Princess Micomicona - - -Sancho gave ear to what he heard with no small grief of mind, seeing -that all hopes of his Earldom vanished away like smoke, and the fair -Princess Micomicona was turned into Dorothea, whilst his Master was -sound asleep, careless of all that happened. Dorothea could not believe -that the happiness she enjoyed was not a dream. Cardenio and Lucinda -were of a similar mind, and Don Fernando was truly thankful that he was -free from the dangerous path he had taken, which must have ended in -loss of all honour and credit. - -In a word, all were contented and happy. The Curate, like a man of -sense, congratulated every one on his good fortune; but she that kept -greatest Jubilee and joy was the Hostess, because Cardenio and the -Curate had promised to pay all the damages done by Don Quixote. - -Only Sancho, as has been said, was unhappy and sorrowful. And thus he -went with a melancholy face to his Master, who was then just awaking, -and said: 'Your Worship, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, may well -sleep on as long as you please, without troubling yourself to kill any -Giant, or restore to the Princess her Kingdom, for all that is done and -finished already.' - -'That I well believe,' replied Don Quixote, 'for I have had the most -monstrous and terrible battle with that Giant that ever I had all the -days of my life; and yet with one back stroke, swish, I tumbled his -head to the ground, and his blood gushed forth, so that streams of it -ran along the earth as if it had been water.' - -'As if it had been red wine, your Worship might have said,' replied -Sancho, 'for I would have you know, if you do not know already, that -the dead Giant is no other than a ruined wine-bag, and the blood -six-and-twenty gallons of red wine.' - -'What sayest thou, madman?' cried Don Quixote. 'Art thou in thy right -wits?' - -'Get up, Sir,' said Sancho, 'and you shall see yourself the fine piece -of work you have done, and what we have to pay. You shall behold the -Queen turned into a private Lady, called Dorothea, with many other -things that may well astonish you.' - -'I should marvel at nothing,' replied Don Quixote, 'for if thou -rememberest right, I told thee, the other time that we were here, how -all that happened here was done by enchantment, and it would be no -wonder if it were the same now.' - -'I should believe it all,' replied Sancho, 'if my tossing in the -blanket had been a thing of that sort. Only it was not so, but very -real and certain. And I saw the Innkeeper, who is here to this day, -hold one end of the blanket and toss me up to the sky with very good -grace and strength, and as much mirth as muscle. And where it comes to -knowing persons, I hold, though I may be a simpleton and a sinner, that -there is no enchantment, but only bruising and bad luck.' - -'Well,' cried Don Quixote, 'time will show; but give me my clothes, for -I would see these wonders that thou speakest of for myself.' - -Sancho gave him his clothes, and, whilst he was making him ready, the -Curate told Don Fernando and the rest, of Don Quixote's mad pranks, and -the plan he had used to get him away from the Brown Mountains, where he -imagined he was exiled through the disdain of his Lady. - -The Curate told them further, that since the good fortune of the Lady -Dorothea prevented them carrying out their scheme, they must invent -some other way of taking him home to his village. - -Cardenio offered to continue the adventure, and let Lucinda take -Dorothea's part. - -'No,' cried Don Fernando. 'It shall not be so, for I will have -Dorothea herself carry out her plan, and if the good Knight's home is -not far from here, I shall be very glad to help in his cure.' - -'It is not more than two days' journey,' said the Curate. - -'Even if it were more,' replied Don Fernando, 'I should be happy to -make the journey in so good a cause.' - -At this moment Don Quixote sallied out, completely armed with -Mambrino's helmet, which had a great hole in it, on his head, his -shield on his arm, and leaning on his lance. His grotesque appearance -amazed Don Fernando and his companions very much, who wondered at his -gaunt face so withered and yellow, the strangeness of his arms, and his -grave manner of proceeding. - -All stood silent to see what he would do, whilst the Knight, casting -his eyes on the beautiful Dorothea, with great gravity and calmness -spoke as follows: 'I am informed, beautiful Lady, by this my Squire, -that your greatness has come to an end, and your condition is -destroyed. For, instead of being a Queen and a mighty Princess, you -are now become a private damsel. If this has been done by the special -order of that sage magician, the King your Father, because he dreaded -that I could not give you all necessary help, I say that he does not -know half his art, and has never understood the histories of knightly -adventures. For if he had read them with the attention that I have, he -would have found how many Knights of less fame than myself have ended -far more desperate adventures than this, for it is no great matter to -kill a Giant, be he ever so proud. For in truth it is not so many hours -since I myself fought with one; but I will be silent, lest they tell me -I lie. Time, the detecter of all things, will disclose it when we least -expect.' - -'Thou foughtest with two wine-bags, not with a Giant,' cried the -Innkeeper. - -Don Fernando told him to be silent and not to interrupt Don Quixote, -who continued his speech thus: 'In fine, I say, high and disinherited -Lady, do not trouble if your Father has made this change in you, for -there is no peril so great on earth but my sword shall open a way -through it, and by overthrowing your enemies' head to the ground I -shall set your crown on your own head within a few days.' - -Don Quixote said no more, but waited for the Princess's answer. She -knowing Don Fernando's wish that she should continue to carry out -their plan, answered with a good grace and pleasant manner, saying: -'Whosoever informed you, valorous Knight of the Rueful Countenance, -that I have altered and transformed my being, hath not told you the -truth, for I am the very same to-day as I was yesterday. True it is -that my fortunes have somewhat changed, and given me more than I -hoped for or could wish for, but for all that I have not ceased to be -what I was before, and I still hope to have the aid of your valorous -and invincible arm. Therefore, good my Lord, restore to my Father -his honour, and believe him to be both wise and sagacious, for by -his magic he has found me a remedy for all my misfortunes. For I -believe that had it not been for you, I should never have attained the -happiness I now enjoy, and that I speak the truth these good gentlemen -will bear witness. All that is now wanted is that to-morrow morning we -set out on our journey. As for the conclusion of the good success I -hourly expect, that I leave to the valour of your invincible arm.' - -Thus spoke the witty Dorothea, and Don Quixote, having heard her, -turned to Sancho with an air of great indignation, and said: 'Now, I -say unto thee, Sancho, thou art the veriest little rascal in all Spain. -Tell me, thief and vagabond, didst thou not tell me that this Princess -was turned into a damsel, and that she was called Dorothea? And that -the head that I slashed from a Giant's shoulders, was a wine-skin, with -a thousand other follies, that threw me into the greatest confusion I -was ever in in my life? I vow,' he continued, looking up to the heavens -and crashing his teeth together, 'I vow that I am about to make such a -havoc of thee, as shall beat some wit into the pates of all the lying -Squires that shall hereafter ever serve Knights Errant in this world.' - -'I pray you have patience, good my Lord,' answered Sancho, 'for it -may well befall me to be deceived touching the change of the Lady and -Princess Micomicona. But in what touches the Giant's head, or at least -the cutting of the wine-bags, and that the blood was but red wine, -I am not deceived, I swear. For the bags lie wounded there at your -own bed-head, and the red wine hath made a lake in your room: and all -this you will know, when his honour the Landlord asks you to pay the -damages.' - -'I tell thee, Sancho, thou art a blockhead,' said Don Quixote. 'Pardon -me, we have had enough of it.' - -'Enough, indeed,' said Don Fernando, 'and let me entreat you to say -no more of it. Seeing my Lady the Princess says she will go away -to-morrow, as it is too late to depart to-day, let us agree to spend -this evening in pleasant discourse, and to-morrow we will attend the -worthy Knight, Don Quixote, and be eye-witnesses of the valorous feats -of arms he shall do in carrying out this adventure.' - -It was now time for supper, and they all sat down at a long table, for -there was not a square or round one in the whole house. And they gave -the principal end to Don Quixote, though he did all he could to refuse -it; but when he had taken it, he commanded that the Lady Micomicona -should sit at his elbow, as he was her champion. The others being -placed in due order, they all enjoyed a pleasant supper, listening to -the wise, strange discourse that Don Quixote held upon his favourite -subject of knightly adventures. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - Of the strange Enchantment of the Unfortunate - Knight - - -After supper it appeared that there were not sufficient rooms in -the house for all the company, so the ladies retired to the best -apartments, whilst the gentlemen sought rest where they could get -it with the least discomfort. Sancho Panza found a bed on his Ass's -harness, where he was soon fast asleep, and Don Quixote satisfied his -sense of duty by arming himself, mounting Rozinante, and riding round -the Inn, that he might act as sentinel of this imaginary Castle. - -In a short time all the Inn was drowned in a deep silence. Only the -Innkeeper's daughter and Maritornes were not asleep, but knowing very -well Don Quixote's humour, and that he was armed on horseback outside -the Inn keeping guard, the two agreed to play him some trick, or at -least to pass a little time listening to his nonsense. - - [Illustration: THE ENCHANTMENT OF DON QUIXOTE] - -It so happened that there was not any window in all the Inn which -looked out into the fields, but only a hole in the barn, out of which -they were used to throw the straw. To this hole came the two damsels, -and saw Don Quixote mounted and leaning on his lance, breathing -forth ever and anon such doleful and deep sighs, that it seemed as if -each one of them would tear his very soul. They noted besides how he -said in a soft and amorous voice: 'O my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, the -perfection of all beauty, the sum-total of discretion, the treasury -of grace, the storehouse of virtue, the ideal of all that is worthy, -modest, or delightful in all the world! What might thy Ladyship be -doing at this present? Art thou perhaps thinking of thy captive Knight -who most readily exposeth himself to so many dangers for thy sake? Give -me tidings of her, O thou Moon! Mayhap thou dost now look down upon her -pacing some gallery of her sumptuous palace, or leaning against some -balcony thinking what glory she shall give me for my pains, what quiet -to my cares, what life to my death, and what reward for my services. -And thou, O Sun, who art even now busy saddling thy horses to set off -betimes and go forth and see my Lady, I beseech thee when thou seest -her to salute her on my behalf, but take care that thou dost not kiss -her on her face lest thou provokest my jealousy.' - -So far the Knight had proceeded when the Innkeeper's daughter began to -call him softly to her, saying: 'Sir Knight, approach a little way, if -you please.' - -At this signal Don Quixote turned his head and saw by the light of the -moon, which shined then very clearly, that they beckoned him from the -hole in the barn, which he imagined to be a fair window full of iron -bars gilded in costly fashion with gold, fit for so rich a Castle as -he imagined that Inn to be. In a moment he believed, in his strange -fancy, that the beautiful damsel, daughter to the Lord of the Castle, -conquered by love of him, was come to have speech with him. - -In this fancy, and because he would not show himself discourteous and -ungrateful, he turned Rozinante about and came over to the hole, and -then, having beheld the two damsels, he said: 'I take pity on you, -beautiful Lady, that you have fixed your love where it is not possible -to find another's in return. Nor must you blame this miserable Knight -Errant, whom love hath wholly disabled from paying his addresses to any -other than to her who at first sight became the Lady of his choice. -Pardon me, therefore, good Lady, and retire yourself to your room, and -be pleased to say no more to me, that I may not appear ungrateful to -you. And if, of the love you bear me, you can find me any other way -wherein I may serve you, demand it boldly, for I swear to pleasure you -in this, even though my task be to bring you a lock of Medusa's hairs, -which are all of snakes, or to capture the beams of the sun in a phial -of glass.' - -'My Lady needs none of these things, Sir Knight,' answered Maritornes. - -'What doth she then want, discreet dame?' asked Don Quixote. - -'Only one of your fair hands,' said Maritornes, 'that she may fulfil -the desire that brought her to this window with so great danger to -herself, that if her Lord and Father knew of it, the least he would do -would be to slice off her ear.' - -'He had best beware of what he does,' answered Don Quixote, 'unless he -would make the most disastrous end that ever father made in this world, -for having laid violent hands on the delicate limbs of his amorous -daughter.' - -Maritornes had no doubt but that Don Quixote would give up his hand as -he was requested, and, having made up her mind what she would do, she -went down into the stable, and fetched out Sancho Panza's Ass's halter. -With this she returned again as quickly as possible, and came to the -hole just as Don Quixote had set his feet upon Rozinante's saddle that -he might the better reach the barred windows at which he thought the -lovesick damsel was standing. - -And as he stretched forth his hand to her he cried: 'Hold, Lady, this -hand, or, as I may better say, this scourge of evildoers. Hold, I say, -this hand, which no other woman ever touched before, not even she -herself who holds entire possession of my whole body. Nor do I give -it to you to the end that you should kiss it, but that you may behold -the strength of the sinews, the knitting of the muscles, the large and -swelling veins, whereby you may learn how mighty is the force of that -arm to which such a hand is knit.' - -'We shall see that presently,' said Maritornes. - -And then, making a running knot in the halter, she cast it on the wrist -of his hand, and, coming down from the hole, she tied the other end of -the halter very fast to the bolt of the hay-loft door. - -Don Quixote, feeling the roughness of the halter about his wrist, -said: 'It seems that you rather rasp than clasp my hand, but yet I pray -you not to handle it so roughly, seeing it is in no fault for what you -suffer from my inclinations. Remember that those who love well do not -take so cruel revenge on those who love elsewhere.' - -But nobody gave ear to those words of Don Quixote. For, as soon as -Maritornes had tied him fast, she and the other, almost bursting with -laughter, ran away and left him fastened in such a manner that it was -not possible for him to loose himself. He was standing, as has been -said, on Rozinante's saddle, with his whole arm thrust within the hole, -and fastened to the bolt of the door, and was in great fear that if -Rozinante budged never so little on either side he should fall and hang -by the arm. Therefore he durst not make the least movement, though he -might have expected, from Rozinante's patience and mild spirit, that if -he were allowed, he would stand without stirring for a whole century. - -In fine, Don Quixote, finding that he was tied up and that the ladies -were gone, began at once to imagine that all this had been done by way -of enchantment, as the time before when he and Sancho had suffered such -strange adventures. Then he was wroth with himself for his want of -judgment and discretion in venturing to enter the Castle a second time, -seeing that he had come off so badly the first. For it was a maxim with -the Knights Errant, that when they had attempted an adventure and had -not come well out of it, it was a token that it was not reserved for -them but for some other. - -Yet for all this he drew forward his arm to see if he might deliver -himself, but he was so well bound that all his efforts proved vain. It -is true that he drew his arm cautiously, lest Rozinante should stir, -and though he longed to get into the seat of his saddle again, yet he -could do no other but stand upright or wrench off his arm. Many times -did he wish for the sword of Amadis against which no enchantment had -power. Then he fell to cursing his stars, or again called upon the Lady -Dulcinea to remember him anew. Now he would call on his good Squire -Sancho Panza, who, buried in sleep, stretched out upon his pack-saddle, -heard him not, and then he called in vain on the Sage Urganda to -release him. - -Finally, the morning found him so full of despair and confusion, that -he roared like a bull, for he had no hope that daylight would bring him -any cure, as he fully believed his enchantment would prove everlasting. -This belief was strengthened inasmuch as Rozinante had not budged ever -so little, and he came to the conclusion that both he and his horse -should abide in that state without eating, drinking, or sleeping, until -either the evil influences of the stars were passed, or some great -Enchanter had disenchanted him. - -In this he was deceived, for scarce did day begin to peep than there -arrived four horsemen at the Inn door, with firelocks on their -saddle-bows, who were officers of the Holy Brotherhood. They called out -at the Inn door, which was still shut, giving loud knocks, which, being -heard by Don Quixote from the place where he stood sentinel, he cried -out in a loud and arrogant voice: 'Knights or Squires, or whatsoever -else ye be, you are not to knock any more at the gates of this Castle, -seeing that at such an hour as this either those who are within are -sleeping, or else are not wont to open their fortress until Phœbus hath -spread his beams over the earth. Therefore stand back and wait until it -be clear day, and then we will see whether it be just or no, that they -should open their gates unto you.' - -'What Castle or Fortress is this,' cried one of them, 'that we should -observe these ceremonies? If thou beest the Innkeeper, command that the -door be opened, for we are travellers that will tarry no longer than to -bait our horses and away, for we ride post-haste.' - -'Doth it seem to you, gentlemen,' said Don Quixote, 'that I look like -an Innkeeper?' - -'I know not what thou lookest like,' answered the other, 'but well I -know that thou speakest madly in calling this Inn a Castle.' - -'It is a Castle,' replied Don Quixote, 'and one of the best in this -Province, and it hath people in it who have had a sceptre in hand and a -Crown on their head.' - -'They be some company of strolling players, then,' replied the man, -laughing, 'for no others hold sceptres or wear crowns in such a paltry -Inn as this is.' - -'Thou knowest but little of the world,' answered Don Quixote, 'seeing -thou art ignorant of the chances that are wont to happen in Knight -Errantry.' - -The man's companions wearied of this discourse, and turned again to -knock with great fury at the door, and this time they not only waked -the Innkeeper but also all the guests, and the former arose to demand -their pleasure. - -In the meantime it happened that one of the horses on which they rode -came sniffing round Rozinante, who stood melancholy and sad, with his -ears down, bearing up his outstretched Master. But being after all an -animal of a friendly disposition to his own kind, he could not refrain -from turning round to sniff at him who came towards him. - -Scarce had he moved one step, when Don Quixote's two feet, which were -close together, slipped, and, sliding from the saddle, the Knight would -have fallen to the ground had he not remained hanging by the arm. This -caused him so much pain that he felt that his wrist was being cut -off or his arm torn away. For he hung so near to the ground that he -touched it with the tips of his toes; and this increased his misery, -for, feeling the little that was wanted to set his feet wholly on the -ground, he struggled all he could to reach it, deceived by the hope -that he could indeed touch it if he only stretched himself a little -further. - - - - - [Illustration: THE DISPUTED POMMEL] - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - Wherein is continued the wonderful Adventures - at the Inn - - -While Don Quixote hung suspended between heaven and earth, his outcries -were so terrible that the Innkeeper ran to the door, and opened it -hastily and in great fright, to see who it was that roared so loud. - -Maritornes, whom the cries had also awakened, guessing what it was, ran -to the hay-loft, and, unseen by any one, loosed the halter that held -up Don Quixote, and he fell at once to the ground in the sight of the -Innkeeper and the four travellers, who, coming up to him, asked him -what ailed him. - -He, without any answer slipped the halter from his wrist, and, rising -to his feet, leaped on Rozinante, braced on his shield, couched his -lance, and, wheeling round the field, rode back at a hard-gallop, -crying out: 'Whosoever shall dare to say that I have been with just -title enchanted, if my Lady, the Princess Micomicona, will give me -leave to do it, I say that he lies, and I challenge him to single -combat.' - -The travellers were amazed at his words, but the Host told them that -they must not mind him, for he was out of his wits. - -When Don Quixote saw that none of the four travellers made any account -of him or answered his challenge, he was ready to burst with wrath -and fury; and could he have found that a Knight Errant might lawfully -accept and undertake another enterprise, having plighted his word and -faith not to attempt any until he had finished that which he had first -promised, he would have fallen upon them all, and made them give him an -answer in spite of themselves. - -Those in the Inn were now fully aroused, and had come with the -Innkeeper to see the new arrivals. Whilst they were talking to the -four travellers, in the big room where they had supped, they heard a -noise outside, the cause of which was that some dishonest guests, who -had stayed there that night, seeing all the people busy to know the -cause of the four horsemen coming, had thought to escape scot free -without paying their reckoning. But the Innkeeper, who attended his own -affairs with more diligence than other men's, stopped them going out -and demanded his money, upbraiding their dishonest conduct with such -words, that they returned him an answer with their fists; and this they -did so roundly that the poor Innkeeper was compelled to cry for help. - -His wife and his daughter, seeing Don Quixote standing by, cried out to -him: 'Help, Sir Knight! help my poor father, whom two wicked men are -thrashing like a bundle of corn.' - -To this Don Quixote answered leisurely and with great gravity: -'Beautiful damsel, your prayer cannot at the present time be granted, -for I am not permitted to engage in any new adventure until I have -finished the one I have promised to carry through. And all that I can -now do in your service is what I now say to you. Run unto your father -and bid him continue and maintain his battle manfully until I demand -leave of the Princess Micomicona to help him out of his distress. For -if she will give me leave, you may make sure that he will be delivered.' - -'As I am a sinner,' cried Maritornes, who was standing by, 'before you -get that leave you speak of my Master will be in the other world.' - -'Permit me but to get the leave I speak of,' replied Don Quixote, 'and -it matters not whether he be in the other world or no. For I would -bring him back again in spite of the other world itself, or at least, I -will take such a revenge on those that sent him there that you shall be -well content.' - -Without saying more he went in and fell on his knees before Dorothea, -demanding her in knightly and courtly phrases that she would give him -leave to go and aid the Constable of the Castle who was then plunged in -deep distress. - -The Princess granted him leave very willingly, and instantly buckling -on his shield, and laying hands on his sword, he ran to the Inn door -where the two guests were still fighting with the Innkeeper. But as -soon as he arrived he stopped and stood still, although Maritornes -and the Hostess asked him twice or thrice the cause of his delay in -assisting their master and husband. - -'I delay,' said Don Quixote, 'because it is not permitted me to lay -hands to my sword against Squire-like men who are not dubbed Knights. -But call me here my Squire Sancho, for this defence and revenge belong -to him as his duty.' - -All this took place outside the Inn door, where fists and blows were -given and taken much to the Innkeeper's cost, and to the rage and grief -of Maritornes and the Hostess and her daughter, who were like to run -mad on seeing Don Quixote's cowardice and the mischief their master, -husband, and father was enduring. - -However, though the laws of Knighthood hindered Don Quixote from -fighting, he soon persuaded the guests, by his wise reproofs of their -conduct, to leave the Innkeeper alone, and pay him what was owing by -them; and all would have been at peace in the Inn if another traveller -had not arrived there at this moment. This was none other than the -Barber from whom Don Quixote took away the helmet of Mambrino, and -Sancho Panza the harness or furniture of the ass, whereof he made an -exchange of his own. And while the Barber was leading his beast to -the stable, he caught sight of Sancho Panza mending some part of the -pack-saddle, or pannel, as it was called. - -As soon as he had eyed him he knew him, and at once set upon Sancho, -saying: 'Ah, Sir thief, here I have you! Give up my basin and my -pannel, with all the trappings you stole from me.' - -Sancho, finding himself attacked so suddenly, laying fast hold of the -pannel with one hand, with the other gave the Barber such a buffet that -he bathed his teeth in blood. But for all that the Barber held fast his -grip of the pannel, and cried out so loud that all within the house -came to the noise and scuffle. - -'Help, here, in the name of the King and justice,' shouted the Barber. -'For this thief and robber by the highways goeth about to kill me -because I seek to get back my own goods.' - -'Thou liest,' cried Sancho, 'for I am not a robber of the highways. And -my Lord Don Quixote won these spoils in a fair battle.' - -By this time Don Quixote himself had come to the spot, not a little -proud to see how his Squire defended himself and attacked his enemy, -and he took him from that moment to be a man of valour, and resolved in -his own mind to dub him Knight on the first occasion that should offer, -because he thought that the order of Knighthood would be well bestowed -on him. - -'Sirs,' said the puzzled and angry Barber, 'this pannel is as -certainly mine, and I know it as well as if I had bred it, and there is -my ass in the stable who will not let me lie; so do but try it on him, -and if it fit him not to a hair, I am willing to be called infamous. -And I can say more, that on the very day on which they took my pannel -from me, they robbed me likewise of a new brazen basin which had never -been used, and cost me a crown.' - -Here Don Quixote could no longer contain himself from speaking, and, -thrusting himself between the two, to part them asunder, he caused the -pannel to be placed publicly upon the ground until the dispute should -be decided, and said: 'To the end that you may understand the clear -mistake which this good Squire labours under, see how he calls that a -basin, which was, and is, and always shall be, the helmet of Mambrino, -which I took from him by force in fair battle, and made myself lord -thereof in a lawful and warlike manner. In regard to the pannel I -meddle not; but I can say that my Squire Sancho asked leave of me to -take away the trappings of this vanquished coward's horse, that he -might adorn his own withal. I gave him leave to do it, and he took -them. As for these being turned from a horse's furniture to an ass's -pannel, I can give no other reason than the common one in affairs of -Knighthood, that this is done by enchantment. And to confirm the truth -of all I say, run, friend Sancho, speedily, and bring me out the helmet -which this good fellow declares to be a basin.' - -'By my faith, Sir,' said Sancho, 'if we have no better proof of our -story than what you say, the helmet of Mambrino is as arrant a basin as -this fellow's trappings are a pack-saddle.' - -'Do what I command,' replied Don Quixote, 'for I cannot believe that -all things in this Castle are governed by enchantment.' - -Sancho went for the basin and brought it, and as soon as Don Quixote -saw it, he took it in his hands and said: 'See, Sirs, with what face -can this impudent Squire declare that this is a basin, and not the -helmet that I have mentioned. I swear to you by the order of Knighthood -which I profess, that this is the very same helmet which I won from -him, without having added or taken anything from it.' - -'There is no doubt of that,' said Sancho, 'for, since the time my -Lord won it until now, he never fought but one battle with it, when -he delivered the unlucky chained men. And but for his basin, I mean -helmet, he had not escaped so free as he did, so thick a shower of -stones rained all the time of that battle.' - - - - - [Illustration: DON QUIXOTE ARRESTED] - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - Wherein is finally decided the Dispute about - Mambrino's Helmet and the Pannel - - -'Good Sirs,' cried the Barber, 'what do you think of those who will -contend that this is not a basin but a helmet?' - -'He that shall say the contrary,' said Don Quixote, 'I will make him -know that he lies, if he be a Knight; and if he be but a Squire, that -he lies and lies again a thousand times.' - -The Barber Nicholas, Don Quixote's friend, who was then with the rest, -had a mind to carry the jest further, and make them all laugh, so, -speaking to the other Barber, he said: 'Sir Barber, or whoever you are, -know that I am also of your profession, and have held a certificate -for more than twenty years, and I know all the instruments of a -Barber's art well. Moreover, in my youth I was a soldier, and I know -what a helmet is like, and a morion, and a casque, and other kinds of -soldiers' arms. And therefore I say, always subject to better opinion, -that this good piece which is laid here before us, and which this good -Knight holds in his hand, not only is not a Barber's basin, but is as -far from being one as white is from black. It is a helmet, though, as I -think, not a complete helmet.' - -'No, truly,' said Don Quixote, 'for it wants the half, namely the lower -part and the visor.' - -'That is true,' said the Curate, who understood his friend's intention. -And Cardenio, Fernando, and his companions fell in with this design. - -'Lord a' mercy!' cried the poor Barber, half beside himself. 'Is -it possible that so many honourable men should say that this is no -basin but a helmet? It is a thing to strike with amazement a whole -University, be they never so wise. Enough; if this basin is a helmet, -then must the pack-saddle be a horse's trappings.' - -'To me it looks like a pack-saddle,' said Don Quixote, 'but I have -already said I do not meddle with that matter.' - -'Whether it be a pannel or not,' said the Curate, 'it is but for Don -Quixote to say, for in these matters of Knighthood, all these gentlemen -and myself bow to his knowledge.' - -'Sirs,' said Don Quixote, 'so many and strange are the things that -have befallen me in this Castle these two times I have lodged here, -that it would be rash in me to pronounce a judgment in the matter. To -those who say this is a basin and no helmet I have made my answer, but -whether this be a pannel or the furniture of a horse I will leave it to -others to decide.' - -To those who knew Don Quixote's madness this was a matter of much -laughter and good sport, but to the four travellers who had arrived -that morning, and who were officers of justice, and soldiers of the -Holy Brotherhood, it seemed the greatest folly in the world. - -But he that was most of all beside himself with wrath was the Barber, -whose basin they had transformed before his face into the helmet of -Mambrino, and whose pannel, he felt sure, would now be turned into the -rich furniture and equipage of a great horse. - -Those who were in the secret laughed heartily to see Don Fernando go up -and down taking the opinion of this man and that, whispering in their -ear that they might give their verdict to him in secret. - -And after he had gone round to all those who knew Don Quixote, he said -to the Barber in a loud voice: 'The truth is, good fellow, that I grow -weary of asking so many opinions, for I no sooner ask what I want to -know than they answer me that it is mere madness to say that this is -the pannel of an ass, but rather is it the furniture of a horse, yes -and of a chief horse of service.' - -'May I never go to heaven,' said the poor distracted Barber, 'if you be -not all deceived! It is a pannel and no horse's trappings. But the law -takes it from me, and so farewell to it.' - -The Barber's simplicity caused no less laughter than the follies of Don -Quixote, who said: 'There is now no more to be done than for every one -to take his own.' - -But at that moment one of the four officers of justice, who had -listened to the dispute, full of anger to hear such nonsense seriously -spoken, cried out: 'If this be not a planned jest, I cannot understand -why men of such intelligence as all these seem to be, should dare to -say that this is not a basin nor this a pannel. For indeed it is as -very a pannel as my father is my father, and he that hath said or will -say anything else must be drunk.' - -'Thou liest like a clownish knave,' said Don Quixote. And lifting up -his lance, which he always held in his hand, he aimed such a blow at -the trooper's pate, that if he had not avoided it, it would have thrown -him to the ground. - -The lance was broken into splinters by the fall of the blow, and the -other troopers, seeing their comrade so misused, cried out for help -in the name of the Holy Brotherhood. The Innkeeper, whose duty it was -to help all officers of justice, ran for his sword, and stood by to -help them. The Barber laid hold of his pannel, and Sancho Panza did -the same. Don Quixote set hand to his sword and attacked the troopers, -and Cardenio and Don Fernando took his part. The Curate cried out, -the Hostess shrieked, the daughter screamed, Maritornes howled, while -Dorothea and Lucinda stood frightened and amazed. The Barber battered -Sancho, and Sancho pounded him back again, while Don Fernando got one -of the troopers at his feet, and belaboured him soundly. The Innkeeper -cried aloud for help for the Holy Brotherhood, and all the Inn seemed -full of wails, cries, screeches, confusion, fears, terrors, disasters, -slashes, buffets, cudgellings, kicks, and the shedding of blood. - -In the midst of this chaos, Don Quixote began to imagine that he was -plunged up to the ears in the battle of the King Agramante, and he -cried aloud in a voice that thundered through the Inn, 'Hold all your -hands, put up your swords, and keep the peace, if you wish to continue -alive.' - -That great and monstrous voice made them all stand still; on which he -continued: 'Did I not tell you, Sirs, that this Castle was enchanted, -and that some legion of magicians did inhabit it? Note how the discord -of King Agramante's Camp is among us, so that we all of us fight, and -none know for what. Come, therefore, Master Curate, and make you peace -and atonement between us, for I swear that it is a great wrong and pity -that so many noblemen as we are here should be slain for so slight -causes.' - -The Barber was well content that this should be so, by reason that both -his beard and his pannel had been torn to pieces, and Sancho was at -once obedient to his Master's voice, as became a dutiful servant. As -for the troopers, when they learned Don Fernando's rank and position, -they were quieted, but they retired from the brawl grumbling, and by -no means satisfied with the turn things had taken. - -Now it happened that one of these officers—the very one who was so -buffeted by Don Fernando—had with him a warrant to take into custody -one Don Quixote, who was charged with setting free certain galley -slaves. As soon as he remembered this, he must needs try whether the -description of Don Quixote tallied with the person before him. - -He took from his bosom a scroll of parchment, and reading it very -leisurely, for he was no great scholar, at every other word he stared -at Don Quixote, and compared the marks of his warrant with those in the -Knight's face, and found that without doubt he was the man that was -wanted. - -No sooner had he made up his mind about this than, holding the warrant -in his left hand, he laid hold of Don Quixote's collar with his right -so strongly that he could hardly breathe, and cried aloud: 'Aid for the -Holy Brotherhood. And that you may see that I am in good earnest, read -that warrant, wherein you shall find that this robber of the highways -is to be taken into custody.' - -The Curate took the warrant, and saw that what the trooper said was -true, and that the marks described Don Quixote very nearly. - -As for the Knight, when he found himself abused by so base a rascal—as -he considered him—his anger was roused to its height, and he caught -the trooper by the throat with both hands, in such a way that if he -had not been speedily rescued by his companions, he would have given -up his life there and then, before Don Quixote would have released his -hold. - -The Innkeeper was forced to assist his fellow-officer, and his wife, -seeing her husband engaged anew in battle, raised a fresh cry, which -was caught up by her daughter and Maritornes, who called for help from -all the company. - -Sancho, seeing all that passed, called out: 'By my faith, all that my -Master hath said of the enchantments of this Castle is true, for it is -not possible for a man to live quietly in it for an hour together.' - -Don Fernando soon parted the trooper and Don Quixote, but the officers -did not cease to demand their prisoner, and called on the others to -help them to bind him and deliver him up to their pleasure, for so the -service of the King and the Holy Brotherhood required, in whose name -they demanded help in arresting this robber and brigand of the public -paths and highways. - -Don Quixote laughed to hear them speak so idly, and said with great -calmness: 'Come hither, filthy and baseborn crew. Dare you call the -loosing of the enchained, the freeing of prisoners, the assisting of -the wretched, the raising of such as are fallen, the giving to those -in want,—dare you, I say, call these things robbing on the highway? -O infamous brood, how little do you know of the virtue which lies -in Knight Errantry! We give you to understand the sin and error in -which you lie, in not adoring the very shadow, much more the actual -presence of a Knight Errant. Come hither, I say, and tell me who was -the blockhead who signed a warrant of arrest against such a Knight as -I am? Who was he, that knows not that Knights Errant are free from all -tribunals; their sword is their law, their valour their court, and -their own will and pleasure their statutes? I say again, What madman -was he that knows not the privileges that belong to a Knight Errant, -from the day he is dubbed a Knight and devotes himself to a Knightly -calling? What Knight Errant did ever pay tax or custom? What tailor -ever had of him money for a suit of clothes? What Constable ever lodged -him in his Castle, and made him pay his shot? What King hath not placed -him at his own table? And, finally, what Knight Errant was there ever, -is, or shall be in the world, who hath not the courage himself alone to -give four hundred cudgellings to four hundred officers if they stand in -his way?' - -Whilst Don Quixote raved in this way, the Curate was trying to persuade -the troopers that Don Quixote was out of his wits, and that even if -they did arrest him they would have to release him afterwards, as he -was a madman. - -'Indeed,' said the Curate, 'you must not take him, nor do I believe -that he will let himself be taken.' - -The officers were with difficulty persuaded to this view, but they had -seen enough of Don Quixote to convince them of his madness, and in the -end they agreed that it was better the Curate should endeavour, as he -proposed, to take him to his home, than that they should arrest him at -the risk of their lives. - -The dispute between Sancho and the Barber was now easily settled, for -there was very little left of the pannel for Sancho to keep; and the -Curate, without Don Quixote knowing anything of it, gave the Barber -eight _reals_ for the price of his basin, so that they should hear -nothing further of the dispute of Mambrino's helmet. - - - - - [Illustration: THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S RETURN HOME] - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - - In which is finished the notable Adventures - of our good Knight - - -The Curate and Don Fernando now took the Innkeeper aside and settled -all his claims against Don Quixote, for he had sworn that neither -Rozinante nor Sancho's Ass should stir from the Inn until he was paid -to the last farthing. As for Don Quixote, as soon as he found himself -free from all the quarrels by which he had been surrounded, he held it -high time to begin his voyage and bring to an end the great adventure -unto which he was called and chosen. - -Therefore, having made up his mind to depart, he went and cast himself -upon his knees before Dorothea and said: 'I cannot but think, high and -worthy Lady, that our abode in this Castle is nothing profitable, and -may turn out to our disadvantage. For who knows but that your enemy -the Giant hath learned by spies or other secret means how I intend to -come and destroy him, and he may by now have fortified himself in some -impregnable Castle or Fortress, against the strength of which even the -force of mine invincible arm will be of little use. Therefore, dear -Lady, let us by our diligence hinder his plans, and let us depart to -the place where fortune calls us.' - -Don Quixote said no more but awaited the answer of the beautiful -Princess, who, with a lordly air and in a style not unworthy of Don -Quixote himself, replied as follows: 'I thank you, Sir Knight, for the -desire you show to assist me in this my great need, and I trust your -desires and mine may succeed, that I may show you that there are some -thankful women on earth. As for my departure, let it be as you wish, -for I have no other will than that which is yours. Therefore dispose of -me at your own pleasure, for she that hath once given the defence of -her person unto you, and hath put into your hand the recovery of her -estate, ought not to seek to do any other thing but that which your -wisdom shall suggest.' - -'Let our departure, then,' said Don Quixote, 'be immediate. Saddle me -Rozinante, Sancho, and get ready your Ass and the Queen's palfrey, and -let us take leave of the Constable and these other lords and depart -instantly.' - -Sancho, who was present at all this, stood wagging his head from side -to side, and said: 'O my Lord, my Lord, how much more knavery is there -in the little village than is talked of!' - -'What can be noised abroad in any village or in any of the cities of -the world to my discredit, villain?' asked his Master angrily. - -'If you are angry,' said Sancho, 'I will hold my tongue and omit to say -that which by the duty of a good Squire, and an honest servant, I am -bound to tell you.' - -'Say what thou wilt,' said Don Quixote, and he waited to hear what his -Squire had to say. - -'What I mean,' continued Sancho, 'and what I hold for most sure and -certain is, that this Lady, who calls herself Queen of the great -Kingdom of Micomicona, is no more a Queen than my mother. For if she -were what she says, she would not at every corner be billing and cooing -with one that is in this good company.' - -Dorothea blushed at Sancho's words, for it was true indeed that her -lover Don Fernando had sometimes on the sly gathered from her lips the -reward of his affections. She was neither able nor willing to answer -Sancho a word, but let him go on with his speech, which he did as -follows:— - -'This I say, good my Lord, to this end, that if after we have travelled -highways and byways and endured bad nights and worse days, he that is -in this Inn,' and Sancho looked knowingly at Don Fernando, 'shall marry -our Princess and get the fruits of your labours, there is no need to -hasten, methinks, to saddle Rozinante or harness Dapple, or make ready -the palfrey seeing it would be better that we stayed still and looked -after our dinner.' - -You may imagine how great was the fury that inflamed Don Quixote when -he heard his Squire speak so rudely. It was so great that, with a -shaking voice, a faltering tongue, and the fire sparking out of his -eyes, he said: 'O villainous peasant, rash, unmannerly, ignorant, rude, -foul-mouthed backbiter and slanderer! Darest thou utter such words -in my presence and in that of these noble Ladies? Hast thou dared to -entertain such rash and stupid fancies in thy muddled imagination? -Out of my sight, monster of nature, storehouse of untruth, armoury of -falsehood, sink of roguery, inventor of villainy, publisher of ravings, -enemy of the respect due to Royal persons. Away, villain, and never -more appear before me on pain of my wrath.' - -So saying, he bent his brows and glared around on every side as he -struck a mighty blow upon the ground with his right foot. And at these -words and furious gestures, poor Sancho was so greatly frightened, that -he could have wished in that instant that the earth opening under his -feet would swallow him up. - -But the witty Dorothea, who now understood Don Quixote's humour -perfectly, to appease his anger spoke to him thus: 'Be not offended, -good Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, at the idle words your good -Squire hath spoken. For perhaps he hath not said them without some -ground, and we cannot suspect from a man of his good understanding that -he would knowingly slander or accuse any one falsely. And therefore -we must believe that without doubt, as you have yourself said, Sir -Knight, in this Castle all things are subject to enchantment, and it -might well happen that Sancho may have been deceived by some wicked -illusion.' - -'I vow,' cried Don Quixote, 'that your Highness has hit the truth, and -that some evil vision appeared to this sinner, my man Sancho, that made -him see things that he could not have seen unless by enchantment. For -I also know very well, that the great goodness and simplicity of the -poor wretch is such, that he knows not how to invent a lie on anybody -living.' - -'It is even so,' said Don Fernando; 'and therefore, good Sir Don -Quixote, you must pardon him and take him once more to the bosom of -your grace.' - -Don Quixote answered that he did willingly pardon him; and Sancho, -kneeling down on his knees, humbly asked his Lord's hand, which he -gave to him. And after he had permitted him to kiss it, he gave him -his blessing, saying: 'Now thou shalt finally know, Sancho, that which -I have told thee many times, how that all things in this Castle come -about by means of enchantment.' - -And this Sancho was ready to believe of everything except the tossing -they had given him in the blanket, for he well knew that he had been -tossed by persons of flesh and blood and bone, and not by visionary and -unreal phantoms and shadows, as his Master was always telling him. - -Two days passed, when it seemed to all the noble company at the Inn -that it was time to depart, and they considered how, without putting -Dorothea and Don Fernando to the pain of turning back with Don Quixote -to his village, the Curate and the Barber could carry him home as they -desired, and leave him cured of his folly in his own home. - -This was the plan they decided on. They made a bargain with a wagoner, -who chanced to pass by that way with a team of oxen, to carry him in -the following manner:— - -They made a thing like a cage of timber, so big that Don Quixote might -sit or lie in it at his ease, and presently Don Fernando, Cardenio, -their companions, and the Innkeeper did all, by Master Curate's -directions, cover their faces and disguise themselves as well as they -could, so that they might seem to Don Quixote to be different persons -to any he had seen in the Castle. This being done, they entered -silently into the place where he slept, reposing after his recent -battles. They went up to him as he was sleeping peacefully, not fearing -any such accident, and, laying hold of him forcibly, they tied his -hands and feet very strongly, so that when he started out of his sleep -he could not move, nor do anything else but stare and wonder at the -strange faces that he saw before him. - -And immediately he fell into the idea, which his wild imagination had -at once suggested to him, that all these strange figures were spirits -and phantoms of that enchanted Castle, and he believed that he himself -was without doubt enchanted, seeing that he could neither move nor -defend himself. - -All happened as the Curate who plotted the jest expected; and after -they had brought him to the cage, they shut him within, and afterwards -nailed the bars thereof so well that they could not easily be broken. -Sancho all this time looked on in wonder to see what would happen to -his Master. - -Then the phantoms mounted him upon their shoulders, and as he was -carried out of his chamber door the Barber called out in as terrible a -voice as he could muster: 'O Knight of the Rueful Countenance, be not -grieved at thine imprisonment, for so it must be that thine adventures -be more speedily ended. And thou, O most noble and obedient Squire that -ever had sword at girdle, beard on a face, or dent in a nose, let it -not dismay thee to see carried away thus the flower of all Knighthood. -For I assure thee that all thy wages shall be paid to thee, if thou -wilt follow in the steps of this valorous and enchanted Knight. And as -I am not allowed to say more, farewell!' - -Don Quixote listened attentively to all this prophecy, and said: 'O -thou, whatsoever thou beest, I desire thee to request in my name -that I may not perish in this prison before my work is ended. And as -concerns my Squire Sancho Panza, I trust in his goodness that he will -not abandon me in good or bad fortune. For, though it should fall out -through his or my hard lot that I shall not be able to bestow on him an -Island, as I have promised, his wages cannot be lost to him, for in my -Will, which is made already, I have set down what he is to have for his -many good services.' - -Sancho Panza bowed his head with great reverence when he heard this, -and kissed both his Master's hands, which were bound tightly together. -Then the phantoms lifted up the cage and hoisted it on to the wagon -that was drawn by the team of oxen. - -After bidding farewell to all their friends, the procession started. -First went the cart guided by the carter, then the troopers, then -followed Sancho upon his Ass leading Rozinante by the bridle, and last -of all the Curate and the Barber, riding their mighty mules, with masks -on their faces. - -Don Quixote sat with his hands tied and his legs stretched out, leaning -against a bar of the cage, with such a silence and such patience -that he seemed rather to be a statue than a man. And thus at an -Alderman-like pace, such as suited the slow steps of the heavy oxen, -they journeyed home. - -At the end of two days they arrived at Don Quixote's village, into -which they entered about noon. This was on a Sunday, when all the -people were in the market-place, through the midst of which Don -Quixote's cart passed. All drew near to see what was in it, and when -they knew their neighbour they were greatly astounded. A little boy ran -home before, to tell the old woman and the Niece that their Lord and -Uncle was returned. It would have moved one to pity to have heard the -cries and lamentations the two good women made, and the curses they -poured out against all Books of Knighthood, when they saw Don Quixote -enter the gates of his own house again in so strange a carriage. - -Sancho Panza's wife, when she heard of his return, ran forward to meet -her husband, and the first question she asked was whether the Ass were -in health or no. - -Sancho answered that he was come in better health than his master. - -'Tell me, then,' cried his wife, 'what profit hast thou reaped by this -Squireship? What petticoat hast thou brought me home? What shoes for -the little boys?' - -'I bring none of these things, good wife,' replied Sancho, 'though I -bring things better thought of and of greater moment.' - -'I am glad of that,' said his wife, 'for I should like to see them, -to the end that my heart may be cheered, which hath been swollen and -sorrowful for so long, all the time of thine absence.' - -'Thou shalt see them at home,' said Sancho, 'therefore rest satisfied. -For when we travel once again to seek adventures, thou shalt see me -shortly afterwards an Earl or Governor of an Island, one of the best in -the world.' - -'I pray that it may be so,' replied his wife; 'but what means that -Island, for I understand not the word?' - -'Honey is not made for the ass's mouth,' said Sancho, 'but thou shalt -know all in good time. Do not busy thyself, Joan, to know all things -in a sudden. It is enough that I will tell thee all the truth, and -therefore close thy mouth. I will only say this much unto thee as yet, -that there is nothing in the world so pleasant as for an honest man to -be the Squire of a Knight that seeks adventures.' - - * * * * * - -Now, if I were to tell you that Don Quixote got quite well and lived -quietly at home after all these adventures, and never went abroad -again, I should tell you what is not true. For some day, and I hope at -no great distance of time, you may read what the great Cervantes has -written, not only of the adventures of which I have told you the story, -but of the second part of Don Quixote's adventures, some of which are -even more wonderful than the first. There you will learn how Sancho -Panza became at last Governor of an Island for a short space, and may -read of the great wisdom and shrewdness with which he ruled. - -All these good things will be yours to read some day, as they have -been mine and are every one's. For, like all the really great stories -of the world, this of Don Quixote belongs to no nation or people, but -is the property of each and all of us, given us freely to enjoy it how -and where we will. And from the humour and wisdom of such books we may -become brighter and better ourselves. So that when I wish that you -may be able to love and honour all such books, and to read this one -as Cervantes wrote it, and with the care it deserves to be read, it -is the best wish I can give you. And, indeed, to wish you the gift of -understanding it, is the same thing as wishing you a happy life. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Don Qvixote of the Mancha, by Judge Parry - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DON QVIXOTE OF THE MANCHA *** - -***** This file should be named 55106-0.txt or 55106-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/0/55106/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Nahum Maso i Carcases and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Don Qvixote of the Mancha - Retold by Judge Parry - -Author: Judge Parry - -Illustrator: Walter Crane - -Release Date: July 13, 2017 [EBook #55106] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DON QVIXOTE OF THE MANCHA *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Nahum Maso i Carcases and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="no-indent center bold">Transcriber's Notes:</p> -<p>Obvious punctuation errors and misprints have been corrected.</p> -<p>Blank pages present in the printed original have been deleted in the e-text version.</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<p class="no-indent center xlarge bold p2"> -DON QUIXOTE -OF THE MANCHA -</p> - -<hr class="chap2" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - -<div class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus01.jpg" width="474" height="700" alt="DON QUIXOTE TESTING HIS HELMET" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE TESTING HIS HELMET</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap2" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<div class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/titlepag.jpg" width="475" height="700" alt="TITLE PAGE" /> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>DON QUIXOTE -OF THE MANCHA</h1> - - -<p class="no-indent center">RETOLD -<br /> -BY</p> - -<p class="no-indent center xlarge bold">JUDGE -PARRY</p> - - -<p class="no-indent center p2">ILLUSTRATED -<br /> -BY</p> - -<p class="no-indent center xlarge bold">WALTER -CRANE</p> - - -<p class="no-indent center small p2">NEW YORK -<br /> -JOHN LANE COMPANY -<br /> -1919</p> - - -<hr class="chap2" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - - -<p>A version of <i>Don Quixote</i> which is appended to Mr. -Walter Crane's illustrations needs perhaps no apology, -but I desire to state briefly what I have endeavoured -to do. No existing abridgment of <i>Don Quixote</i>, -known to me, gives in simple narrative form the adventures -of Knight and Squire, with as much of the -wisdom and humour of their discourse as would be -within the grasp of the younger generation of readers. -This—<i>The Story of Don Quixote</i>, as I call it—I have -tried to produce. In doing it I have made use of all -the English translations, but the basis of this book is -Thomas Shelton's translation, the language of which -seems to me better to express the humour of Cervantes -than any other. Many will consider such a task in -the nature of sacrilege or, at the best, verging on the -impertinent. With these views I have much sympathy -myself. But at least, let it be understood that all -I have attempted to do is to tell a well-known -story in print, as one who loves it would seek to -tell it in words, to those around his own fireside; -in the hope that some may gather from this story -that there is a vast storehouse of humour and wisdom -awaiting them in the book itself.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr"><small>CHAP.</small></td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">I.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">An Introduction to that famous gentleman, Don -Quixote of the Mancha,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">II.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the First Sally that Don Quixote made to -seek Adventures,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">III.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the Pleasant Manner of the Knighting of Don -Quixote,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of what befell our Knight when he left the Inn,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">V.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">How Don Quixote returned home, and what happened -to his Library, and how he sallied -forth a second time to seek Adventures,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the dreadful and never-to-be-imagined Adventure<br /> -of the Windmills, and of the fearful -Battle which the gallant Biscayan fought -with Don Quixote,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of what passed between Don Quixote and the -Goatherds, and of the unfortunate Adventure -with the Yanguesian Carriers,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">How Don Quixote arrived at an Inn which he -imagined to be a Castle, and there cured -himself and Sancho with the Balsam of -Fierabras,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">How Sancho paid the Reckoning at the Inn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> -which Don Quixote supposed was a Castle,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">X.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the Adventure of the Two Armies,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of a wonderful Adventure which Don Quixote -went through without peril to himself or -Sancho,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">The great Adventure and rich Winning of the -Helmet of Mambrino,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">How Don Quixote set at liberty many poor -Wretches who were being taken to a -Place to which they had no wish to go,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of what befell Don Quixote in the Brown -Mountains,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">The Story of Cardenio,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the Strange Adventures that happened to -the Knight of the Mancha in the Brown -Mountains, and of the Penance he did -there in imitation of Beltenebros,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of Sancho's Journey to the Lady Dulcinea,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">The Story of Cardenio continued,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XIX.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">The Story of Dorothea, who loved Don -Fernando,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XX.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the pleasant Plan they carried out to persuade -Don Quixote not to continue his -Penance,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXI.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the Journey to the Inn,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">The Story Sancho Panza told his Master of -his Visit to the Lady Dulcinea,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXIII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">What happened during their further Journey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> -towards the Inn,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXIV.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the extraordinary Battle which Don -Quixote waged with what he took to -be a Giant,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXV.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Which treats of other rare Adventures which -happened at the Inn,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXVI.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Wherein is continued the History of the -famous Princess Micomicona,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXVII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Of the strange Enchantment of the Unfortunate -Knight,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Wherein is continued the wonderful Adventures -at the Inn,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXIX.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">Wherein is finally decided the Dispute about -Mambrino's Helmet and the Pannel,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr tdt tdpr">XXX.</td> - <td class="tdl tdpr">In which is finished the notable Adventures -of our good Knight,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap2" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="List of Illustrations"> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc tdpr">FULL PAGES</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdl tdpr">TITLE-PAGE.</td> - - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE TESTING HIS VISOR,</td> - <td colspan="2" class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_iv"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE KNIGHTED BY THE INNKEEPER,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr"><i>facing page</i></td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus03">14</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">THE WINDMILLS,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus06">38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">THE GOATHERDS,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus07">48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">THE TOSSING OF SANCHO,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus09">68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">THE HELMET OF MAMBRINO,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus12">92</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">MEETING CARDENIO,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus14">108</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE'S PENANCE,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus16">126</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">MEETING DOROTHEA,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus20">160</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">THE WINE-SKINS,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus24">191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE'S ENCHANTMENT,</td> - <td class="tdc tdb tdpr">"</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Illus27">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdc tdpt tdpr">HALF PAGES</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE WATCHING HIS ARMOUR,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE TO THE RESCUE OF ANDREW,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_21">21</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE DESTRUCTION OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S TRAVEL TO THE INN,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO ARMIES,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">OF A WONDERFUL ADVENTURE,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE FREES THE GALLEY SLAVES,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE STORY OF CARDENIO,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE CURATE AND THE BARBER IN DISGUISE,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE STORY OF CARDENIO CONTINUED,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE DISCOVERY OF DOROTHEA,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">SANCHO PANZA RECOVERS HIS DAPPLE,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">SANCHO'S STORY OF HIS VISIT TO THE LADY -DULCINEA,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">ANDREW SALUTES DON QUIXOTE,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">OF THE RARE ADVENTURES AT THE INN,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE ADDRESSING DOROTHEA,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE DISPUTED POMMEL,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">DON QUIXOTE ARRESTED,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdl tdpr">THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S RETURN HOME,</td> - <td class="tdr tdb"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap2" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER I -<br /> -An Introduction to that famous gentleman, -Don Quixote of the Mancha -</h2> - - -<p>This is the story that Miguel de Cervantes, Spaniard, -published in 1605, which the world has been reading -again and again ever since.</p> - -<p>Once upon a time there lived in a certain village in -a province of Spain called the Mancha, a gentleman -named Quixada or Queseda—for indeed historians -differ about this—whose house was full of old lances, -halberds, and such other armours and weapons. He -was, besides, the owner of an ancient target or shield, -a raw-boned steed, and a swift greyhound. His pot -consisted daily of common meats, some lentils on -Fridays, and perhaps a roast pigeon for Sunday's -dinner. His dress was a black suit with velvet breeches, -and slippers of the same colour, which he kept for -holidays, and a suit of homespun which he wore on -week-days.</p> - -<p>On the purchase of these few things he spent the -small rents that came to him every year. He had in -his house a woman-servant of about some forty years -old, a Niece not yet twenty, and a lad that served him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -both in field and at home, and could saddle his horse or -manage a pruning-hook.</p> - -<p>The master himself was about fifty years old, a strong, -hard-featured man with a withered face. He was an -early riser, and had once been very fond of hunting. -But now for a great portion of the year he applied himself -wholly to reading the old books of Knighthood, -and this with such keen delight that he forgot all about -the pleasures of the chase, and neglected all household -matters. His mania and folly grew to such a -pitch that he sold many acres of his lands to buy -books of the exploits and adventures of the Knights -of old. These he took for true and correct histories, -and when his friends the Curate of the village, or Mr. -Nicholas the worthy Barber of the town, came to see -him, he would dispute with them as to which of the -Knights of romance had done the greatest deeds.</p> - -<p>So eagerly did he plunge into the reading of these -books that he many times spent whole days and nights -poring over them; and in the end, through little sleep -and much reading, his brain became tired, and he fairly -lost his wits. His fancy was filled with those things -that he read, of enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, -wounds, wooings, loves, tempests, and other -impossible follies, and those romantic tales so firmly -took hold of him that he believed no history to be -so certain and sincere as they were.</p> - -<p>Finally, his wit being extinguished, he was seized -with one of the strangest whims that ever madman -stumbled on in this world, for it seemed to him right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -and necessary that he himself should become a Knight -Errant, and ride through the world in arms to seek -adventures and practise in person all that he had read -about the Knights of old. Therefore he resolved that -he would make a name for himself by revenging the -injuries of others, and courting all manner of dangers -and difficulties, until in the end he should be rewarded -for his valour in arms by the crown of some mighty -Empire. And first of all he caused certain old rusty arms -that belonged to his great-grandfather, and had lain -for many years neglected and forgotten in a by-corner -of his house, to be brought out and well scoured. He -trimmed them and dressed them as well as he could, and -then saw that they had something wanting, for instead -of a proper helmet they had only a morion or headpiece, -like a steel bonnet without any visor. This his industry -supplied, for he made a visor for his helmet by patching -and pasting certain papers together, and this pasteboard -fitted to the morion gave it all the appearance of -a real helmet. Then, to make sure that it was strong -enough, he out with his sword and gave it a blow or -two, and with the very first did quite undo that which -had cost him a week to make. He did not at all -approve the ease with which it was destroyed, and to -make things better he placed certain iron bars within -it, in such a manner that made him feel sure it was -now sound and strong, without putting it to a second -trial.</p> - -<p>He next visited his horse, who though he had more -corners than a Spanish <i>real</i> or shilling, which in those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -days was anything but round, and had nothing on him -but skin and bone, yet he seemed to him a better steed -than Bucephalus, the noble animal that carried Alexander -the Great when he went to battle. He spent four -days inventing a name for his horse, saying to himself -that it was not fit that so famous a Knight's horse, and -so good a beast, should want a known name. Therefore -he tried to find a name that should both give people -some notion of what he had been before he was the -steed of a Knight Errant, and also what he now was; -for, seeing that his lord and master was going to -change his calling, it was only right that his horse should -have a new name, famous and high-sounding, and worthy -of his new position in life. And after having chosen, -made up, put aside, and thrown over any number of -names as not coming up to his idea, he finally hit upon -Rozinante, a name in his opinion sublime and well-sounding, -expressing in a word what he had been when -he was a simple carriage horse, and what was expected -of him in his new dignity.</p> - -<p>The name being thus given to his horse, he made up -his mind to give himself a name also, and in that thought -laboured another eight days. Finally he determined to -call himself Don Quixote, which has made people think -that his name was Quixada and not Queseda, as others -have said; and remembering that the great Knights of -olden time were not satisfied with a mere dry name, but -added to it the name of their kingdom or country, so he -like a good Knight added to his own that also of his -province, and called himself Don Quixote of the Mancha,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -whereby he declared his birthplace and did honour to -his country by taking it for his surname.</p> - -<p>His armour being scoured, his morion transformed -into a helmet, his horse named, and himself furnished -with a new name, he considered that now he wanted -nothing but a lady on whom he might bestow his service -and affection. 'For,' he said to himself, remembering -what he had read in the books of knightly adventures, -'if I should by good hap encounter with some Giant, -as Knights Errant ordinarily do, and if I should overthrow -him with one blow to the ground, or cut him with -a stroke in two halves, or finally overcome and make -him yield to me, it would be only right and proper that -I should have some lady to whom I might present him. -Then would he, entering my sweet lady's presence, say -unto her with a humble and submissive voice: "Madam, -I am the Giant Caraculiambro, Lord of the Island called -Malindrania, whom the never-too-much-praised Knight -Don Quixote of the Mancha hath overcome in single -combat. He hath commanded me to present myself to -your greatness, that it may please your Highness to dispose -of me according to your liking."'</p> - -<p>You may believe that the heart of the Knight danced -for joy when he made that grand speech, and he was -even more pleased when he had found out one whom he -might call his lady. For, they say, there lived in the -next village to his own a hale, buxom country wench -with whom he was sometime in love, though for the -matter of that she had never known of it or taken any -notice of him whatever. She was called Aldonca<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -Lorenso, and her he thought fittest to honour as the lady -of his fancy. Then he began to search about in his -mind for a name that should not vary too much from her -own, but should at the same time show people that she -was a Princess or lady of quality. Thus it was that -he called her Dulcinea of Toboso, a name sufficiently -strange, romantic, and musical for the lady of so brave -a Knight. And now, having taken to himself both -armour, horse, and lady fair, he was ready to go forth -and seek adventures.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus02.jpg" width="530" height="508" alt="DON QUIXOTE WATCHING HIS ARMOUR" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE WATCHING HIS ARMOUR</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II -<br /> -Of the First Sally that Don Quixote made to -seek Adventures</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>All his preparations being made, he could no longer -resist the desire of carrying out his plans, his head being -full of the wrongs he intended to put right, the errors he -wished to amend, and the evil deeds he felt himself -called upon to punish. And, therefore, without telling -any living creature, and unseen of anybody, somewhat -before daybreak—it being one of the warmest days in -July—he armed himself from head to foot, mounted on -Rozinante, laced on his strange helmet, gathered up his -target, seized his lance, and through the back door -of his yard sallied forth into the fields, marvellously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -cheerful and content to see how easily he had started -on his new career. But scarcely was he clear of the -village when he was struck by a terrible thought, and -one which did well-nigh overthrow all his plans. For -he recollected that he had never been knighted, and -therefore, according to the laws of Knighthood, neither -could he nor ought he to combat with any Knight. And -even if he were a Knight, he remembered to have read -that as a new Knight he ought to wear white armour -without any device upon his shield until he should win -it by force of arms.</p> - -<p>These thoughts made him waver a little in his plan; -but more for the reason that his head was full of his -folly than for any other, he determined to cause himself -to be knighted by the first he met, as others had done -of whom he had read in the books which had so turned -his brain. As to the white armour, he resolved at the -first opportunity to scour his own until it should be -whiter than ermine; and, having satisfied himself with -these intentions, he pursued his way without following -any other road than that which his horse was pleased to -choose, believing that to be the most correct way of -meeting with knightly adventures. And as he rode -along he exclaimed to the empty air as if he had been -actually in love: 'O Princess Dulcinea, Lady of this -captive heart, much wrong hast thou done me by -dismissing me and reproaching me with thy cruel -commandment not to appear before thy beauty! I pray -thee, sweet Lady, to remember this thy faithful slave, -who for thy love suffers so many tortures.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p>A thousand other ravings, after the style and manner -that his books had taught him, did he add to this as -he travelled along, meeting with no adventure worthy -to be set down, whilst the sun mounted so swiftly and -with so great heat that it would have been sufficient to -have melted his brains if he had had any left.</p> - -<p>He journeyed all that day long, and at night both he -and his horse were tired and marvellously pressed by -hunger, and looking about him on every side to see -whether he could discover any Castle to which he might -retire for the night, he saw an Inn near unto the highway -on which he travelled, which was as welcome a -sight to him as if he had seen a guiding star. Then -spurring his horse he rode towards it as fast as he might, -and arrived there much about nightfall.</p> - -<p>There stood by chance at the Inn door two jolly -peasant women who were travelling towards Seville with -some carriers, who happened to take up their lodging in -that Inn the same evening. And as our Knight Errant -believed all that he saw or heard to take place in the -same manner as he had read in his books, he no sooner -saw the Inn than he fancied it to be a Castle with four -turrets and pinnacles of shining silver, with a drawbridge, -a deep moat, and all such things as belong to -grand Castles. Drawing slowly towards it, he checked -Rozinante with the bridle when he was close to the Inn, -and rested awhile to see if any dwarf would mount on -the battlements to give warning with the sound of a -trumpet how some Knight did approach the Castle; but -seeing they stayed so long, and Rozinante was eager to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -get up to his stable, he went to the Inn door, and there -beheld the two wenches that stood at it, whom he -supposed to be two beautiful damsels or lovely ladies -that did solace themselves before the Castle gates. At -that moment it happened that a certain swineherd, as he -gathered together his hogs, blew the horn which was -wont to bring them together, and at once Don Quixote -imagined it was some dwarf who gave notice of his -arrival; and he rode up to the Inn door with marvellous -delight. The ladies, when they beheld one armed in -that manner with lance and target, made haste to run -into the Inn; but Don Quixote, seeing their fear by their -flight, lifted up his pasteboard visor, showed his withered -and dusky face, and spoke to them thus: 'Let not your -ladyships fly nor fear any harm, for it does not belong -to the order of Knighthood which I profess to wrong -anybody, much less such high-born damsels as your -appearance shows you to be.'</p> - -<p>The wenches looked at him very earnestly, and sought -with their eyes for his face, which the ill-fashioned -helmet concealed; but when they heard themselves -called high-born damsels, they could not contain their -laughter, which was so loud that Don Quixote was -quite ashamed of them and rebuked them, saying: -'Modesty is a comely ornament of the beautiful, and too -much laughter springing from trifles is great folly; but I -do not tell you this to make you the more ashamed, for -my desire is none other than to do you all the honour -and service I may.'</p> - -<p>This speech merely increased their laughter, and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -it his anger, which would have passed all bounds if -the Innkeeper had not come out at this instant. Now -this Innkeeper was a man of exceeding fatness, and -therefore, as some think, of a very peaceable disposition; -and when he saw that strange figure, armed in such -fantastic armour, he was very nearly keeping the two -women company in their merriment and laughter. But -being afraid of the owner of such a lance and target, he -resolved to behave civilly for fear of what might happen, -and thus addressed him: 'Sir Knight! if your Worship -do seek for lodging, we have no bed at liberty, but you -shall find all other things in abundance.'</p> - -<p>To which Don Quixote, noting the humility of the -Constable of the Castle—for such he took him to be—replied: -'Anything, Sir Constable, may serve me, for -my arms are my dress, and the battlefield is my -bed.'</p> - -<p>While he was speaking, the Innkeeper laid hand on -Don Quixote's stirrup and helped him to alight. This -he did with great difficulty and pain, for he had not -eaten a crumb all that day. He then bade the Innkeeper -have special care of his horse, saying he was one -of the best animals that ever ate bread.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper looked at Rozinante again and again, -but he did not seem to him half so good as Don Quixote -valued him. However, he led him civilly to the stable, -and returned to find his guest in the hands of the high-born -damsels, who were helping him off with his armour. -They had taken off his back and breast plates, but -they could in no way get his head and neck out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -strange, ill-fashioned helmet which he had fastened on -with green ribands.</p> - -<p>Now these knots were so impossible to untie that the -wenches would have cut them, but this Don Quixote -would not agree to. Therefore he remained all the -night with his helmet on, and looked the drollest and -strangest figure you could imagine. And he was now -so pleased with the women, whom he still took to be -ladies and dames of the Castle, that he said to them: -'Never was Knight so well attended on and served by -ladies as was Don Quixote. When he departed from -his village, damsels attended on him and princesses on -his horse. O ladies! Rozinante is the name of my -steed, and I am called Don Quixote, and the time shall -come when your ladyships may command me and I -obey, and then the valour of mine arm shall discover the -desire I have to do you service.'</p> - -<p>The women could make nothing of his talk, but asked -him if he would eat, and Don Quixote replying that such -was his desire, there was straightway laid a table at the -Inn door. The Host brought out a portion of badly -boiled haddocks, and a black, greasy loaf, which was all -the Inn could supply. But the manner of Don Quixote's -eating was the best sport in the world, for with his -helmet on he could put nothing into his mouth himself -if others did not help him to find his way, and therefore -one of the wenches served his turn at that, and helped -to feed him. But they could not give him drink after -that manner, and he would have remained dry for ever -if the Innkeeper had not bored a cane, and putting one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -end in his mouth, poured the wine down the other. And -all this he suffered rather than cut the ribands of his -helmet.</p> - -<p>And as he sat at supper the swineherd again sounded -his horn, and Don Quixote was still firm in the belief -that he was in some famous Castle where he was served -with music, and that the stale haddock was fresh trout, -the bread of the finest flour, the two wenches high-born -damsels, and the Innkeeper the Constable of the Castle. -Thus he thought his career of Knight Errant was well -begun, but he was still greatly troubled by the thought -that he was not yet dubbed Knight, and could not -therefore rightly follow his adventures until he received -the honour of Knighthood.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER III -<br /> -Of the Pleasant Manner of the Knighting of -Don Quixote</h2> - - -<p>When he had finished his sorry supper, he took his host -with him to the stable, and shutting the door threw -himself down upon his knees before him, saying: 'I will -never rise from this place where I am, Sir Constable, -until your courtesy shall grant unto me a boon that I -mean to demand of you, something which will add to -your renown and to the profit of all the human race.'</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper, seeing his guest at his feet, and hearing -him speak these words, stood confounded at the -sight, not knowing what he would say or do next, and -tried to make him arise. But all was in vain until he -had promised him that he would grant him any gift -that he sought at his hands.</p> - -<p>'Signor,' said Don Quixote, rising from his knees, 'I -did never expect less from your great magnificence, and -now I will tell you that the boon which I demand of -you, and which you have so generously granted, is that -to-morrow in the morning you will dub me Knight. -This night I will watch mine armour in the Chapel of -your Castle, and in the morning, as I have said, the rest -of my desires shall be fulfilled, that I may set out in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -proper manner throughout the four parts of the world to -seek adventures to the benefit of the poor and needy, as -is the duty of Knighthood and of Knights Errant.'</p> - -<div id="Illus03" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus03.jpg" width="477" height="700" alt="THE KNIGHTING OF DON QUIXOTE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE KNIGHTING OF DON QUIXOTE</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The Innkeeper, who was a bit of a jester, and had -before thought that the wits of his guest were none of -the best, was sure that his suspicions were true when he -heard him speak in this manner. And in order to enjoy -a joke at his expense, he resolved to fall in with his -humour, and told him that there was great reason in -what he desired, which was only natural and proper in -a Knight of such worth as he seemed to be. He added -further that there was no Chapel in his Castle where he -might watch his arms, for he had broken it down to -build it up anew. But, nevertheless, he knew well that -in a case of necessity they might be watched in any other -place, and therefore he might watch them that night in -the lower court of the Castle, where in the morning he, -the Innkeeper, would perform all the proper ceremonies, -so that he should be made not only a dubbed Knight, -but such a one as should not have a fellow in the whole -universe.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper now gave orders that Don Quixote -should watch his armour in a great yard that lay near -unto one side of the Inn, wherefore he gathered together -all his arms, laid them on a cistern near to a well, and -buckling on his target he laid hold of his lance and -walked up and down before the cistern very demurely, -until night came down upon the scene.</p> - -<p>In the meantime the roguish Innkeeper told all the -rest that lodged in the Inn of the folly of his guest, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -watching of his arms, and the Knighthood which he -expected to receive. They all wondered very much at so -strange a kind of folly, and going out to behold him from -a distance, they saw that sometimes he marched to and -fro with a quiet gesture, other times leaning upon his -lance he looked upon his armour for a good space of -time without beholding any other thing save his arms.</p> - -<p>Although it was now night, yet was the moon so clear -that everything which the Knight did was easily seen by -all beholders. And now one of the carriers that lodged -in the Inn resolved to give his mules some water, and for -that purpose it was necessary to move Don Quixote's -armour that lay on the cistern.</p> - -<p>Seeing the carrier approach, Don Quixote called to -him in a loud voice: 'O thou, whosoever thou art, -bold Knight, who dares to touch the armour of the -bravest adventurer that ever girded sword, look well -what thou doest, and touch them not if thou meanest not -to leave thy life in payment for thy meddling!'</p> - -<p>The carrier took no notice of these words, though -it were better for him if he had, but laying hold of the -armour threw it piece by piece into the middle of the -yard.</p> - -<p>When Don Quixote saw this, he lifted up his eyes -towards heaven, and addressing his thoughts, as it -seemed, to his Lady Dulcinea, he said: 'Assist me, -dear Lady, in this insult offered to thy vassal, and let -not thy favour and protection fail me in this my first -adventure!'</p> - -<p>Uttering these and other such words, he let slip his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -target or shield, and lifting up his lance with both hands -he gave the carrier so round a knock on his pate that it -overthrew him on to the ground, and if he had caught -him a second he would not have needed any surgeon to -cure him. This done, he gathered up his armour again, -and laying the pieces where they had been before, he -began walking up and down near them with as much -quietness as he did at first.</p> - -<p>But very soon afterwards another carrier, without -knowing what had happened, for his companion yet lay -on the ground, came also to give his mules water, and -coming to take away the armour to get at the cistern, -Don Quixote let slip again his target, and lifting his -lance brought it down on the carrier's head, which he -broke in several places.</p> - -<p>All the people in the Inn, and amongst them the Innkeeper, -came running out when they heard the noise, and -Don Quixote seeing them seized his target, and, drawing -his sword, cried aloud: 'O Lady of all beauty, now, if -ever, is the time for thee to turn the eyes of thy greatness -on thy Captive Knight who is on the eve of so -marvellous great an adventure.'</p> - -<p>Saying this seemed to fill him with so great a courage, -that if he had been assaulted by all the carriers in the -universe he would not have retreated one step.</p> - -<p>The companions of the wounded men, seeing their -fellows in so evil a plight, began to rain stones on Don -Quixote from a distance, who defended himself as well -as he might with his target, and durst not leave the -cistern lest he should appear to abandon his arms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Innkeeper cried to them to let him alone, for -he had already told them that he was mad. But all the -time Don Quixote cried out louder than the Innkeeper, -calling them all disloyal men and traitors, and that the -Lord of the Castle was a treacherous and bad Knight to -allow them to use a Knight Errant so basely; and if he -had only received the order of Knighthood he would -have punished him soundly for his treason. Then -calling to the carriers he said: 'As for you base and -rascally ruffians, you are beneath my notice. Throw at -me, approach, draw near and do me all the hurt you -may, for you shall ere long receive the reward of your -insolence.'</p> - -<p>These words, which he spoke with great spirit and -boldness, struck a terrible fear into all those who -assaulted him, and, partly moved by his threats and -partly persuaded by the Innkeeper, they left off throwing -stones at him, and he allowed them to carry away -the wounded men, while he returned to his watch with -great quietness and gravity.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper did not very much like Don Quixote's -pranks, and therefore determined to shorten the ceremony -and give him the order of Knighthood at once before -any one else was injured. Approaching him, therefore, -he made apologies for the insolence of the base fellows -who had thrown stones at him, and explained that it was -not with his consent, and that he thought them well -punished for their impudence. He added that it was -not necessary for Don Quixote to watch his armour any -more, because the chief point of being knighted was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -to receive the stroke of the sword on the neck and -shoulder, and that ceremony he was ready to perform -at once.</p> - -<p>All this Don Quixote readily believed, and answered -that he was most eager to obey him, and requested him -to finish everything as speedily as possible. For, he -said, as soon as he was knighted, if he was assaulted -again, he intended not to leave one person alive in all -the Castle, except those which the Constable should -command, whom he would spare for his sake.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper, alarmed at what he said, and fearing -lest he should carry out his threat, set about the ceremony -without delay. He brought out his day-book, in which -he wrote down the accounts of the hay and straw which -he sold to carriers who came to the Inn, and attended by -a small boy holding the end of a candle and walking -before him, and followed by the two women who were -staying at the Inn, he approached Don Quixote. He -solemnly commanded him to kneel upon his knees, -while he mumbled something which he pretended to -read out of the book that he held in his hand. Then -he gave him a good blow on the neck, and after that -another sound thwack over the shoulders with his own -sword, always as he did so continuing to mumble and -murmur as though he were reading something out of -his book. This being done, he commanded one of the -damsels to gird on his sword, which she did with much -grace and cleverness. And it was with difficulty that -they all kept from laughing during this absurd ceremony, -but what they had already seen of Don Quixote's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -fury made them careful not to annoy him even by a -smile.</p> - -<p>When she had girded on his sword, the damsel said: -'May you be a fortunate Knight, and meet with good -success in all your adventures.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote asked her how she was called, that he -might know to whom he was obliged for the favours he -had received. She answered with great humility that -she was named Tolosa, and was a butcher's daughter of -Toledo. Don Quixote replied requesting her to call -herself from henceforth the Lady Tolosa, which she -promised to perform. The other damsel buckled on -his spurs, and when Don Quixote asked her name she -told him it was Molinera, and that she was daughter of -an honest miller of Antequera. Don Quixote entreated -her also to call herself Lady Molinera, and offered her -new services and favours.</p> - -<p>These strange and never-before-seen ceremonies -being ended, Don Quixote could not rest until he was -mounted on horseback that he might go to seek adventures. -He therefore caused Rozinante to be instantly -saddled, leaped on his back, and embracing the Innkeeper, -thanked him in a thousand wild and ridiculous -ways for the great favour he had done him in dubbing -him Knight. The Innkeeper, who was only eager to -be rid of him without delay, answered him in the same -fashion, and let him march off without demanding from -him a single farthing for his food or lodging.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus04.jpg" width="530" height="535" alt="DON QUIXOTE TO THE RESCUE OF ANDREW" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE TO THE RESCUE OF ANDREW</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV -<br /> -Of what befell our Knight when he left -the Inn</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>It was dawn when Don Quixote went out from the -Inn, so full of pleasure to behold himself knighted that -his very horse-girths were ready to burst for joy. But -calling to memory some advice that the Innkeeper -had given him, about the necessity of carrying with him -money and clean shirts when he went on his adventures, -he determined to return to his house and obtain these -things, and also find for himself a Squire. For this -office he fixed in his own mind upon a ploughman, a -neighbour of his, a poor man who had many children, -but yet a man who was very fit as he thought to be -his Squire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> - -<p>With this view he turned Rozinante towards his own -village, who, knowing that he was on his way home, -began to trot along with so good a will that he seemed -not to touch the ground.</p> - -<p>He had not travelled far when he heard from a -thicket hard by the shrill cries of some weak and delicate -mortal in grievous distress.</p> - -<p>No sooner did he hear them than he exclaimed: 'I -am indeed thankful for the favour done to me by giving -me so soon an opportunity of performing what is due to -my profession, and gathering the fruits of my desires. -These cries doubtless come from some distressed man -or woman who has need of my protection and aid.'</p> - -<p>Then turning the reins, he guided Rozinante towards -the place whence the voice seemed to proceed. And -within a few paces after he had entered into the thicket, -he saw a mare tied up to one oak, and to another was -tied a youth, all naked from the middle upward, of -about fifteen years of age. Now it was he that cried -so pitifully, and not without cause. For a sturdy fellow -of a farmer was beating him soundly with a girdle, -accompanying each stroke with a reproof and piece of -advice, saying: 'The tongue must peace and the eyes -be wary.' And the boy, whose name was Andrew, -answered: 'I will never do it again, good master, I will -never do it again. I promise to have more care of -your things from henceforth.'</p> - -<p>Seeing what passed, Don Quixote cried out with an -angry voice: 'Ill it beseems you, discourteous Knight, to -deal thus with one that cannot defend himself. Mount,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -therefore, on horseback and take thy lance (for the -Farmer had a lance leaning against the very same tree -to which his mare was tied), for I will make thee know -that it is the act of a coward to do that which thou dost.'</p> - -<p>The Farmer, beholding this strange figure buckled -in armour, and brandishing a lance over his head, gave -himself up for a dead man, and answered him with -mild and submissive words, saying: 'Sir Knight, the -youth whom I am beating is mine own servant, and -keepeth for me a flock of sheep; but he is grown so -negligent that he loseth one of them every other day, -and because I correct him for his carelessness and -knavery, he says I do it through covetousness and -miserliness so as not to pay him his due wages, but -on my conscience I assure you he lies.'</p> - -<p>'What? The lie, in my presence, rascally clown!' -cried Don Quixote. 'By the sun that shines above us, -I will run thee through and through with my lance, -base Carle! Pay him instantly, without another word, -or I will finish and destroy thee in a moment. Loose -him forthwith!'</p> - -<p>The Farmer, hanging down his head, made no reply, -but released poor Andrew, of whom Don Quixote -demanded how much his master owed him. The boy -answered that it was nine months' wages at seven <i>reals</i> -a month. Casting it up, Don Quixote found that it -amounted to sixty-three <i>reals</i>, and commanded the -Farmer to pay the money at once, unless he had a -mind to die for it.</p> - -<p>This the Farmer, who was in a terrible fright, promised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -to do, but said he: 'The worst of it is, Sir Knight, that -I have no money here. Let Andrew come with me to -my house, and I will pay him his wages to the last <i>real</i>.'</p> - -<p>'I go with him?' said the boy, 'evil befall me if I do. -No, Sir. I don't intend to do that, for as soon as ever -we were alone, he would flay me alive.'</p> - -<p>'He will not dare to do it,' said Don Quixote, 'for -my command is sufficient to make him respect me. -And on condition that he will swear to me to carry -out his promise, by the order of Knighthood which he -hath received, I will set him free and assure thee of the -payment.'</p> - -<p>'Good your worship,' said the youth; 'mark well -what you say, for this man my master is no Knight, -nor did he ever receive any order of Knighthood. He -is John Haldudo the rich, and lives at Quintanar.'</p> - -<p>'That is no matter,' said Don Quixote, 'for there -may be Knights of the Haldudos.'</p> - -<p>'The good Knight speaks well, friend Andrew,' said -his master. 'Do me but the pleasure to come with me, -and I swear by all the orders of Knighthood that are -in the world to pay thee, as I have said, to the last -<i>real</i>.'</p> - -<p>'With this,' said Don Quixote, 'I will rest satisfied; -and see that thou fulfillest it as thou hast sworn. If -not, I swear again to thee by the same oath to return -and seek thee out once more and chastise thee. And -I will find thee out, though thou didst hide thyself closer -than a lizard. And if thou desirest to know who it is -that commands thee thus, know that I am the valiant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -Don Quixote of the Mancha, the righter of wrongs and -the scourge of injustice.'</p> - -<p>Saying this, the Knight clapt spurs to his Rozinante, -and was quickly gone from him.</p> - -<p>The Farmer followed him with his eyes, and seeing -that he was beyond the wood and quite out of sight, -he returned to Andrew and said: 'Come to me, child, -for I will pay thee what I owe thee, as that righter of -wrongs hath commanded.'</p> - -<p>'Upon my word,' said Andrew, 'you do well to fulfil -the good Knight's commandments. And I pray that he -may live a thousand years, for he is so brave and so -just a judge that, if you pay me not, he will come back -and do all he promised.'</p> - -<p>'I also do believe the same,' said the Farmer; 'but -for the much love I bear thee, I will increase the debt -that I may add to the payment.'</p> - -<p>And seizing him by the arm, he tied him again to the -oak, where he gave him so many blows as to leave him -for dead.</p> - -<p>'Call now, Master Andrew,' said he, 'for thy righter -of wrongs; and thou shalt see that he cannot undo this, -though I think I have not finished the doing of it, for I -have yet a desire to flay thee alive as thou didst fear.'</p> - -<p>But he untied him at last, and gave him leave to -go and seek out his Judge, to the end that he might -execute the sentence he had pronounced. Andrew -departed somewhat discontented, swearing to search -for the valiant Don Quixote of the Mancha, and relate -to him point for point all that had passed, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -Farmer might be repaid sevenfold. Nevertheless he -wept as he went along, and his master remained behind -laughing, and thus did the valiant Don Quixote right -this wrong.</p> - -<p>As for the Knight, it appeared to him that he had -made a very happy and noble beginning to his feats of -arms. And as he rode towards his village, he recited -to himself in a low voice these words: 'Well mayest -thou call thyself happy above all other women of the -earth, O! above all beauties, beautiful Dulcinea of -Toboso; since it has fallen to thy lot to hold submissive -to thy will a Knight so renowned and valorous as is and -ever shall be, Don Quixote of the Mancha, who, as all -the world knows, but yesterday received the order of -Knighthood, and to-day hath destroyed the greatest outrage -and wrong that injustice and cruelty could commit. -To-day hath he wrested the scourge from the hand of -the pitiless foe who so cruelly beat the delicate infant.'</p> - -<p>Soon afterwards he came to a spot where the road -branched into four, and there came into his fancy the -cross-ways he had read of, where the Knights Errant -used to ponder which of the roads they should take. -And that he might imitate them, he let slip the reins on -Rozinante's neck, submitting his will to that of his -steed, who followed his first intention, which was to -return home to his own stable. And having travelled -some two miles, Don Quixote discovered a great troop -of people, who, as it was afterwards known, were certain -merchants of Toledo, that rode towards Murcia to buy -silks. They were six in number, and came with their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -parasols or sun umbrellas, and four serving-men a-horseback, -and three lackeys.</p> - -<p>Scarce had Don Quixote perceived them when he -straight imagined them to be a new adventure. And -so that he might imitate as far as possible the passages -which he had read in his books, he settled himself with -a gallant air and resolute bearing firmly in his stirrups, -grasped his lance, brought his target over his breast, -and stood, waiting, posted in the middle of the road, for -those whom he took to be Knights Errant like himself.</p> - -<p>And when they were so near that they might hear -and see him, he lifted up his voice and said: 'Let all -the world stand and pass no further, if all the world -will not confess that there is not in all the world a more -beautiful damsel than the Empress of the Mancha, the -peerless Dulcinea of Toboso.'</p> - -<p>The merchants stopped at the sound of these words -to behold the marvellous and ridiculous shape of him -that spake them, and at once suspected the madness of -the speaker.</p> - -<p>Curious to know the meaning of the confession he -demanded from them, one of the merchants, who was -a bit of a wag and very sharp-witted, said to Don -Quixote: 'Sir Knight, we know not who that good -lady may be you speak of. Show her therefore to us, -and if she be as beautiful as you report, we will with -right good-will, and without further trouble, confess the -truth of what you demand.'</p> - -<p>'If I did show her to you,' replied Don Quixote, -'what merit would there be in confessing a truth which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -is clear to all beholders? The importance of my -demand is that without seeing her you must believe -it, which if you refuse to do I challenge you all to -battle, ye proud preposterous crew. And now come -on! One by one as the order of Knighthood requires, -or all at once as is the custom and base usage of those -of your breed. Here I await you, confiding in the -right I have on my side.'</p> - -<p>'Sir Knight,' replied the Merchant, 'I request you in -the name of all the Princes here present, that in order -that we may not burden our conscience by confessing -a thing which we have never beheld nor heard, you -will be pleased to show us some portrait of the lady, -although it be no bigger than a grain of wheat. For I -do believe that we are already so much on your side, -that though her portrait showed her to us a-squint of -one eye, and wearing a hump on her back, we should -say all that you wish in her favour.'</p> - -<p>'Infamous rabble,' replied Don Quixote, mightily -enraged; 'she is neither crook-eyed nor hump-backed, -but is straighter than a spindle of Guadamara. Dearly -shall you pay for the foul words you have uttered against -so immense a beauty as my Lady.' So saying, he -lowered his lance against him who had spoken, with -such wrath and fury, that if Rozinante had not tripped -and fallen in the midst of his career, it would have fared -ill with the rash Merchant.</p> - -<p>But, alas! Rozinante fell; his master went rolling -some distance across the field, and though he struggled -to arise yet was he never able, so encumbered was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -he by his lance, target, spurs, helmet, and the weight -of his old-fashioned armour. And while he strove -to rise he shouted; 'Fly not, cowardly brood! Tarry a -little, ye base caitiffs! for not by any fault of mine, but -of my horse, am I thus discomfited!'</p> - -<p>One of the lackeys with the company, hearing these -saucy speeches of the poor overthrown Knight, could -not forbear returning him an answer on his ribs, and -coming up to him he seized his lance, and having -broken it into pieces, began with one of them to belabour -him, so that in spite of his armour he pounded -him like wheat in a mill. His masters called out to -him to let the gentleman be, but the lackey was angry -and would not give up the game. And running for the -other pieces of the broken lance, he shivered them all -over the poor fallen Knight, who never closed his mouth, -but cried out against them for brigands and murderers, -for such he took them to be.</p> - -<p>At last the lackey was tired out, and the merchants -followed on their way talking about the poor belaboured -Knight, who when he saw himself alone, again made -trial to arise; but if he could not do so when sound -and well, how could he after being pounded and almost -beaten to a jelly? And yet he still considered himself -fortunate, for he persuaded himself that this disgrace -was one of those things that must of occasion happen -to a Knight Errant. And though he could not rise on -account of being mauled and bruised from head to foot, -he put it all down to the carelessness of his steed -Rozinante.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus05.jpg" width="530" height="482" alt="THE DESTRUCTION OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE DESTRUCTION OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V -<br /> -How Don Quixote returned home, and what -happened to his Library, and how he sallied -forth a second time to seek Adventures</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>Finding that he was unable to stir, the Knight pleased -himself whilst lying on the ground by remembering and -repeating aloud passages from his favourite books.</p> - -<p>He was reciting the ballad of the Marquess of Mantua, -in which a noble knight has an adventure similar to -his own, when there chanced to pass by a labouring -man, a neighbour of Don Quixote's, who was going to -take a load of wheat to the mill.</p> - -<p>He, seeing a man stretched on the ground, came over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -to him and asked who he was and what mishap had -befallen him.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote at once believed that the labourer was -no other than the Marquess of Mantua himself, and -went on with his ballad which gave an account of his -disgrace.</p> - -<p>The labourer was astonished at all these follies, and -taking off the Knight's visor, which was all broken to -pieces with the beating, he wiped his face, which was -covered with dust; and when he had wiped it he recognised -him and cried: 'Senor Quixada (for so was he -named before he became a Knight Errant), who has -brought your Worship to this plight?'</p> - -<p>But the Knight only went on with his ballad, and -made no answer.</p> - -<p>Seeing this, the good man took off as well as he could -his breastplate and corselet to see if he had any wound, -but he found no blood nor sign of any. He tried to -raise him from the ground, which he did at last with -much ado. Then he mounted him upon his ass, -which seemed a safer carriage than the Knight's -steed. Gathering up his arms, even to the fragments -of the lance, he fastened them upon Rozinante, -whose bridle he took hold of, as well as of the ass's -halter; and so they journeyed towards the village, Don -Quixote continuing to mutter his nonsensical stories.</p> - -<p>In this manner they arrived at last at their village -about sunset, but the labourer waited until it grew -somewhat dusk, so that folk should not see the Knight -so simply mounted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<p>When he entered the village and went to Don -Quixote's house, he found all in uproar there. For -the Curate and the Barber—Don Quixote's great -friends—were there, and his Housekeeper was crying -to them at the top of her voice: 'What think ye has -befallen my Master? For two days both he and his -horse, together with the target, lance, and armour, have -been missing. Woe is me! I am certain those horrid -books of Knighthood have turned his brain, for I have -often heard him say that he would become a Knight -Errant and go and seek adventures throughout the -world.'</p> - -<p>And Don Quixote's Niece, who was there also, said -to Master Nicholas the Barber: 'And indeed I have -known my dear Uncle continue reading these unhappy -books of "disadventures" two days and two nights -together. At the end of which, throwing down the -book, he would lay hand on his sword and would fall -a-slashing of the walls. And when he was wearied he -would say that he had slain four Giants as great as -four towers. And I take great blame to myself that I -did not tell you all this before, that you might have -burned those wretched books which have caused all the -mischief.'</p> - -<p>'So I say, too,' said the Curate; 'and to-morrow they -shall feed the flames, so that they may do no further -harm.'</p> - -<p>By this time the labourer and Don Quixote had -come to the house, and all the household hearing them -arrive, ran to embrace him. And Don Quixote—who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -had not yet dismounted from the ass, for he was not -able—said: 'Stand still and touch me not, for I return -very sore wounded and hurt through the fault of my -steed. Carry me to bed, and summon, if it be possible, -the wise Urganda, that she may examine and cure my -wounds.'</p> - -<p>'Come, my dear Master,' said his Housekeeper, 'and -welcome, for, without sending for that Urganda, we shall -know how to cure thee well enough. Accursed, say I -once again, and a hundred times accursed, may those -books of Knighthood be which have brought you to -such a pass.'</p> - -<p>With that they bore him up to his bed, and searching -for his wounds could not find any. Then he said he -was all one bruise, through having a grievous fall with -his horse Rozinante, in a fight with ten Giants, the -most enormous and the boldest that could be found -on earth.</p> - -<p>'So ho!' said the Curate, 'there are Giants about, -are there? By mine honesty I will burn them all before -to-morrow night.'</p> - -<p>The next day, while the Knight was asleep, the -Curate asked the Niece for the keys of the library, -which she gave him with a very good will. Then they -all went in, the Housekeeper with them, and found -more than a hundred very large volumes well bound, -besides other smaller ones.</p> - -<p>The Curate asked the Barber to hand him down the -books from their shelves one by one, that he might see -whether any deserved to escape the fire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>'No, no!' cried the Niece, 'you ought not to pardon -any of them, seeing they have all been offenders. Better -fling them all out of the window into the yard and make -a heap of them, and then make a bonfire of them where -the smoke will offend nobody.'</p> - -<p>With that the Housekeeper caught hold of some of -the largest and flung them out of the window. But the -Curate took down several from the shelves and began -to examine them carefully, whilst the women cried out -for their destruction.</p> - -<p>Whilst they were thus busied, Don Quixote began to -cry aloud, saying: 'This way, this way, valorous -Knights! Show the force of your valiant arms lest we -lose the tournament.'</p> - -<p>Called away by this noise and clamour they left the -books and ran to Don Quixote, who had risen from his -bed and was repeating his outcries and ravings, cutting -about with his sword all over the room with slashes -and back strokes, as wide awake as if he had never been -asleep. Wherefore, taking him up in their arms, they -returned him by main force into his bed.</p> - -<p>With some difficulty they persuaded him to rest where -he was, and after he had eaten his breakfast he fell asleep -once again.</p> - -<p>That same night the Housekeeper set fire to and -burned all the books in the yard, and some went to -the flames that had no harm in them; and thus was -fulfilled the old proverb, 'The Saint sometimes pays -for the Sinner.'</p> - -<p>Now one of the remedies which the Curate and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -Barber suggested for their friend's malady was to wall -up and close his library, so that when he rose he -should not find the books, and they might tell him the -Enchanters had carried them off, room and all.</p> - -<p>This was done, and when two days afterwards Don -Quixote rose from his bed, the first thing he did was -to go and visit his books. Not finding the library -where he had left it, he went from one corner of the -house to the other, looking for it. Sometimes he came -to the place where the door had been, and felt it with -his hands, then would turn his eyes up and down, here -and there, to seek it, without speaking a word.</p> - -<p>But at last he asked the Housekeeper where his -library was. She being well schooled what she should -answer, replied: 'What library? There is neither -library nor books in this house now, for an Enchanter -has carried them all away.'</p> - -<p>'Yes, dear Uncle,' said his Niece, 'while you were -away, an Enchanter came upon a cloud, and, alighting -from a serpent on which he was riding, entered the -library, and what he did therein I know not. But -within a while after, he fled out at the roof of the -house, and left all the place full of smoke, and when -we went to see what he had done we found neither -room nor books.'</p> - -<p>'This must be the work of the learned Enchanter -Freston,' replied Don Quixote seriously; 'a great enemy -of mine who has a grudge against me, for he knows -through his arts and his learning that I am in course of -time to fight and vanquish in single combat a Knight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -whom he favours. But I tell him it is useless to oppose -what is decreed.'</p> - -<p>'Who doubts that, dear Uncle?' said his Niece. -'But why mix yourself up in these quarrels? Better -stay at home peacefully, for remember the proverb says, -"Many who go for wool come back shorn."'</p> - -<p>'O Niece of mine,' said Don Quixote, 'how little -dost thou understand the matter! Before I am shorn I -will pluck the beards of all who think to touch but a -hair of me.'</p> - -<p>To these words the women made no reply because -they saw his anger increase.</p> - -<p>For fifteen days after this he remained quietly at -home, without showing any signs of repeating his follies, -and during this time he had many arguments with his -friends the Curate and the Barber about his favourite -Knights Errant. At the same time he was persuading -a certain labourer, his neighbour, an honest man, but -one of very shallow wit, to go away with him and serve -him as Squire. In the end he gave him so many fair -words and promises that the poor fellow determined to -go with him. Don Quixote, among other things, told -him that he ought to be very pleased to depart with him, -for at some time or other an adventure might befall -which should in the twinkling of an eye win him an -Island and leave him Governor thereof. On the faith -of these and other like promises, Sancho Panza (for so -he was called) forsook his wife and children and took -service as Squire to his neighbour.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote then set about to provide himself with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -money. This he did by selling one thing, pawning -another, and making bad bargains all round. At last -he got a pretty sum, and having patched up his broken -helmet as best he could, he told Sancho Panza the day -and hour on which he meant to start. He also charged -him to provide himself with a wallet, which Sancho -promised to do, and said that he also meant to take a -very good Ass named Dapple along with him, which he -had of his own, because he was not used to travel much -a-foot.</p> - -<p>In the matter of the Ass, Don Quixote hesitated a -little, calling to mind whether ever he had read that any -Knight Errant was ever attended by a Squire mounted -on ass-back, but no such case occurred to his memory. -Nevertheless, he decided that the Ass should be taken, -with the intention of providing his Squire with a more -dignified mount, when he had a chance, by unhorsing -the first discourteous Knight he met with.</p> - -<p>All this being arranged, Sancho Panza, without bidding -his wife and children farewell, and Don Quixote, without -saying good-bye to his Housekeeper and Niece, -sallied forth from the village one night, unknown to any -person living. They travelled so far that night that at -daybreak they were safe against discovery, even if they -were pursued. And Sancho Panza rode along on his -beast like a patriarch with his wallet and bottle, full of -a huge desire to see himself Governor of the Island -which his Master had promised him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VI -<br /> -Of the dreadful and never-to-be-imagined Adventure -of the Windmills, and of the fearful Battle -which the gallant Biscayan fought with -Don Quixote</h2> - - -<p>Whilst they were journeying along, Sancho Panza said -to his Master: 'I pray you have good care, Sir Knight, -that you forget not that government of the Island which -you have promised me, for I shall be able to govern it -be it never so great.'</p> - -<p>And Don Quixote replied: 'Thou must understand, -friend Sancho, that it was a custom very much used by -ancient Knights Errant, to make their Squires Governors -of the Islands and Kingdoms they conquered, and I am -resolved that so good a custom shall be kept up by me. -And if thou livest and I live, it may well be that I -might conquer a Kingdom within six days, and crown -thee King of it.'</p> - -<p>'By the same token,' said Sancho Panza, 'if I were a -King, then should Joan my wife become a Queen and -my children Princes?'</p> - -<p>'Who doubts of that?' said Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'That do I,' replied Sancho Panza, 'for I am fully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -persuaded that though it rained Kingdoms down upon -the earth, none of them would sit well on my wife Joan. -She is not worth a farthing for a Queen. She might -scrape through as a Countess, but I have my doubts -of that.'</p> - -<div id="Illus06" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus06.jpg" width="472" height="700" alt="DON QUIXOTE AND THE WINDMILLS" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE AND THE WINDMILLS</p></div> -</div> - -<p>As they were talking, they caught sight of some -thirty or forty windmills on a plain. As soon as Don -Quixote saw them he said to his Squire: 'Fortune is -guiding our affairs better than we could desire. For -behold, friend Sancho, how there appear thirty or forty -monstrous Giants with whom I mean to do battle, and -take all their lives. With their spoils we will begin to -be rich, for this is fair war, and it is doing great service -to clear away these evil fellows from off the face of the -earth.'</p> - -<p>'What Giants?' said Sancho amazed.</p> - -<p>'Those thou seest there,' replied his Master, 'with -the long arms.'</p> - -<p>'Take care, Sir,' cried Sancho, 'for those we see -yonder are not Giants but windmills, and those things -which seem to be arms are their sails, which being -whirled round by the wind make the mill go.'</p> - -<p>'It is clear,' answered Don Quixote, 'that thou art -not yet experienced in the matter of adventures. They -are Giants, and if thou art afraid, get thee away home, -whilst I enter into cruel and unequal battle with them.'</p> - -<p>So saying, he clapped spurs to Rozinante, without -heeding the cries by which Sancho Panza warned him -that he was going to encounter not Giants but windmills. -For he would neither listen to Sancho's outcries, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -mark what he said, but shouted to the windmills in -a loud voice: 'Fly not, cowards and vile creatures, for -it is only one Knight that assaults you!'</p> - -<p>A slight breeze having sprung up at this moment, the -great sail-arms began to move, on seeing which Don -Quixote shouted out again: 'Although you should wield -more arms than had the Giant Briareus, I shall make you -pay for your insolence!'</p> - -<p>Saying this, and commending himself most devoutly -to his Lady Dulcinea, whom he desired to aid him in -this peril, covering himself with his buckler, and setting -his lance in rest, he charged at Rozinante's best gallop, -and attacked the first mill before him. Thrusting his -lance through the sail, the wind turned it with such -violence that it broke his weapon into shivers, carrying -him and his horse after it, and having whirled them -round, finally tumbled the Knight a good way off, and -rolled him over the plain sorely damaged.</p> - -<p>Sancho Panza hastened to help him as fast as his -Ass could go, and when he came up he found the -Knight unable to stir, such a shock had Rozinante -given him in the fall.</p> - -<p>'Bless me,' said Sancho, 'did I not tell you that you -should look well what you did, for they were none other -than windmills, nor could any think otherwise unless he -had windmills in his brains?'</p> - -<p>'Peace, friend Sancho,' said Don Quixote, 'for the -things of war are constantly changing, and I think this -must be the work of the same sage Freston who robbed -me of my library and books, and he hath changed these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -Giants into windmills to take from me the glory of the -victory. But in the end his evil arts shall avail but -little against the goodness of my sword.'</p> - -<p>'May it prove so,' said Sancho, as he helped his -Master to rise and remount Rozinante, who, poor steed, -was himself much bruised by the fall.</p> - -<p>The next day they journeyed along towards the Pass -of Lapice, a romantic spot, at which they arrived about -three o'clock in the afternoon.</p> - -<p>'Here,' said Don Quixote to his Squire, 'we may -hope to dip our hands up to the elbows in what are -called adventures. But take note of this, that although -thou seest me in the greatest dangers of the world, -thou art not to set hand to thy sword in my defence, -unless those who assault me be base or vulgar people. -If they be Knights thou mayest not help me.'</p> - -<p>'I do assure you, Sir,' said Sancho, 'that herein -you shall be most punctually obeyed, because I am -by nature a quiet and peaceful man, and have a strong -dislike to thrusting myself into quarrels.'</p> - -<p>Whilst they spoke thus, two Friars of the order of -St. Benedict, mounted on large mules—big enough to -be dromedaries—appeared coming along the road. -They wore travelling masks to keep the dust out of -their eyes and carried large sun umbrellas. After them -came a coach with four or five a-horseback travelling -with it, and two lackeys ran hard by it. In the coach -was a Biscayan Lady who was going to Seville. The -Friars were not of her company, though all were going -the same way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> - -<p>Scarcely had Don Quixote espied them than he exclaimed -to his Squire: 'Either I much mistake, or this -should be the most famous adventure that hath ever -been seen; for those dark forms that loom yonder -are doubtless Enchanters who are carrying off in that -coach some Princess they have stolen. Therefore -I must with all my power undo this wrong.'</p> - -<p>'This will be worse than the adventure of the windmills,' -said Sancho. 'Do you not see that they are -Benedictine Friars, and the coach will belong to some -people travelling?'</p> - -<p>'I have told thee already, Sancho,' answered Don -Quixote, 'that thou art very ignorant in the matter of -adventures. What I say is true, as thou shalt see.'</p> - -<p>So saying he spurred on his horse, and posted himself -in the middle of the road along which the Friars -were coming, and when they were near enough to hear -him he exclaimed in a loud voice: 'Monstrous and -horrible crew! Surrender this instant those exalted -Princesses, whom you are carrying away in that coach, -or prepare to receive instant death as a just punishment -of your wicked deeds.'</p> - -<p>The Friars drew rein, and stood amazed at the figure -and words of Don Quixote, to whom they replied: 'Sir -Knight, we are neither monstrous nor wicked, but two -religious men, Benedictines, travelling about our business, -and we know nothing about this coach or about -any Princesses.'</p> - -<p>'No soft words for me,' cried Don Quixote, 'for I -know you well, treacherous knaves.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>And without waiting for their reply he set spurs to -Rozinante; and laying his lance on his thigh, charged -at the first Friar with such fury and rage, that if he had -not leaped from his mule he would have been slain, or at -least badly wounded.</p> - -<p>The second Friar, seeing the way his companion was -treated, made no words but fled across the country -swifter than the wind itself.</p> - -<p>Sancho Panza, on seeing the Friar overthrown, dismounted -very speedily off his Ass and ran over to him, -and would have stripped him of his clothes. But two -of the Friars' servants came up and asked him why -he was thus despoiling their master. Sancho replied -that it was his due by the law of arms, as lawful spoils -gained in battle by his Lord and Master, Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>The lackeys, who knew nothing of battles or spoils, -seeing that Don Quixote was now out of the way, -speaking with those that were in the coach, set both -at once upon Sancho and threw him down, plucked -every hair out of his beard and kicked and mauled -him without mercy, leaving him at last stretched on -the ground senseless and breathless.</p> - -<p>As for the Friar, he mounted again, trembling and -terror-stricken, all the colour having fled from his face, -and spurring his mule, he joined his companion, who -was waiting for him hard by.</p> - -<p>While this was happening, Don Quixote was talking -to the Lady in the coach, to whom he said: 'Dear Lady, -you may now dispose of yourself as you best please. -For the pride of your robbers is laid in the dust by this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -my invincible arm. And that you may not pine to learn -the name of your deliverer, know that I am called Don -Quixote of the Mancha, Knight Errant, adventurer, and -captive of the peerless and beauteous Lady Dulcinea -of Toboso. And in reward of the benefits you have -received at my hands, I demand nothing else but that -you return to Toboso, there to present yourself in my -name before my Lady, and tell her what I have done to -obtain your liberty.'</p> - -<p>All this was listened to by a Biscayan Squire who -accompanied the coach. He hearing that the coach -was not to pass on but was to return to Toboso, went -up to Don Quixote, and, laying hold of his lance, said to -him: 'Get away with thee, Sir Knight, for if thou -leave not the coach I will kill thee as sure as I am a -Biscayan.'</p> - -<p>'If,' replied Don Quixote haughtily, 'thou wert a -gentleman, as thou art not, I would ere this have -punished thy folly and insolence, caitiff creature.'</p> - -<p>'I no gentleman?' cried the enraged Biscayan. -'Throw down thy lance and draw thy sword, and thou -shalt soon see that thou liest.'</p> - -<p>'That shall be seen presently,' replied Don Quixote; -and flinging his lance to the ground he drew his sword, -grasped his buckler tight, and rushed at the Biscayan.</p> - -<p>The Biscayan, seeing him come on in this manner, -had nothing else to do but to draw his sword. Luckily -for him he was near the coach, whence he snatched a -cushion to serve him as a shield, and then they fell on -one another as if they had been mortal enemies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<p>Those that were present tried to stop them, but the -Biscayan shouted out that if he were hindered from -ending the battle he would put his Lady and all who -touched him to the sword.</p> - -<p>The Lady, amazed and terrified, made the coachman -draw aside a little, and sat watching the deadly combat -from afar.</p> - -<p>The Biscayan, to begin with, dealt Don Quixote a -mighty blow over the target, which, if it had not been -for his armour, would have cleft him to the waist. -Don Quixote, feeling the weight of this tremendous -blow which had destroyed his visor and carried away -part of his ear, cried out aloud: 'O Dulcinea, Lady -of my soul, flower of all beauty, help thy Knight, who -finds himself in this great danger!' To say this, to -raise his sword, to cover himself with his buckler, and -to rush upon the Biscayan was the work of a moment. -With his head full of rage he now raised himself in -his stirrups, and, gripping his sword more firmly in his -two hands, struck at the Biscayan with such violence -that he caught him a terrible blow on the cushion, -knocking this shield against his head with tremendous -violence. It was as though a mountain had fallen on -the Biscayan and crushed him, and the blood spouted -from his nose and mouth and ears. He would have -fallen straightway from his mule if he had not clasped -her round the neck; but he lost his stirrups, then let go -his arms, and the mule, frightened at the blow, began -to gallop across the fields, so that after two or three -plunges it threw him to the ground.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>Don Quixote leaped off his horse, ran towards him, -and setting the point of his sword between his eyes, -bade him yield, or he would cut off his head.</p> - -<p>The Lady of the coach now came forward in great -grief and begged the favour of her Squire's life.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote replied with great stateliness: 'Truly, -fair Lady, I will grant thy request, but it must be on -one condition, that this Squire shall go to Toboso and -present himself in my name to the peerless Lady -Dulcinea, that she may deal with him as she thinks -well.'</p> - -<p>The Lady, who was in great distress, without considering -what Don Quixote required, or asking who -Dulcinea might be, promised that he should certainly -perform this command.</p> - -<p>'Then,' said Don Quixote, 'on the faith of that -pledge I will do him no more harm.'</p> - -<p>Seeing the contest was now over, and his Master -about to remount Rozinante, Sancho ran to hold his -stirrups, and before he mounted, taking him by his hand -he kissed it and said: 'I desire that it will please you, -good my Lord Don Quixote, to bestow on me the -government of that Island which in this terrible battle -you have won.'</p> - -<p>To which Don Quixote replied: 'Brother Sancho, -these are not the adventures of Islands, but of cross -roads, wherein nothing is gained but a broken pate -or the loss of an ear. Have patience awhile, for the -adventures will come whereby I can make thee not -only a Governor, but something higher.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sancho thanked him heartily, and kissed his hand -again and the hem of his mailed shirt. Then he -helped him to get on Rozinante, and leaped upon his -Ass to follow him.</p> - -<p>And Don Quixote, without another word to the -people of the coach, rode away at a swift pace and -turned into a wood that was hard by, leaving Sancho -to follow him as fast as his beast could trot.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VII -<br /> -Of what passed between Don Quixote and the -Goatherds, and of the unfortunate Adventure -with the Yanguesian Carriers</h2> - - -<p>As they rode along, Don Quixote turned to his Squire -and said to him: 'Tell me now in very good earnest, -didst thou ever see a more valorous Knight than I am -throughout the face of the earth? Didst thou ever read -in histories of any other that hath or ever had more -courage in fighting, more dexterity in wounding, or more -skill in overthrowing?'</p> - -<p>'The truth is,' replied Sancho, 'that I have never -read any history whatever, for I can neither read nor -write. But what I dare wager is, that I never in my life -served a bolder Master than you are, and I only trust -that all this boldness does not land us within the four -walls of the gaol.'</p> - -<p>'Peace, friend Sancho,' said Don Quixote; 'when -didst thou read of a Knight Errant that was brought -before the Judge though he killed ever so many -people?'</p> - -<p>'I have read nothing, as you know, good Master; but -a truce to all this, let me attend to your wound, for you -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>are losing a good deal of blood in that ear, and I have -got some lint and a little white ointment in my wallet.'</p> - -<div id="Illus07" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus07.jpg" width="477" height="700" alt="DON QUIXOTE AND THE GOATHERDS" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE AND THE GOATHERDS</p></div> -</div> - -<p>'That,' said Don Quixote, 'would have been unnecessary -if I had remembered to make a bottleful of the -Balsam of Fierabras, for with only one drop of it both -time and medicines are saved.'</p> - -<p>'What Balsam is that, then?' asked Sancho Panza.</p> - -<p>'It is a Balsam, the receipt of which I have in -my memory, and whoever possesses it need not fear -death nor think to perish by any wound. Therefore -after I have made it and given it unto thee, thou hast -nothing else to do but when thou shalt see that in any -battle I be cloven in twain, than deftly to take up the -portion of the body which is fallen to the ground and -put it up again on the half which remains in the saddle, -taking great care to fix it exactly in the right place. -Then thou shalt give me two draughts of the Balsam -I have mentioned, and I shall become as sound as an -apple.'</p> - -<p>'If that be true,' said Sancho, 'I renounce from now -the government of the promised Island, and will -demand nothing else in payment of my services but -only the receipt of this precious liquor. But tell me, is -it costly in making?'</p> - -<p>'With less than three <i>reals</i>,' said Don Quixote, 'a -man may make three gallons of it. But I mean to teach -thee greater secrets than this, and do thee greater -favours also. And now let me dress my wound, for this -ear pains me more than I would wish.'</p> - -<p>Sancho took out of his wallet his lint and ointment to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -cure his Master. But before he could use them Don -Quixote saw that the visor of his helmet was broken, -and he had like to have lost his senses. Setting -his hand to his sword, he cried: 'I swear an oath to -lead the life which was led by the great Marquis of -Mantua when he swore to revenge the death of his -nephew Baldwin, which was not to eat off a tablecloth, -nor to comb his hair, nor to change his clothes, nor to -quit his armour, and other things which, though I cannot -now remember, I take as said, until I have had complete -revenge on him that hath done this outrage.'</p> - -<p>'Look, your Worship, Sir Don Quixote,' said Sancho, -when he heard these strange words, 'you must note that -if the Biscayan has done what you told him, and presented -himself before my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, -then he has fully satisfied his debt, and deserves no -other penalty unless he commits a new fault.'</p> - -<p>'Thou hast spoken well and hit the mark truly,' -answered Don Quixote; 'and, therefore, in respect -of that, I set the oath aside. But I make it and confirm -it again, that I will lead the life I have said, until I take -by force another helmet as good as this from some other -Knight.'</p> - -<p>'Such oaths are but mischief,' said Sancho discontentedly, -'for tell me now, if by chance we do not -come across a man armed with a helmet, what are we to -do? Do but consider that armed men travel not these -roads, but only carriers and waggoners, who not only -wear no helmets, but never heard them named all the -days of their life.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<p>'Thou art mistaken in this,' said Don Quixote, 'for -we shall not have been here two hours before we shall -see more Knights than went up against Albraca to win -Angelica the Fair.'</p> - -<p>'So be it,' said Sancho, 'and may all turn out well for -us, that the time may come for the winning of that Island -which is costing me so dear.'</p> - -<p>'Have no fear for thine Island, Sancho Panza,' said -Don Quixote; 'and now look if thou hast aught to eat -in thy wallet, for soon we should go in search of some -Castle where we may lodge the night and make the -Balsam of which I have spoken, for in truth this ear of -mine pains me greatly.'</p> - -<p>'I have got here an onion and a bit of cheese and a -few crusts of bread, but such coarse food is not fit for so -valiant a Knight as your Worship.'</p> - -<p>'How little dost thou understand the matter,' replied -Don Quixote, 'for it is an honour to Knights Errant not -to eat more than once a month, and if by chance they -should eat, to eat only of that which is next at hand! -And all this thou mightest have known hadst thou read -as many books as I have done. For though I studied -many, yet did I never find that Knights Errant did ever -eat but by mere chance, or at some costly banquets -that were made for them. And the remainder of their -days they lived on herbs and roots. Therefore, friend -Sancho, let not that trouble thee which is my pleasure, -for to a Knight Errant that which comes is good.'</p> - -<p>'Pardon me, Sir,' said Sancho, 'for since I can neither -read nor write, as I have already told you, I have not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -fallen in rightly with the laws of Knighthood. But from -henceforth my wallet shall be furnished with all sorts of -dried fruits for your Worship, because you are a Knight, -and for myself, seeing I am none, I will provide fowls -and other things, which are better eating.'</p> - -<p>So saying he pulled out what he had, and the two fell -to dinner in good peace and company.</p> - -<p>But being desirous to look out for a lodging for that -night, they cut short their meagre and sorry meal, -mounted at once a-horseback, and made haste to find -out some dwellings before night did fall.</p> - -<p>But the sun and their hopes did fail them at the same -time, they being then near the cabins of some Goatherds. -Therefore they determined to pass the night -there. And though Sancho's grief was great to lie out -of a village, yet Don Quixote was more joyful than -ever, for he thought that as often as he slept under the -open heaven, so often did he perform an act worthy -of a true Knight Errant.</p> - -<p>They were welcomed by the Goatherds very cordially, -and Sancho, having put up Rozinante and his Ass -the best way he could, made his way towards the smell -given out by certain pieces of goat's flesh which were -boiling in a pot on the fire. And though he longed that -very instant to see if they were ready, he did not do so, -for he saw the Goatherds were themselves taking them -off the fire and spreading some sheep-skins on the -ground, and were laying their rustic table as quickly as -might be. Then with many expressions of good will -they invited the two to share in what they had. Those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -who belonged to the fold, being six in number, sat -round on the skins, having first with rough compliments -asked Don Quixote to seat himself upon a trough which -they placed for him turned upside down.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote sat down, but Sancho remained on foot -to serve him with the cup which was made of horn. -Seeing him standing, his Master said: 'That thou -mayest see, Sancho, the good which is in Knight -Errantry, and how fair a chance they have who exercise -it to arrive at honour and position in the world, I desire -that here by my side, and in company of these good -people, thou dost seat thyself, and be one and the same -with me that am thy Master and natural Lord. That -thou dost eat in my dish and drink in the same cup -wherein I drink. For the same may be said of Knight -Errantry as is said of Love, that it makes all things -equal.'</p> - -<p>'Thanks for your favour,' replied Sancho, 'but I may -tell your Worship that provided I have plenty to eat, -I can eat it as well, and better, standing and by myself, -than if I were seated on a level with an Emperor. -And, indeed, if I speak the truth, what I eat in my -corner without ceremony, though it be but a bread and -onion, smacks much better than turkeycocks at other -tables, where I must chaw my meat leisurely, drink but -little, wipe my hands often, nor do other things that -solitude and liberty allow.'</p> - -<p>'For all that,' said Don Quixote, 'here shalt thou sit, -for the humble shall be exalted,' and taking him by the -arm, he forced his Squire to sit down near himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Goatherds did not understand the gibberish of -Squires and Knights Errant, and did nothing but eat, -hold their peace, and stare at their guests, who with -great relish were gorging themselves with pieces as big -as their fists. The course of flesh being over, the Goatherds -spread on the skins a great number of parched -acorns and half a cheese, harder than if it had been made -of mortar. The horn in the meantime was not idle, but -came full from the wine-skins and returned empty, as -though it had been a bucket sent to the well.</p> - -<p>After Don Quixote had satisfied his appetite, he -took up a fistful of acorns, and beholding them earnestly, -began in this manner: 'Happy time and fortunate ages -were those which our ancestors called Golden, not -because Gold—so much prized in this our Iron Age—was -gotten in that happy time without any labours, but -because those who lived in that time knew not these two -words, <i>Thine</i> and <i>Mine</i>. In that holy age all things -were in common. No man needed to do aught but lift -up his hand and take his food from the strong oak, -which did liberally invite them to gather his sweet and -savoury fruit. The clear fountains and running rivers -did offer them transparent water in magnificent abundance, -and in the hollow trees did careful bees erect their -commonwealth, offering to every hand without interest -the fertile crop of their sweet labours.' Thus did the -eloquent Knight describe the Golden Age, when all was -peace, friendship, and concord, and then he showed the -astonished Goatherds how an evil world had taken its -place, and made it necessary for Knights Errant like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -himself to come forward for the protection of widows -and orphans, and the defence of distressed damsels. All -this he did because the acorns that were given him called -to his mind the Golden Age. The Goatherds sat -and listened with grave attention, and Sancho made -frequent visits to the second wine-skin during his discourse. -At length it was ended, and they sat round the -fire, drinking their wine and listening to one of the Goatherds -singing, and towards night, Don Quixote's ear -becoming very painful, one of his hosts made a dressing -of rosemary leaves and salt, and bound up his wound. -By this means being eased of his pain, he was able -to lie down in one of the huts and sleep soundly after -his day's adventures.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote spent several days among the Goatherds, -and at length, when his wound was better, he -thanked them for their hospitality, and rode away in -search of new adventures, followed by the faithful -Sancho.</p> - -<p>They came to a halt in a pleasant meadow rich with -beautiful grass, by the side of a delightful and refreshing -stream, which seemed to invite them to stop and -spend there the sultry hours of noon, which were -already becoming oppressive.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote and Sancho dismounted, and leaving -Rozinante and Dapple loose, to feed on the grass that -was there in plenty, they ransacked the wallet, and -without any ceremony fell to eating what they found -in it.</p> - -<p>Sancho had neglected to tie up Rozinante, and, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -luck would have it, a troop of Galician ponies belonging -to some Yanguesian carriers, whose custom it is to -rest at noon with their teams in spots and places where -grass and water abound, were feeding in the same -valley.</p> - -<p>It must be believed that Rozinante supposed that the -grass the ponies were feeding on was better than his -own; but be that as it may, he started off at a little swift -trot to feed among them. They resented his appearance, -and, as he sought to enter their ranks and feed -among them, they received him with their heels and -teeth, with such vigour that in a trice he had burst his -girth, and his saddle was stripped from his back. But -the worst of all was that the carriers, taking part with -their own ponies, ran up with stakes and so belaboured -him that they brought him to the ground in a sore -plight.</p> - -<p>Upon this Don Quixote and Sancho, who witnessed -the basting of Rozinante, came running up all out -of breath, and Don Quixote said to Sancho: 'From -what I see, friend Sancho, these be no Knights, but -base, rascally fellows of low breeding. I say this, that -thou mayest freely aid me in taking vengeance for -the wrong which they have done to Rozinante before -our eyes.'</p> - -<p>'What vengeance can we take,' replied Sancho, 'when -there are more than twenty, and we are but two—nay, -perhaps but one and a half?'</p> - -<p>'I count for a hundred,' said Don Quixote, and -without further parley he drew his sword and flew upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -the Yanguesians, boldly followed by Sancho Panza. -With his first blow Don Quixote pierced a buff coat that -one of them wore, wounding him grievously in the -shoulder. Then the Yanguesians, finding themselves so -rudely handled by two men only, they being so many, -betook themselves to their stakes, and hemming in their -adversaries in the midst of them, they laid on with great -fury. In fact the second thwack brought Sancho to the -ground, and the same fate soon befell Don Quixote, -whose dexterity and courage availed him nothing, for he -fell at the feet of his unfortunate steed, who had not yet -been able to arise.</p> - -<p>Then seeing the mischief they had done, the Yanguesians -loaded their team with as much haste as possible, -and went their way, leaving the adventurers in a doleful -plight and a worse humour.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus08.jpg" width="530" height="474" alt="THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S TRAVEL TO THE INN" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S TRAVEL TO THE INN</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII -<br /> -How Don Quixote arrived at an Inn which he -imagined to be a Castle, and there cured himself -and Sancho with the Balsam of Fierabras</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>For some time after the Yanguesian Carriers had gone -on their way Don Quixote and Sancho Panza lay on -the ground groaning and saying nothing.</p> - -<p>The first that came to himself was Sancho Panza, who -cried in a weak and pitiful voice: 'Sir Don Quixote! -O Sir Don Quixote!'</p> - -<p>'What wouldst thou, brother Sancho?' answered -Don Quixote in the same faint and grievous tone as -Sancho.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I would, if it were possible,' said Sancho Panza, -'that your Worship should give me a couple of mouthfuls -of that Balsam of Fierabras, if so be that your Worship -has it at hand. Perhaps it will be as good for broken -bones as for wounds.'</p> - -<p>'If I had it here,' sighed Don Quixote, 'we should -lack nothing. But I swear to thee, Sancho Panza, on -the faith of a Knight Errant, that before two days pass, -unless fortune forbids, I will have it in my possession.'</p> - -<p>'I pray you,' asked Sancho, 'in how many days do -you think we shall be able to move our feet?'</p> - -<p>'I cannot say,' said the battered Knight; 'but I take -on myself the blame of all, for I should not have drawn -my sword against men that are not Knights. Therefore, -brother Sancho, take heed of what I tell thee, for it -mightily concerns the welfare of us both; and it is this, -that when thou seest such rabble offer us any wrong, -wait not for me to draw sword upon them, for I will not -do it in any wise, but put thou thy hand to thy sword -and chastise them at thy pleasure.'</p> - -<p>But Sancho Panza did not much relish his Master's -advice, and replied: 'Sir, I am a peaceable, sober, and -quiet man, and can let pass any injury whatever, for I -have a wife and children to take care of. Therefore, let -me also say a word to your Worship, that by no manner -of means shall I put hand to sword either against Clown -or against Knight. And from this time forth I forgive -whatever insults are paid to me, whether they are or -shall be paid by persons high or low, rich or poor, -gentle or simple.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> - -<p>On hearing this his Master said: 'Would that I had -breath enough to be able to speak easily, and that -the pain I feel in this rib were less, that I might make -thee understand, Sancho, the mistake thou art making! -How can I appoint thee Governor of an Island when -thou wouldst make an end of all by having neither -valour nor will to defend thy lands or revenge thine -injuries?'</p> - -<p>'Alas!' groaned Sancho, 'I would that I had the -courage and understanding of which your Worship -speaks, but in truth at this moment I am more fit for -plasters than preachments. See if your Worship can -rise, and we will help Rozinante, although he deserves -it not, for he was the chief cause of all this mauling.'</p> - -<p>'Fortune always leaves one door open in disasters, -and your Dapple will now be able to supply the want of -Rozinante and carry me hence to some Castle where I -may be healed of my wounds. Nor shall I esteem such -riding a dishonour, for I remember to have read that -old Silenus, tutor and guide of the merry God of -Laughter, when he entered the City of a hundred gates, -rode very pleasantly, mounted on a handsome ass.'</p> - -<p>'That may be,' replied Sancho, 'but there is a -difference between riding a-horseback and being laid -athwart like a sack of rubbish.'</p> - -<p>'Have done with your replies,' exclaimed Don -Quixote, 'and rise as well as thou art able and sit me on -top of thine Ass, and let us depart hence before the -night comes and overtakes us in this wilderness.'</p> - -<p>Then Sancho, with thirty groans and sixty sighs and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -a hundred and twenty curses, lifted up Rozinante—who -if he had had a tongue would have complained louder -than Sancho himself—and after much trouble set Don -Quixote on the Ass. Then tying Rozinante to his tail, -he led the Ass by the halter, and proceeded as best he -could to where the highroad seemed to lie.</p> - -<p>And Fortune, which had guided their affairs from good -to better, led him on to a road on which he spied an Inn, -which to his annoyance and Don Quixote's joy must -needs be a Castle. Sancho protested that it was an Inn, -and his Master that it was a Castle; and their dispute -lasted so long that they had time to arrive there before -it was finished; and into this Inn or Castle Sancho -entered without more parley with all his team.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote laid athwart of -the Ass, asked Sancho what ailed him. Sancho answered -that it was nothing, only that he had fallen down from -a rock, and had bruised his ribs somewhat. The Innkeeper's -wife was by nature charitable, and she felt for -the sufferings of others, so she hastened at once to -attend to Don Quixote, and made her daughter, a -comely young maiden, help her in taking care of her -guest. There was also serving in the Inn an Asturian -wench, broad-cheeked, flat-pated, with a snub nose, -blind of one eye and the other not very sound. This -young woman, who was called Maritornes, assisted the -daughter, and the two made up a bed for Don Quixote -in a garret which had served for many years as a straw-loft. -The bed on which they placed him was made of -four roughly planed boards on two unequal trestles; a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -mattress which, in thinness, might have been a quilt, so -full of pellets that if they had not through the holes -shown themselves to be wool, they would to the touch -seem to be pebbles. There was a pair of sheets made -of target leather; and as for the coverlet, if any one had -chosen to count the threads of it he could not have -missed one in the reckoning.</p> - -<p>On this miserable bed did Don Quixote lie, and -presently the Hostess and her daughter plastered him -over from head to foot, Maritornes holding the candle -for them.</p> - -<p>While she was plastering him, the Hostess, seeing -that he was in places black and blue, said that it looked -more like blows than a fall. Sancho, however, declared -they were not blows, but that the rock had many sharp -points, and each one had left a mark; and he added:</p> - -<p>'Pray, good Mistress, spare some of that tow, as my -back pains are not a little.'</p> - -<p>'In that case,' said the Hostess, 'you must have fallen -too.'</p> - -<p>'I did not fall,' said Sancho Panza, 'but with the -sudden fright I took on seeing my Master fall, my body -aches as if they had given me a thousand blows, and I -now find myself with only a few bruises less than my -Master, Don Quixote.'</p> - -<p>'What is this gentleman's name?' asked Maritornes.</p> - -<p>'Don Quixote of the Mancha,' answered Sancho Panza; -'and he is a Knight Errant, and one of the best and -strongest that have been seen in the world these many -ages.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> - -<p>'What is a Knight Errant?' asked the wench.</p> - -<p>'Art thou so young in the world that thou knowest it -not?' answered Sancho Panza. 'Know then, Sister -mine, that a Knight Errant is a thing which in two -words is found cudgelled and an Emperor. To-day he -is the most miserable creature in the world, and the -most needy; to-morrow he will have two or three crowns -of Kingdoms to give to his Squire.'</p> - -<p>'How is it, then,' said the Hostess, 'that thou hast -not gotten at least an Earldom, seeing thou art Squire -to this good Knight?'</p> - -<p>'It is early yet,' replied Sancho, 'for it is but a month -since we set out on our adventures. But believe me, if -my Master, Don Quixote, gets well of his wounds—or -his fall, I should say—I would not sell my hopes for the -best title in Spain.'</p> - -<p>To all this Don Quixote listened very attentively, and -sitting up in his bed as well as he could, he took the -Hostess's hand and said: 'Believe me, beautiful Lady, -that you may count yourself fortunate in having entertained -me in this your Castle. My Squire will inform -you who I am, for self-praise is no recommendation; -only this I say, that I will keep eternally written in -memory the service you have done to me, and I will be -grateful to you as long as my life shall endure.'</p> - -<p>The Hostess, her daughter, and the good Maritornes -remained confounded on hearing the words of the -Knight Errant, which they understood as well as if he -had spoken in Greek, but yet they believed they were -words of compliment, and so they thanked him for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -courtesy and departed, leaving Sancho and his Master -for the night.</p> - -<p>There happened to be lodging in the Inn that night -one of the Officers of the Holy Brotherhood of Toledo, -whose duty it was to travel the roads and inquire into -cases of highway robbery. He hearing some time later -that a man was lying in the house sorely wounded must -needs go and make an examination of the matter. He -therefore lighted his lamp and made his way to Don -Quixote's garret.</p> - -<p>As soon as Sancho Panza saw him enter arrayed in a -shirt and a nightcap with the lamp in his hand, which -showed him to be a very ugly man, he asked his Master: -'Will this by chance be some Wizard Moor come to -torment us?'</p> - -<p>'A Wizard it cannot be,' said Don Quixote, 'for -those under enchantment never let themselves be -seen.'</p> - -<p>The Officer could make nothing of their talk, and -came up to Don Quixote, who lay face upwards encased -in his plasters. 'Well,' said the Officer roughly, 'how -goes it, my good fellow?'</p> - -<p>'I would speak more politely if I were you,' answered -Don Quixote. 'Is it the custom in this country, lout, -to speak in that way to a Knight Errant?'</p> - -<p>The Officer, finding himself thus rudely addressed, -could not endure it, and, lifting up the lamp, oil and all, -gave Don Quixote such a blow on the pate with it that -he broke his head in one or two places, and, leaving all -in darkness, left the room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<p>'Ah!' groaned Sancho, 'this is indeed the Wizard -Moor, and he must be keeping his treasures for -others, and for us nothing but blows.'</p> - -<p>'It is ever so,' replied Don Quixote; 'and we must -take no notice of these things of enchantment, nor must -we be angry or vexed with them, for since they are -invisible, there is no one on whom to take vengeance. -Rise, Sancho, if thou canst, and call the Constable of -this fortress, and try to get him to give me a little wine, -oil, salt, and rosemary to prepare the health-giving -Balsam, of which I have grievous need, for there comes -much blood from the wound which the phantom hath -given me.'</p> - -<p>Sancho arose, not without aching bones, and crept in -the dark to where the Innkeeper was, and said to him:</p> - -<p>'My Lord Constable, do us the favour and courtesy to -give me a little rosemary, oil, wine, and salt to cure one -of the best Knights Errant in the world, who lies yonder -in bed sorely wounded at the hands of a Moorish -Enchanter.'</p> - -<p>When the Innkeeper heard this he took Sancho Panza -for a man out of his wits, but nevertheless gave him -what he wanted, and Sancho carried it to Don Quixote. -His Master was lying with his hands to his head, groaning -with pain from the blows of the lamp, which, however, -had only raised two big lumps; what he thought -was blood being only the perspiration running down -his face.</p> - -<p>He now took the things Sancho had brought, of -which he made a compound, mixing them together<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -and boiling them a good while until they came to -perfection.</p> - -<p>Then he asked for a phial into which to pour this -precious liquor, but as there was not one to be had in -the Inn, he decided to pour it into a tin oil-vessel which -the Innkeeper had given him.</p> - -<p>This being done, he at once made an experiment on -himself of the virtue of this precious Balsam, as he -imagined it to be, and drank off a whole quart of what -was left in the boiling-pot.</p> - -<p>The only result of this was that it made him very sick -indeed, as well it might, and, what with the sickness -and the bruising and the weariness of body, he fell fast -asleep for several hours, and at the end of his sleep -awoke so refreshed and so much the better of his -bruises that he took himself to be cured, and verily -believed he had hit upon the Balsam of Fierabras.</p> - -<p>Sancho Panza, to whom his Master's recovery seemed -little short of a miracle, begged that he might have what -was left in the boiling-pot, which was no small quantity. -Don Quixote consenting, he took the pot in both hands, -and tossed it down, swallowing very little less than his -Master had done.</p> - -<p>It happened, however, that Sancho's stomach was -not so delicate as his Master's, and he suffered such -terrible pains and misery before he was sick that he -thought his last hour was come, and cursed the Balsam -and the thief who had given it to him.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote, seeing him in this bad way, said: 'I -believe, Sancho, that all this evil befalleth thee because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -thou art not dubbed Knight, for I am persuaded that -this Balsam may not benefit any one that is not.'</p> - -<p>'If your Worship knew that,' replied poor Sancho, -'bad luck to me and mine, why did you let me taste it?'</p> - -<p>Before Don Quixote could reply to this, Sancho -became so terribly sick that he could only lie groaning -and moaning for two hours, at the end of which he felt -so shaken and shattered that he could scarcely stand, -and sadly wished that he had never become Squire to a -Knight Errant.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IX -<br /> -How Sancho paid the Reckoning at the Inn which -Don Quixote supposed was a Castle</h2> - - -<p>Now whilst Sancho Panza lay groaning in his bed, Don -Quixote, who, as we have said, felt somewhat eased and -cured, made up his mind to set off in search of new -adventures. And full of this desire he himself saddled -Rozinante and put the pack-saddle on his Squire's -beast, and helped Sancho to dress and to mount his Ass. -Then getting a-horseback he rode over to the corner of -the Inn and seized hold of a pike which stood there, to -make it serve him instead of a lance.</p> - -<p>All the people that were staying at the Inn, some -twenty in number, stood staring at him, and among -these was the Innkeeper's daughter. Don Quixote kept -turning his eyes towards her and sighing dolefully, which -every one, or at least all who had seen him the night -before, thought must be caused by the pain he was in -from his bruises.</p> - -<div id="Illus09" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus09.jpg" width="483" height="700" alt="HOW SANCHO PAID THE RECKONING" /> -<div class="caption"><p>HOW SANCHO PAID THE RECKONING</p></div> -</div> - -<p>When they were both mounted and standing by the -Inn gate, he called to the Innkeeper and said in a grave -voice: 'Many and great are the favours, Sir Constable, -which I have received in this your Castle, and I shall -remain deeply grateful for them all the days of my life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -If I am able to repay you by avenging you on some -proud miscreant that hath done you any wrong, know -that it is my office to help the weak, to revenge the -wronged, and to punish traitors. Ransack your memory, -and if you find anything of this sort for me to do, you -have but to utter it, and I promise you, by the Order -of Knighthood which I have received, to procure you -satisfaction to your heart's content.'</p> - -<p>'Sir Knight,' replied the Innkeeper with equal gravity, -'I have no need that your Worship should avenge me -any wrong, for I know how to take what revenge I -think good when an injury is done. All I want is that -your Worship should pay me the score you have run up -this night in mine Inn, both for the straw and barley of -your two beasts, and your suppers and your beds.'</p> - -<p>'This then is an Inn?' exclaimed Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'Ay, that it is, and a very respectable one, too,' -replied the Innkeeper.</p> - -<p>'All this time then I have been deceived,' said Don -Quixote, 'for in truth I thought it was a Castle and no -mean one. But since it is indeed an Inn and no Castle, -all that can be done now is to ask you to forgive me -any payment, for I cannot break the laws of Knights -Errant, of whom I know for certain that they never paid -for lodging or aught else in the Inns where they stayed. -For the good entertainment that is given them is their due -reward for the sufferings they endure, seeking adventures -both day and night, winter and summer, a-foot and a-horseback, -in thirst and hunger, in heat and cold, being exposed -to all the storms of heaven and the hardships of earth.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<p>'All that is no business of mine,' retorted the Innkeeper. -'Pay me what you owe me, and keep your -tales of Knights Errant for those who want them. My -business is to earn my living.'</p> - -<p>'You are a fool and a saucy fellow,' said Don Quixote -angrily, and, spurring Rozinante and brandishing his -lance, he swept out of the Inn yard before any one could -stop him, and rode on a good distance without waiting -to see if his Squire was following.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper, when he saw him go without paying, -ran up to get his due from Sancho Panza, who also -refused to pay, and said to him: 'Sir, seeing I am Squire -to a Knight Errant, the same rule and reason for not -paying at inns and taverns hold as good for me as for -my Master.'</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper grew angry at these words, and -threatened that if he did not pay speedily he would -get it from him in a way he would not like.</p> - -<p>Sancho replied that by the Order of Knighthood -which his Lord and Master had received, he would not -pay a penny though it cost him his life.</p> - -<p>But his bad fortune so managed it, that there happened -to be at the Inn at this time four wool-combers -of Segovia, and three needlemakers of Cordova, and -two neighbours from Seville, all merry fellows, very -mischievous and playsome. And as if they were all -moved with one idea, they came up to Sancho, and -pulling him down off his Ass, one of them ran in for -the Innkeeper's blanket, and they flung him into it. -But looking up and seeing that the ceiling was somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -lower than they needed for their business, they -determined to go out into the yard, which had no roof -but the sky, and there placing Sancho in the middle of -the blanket, they began to toss him aloft and to make -sport with him by throwing him up and down. The -outcries of the miserable be-tossed Squire were so many -and so loud that they reached the ears of his Master, -who, standing awhile to listen what it was, believed -that some new adventure was at hand, until he clearly -recognised the shrieks to come from poor Sancho. -Immediately turning his horse, he rode back at a gallop -to the Inn gate, and finding it closed, rode round the -wall to see if he could find any place at which he might -enter. But he scarcely got to the wall of the Inn yard, -which was not very high, when he beheld the wicked -sport they were making with his Squire. He saw him -go up and down with such grace and agility, that, had -his anger allowed him, I make no doubt he would have -burst with laughter. He tried to climb the wall from -his horse, but he was so bruised and broken that he -could by no means alight from his saddle, and therefore -from on top of his horse he used such terrible threats -against those that were tossing Sancho that one could -not set them down in writing.</p> - -<p>But in spite of his reproaches they did not cease from -their laughter or labour, nor did the flying Sancho stop -his lamentations, mingled now with threats and now with -prayers. Thus they carried on their merry game, until -at last from sheer weariness they stopped and let him -be. And then they brought him his Ass, and, helping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -him to mount it, wrapped him in his coat, and the kind-hearted -Maritornes, seeing him so exhausted, gave him -a pitcher of water, which, that it might be the cooler, -she fetched from the well.</p> - -<p>Just as he was going to drink he heard his Master's -voice calling to him, saying: 'Son Sancho, drink not -water, drink it not, my son, for it will kill thee. Behold, -here I have that most holy Balsam,'—and he showed -him the can of liquor,—'two drops of which if thou -drinkest thou wilt undoubtedly be cured.'</p> - -<p>At these words Sancho shuddered, and replied to his -Master: 'You forget surely that I am no Knight, or -else you do not remember the pains I suffered last -evening. Keep your liquor to yourself, and let me be -in peace.'</p> - -<p>At the conclusion of this speech he began to drink, -but finding it was only water he would not taste it, and -called for wine, which Maritornes very kindly fetched -for him, and likewise paid for it out of her own purse.</p> - -<p>As soon as Sancho had finished drinking, he stuck -his heels into his Ass, and the Inn gate being thrown -wide open he rode out, highly pleased at having paid -for nothing, even at the price of a tossing. The -Innkeeper, however, had kept his wallet, but Sancho -was so distracted when he departed that he never -missed it.</p> - -<p>When Sancho reached his Master, he was almost too -jaded and faint to ride his beast. Don Quixote, seeing -him in this plight, said to him: 'Now I am certain that -yon Castle or Inn is without doubt enchanted, for those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -who made sport with thee so cruelly, what else could -they be but phantoms, and beings of another world? -And I am the more sure of this, because when I was -by the wall of the Inn yard I was not able to mount -it, or to alight from Rozinante, and therefore I must -have been enchanted. For if I could have moved, -I would have avenged thee in a way to make those -scoundrels remember the jest for ever, even although -to do it I should have had to disobey the rules of -Knighthood.'</p> - -<p>'So would I also have avenged myself,' said Sancho, -'Knight or no Knight, but I could not. And yet I -believe that those who amused themselves with me were -no phantoms or enchanted beings, but men of flesh and -bones as we are, for one was called Pedro, and another -Tenorio, and the Innkeeper called a third Juan. But -what I make out of all this, is that those adventures -which we go in search of, will bring us at last so many -misadventures that we shall not know our right foot -from our left. And the best thing for us to do, in my -humble opinion, is to return us again to our village -and look after our own affairs, and not go jumping, -as the saying is, "out of the frying-pan into the -fire."'</p> - -<p>'How little dost thou know of Knighthood, friend -Sancho,' replied Don Quixote. 'Peace, and have -patience, for a day will come when thou shalt see -with thine own eyes how fine a thing it is to follow -this calling. What pleasure can equal that of winning -a battle or triumphing over an enemy?'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I cannot tell,' answered Sancho; 'but this I know, -that since we are Knights Errant, we have never won -any battle, unless it was that with the Biscayan, and even -then your Worship lost half an ear. And ever after that -time it has been nothing but cudgels and more cudgels, -blows and more blows,—I getting the tossing in the -blanket to boot. And all this happens to me from -enchanted people on whom I cannot take vengeance.'</p> - -<p>'That grieves me,' replied Don Quixote; 'but who -knows what may happen? Fortune may bring me a -sword like that of Amadis, which did not only cut like -a razor, but there was no armour however strong or -enchanted which could stand before it.'</p> - -<p>'It will be like my luck,' said Sancho, 'that when -your Worship finds such a sword it will, like the Balsam, -be of use only to those who are Knights, whilst poor -Squires will still have to sup sorrow.'</p> - -<p>'Fear not that, Sancho,' replied his Master; and he -rode ahead, his mind full of adventures, followed at a -little distance by his unhappy Squire.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus10.jpg" width="530" height="444" alt="OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO ARMIES" /> -<div class="caption"><p>OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO ARMIES</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X -<br /> -Of the Adventure of the Two Armies</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>Whilst they were riding on their way, Don Quixote -saw a large, dense cloud of dust rolling towards them, -and turning to Sancho said: 'This is the day on which -shall be shown the might of my arm and on which I -am to do deeds which shall be written in the books -of fame. Dost thou see the dust which arises there? -Know then that it is caused by a mighty army composed -of various and numberless nations that are marching -this way.'</p> - -<p>'If that be so,' replied Sancho, 'then must there be -two armies, for on this other side there is as great -a dust.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>Don Quixote turned round to behold it, and seeing -that it was so, he was marvellous glad, for he imagined -that there were indeed two armies coming to fight each -other in the midst of that spacious plain. For at every -hour and moment his fancy was full of battles, enchantments, -and adventures, such as are related in the books -of Knighthood, and all his thoughts and wishes were -turned towards such things.</p> - -<p>As for the clouds he had seen, they were raised by -two large flocks of sheep which were being driven along -the same road from two opposite sides, and this by -reason of the dust could not be seen until they came -near.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote was so much in earnest when he called -them armies that Sancho at once believed it, asking: -'What then shall we do, good Master?'</p> - -<p>'What!' cried Don Quixote. 'Why, favour and help -those who are in distress and need. Thou must know, -Sancho, that this which comes on our front is led by the -mighty Emperor Alifamfaron, Lord of the great Island -of Trapobana. This other which is marching at our -back is the army of his foe, the King of the Garamantes, -Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, for he always goes into -battle with his right arm bare.'</p> - -<p>'But why do these two Princes hate each other so -much?' asked Sancho.</p> - -<p>'They are enemies,' replied Don Quixote, 'because -Alifamfaron is a furious pagan and is deeply in love -with Pentapolin's daughter, who is a beautiful and -gracious Princess and a Christian. Her father refuses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -to give her to the pagan King until he abandons -Mahomet's false religion and becomes a convert to -his own.'</p> - -<p>'By my beard,' said Sancho, 'Pentapolin does right -well, and I will help him all I can.'</p> - -<p>'Then thou wilt but do thy duty,' said Don Quixote, -'for it is not necessary to be a dubbed Knight to -engage in battles such as these.'</p> - -<p>'Right!' replied Sancho, 'but where shall we stow -this Ass that we may be sure of finding him after the -fight is over, for I think it is not the custom to enter -into battle mounted on such a beast.'</p> - -<p>'That is true,' said Don Quixote; 'but thou mayest -safely leave it to chance whether he be lost or found, -for after this battle we shall have so many horses that -even Rozinante runs a risk of being changed for another. -And now let us withdraw to that hillock yonder that we -may get a better view of both those great armies.'</p> - -<p>They did so, and standing on the top of a hill gazed -at the two great clouds of dust which the imagination -of Don Quixote had turned into armies. And then -Don Quixote, with all the eloquence he could muster, -described to Sancho the names of the different Knights -in the two armies, with their colours and devices and -mottoes, and the numbers of their squadrons, and the -countries and provinces from which they came.</p> - -<p>But though Sancho stood and listened in wonder he -could see nothing as yet of Knights or armies, and at -last he cried out: 'Where are all these grand Knights, -good my Master? For myself, I can see none of them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -But perhaps it is all enchantment, as so many things -have been.'</p> - -<p>'How! Sayest thou so?' said Don Quixote. 'Dost -thou not hear the horses neigh and the trumpets sound -and the noise of the drums?'</p> - -<p>'I hear nothing else,' said Sancho, 'but the great -bleating of sheep.'</p> - -<p>And so it was, indeed, for by this time the two flocks -were approaching very near to them.</p> - -<p>'The fear thou art in,' said Don Quixote, 'permits -thee neither to see nor hear aright, for one of the effects -of fear is to disturb the senses and make things seem -different from what they are. If thou art afraid, stand -to one side and leave me to myself, for I alone can give -the victory to the side which I assist.'</p> - -<p>So saying he clapped spurs to Rozinante, and, setting -his lance in rest, rode down the hillside like a thunderbolt.</p> - -<p>Sancho shouted after him as loud as he could: -'Return, good Sir Don Quixote! Return! For verily -all those you go to charge are but sheep and muttons. -Return, I say! Alas that ever I was born! What -madness is this? Look, there are neither Knights, nor -arms, nor shields, nor soldiers, nor Emperors, but only -sheep. What is it you do, wretch that I am?'</p> - -<p>For all this Don Quixote did not turn back, but rode -on, shouting in a loud voice: 'So ho! Knights! Ye -that serve and fight under the banner of Pentapolin of -the Naked Arm, follow me, all of you. Ye shall see -how easily I will revenge him on his enemy Alifamfaron -of Trapobana!'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>With these words he dashed into the midst of the -flock of sheep, and began to spear them with as much -courage and fury as if he were fighting his mortal -enemies.</p> - -<p>The Shepherds that came with the flock cried to him -to leave off, but seeing their words had no effect, they -unloosed their slings and began to salute his pate with -stones as big as one's fist.</p> - -<p>But Don Quixote made no account of their stones, and -galloping to and fro everywhere cried out: 'Where art -thou, proud Alifamfaron? Where art thou? Come to -me, for I am but one Knight alone, who desires to prove -my strength with thee, man to man, and make thee -yield thy life for the wrong thou hast done to the -valorous Pentapolin.'</p> - -<p>At that instant a stone gave him such a blow that it -buried two of his ribs in his body. Finding himself so -ill-treated he thought for certain that he was killed or -sorely wounded, and recollecting his Balsam, he drew -out his oil pot and set it to his mouth to drink. But -before he could take as much as he wanted, another -stone struck him full on the hand, broke the oil pot into -pieces, and carried away with it three or four teeth and -grinders out of his mouth, and sorely crushed two fingers -of his hand. So badly was he wounded by these -two blows that he now fell off his horse on to the -ground.</p> - -<p>The Shepherds ran up, and believing that they had -killed him, they collected their flocks in great haste, and -carrying away their dead muttons, of which there were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -seven, they went away without caring to inquire into -things any further.</p> - -<p>Sancho was all this time standing on the hill looking -at the mad pranks his Master was performing, and -tearing his beard and cursing the hour when they had -first met. Seeing, however, that he was fallen on the -ground, and the Shepherds had gone away, he came -down the hill and went up to his Master, and found him -in a very bad way, although not quite insensible.</p> - -<p>'Did I not tell you, Sir Don Quixote,' said Sancho -mournfully, 'did I not tell you to come back, for those -you went to attack were not armies but sheep?'</p> - -<p>'That thief of an Enchanter, my enemy, can alter -things and make men vanish away as he pleases. -Know, Sancho, that it is very easy for those kind of -men to make us seem what they please, and this -malicious being who persecutes me, envious of the -glory that I was to reap from this battle, hath changed -the Squadrons of the foe into flocks of sheep. If thou -dost not believe me, Sancho, get on thine Ass and -follow them fair and softly, and thou shalt see that when -they have gone a little way off they will return to their -original shapes, and, ceasing to be sheep, become men as -right and straight as I painted them to you at first.'</p> - -<p>At this moment the Balsam that Don Quixote had -swallowed began to make him very sick, and Sancho -Panza ran off to search in his wallet for something that -might cure him. But when he found that his wallet was -not upon his Ass, and remembered for the first time that -it was left at the Inn, he was on the point of losing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -wits. He cursed himself anew, and resolved in his heart -to leave his Master and return to his house, even though -he should lose his wages and the government of the -promised Island.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote had now risen, and with his left hand to -his mouth that the rest of his teeth might not fall out, -with the other he took Rozinante by the bridle, and went -up to where his Squire stood leaning against his Ass with -his head in his hand, looking the picture of misery.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote, seeing him look so miserable, said to -him: 'Learn, Sancho, not to be so easily downcast, -for these storms that befall us are signs that the weather -will soon be fair. Therefore thou shouldst not vex thyself -about my misfortunes, for sure thou dost not share -in them.'</p> - -<p>'How not?' replied Sancho; 'mayhap he they tossed -in a blanket yesterday was not my father's son? And -the wallet which is missing to-day with all my chattels, -is not that my misfortune?'</p> - -<p>'What, is the wallet missing, Sancho?' said Don -Quixote.</p> - -<p>'Yes, it is missing,' answered Sancho.</p> - -<p>'In that case we have nothing to eat to-day,' said -Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'It would be so,' said Sancho, 'should the herbs of -the field fail us, which your Worship says you know of, -and with which you have told me Knights Errant must -supply their wants.'</p> - -<p>'Nevertheless,' answered Don Quixote, 'I would -rather just now have a hunch of bread, or a cottage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -loaf and a couple of pilchards' heads, than all the herbs -that Dioscorides has described. But before thou mountest -thine Ass, lend me here thy hand and see how many -teeth and grinders are lacking on this right side of my -upper jaw, for there I feel the pain.'</p> - -<p>Sancho put his fingers in, and, feeling about, asked: -'How many grinders did your Worship have before, on -this side?'</p> - -<p>'Four,' replied Don Quixote, 'besides the wisdom -tooth, all whole and sound.'</p> - -<p>'Mind well what you say, Sir,' answered Sancho.</p> - -<p>'Four, say I, if not five,' said Don Quixote, 'for in all -my life I never had tooth or grinder drawn from my -mouth, nor has any fallen out or been destroyed by -decay.'</p> - -<p>'Well, then, in this lower part,' said Sancho, 'your -Worship has but two grinders and a half, and in the -upper, neither a half nor any, for all is as smooth as the -palm of my hand.'</p> - -<p>'Unfortunate I!' exclaimed Don Quixote, 'for I -would rather they had deprived me of my arm, as long -as it were not my sword arm. Know, Sancho, that a -mouth without grinders is like a mill without a grindstone, -and a tooth is more to be prized than a millstone. -But all this must we suffer who profess the stern rule of -Knights Errant. Mount, friend, and lead the way, for I -will follow thee what pace thou pleasest.'</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus11.jpg" width="530" height="467" alt="OF A WONDERFUL ADVENTURE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>OF A WONDERFUL ADVENTURE—</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI -<br /> -Of a wonderful Adventure which Don Quixote -went through without peril to himself -or Sancho</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>'Methinks, my Master,' said Sancho, 'that all the -mishaps that have befallen us in these days are without -doubt in punishment for the sin you committed -against the rules of Knighthood, in not keeping your -vow which you made, not to eat bread, and all the other -things you vowed to do, until you got the helmet -of Malandrino, or whatever his name was.'</p> - -<p>'Thou art very right, Sancho,' said Don Quixote; -'but to tell the truth it had passed from my memory;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -but I will make amends as may be done by the rules -of Knighthood.'</p> - -<p>'And doubtless,' replied Sancho, 'all will then be -well, and I shall live to see none so great as Don -Quixote of the Mancha, the Knight of the Rueful -Countenance.'</p> - -<p>'Why do you give me that name, good Sancho?' -asked his Master.</p> - -<p>'Because truly,' replied his Squire, 'your Worship -has now the most ill-favoured face that any man ever -saw, and it must be, I think, because you are tired out -after the battle, or on account of the loss of your -grinders.'</p> - -<p>'I fancy,' said Don Quixote, 'that some sage must -have put it into thy head to give me such a name, for -now I remember that all Knights took a name of that -kind, and there was "The Knight of the Flaming -Sword," and "The Knight of the Griffin," and many -another. And from this day forward I shall call myself -by no other name than "The Knight of the Rueful -Countenance"; and that the name may become me -better, I will upon the first occasion cause to be -painted on my shield a most ill-favoured and sorrowful -face.'</p> - -<p>'There is no need,' said Sancho, 'to waste time and -money in having the countenance painted. All that -has to be done is that your Worship should discover -your own, and show your face to those that look at -you, when without doubt they will name you "He of -the Rueful Countenance." Hunger and the loss of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -teeth have given your Worship so evil a face that -you may spare yourself the painting.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote laughed at his Squire's pleasantry, but -determined nevertheless to have the painting made on -his shield according to his fancy.</p> - -<p>They had now arrived at a wide but hidden valley -between two mountains, where they alighted; and -seeing a meadow on the side of the hill thick with -green and tender grass, they entered it and marched -along, feeling their way, for the night was so dark they -could not see a jot.</p> - -<p>They had scarcely gone two hundred paces when -they heard a great noise of water, as if it fell headlong -from some great and steep rock, and being by this time -very thirsty, the sound cheered them greatly.</p> - -<p>Stopping to listen whence it came, they heard another -loud noise, which drowned all their joy, especially -Sancho's, who, as I have said, was by nature timid and -easily frightened.</p> - -<p>They heard, I say, certain blows, louder than the -sound of the rushing water, and struck in regular beats, -accompanied by the ugly sounds of rattling irons and -chains. These, with the furious sounds of the water, -and the surrounding darkness, were enough to strike -terror into any heart less brave than Don Quixote's.</p> - -<p>The night, as I said, was dark, and they were now -among some tall trees, whose leaves, moved by a gentle -breeze, made a low whispering sound, so that the loneliness -of the place, the darkness, the noise of the water, -the strange sounds of the heavy beating and rattling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -chains, all caused horror and fright, the more so when -they found that the blows never ceased, and morning -seemed as though it would never come.</p> - -<p>But Don Quixote was not disturbed by these things, -and leaping on Rozinante, he seized his shield, brandished -his lance, and said: 'Friend Sancho, I am he -for whom are reserved all dangerous, great, and valorous -feats. I am he who shall cause the feats of the -Knights of the Round Table to be forgotten. Mark -well, trusty and loyal Squire, the darkness of this -night, the strange stillness, the dull, confused trembling -of the leaves, the dreadful noise of the water, which -seems as though it were leaping down from the steep -mountains of the moon, the constant thumping of the -blows which wounds and pains our ears, which all -together and each by itself are enough to strike terror, -fear, and amazement into the mind of Mars, how much -more in his that is not accustomed to such adventures. -But with me it causeth my heart to almost burst in my -bosom with joy to try this peril, however great it may be. -Therefore tighten Rozinante's girths a little, and may all -be well with thee. Wait for me here three days and no -more. And if I do not return in the end of that time, go -back to our village, and from thence, for my sake, to -Toboso, where thou shalt say to my incomparable Lady -Dulcinea that her captive Knight died attempting things -that might make him worthy to be called hers.'</p> - -<p>When Sancho heard his Master say these things he -began to weep piteously, and said to him: 'Sir, I see -no reason why you should undertake this fearful adventure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -It is now night, there is no one sees us, we can -easily turn aside and go away from the danger, and -since no one sees us no one can set us down as cowards. -Remember that I left my country, wife, and children to -come and serve you, and to obtain that unlucky and -accursed Island you have promised me so often, and -now you mean to forsake me here in this desert. Put -it off at least until the morning, for it can want but -little from this to daybreak.'</p> - -<p>'Let it want what it may,' answered Don Quixote, -'it shall never be said of me that tears or prayers -hindered my doing my duty as a Knight.'</p> - -<p>Sancho, seeing that his Master's mind was made up, -and that his tears, entreaties, and prayers were of no -avail, determined to use his wits, and see if by trickery -he could make him wait until daybreak. And so, -when he was tightening the horse's girths, he softly -and without being felt tied his Ass's halter to both -Rozinante's legs, so fast that when Don Quixote thought -to depart he could not, for his horse was not able to go a -step except by little jumps.</p> - -<p>Sancho, seeing the success of his trick, exclaimed: -'Behold, Sir, how Heaven, moved by my tears and -prayers, has ruled that Rozinante shall not be able to -go a step; and if you persist in urging, spurring, and -striking him, it will be to anger Fortune, and kick, as -the saying is, against the pricks.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote grew angry at this, and yet the more -he spurred Rozinante the less would he move. But at -last he became convinced that it was no further use<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -attempting to make him go, and resolved to remain -quiet until the morning came, or until Rozinante would -please to depart. And having no idea that Sancho -was the cause of this, he said to him: 'Since it is so, -Sancho, that Rozinante is not able to move, I am -content to wait here until morning smiles, although I -weep to think it may be so long in coming.'</p> - -<p>'You shall have no cause to weep,' replied Sancho; -'for I will tell you stories from now till daylight, unless -you would like to dismount and snatch a little sleep -upon the green grass, after the custom of Knights -Errant, that you may be the fresher the morrow to -finish this terrible adventure.'</p> - -<p>'Who talks of sleeping?' said Don Quixote angrily. -'Am I one of those Knights that repose in time of -danger? Sleep thou, who wast born to sleep, or do -what thou please, for I shall do what I think right.'</p> - -<p>'Good Sir, be not angry,' said Sancho, 'for I did not -mean that'; and coming as near to his Master as he -durst, he placed one hand on the pommel of his saddle -and crept as near as he could, so great was the fear -he had of those blows, which all the while did sound -without ceasing.</p> - -<p>After many hours spent in conversation the dawn -approached, and Sancho, seeing this, unloosed Rozinante -very carefully. As soon as the horse felt himself -free, though he was never very mettlesome, he began -to paw with his hoofs, and Don Quixote, noticing that -he moved, took it for a good sign, and believed that -it was now time to attempt this fearful adventure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>And now the sun had risen, and everything appeared -distinctly, and Don Quixote saw that he was among -some tall chestnut-trees that cast a very dark shadow. -He perceived that the hammering did not cease, but -could not discover what caused it, and so without delay -he spurred Rozinante, and turning back again to Sancho -to bid him farewell, commanded him to stay for him -there three days at the longest, and that if he returned -not then, to take it for certain that he had ended -his days in that perilous adventure. He again repeated -to him the message which he had to carry to -Lady Dulcinea, and assured him that if he came safe -out of this dreadful peril, the Squire might hold the -promised Island as more than certain.</p> - -<p>Here Sancho began to weep afresh at the pitiful -words of his good Master, and determined not to -abandon him until the last end of this adventure. And -thereupon Don Quixote rode forward towards the -terrible noises, Sancho following him on foot, leading -by the halter his good Dapple, who was the constant -companion of his good or evil fortune.</p> - -<p>Having gone a good distance among those chestnuts -and shady trees, they came to a little meadow which -lay at the foot of some high rocks, down which a -mighty rush of water descended. At the foot of the -rocks were some houses, so roughly built that they -seemed more like ruins than houses, from whence -came the din and clatter of the strokes which still -never ceased.</p> - -<p>Rozinante started at the noise of the water and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -hammering, and being made quiet by Don Quixote, drew -near little by little to the houses. Don Quixote murmured -devoutly the name of his beloved Lady Dulcinea, -and Sancho, never apart from his Master's side, stretched -out his neck and eyes as far as he could, to see if he -could make out what it was that caused them so much -terror and dismay.</p> - -<p>And when they had gone about another hundred -paces they turned a corner, and there before their eyes -was the cause of that hideous and terrible noise that -had kept them all the night so miserable and frightened. -This was nothing worse than a mill for fulling cloth, -whose six great iron maces or pestles, driven by the -water-wheels, kept on day and night falling and rising -from their troughs with successive hammering blows. -And this had caused the terrible noise which had so -terrified the adventurers.</p> - -<p>When Don Quixote saw what it was, he stood mute -and ashamed. Sancho beheld him, and saw that he -hung his head on his breast. Don Quixote looked also -at his Squire, and saw that his cheeks were swollen with -laughter, with evident signs that he was in danger of -bursting. Don Quixote's melancholy was not so great -that he could help smiling a little at seeing Sancho, and -Sancho, when he saw his Master beginning to laugh, -burst out loud and long, with such force that he had to -put his hands to his sides to prevent them splitting.</p> - -<p>Four times he ended and four times he started again; -but what chiefly enraged Don Quixote was that he -began to repeat in a jesting manner, imitating his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -Master: 'Friend Sancho, I am he for whom are reserved -all dangerous, great, and valorous feats.' And -he went on repeating the greater part of what Don -Quixote had said when they first heard the fearsome -sounds.</p> - -<p>This was more than Don Quixote could bear, and -lifting up the end of his lance, he gave him two such -blows on the back, that if he had caught them on his -pate they would have freed his Master from paying him -any more wages.</p> - -<p>Sancho, seeing that he had carried the jest too far, -said very humbly: 'Please, good Master, I did but jest.'</p> - -<p>'But why dost thou jest? I tell thee I do not jest,' -replied Don Quixote. 'Come here, Master Merryman, -and tell me, am I, being as I am a Knight, to distinguish -noises, and to know which are those of mills -and which are of Giants? Turn me those six hammers -into Giants and cast them at me, one by one, or all -together, and if I do not turn all their heels up, then -mock me as much as thou pleasest.'</p> - -<p>'No more, good Sir,' said Sancho, 'for I confess I -have been somewhat too laughsome, but henceforth you -may be sure that I will not once unfold my lips to -jest at your doings, but only to honour you as my -Master and Lord.'</p> - -<p>'By doing so thou shalt live on the face of the earth, -for next to our parents we are bound to respect our -Masters as if they were our fathers.'</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XII -<br /> -The great Adventure and rich Winning of the -Helmet of Mambrino</h2> - - -<p>It now began to rain, and Sancho would have entered -one of the fulling-mills for shelter, but Don Quixote had -taken such a dislike to them, on account of the jest of -which he had been the victim, that he would not go near -them.</p> - -<p>Turning to the right, he made away into a highroad -not unlike the one on which they had travelled the -day before. Very shortly Don Quixote espied a man -a-horseback who wore on his head something that -glittered like gold. Scarce had he seen him when he -turned to Sancho and said: 'Methinks, Sancho, that -there is no proverb that is not true, for all proverbs are -sentences taken out of experience itself, which is the -universal mother of all sciences. And there is a proverb -which says, "When one door shuts another opens." -I say this because if Fortune closed the door for us last -night, deceiving us in the adventure of the fulling-mills, -to-day it opens wide the door to a better and more -certain adventure. For here, if I be not deceived, -there comes one towards us that wears on his head the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -helmet of Mambrino, about which I made the oath thou -knowest of.'</p> - -<div id="Illus12" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus12.jpg" width="487" height="700" alt="THE RICH WINNING OF THE HELMET OF MAMBRINO" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE RICH WINNING OF THE HELMET OF MAMBRINO</p></div> -</div> - -<p>'See well what you say, Sir, and better what you do,' -said Sancho, 'for I would not meet with more fulling-mills -to hammer us out of our senses.'</p> - -<p>'Peace, fellow!' cried Don Quixote; 'what has a -helmet to do with fulling-mills?'</p> - -<p>'I know not,' replied Sancho; 'but if I might speak -as I used to, I would give you such reasons that your -Worship should see that you were mistaken in what you -say.'</p> - -<p>'How can I be mistaken in what I say?' cried Don -Quixote. 'Tell me, seest thou not that Knight who -comes riding towards us on a dapple grey horse, with a -helmet of gold on his head?'</p> - -<p>'That which I see and make out,' replied Sancho, 'is -nothing but a man on a grey ass like mine carrying on -his head something which shines.'</p> - -<p>'Why that is Mambrino's helmet,' said Don Quixote. -'Stand aside and leave me alone with him, and thou -shalt see how, without a word, this adventure shall be -ended and the helmet I have longed for be mine.'</p> - -<p>'As to standing aside,' muttered Sancho, 'that I will -take care to do, but I trust this is not another case of -fulling-mills.'</p> - -<p>'I have already told thee,' said Don Quixote angrily, -'to make no mention of the mills, and if thou dost not -obey me, I vow that I will batter the soul out of thy body.'</p> - -<p>At this Sancho, fearing lest his Master should carry -out his threat, held his peace.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now the truth of the matter as to the helmet, the horse, -and the Knight which Don Quixote saw, was this. -There were in that neighbourhood two villages, the one -so small that it had neither shop nor barber, but the -larger one had; and the barber, therefore, served the -smaller village on any occasion when any one wanted -his beard trimmed. It so happened that he was now -journeying to the smaller village, bringing with him a -brazen basin, and as he rode along it chanced to rain, -and therefore, to save his hat, which was a new one, he -clapped the basin on his head, and the basin being -clean scoured, glittered half a league off. He rode upon -a grey ass, as Sancho said, and that was the reason why -Don Quixote took him to be a Knight with a helmet of -gold riding on a dapple grey steed, for everything he -came across he made to fit in with the things he had -read of in the books of Knighthood.</p> - -<p>And when he saw the unfortunate rider draw near, -without stopping to speak a word, he ran at him with -his lance, putting Rozinante at full gallop, and intending -to pierce him through and through. And as he came -up to him, without stopping his horse, he shouted to him: -'Defend thyself, caitiff wretch, or else render to me of -thine own will what is mine by all the rights of war.'</p> - -<p>The barber, who saw this wild figure bearing down on -him as he was riding along without thought or fear of -attack, had no other way to avoid the thrust of the lance -than to fall off his ass on to the ground. And no sooner -did he touch the earth than he sprang up more nimbly -than a deer and raced away across the plain faster than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -the wind, leaving behind him on the ground the coveted -basin. With this Don Quixote was well content, and -said that the Pagan was a wise man in leaving behind -him that for which he was attacked.</p> - -<p>Then he commanded Sancho to take up the helmet, -who lifting it said: 'The basin is a good one, and is -worth eight <i>reals</i> if it is worth a farthing.'</p> - -<p>He gave it to his Master, who placed it upon his head, -turning it about from side to side in search of the visor, -and seeing he could not find it, said: 'Doubtless the -Pagan for whom this helmet was first forged had a -very great head, and the worst of it is that half of the -helmet is wanting.'</p> - -<p>When Sancho heard him call the basin a helmet he -could not contain his laughter, but presently remembering -his Master's anger, he checked himself in the midst -of it.</p> - -<p>'Why dost thou laugh, Sancho?' said Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'I laugh,' said he, 'to think of the great head the -Pagan owner of this helmet had. For it is all the -world like a barber's basin.'</p> - -<p>'Know, Sancho, that I imagine,' replied Don Quixote, -'that this famous piece of the enchanted helmet must -by some strange accident have fallen into some one's -hands that knew not its great worth, and seeing that -it was of pure gold, he hath melted down one half and -made of the other half this, which seems, as thou sayest, -to be a barber's basin. But be that as it may, to me, -who know its value, its transformation makes no matter. -I will have it altered at the first village where I can find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -a smith, and meanwhile I will wear it as well as I can, for -something is better than nothing, all the more as it will -do to protect me against any blow from a stone.'</p> - -<p>'That is,' said Sancho, 'if they do not shoot from a -sling, as they shot in the battle of the two armies, when -they made their mark on your Worship's grinders and -broke the oil-pot wherein you carried that blessed -Balsam.'</p> - -<p>'I do not much care for the loss of the Balsam,' -replied Don Quixote, 'for as thou knowest, Sancho, I -have the receipt for it in my memory.'</p> - -<p>'So have I too,' groaned Sancho; 'but if ever I make -it or try it again as long as I live may this be my last -hour. But letting that pass, what shall we do with this -dapple grey steed that looks so like a grey ass, that -Martino, or whatever his name was, has left behind -him? For from the haste he made to get away I do -not think he intends to come back, and by my beard the -beast is a good one.'</p> - -<p>'I am not accustomed to ransack and spoil those -whom I overcome, nor is it the practice of Knighthood -to take the horses of others unless the victor chance in -combat to lose his own. Therefore, Sancho, leave the -horse or ass, or what else thou pleasest to call it, for -when his owner sees us departed he will return again -for it.'</p> - -<p>'Truly,' said Sancho, 'the laws of Knighthood are -strict, and if I may not change one ass for another, may -I at least change the harness?'</p> - -<p>'Of that I am not very sure,' said Don Quixote, 'and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -as it is a matter of doubt, you must not change them -unless thy need is extreme.'</p> - -<p>'So extreme,' said Sancho, 'that if they were for mine -own person I could not need them more.'</p> - -<p>So saying he decked out his Ass with a thousand -fineries robbed from the other, and made him look vastly -better. Then, having taken a drink at the stream, they -turned their backs on the hateful fulling-mills, and rode -along the highroad, Don Quixote all the way describing -to Sancho the successes in store for them, until he was -interrupted by an adventure that must be told in another -chapter.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus13.jpg" width="530" height="492" alt="DON QUIXOTE FREES THE GALLEY SLAVES" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE FREES THE GALLEY SLAVES</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII -<br /> -How Don Quixote set at liberty many poor -Wretches who were being taken to a Place -to which they had no wish to go</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>As they rode onwards, Don Quixote lifted up his eyes -and saw coming along the road about a dozen men on -foot, strung together on a great wire chain like beads. -The chain was fastened round their necks, and they had -manacles on their hands. There rode with them two -men a-horseback, and two others followed on foot. -The horsemen had firelocks, and those on foot javelins -and swords.</p> - -<p>As soon as Sancho saw them he said: 'This is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -chain of galley slaves, people forced by the King to go -to the galleys.'</p> - -<p>'How! People forced?' asked Don Quixote. 'Is -it possible that the King will force anybody?'</p> - -<p>'I say not so,' answered Sancho, 'but they are people -condemned for their offences to serve the King in the -galleys.'</p> - -<p>'In fact,' replied Don Quixote, 'however you put it, -these folk are being taken where they go by force and -not of their own free will.'</p> - -<p>'That is so,' said Sancho.</p> - -<p>'Then if it be so,' continued his Master, 'here I see -before me my duty to redress outrages and to give help -to the poor and the afflicted.'</p> - -<p>'I pray you, Sir,' said Sancho, 'consider that Justice, -representing the King himself, does wrong or violence -to nobody, but only punishes those who have committed -crimes.'</p> - -<p>By this time the chain of galley slaves came up, and -Don Quixote in very courteous words asked those in -charge of them to be good enough to inform him why -they carried people away in that manner.</p> - -<p>One of the guardians a-horseback answered that they -were slaves condemned by his Majesty to the galleys, -and that there was no more to be said, nor ought Don -Quixote to desire any further information.</p> - -<p>'For all that,' replied Don Quixote very politely, 'I -would fain learn from every one of them the cause of -his disgrace.'</p> - -<p>To this the guardian a-horseback answered: 'Although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -we carry here the register of the crimes of all these -wretches, yet if you wish to do so, ask it from themselves; -and no doubt they will tell you their stories, for they are -men who take delight in boasting of their rascalities.'</p> - -<p>With this permission, which Don Quixote would have -taken for himself if they had not given it, he went up to -the chain and asked of the first one for what sins he -had found himself in such straits.</p> - -<p>He answered that his offence was no other than for -being in love.</p> - -<p>'For that and no more?' cried Don Quixote; 'but if -folk are sent there for being in love, I should have been -pulling an oar there long ago.'</p> - -<p>'My love was not of the kind your Worship imagines,' -replied the galley slave, 'for mine was that I loved -overmuch a basket stuffed with fine linen, which I -embraced so lovingly, that if the law had not taken -it from me by violence, I should not of my own free -will have forsaken it till now. I was taken in the -act and sent for three years to the galleys.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote now inquired of the second his cause -of offence, but he answered him not a word, seeming -too downcast and melancholy to speak.</p> - -<p>But the first one spoke for him, and said: 'Sir, this -man goes for being a Canary bird—I mean a musician -or singer.'</p> - -<p>'Is it possible,' said Don Quixote, 'that musicians -and singers are sent to the galleys?'</p> - -<p>'Yes, indeed,' said the slave, 'there is nothing worse -than to sing in anguish.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I do not understand it,' said Don Quixote, 'but -I have heard say that he who sings scares away -sorrow.'</p> - -<p>But one of the guards interrupted him and said: 'Sir -Knight, among these wretches "to sing in anguish" -means to confess on the rack. They put this poor -wretch to the torture, and he confessed that he was a -stealer of beasts. And because he has confessed he is -condemned to the galleys for six years. And he is sad -and pensive because the other thieves maltreat, abuse, -and despise him. For, as they say, a <i>nay</i> has as many -letters as a <i>yea</i>, and it is good luck for a criminal -when there are no witnesses and proofs, and his fate -depends on his own tongue, and in my opinion there -is much reason in that.'</p> - -<p>'I think so likewise,' said Don Quixote, and he -passed on to where the third slave stood, and put to -him the same question as to the others.</p> - -<p>The man replied very coolly, saying: 'I go to the -galleys because I wanted ten ducats.'</p> - -<p>'I will give thee twenty with all my heart to free -thee from that misfortune,' said Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'That,' replied the Slave, 'would be like one that -hath money in the midst of the sea, and yet is dying of -hunger because he can get no meat to buy with it. -If I had had the twenty ducats your Worship offers -me at the right time, I would have greased the lawyer's -pen with them, and so sharpened the advocate's wit, -that instead of being trailed along here like a greyhound, -I should now have been walking about in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -market-place of Toledo. But patience. What must -be must be!'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote went from one to another, receiving -different answers, until he came to the last, who was -a man about thirty years old, of very comely looks, -except that he had a squint. He was differently tied -from the rest, for he wore a chain to his leg, so long -that it wound round his whole body. He had besides -round his neck two iron rings, from one of which two -wires came down to his waist, on which were fastened -two manacles. These held his hands fast locked -with a great hanging lock, so that he could neither put -his hand to his mouth nor bend down his head to -his hands.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote asked why he was so loaded with iron -more than the rest.</p> - -<p>The Guard answered that it was because he had committed -more crimes than all the rest put together, and -that he was such a desperate scoundrel that although -they carried him tied up in that fashion, they were not -sure of him, but feared that he might make an escape. -'He goes,' continued the Guard, 'to the galleys for ten -years; and when I tell you he is the infamous Gines -of Passamonte, you will need, I think, to know no -more about him.'</p> - -<p>At this, Gines, who seemed very impatient at the -Guard's history, broke out into a torrent of abuse, and -then, turning to Don Quixote, said: 'Sir Knight, if -you have anything to bestow on us, give it us now, -and begone, for you do but weary us by wanting to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -know the stories of other men's lives; and if you want -to learn more, know that I am Gines of Passamonte, -whose life has been written by his own hand.'</p> - -<p>'He speaks truly,' said the Guard, 'for he himself -hath penned his own history.'</p> - -<p>'And how is the book called?' asked Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'It is called the <i>Life of Gines of Passamonte</i>,' replied -the Slave.</p> - -<p>'And is it yet ended?' inquired the Knight.</p> - -<p>'How can it be finished,' replied Gines, 'seeing -my life is not yet finished? I intend to finish it in -the galleys.'</p> - -<p>'You seem to be a clever fellow,' said Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'And an unlucky one,' replied Gines, 'for bad luck -always pursues genius.'</p> - -<p>'It pursues knaves,' interrupted the Guard; and at -this Gines burst out again into abuse and bad language, -which ended in the Guard threatening to beat him with -his rod if he did not hold his peace.</p> - -<p>At this Don Quixote put himself between them, and -entreated the Guard not to use him hardly, seeing that -it was not much that one who carried his hands so tied -should have his tongue free.</p> - -<p>Then turning himself towards the slaves he said: -'I have gathered from all you have said, dear brethren, -that although they punish you for your faults, yet the -pains you suffer do not please you, and that you march -towards them with a very ill will. All this prompts me -to do that for you, for which I was sent into the world, -and for which I became a Knight Errant, and to which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -end I vowed at all times to succour the poor and help -those that are oppressed. But as it is prudent not to -do by foul means what can be done by fair, I will -entreat these gentlemen your guardians that they will -unloose you and let you depart in peace, for it seems -to me a harsh thing to make slaves of those who are -born free.' And turning to the guards he continued: -'These things I ask of you in a peaceable and quiet -manner, and if you grant my request I shall give you -my thanks; but if you will not do it willingly, then -shall this lance and sword of mine, guided by the invincible -valour of mine arm, force you to do my -will.'</p> - -<p>'This is pretty fooling,' replied the Guard. 'Would -you have us release to you those the King has imprisoned? -Go your way, good Sir, settle the basin -on your head more straightly, and study to find out, if -you have wits enough, how many feet a cat has.'</p> - -<p>'You are a cat and a rat and a knave!' said Don -Quixote in a rage. And without a word he set on -him so fiercely, and without giving him time to defend -himself, that he struck him to the earth badly wounded -with his lance. Luckily for the Knight this was the -Guard that had the firelock.</p> - -<p>At first the other guards stood astounded at this unexpected -event. Then they recovered themselves, and -the horsemen drew their swords, the footmen grasped -their javelins, and all of them attacked Don Quixote, -who quietly prepared to receive them. No doubt he -would have been in some danger, but the slaves, seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -a chance of liberty, broke the chain by which they -were linked together. The hurly-burly was such that -the guards first ran to prevent the slaves getting free, -then to defend themselves from Don Quixote who -attacked them, so that they could do nothing to any -purpose to keep their prisoners. Sancho, for his part, -helped to loose Gines of Passamonte, who was the first -to leap into the field free from all fetters, and setting -upon the other overthrown guard, he took his sword and -firelock from him. With the latter in his hand, by -pointing it at one and aiming it at the other, he cleared -the field of all the guards, who were the more easily -got rid of because the galley slaves were now all at -liberty, and showered at their late keepers volleys of -stones.</p> - -<p>When their victory was complete, Don Quixote called -all the slaves together, and they gathered round to hear -what he commanded, when he spoke to them as follows: -'It is the duty of well-bred people to be grateful for -benefits received, and ingratitude is one of the worst -of sins. I say this, Sirs, because you know what good -you have received at my hand, and the only reward -I ask, is that you all go from here laden with the chains -from which I have just freed your necks to the City -of Toboso, and there present yourselves before the Lady -Dulcinea of Toboso, and tell her that her Knight -of the Rueful Countenance sends you there to do her -service. Relate unto her the way in which I won your -freedom; and this being done, you may then go your -ways.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - -<p>Gines answered for all the rest, saying: 'That which -you demand is impossible to perform, because we must -not travel the roads together, but go alone and divided, -to the end that we be not captured again by the guards -of the Holy Brotherhood, who will make search for us. -To tell us to go to Toboso is as absurd as to seek for -pears on an elm-tree, and we shall not do it.'</p> - -<p>At this Don Quixote was mightily enraged, and said: -'I tell thee, Don Gines, or whatever thy name is, that -after what thou hast said thou shalt go thyself alone, -with thy tail between thy legs and bearing the whole -length of the chains with thee.'</p> - -<p>Gines, who was a violent fellow, and quite understood -that Don Quixote was not very wise, seeing the foolish -way in which he had set them at liberty, would not -stand this abuse, and winked at his companions, who, -stepping aside, sent such a shower of stones against -Don Quixote that he had not time to cover himself -with his shield, and poor Rozinante was in such terror -that he would not move forward to the attack. Sancho -ran behind his Ass, and by this means sheltered himself -from the tempest of stones that rained on both of them. -Several stones struck Don Quixote on the body with -such force that at last he fell from his horse and on to -the ground, and no sooner was he fallen than Gines -leaped upon him, and, taking the basin from his head, -gave him three or four blows with it on the shoulders, -and afterwards struck it on the ground so as to break it -into pieces. They then stripped him of a tunic he wore -over his armour, and would have taken his stockings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -if they could have got them from under his armour. -From Sancho they took his coat, leaving him in his -shirt sleeves, and, dividing the spoils of battle among -themselves, they made the best of their way off, each one -as it pleased him, with no further thought of their -benefactor or his Lady Dulcinea of Toboso.</p> - -<p>The Ass, Rozinante, Sancho, and Don Quixote remained -alone. The Ass, with drooping head, stood -shaking his ears every now and then as if he thought -the storm of stones was not yet over, Rozinante lay -overthrown by his Master, who was lying on the ground, -Sancho stood trembling at the thought of the bullets -of the Holy Brotherhood, and Don Quixote was amazed -to see himself so wickedly used by those to whom he -had done so great a service.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIV -<br /> -Of what befell Don Quixote in the -Brown Mountains</h2> - - -<p>Don Quixote, finding himself in such a bad plight, -said to his Squire: 'I have often heard it said that -to do good to ungrateful men, is to cast water into the -sea. If I had listened to your advice, I might have -avoided this trouble. But, now that it is over, there -is nothing for it but to be patient and to be wise -another time.'</p> - -<p>'If you take warning by this or anything else,' replied -Sancho, 'call me a Turk. But, as you say, you might -have avoided this trouble by taking my advice. Listen -to what I say now, and you will avoid a greater danger. -For let me tell you that it is no use talking about -Knighthood and its customs to the Holy Brotherhood, -for it cares not two farthings for all the Knights Errant -in the world, and for myself, I seem to hear their arrows -buzzing round my ears already.'</p> - -<p>'Thou art by nature a coward, Sancho,' replied Don -Quixote; 'but that thou mayest not say that I am -obstinate, and that I never follow thine advice, I will -take thy counsel this time, and hide myself from the -attacks thou fearest so greatly. But it must be on one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -condition, that thou never tell to any mortal creature -that I withdrew myself out of this danger for fear, but -only to humour thy wishes. For if thou sayest anything -else thou liest.'</p> - -<div id="Illus14" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus14.jpg" width="489" height="700" alt="DON QUIXOTE MEETING CARDENIO" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE MEETING CARDENIO</p></div> -</div> - -<p>'Sir,' answered Sancho Panza, 'to retreat is not to -run away, nor is it wise to wait where there is more -danger than hope, and it is the part of a wise man to -spend to-day in keeping himself safe for to-morrow. -Therefore, rude clown as I am, take my advice, and -mount Rozinante and follow me as quickly as you are -able.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote mounted Rozinante without another -word, and, Sancho leading the way on his Ass, they -entered that part of the Brown Mountains that was -near them, a favourite haunt for outlaws and robbers in -those days, and a spot where they would be safe from -pursuit. For it was Sancho's plan to hide themselves -for some days among the crags, so as not to be found -even if the Holy Brotherhood should come and look -for them.</p> - -<p>They arrived that night in the very midst of the -mountains, and there Sancho thought it best to spend -the night, and, indeed, as many days as their food lasted; -and with this intention they took up their abode among -a number of tall trees that grew between two rocks.</p> - -<p>It happened, however, that Gines of Passamonte, the -famous cheat and robber whom Don Quixote by his -valour and folly had released from his chains, resolved -to hide himself also among the same mountains, and -destiny led him to the very spot where Don Quixote and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -his Squire were hiding, and at the very moment that -they had fallen asleep, tired out with the day's toil. -And as the wicked are always ungrateful, and necessity -forces them to evil deeds, Gines, who was neither grateful -nor good natured, resolved to rob Sancho Panza of -his Ass, not caring for Rozinante, as he thought he -was not worth riding or selling. Sancho Panza slept -soundly, and, while he slept, Gines stole his Ass, and -before morning he was so far off as to be past -finding.</p> - -<p>The morning sun arose bringing joy to the earth, but -only grief to poor Sancho, for he missed his Dapple, -and, finding himself deprived of him, he began the -saddest and most doleful lamentation possible, and -when Don Quixote awoke he heard him mourning in -a most melancholy way, crying out: 'O my beloved -Ass, born in mine own house, the sport of my children, -the comfort of my wife, the envy of my neighbours, the -ease of my burdens, and, beyond all, the support of my -household, for with what I gained daily by thee did -I pay half of mine expenses!'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote, who heard this lament, and knew the -cause of it, comforted Sancho as best he could, and -desired him to have patience, promising to give him -a letter to command those at his house to hand over -to him three out of five ass foals that he had at -home. Sancho was comforted by this, dried his tears, -moderated his sobs, and thanked Don Quixote for the -favours he had done him.</p> - -<p>And as they entered farther among the mountains the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -Knight felt glad at heart that he had come to a place so -suitable for the adventures he was in search of. They -reminded him of marvellous stories he had read of what -had happened to Knights Errant in similar wild places, -and his mind was so full of these things that he thought -of nothing else whatever. As for Sancho, he trudged -behind his Master, loaded with the things that his Ass -should have carried.</p> - -<p>While Sancho was thus walking along, he raised -his eyes and saw that his Master had come to a stop, -and was trying with the point of his lance to lift what -seemed like a bundle that was lying on the ground. -Upon which he ran to see whether his Master wanted -his aid, and came up to him just as he was lifting up -a saddle cushion with a portmanteau fast to it. These -were half rotten and falling to pieces, yet they weighed -so much that Sancho's help was required to lift them up. -His Master ordered him to see what was in the portmanteau, -and Sancho obeyed him as quickly as might be. -And although it was shut with a chain and a padlock, -yet Sancho could see through the rents and tears what -was inside it, namely, four fine Holland shirts and other -linen clothes, both curious and delicate, besides a handkerchief -containing a good quantity of gold.</p> - -<p>'At last,' cried Sancho, 'we have met with an adventure -worth something,' and searching on he came across -a little memorandum book very richly bound.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote asked him for this, but bade him keep -the money for himself.</p> - -<p>For this rich favour Sancho kissed his hands, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -taking all the linen, he crammed it into their provision-bag.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote, having considered awhile, said: 'Methinks, -Sancho, that some traveller having lost his way -must have passed over the mountains, and being met -by thieves, they slew him and buried him in this secret -place.'</p> - -<p>'It cannot be so,' answered Sancho, 'for if they had -been thieves they would not have left the money behind -them.'</p> - -<p>'Thou sayest true,' said Don Quixote, 'and therefore -I cannot guess what can have happened. But stay, we -will look at the pocket-book, and see whether there -is anything written in it by which we may discover -what we want to know.'</p> - -<p>He opened it, and the first thing he found in it was a -poem, which was all about the author's love for some -fair Chloe who would not care for him. Don Quixote -read this aloud to Sancho.</p> - -<p>'Nothing can be learned from these verses,' said the -Squire, 'unless by that clue which is there we may get -some help.'</p> - -<p>'What clue is there here?' said Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'I thought your Lordship mentioned a clue there.'</p> - -<p>'I did not say <i>clue</i>, but <i>Chloe</i>,' replied Don Quixote, -'which no doubt is the name of the lady of whom the -author of this poem complains.'</p> - -<p>After looking through the book again, Don Quixote -found a despairing love-letter, and several other verses -and letters full of laments and misery, from which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -came to the conclusion that the owner of the book was -some sad rejected lover.</p> - -<p>The Knight of the Rueful Countenance was very -desirous to know who was the owner of the portmanteau, -believing from what he had seen that he must be -a man of some position, whom the disdain and cruelty -of a fair lady had driven to desperate courses. But as -there was no one in this remote and solitary place to -satisfy his curiosity, he rode on, taking any road that -Rozinante chose, in the firm belief that he would find -some strange adventure among the mountains.</p> - -<p>And as he rode he saw a man on top of a little mountain, -leaping from rock to rock and tuft to tuft with -marvellous agility. He made him out to be half-naked, -with a black and matted beard, his hair long and tangled, -his feet unshod, and his legs bare. He wore some -breeches of tawny velvet, but these appeared so torn to -rags that his skin showed in many places. His head, -too, was bare, and although he ran by with all haste, -yet was the Knight able to mark all these things. But -he could not follow him, because it was not in Rozinante's -power, being in a weak state and naturally very slow -and steady-going, to travel over these rough places at -any speed. Don Quixote at once came to the conclusion -that he was the owner of the portmanteau, and -resolved to go in search of him, even if he should -have to spend a whole year in the mountains till -he found him. So he commanded Sancho to go on -one side of the mountain, while he went the other, -and, said he, 'one of us may thus come across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -this man who has vanished so suddenly out of our -sight.'</p> - -<p>'I dare not do so,' replied Sancho, 'for on parting one -step from you, fear seizes me and fills me with a thousand -kinds of terror and affright. Let me say, once for all, -that henceforth I do not stir a finger's-breadth from your -presence.'</p> - -<p>'Well,' replied Don Quixote, 'I am glad that thou -dost build upon my valour, which shall not fail thee -even though everything else fails thee. Follow me, -then, and keep thine eyes open, so that we may find -this strange man, who is no doubt the owner of the -portmanteau.'</p> - -<p>'Surely,' said Sancho, 'it were better not to find him, -for if we should meet him, and he turned out to be the -owner of the money, we should have to return it to him. -Let us rather keep it faithfully until some one turns up to -claim it, when perhaps I shall have spent it all, and in -that case I shall be free from blame.'</p> - -<p>'In that thou art mistaken, Sancho,' replied Don -Quixote, 'for now that we have a suspicion who the -owner is, we are bound to search him out and restore -him his money.'</p> - -<p>So saying Don Quixote led the way, and in a little -time they came upon a dead mule, half devoured by dogs -and crows; and as they were looking at it they heard a -whistle, such as shepherds use, and there appeared at -their left hand a great number of goats, and behind them -on the top of the mountain was the Goatherd, who was -quite an old man.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>Don Quixote called to him, and begged him to -come down to where they stood; and the Goatherd, -after looking at them for a few minutes, in surprise at -seeing them in this lonely spot, descended to where -they stood.</p> - -<p>'I wager,' he said, as he came towards them, 'that -you are wondering how the mule came there that lies -dead in that bottom. Well, it has been lying there -these six months. Tell me, have you come across his -master as yet?'</p> - -<p>'We have fallen in with nobody,' replied Don Quixote, -'but a saddle cushion and a portmanteau, which we found -not far from here.'</p> - -<p>'I have also found the same portmanteau,' said the -Goatherd, 'but I would never take it up nor approach it -for fear some ill-luck should come upon me, or lest -some one should accuse me of theft.'</p> - -<p>'Tell me, my good fellow,' said Don Quixote, 'do you -know who is the owner of these things?'</p> - -<p>'All I can tell you is this,' said the Goatherd, 'that -some six months ago, more or less, there arrived at one -of our sheepfolds, some three leagues off, a young gentleman -of comely presence mounted on that mule which -lies dead there, and with the same saddle cushion and -portmanteau that you have seen. He asked us which -was the most hidden part of the mountain, and we told -him that this was, which is certainly true, for if you go a -league further on perhaps you might not find your way -out, and indeed I marvel how you found your way in so -readily. As soon as the young man had heard our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -answer he turned his bridle and went towards the place -we showed him, and made towards these mountains. -After that we did not see him for a good many days, -until one day, when one of our shepherds came by with -provisions, he attacked him and beat him, and carried off -all the bread and cheese that he carried, and then fled -away back again to the mountains. When we heard of -this, some of us goatherds went to look for him, and -spent almost two days in the most solitary places in the -mountains, and in the end found him lurking in the -hollow part of a large cork-tree. He came out to us -very meekly, his clothes torn and his face burned by the -sun, so that we hardly knew him again. He saluted us -courteously, and in a few civil words told us not to -wonder at his condition, for he was working out a -penance placed upon him for the sins he had committed. -We begged him to tell us who he was, but he would -not do so. We begged him also that when he had need -of food he would tell us where we might find him, and -we would willingly bring it to him, and told him there -was no need to take it by force. He thanked us very -much for our offer, and asked pardon for his violence, -and promised in future to ask food of our shepherds -without giving annoyance to any one. But even while -he was speaking to us, he bit his lips and bent his -brows, and it was clear some fit of madness was upon -him, for he cried out: "O treacherous Fernando, here -thou shalt pay me the injury thou didst me; these hands -shall rend thy heart!" and many other wild and whirring -words which he addressed to some Fernando. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -at the same time he fell upon one of our goatherds, and -we had no little trouble to get him away. Then without -another word he fled to the briars and the brambles, -where we could not follow him. By this we think that -he has a madness which comes upon him at times, -for sometimes he will take his food from our shepherds -with courtesy and humanity, at others he seizes it by -force, though they are ever willing to give it. We have -thought to take him by force to the town of Almodavar, -to see if he can be cured, or to find out if he has any -relatives to whom we can restore him. This, Sirs, is all -that I can tell you of what you have asked me, and for -certain he it is who is the owner of the things you have -found.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote was greatly amazed by what he had -heard, and determined to search for him through the -mountains, without leaving a corner or cave unsought -until he had found him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus15.jpg" width="530" height="414" alt="THE STORY OF CARDENIO" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE STORY OF CARDENIO</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV -<br /> -The Story of Cardenio</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>Fortune favoured Don Quixote in his search for the -strange owner of the portmanteau, for, even as he was -speaking to the Goatherd, he appeared at that very -instant through a gorge of the mountain, murmuring to -himself words which one could not have understood near -at hand, much less afar off. His clothes were such as -have been described, only differing in this, that when he -drew near, Don Quixote noticed that he wore a leather -jerkin, which, though tattered and torn, was perfumed -with amber. From this he guessed that the man who -wore such garments was a person of quality. On coming -towards them, the youth addressed them in a hoarse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -tone but with great courtesy, and Don Quixote returned -his greetings with equal kindness, and, alighting from -Rozinante, went to meet him, and clasping him in his -arms, embraced him as though he had known him for -a very long time.</p> - -<p>Then the stranger, whom we may call the Tattered -One, addressed the Knight of the Rueful Countenance -in the following words: 'Truly, good Sir, whoever -you may be, for I know you not, I thank you with all -my heart for your grace and courtesy towards me, and -wish only that I could repay you some of the kindness -you shower on me.'</p> - -<p>'So great is my desire to serve you,' replied Don -Quixote, 'that I was fully resolved never to part out of -these mountains until I had found you, and heard from -your own lips whether there was any remedy for your -grief. For it is a consolation in sorrow to have some -one to condole with you. And I entreat you, Sir, tell me -who you are, and what has brought you to live and die -in these solitudes like a brute beast. For I swear by the -high honour of Knighthood which I have received, that -if you will tell me everything, I will either help you in -all good earnest to overcome your troubles, or, if that -cannot be, then I will assist in lamenting them.'</p> - -<p>The Tattered One looked at Don Quixote from head -to foot, and stared at him in amazement for a long time. -At length he said: 'If you have anything to eat, give it -to me, and after I have eaten I will do all that you ask -in return for the kindness you show me.'</p> - -<p>Sancho and the Goatherd then gave him what food<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -they had, and this he devoured with the eagerness of a -wild beast, so that he seemed to swallow the food rather -than chew it, and whilst he ate the others left him in -peace. Having ended his dinner, he made signs to them -to follow him, which they did, and he took them to a -little meadow hard by that place at the back of the -mountain.</p> - -<p>Arriving there he laid himself down on the grass, the -others doing the same, and he began as follows:—</p> - -<p>'If it is your pleasure, Sirs, to hear of my misfortunes, -you must promise me that you will not interrupt the -thread of my sad story by questions or anything else, for -directly you do I shall stop telling it.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote promised in the name of them all, and -the Tattered One commenced his story.</p> - -<p>'My name is Cardenio; the place of my birth one of -the best cities in Andalusia; my lineage noble, my -parents rich, and my misfortunes so great that I think no -one was ever to be pitied as I am. There dwelt in the -same city wherein I was born a damsel as noble and rich -as I was, whose name was Lucinda. I loved, honoured, -and adored Lucinda from earliest childhood, and she -loved me with all the earnestness of youth. Our parents -knew of our love, and were not sorry to see it, and so -we grew up in mutual esteem and affection. Ah! how -many letters have I written, and how many verses have -I penned, and how many songs has she inspired! At -length the time came when I could wait no longer, and -I went to ask her of her father for my lawful wife. He -answered that he thanked me for the desire I showed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -honour him and to honour myself with his loved treasure, -but that my father being alive, it was by strict right his -business to make that demand. For if it were not done -with his good will and pleasure, Lucinda was not the -woman to be taken or given by stealth. I thanked him -for his kindness, and, feeling there was reason in what he -said, I hurried to my father to tell him my desires. At the -moment I entered his room he was standing with a letter -open in his hand, and before I could speak to him he -gave it to me, saying as he did so: "By that letter, -Cardenio, you may learn the desire that the Duke -Ricardo has to do you favour." This Duke Ricardo, you -must know, gentlemen, is a Grandee of Spain, whose -dukedom is situated in the best part of all Andalusia. -I took the letter and read it, and it was so very kind that -it seemed to me wrong that my father should not do -what he asked. For he wanted me as a companion—not -as a servant—to his eldest son, and offered to -advance me in life if he should find me worthy. I read -the letter, and could see that it was no time now to -speak to my father, who said to me: "Cardenio, thou -must be ready in two days to depart, and to do all that -the Duke desires, and be thankful that such a future lies -open before thee."</p> - -<p>'The time for my departure arrived. I spoke to my -dear Lucinda and also to her father, and begged him to -wait for a while until I knew what the Duke Ricardo -wanted of me, and until my future was certain. He -promised not to bestow his daughter elsewhere, and she -vowed to be always faithful to me, and so I left.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I was indeed well received by the Duke Ricardo and -nobly treated. His elder son liked me well, and was -kind to me, but the one who rejoiced most at my coming -was Fernando, his second son, a young man who was -both noble, gallant, and very comely. In a short time -he had so made me his friend that there were no secrets -between us, and he told me all his thoughts and desires, -and confided to me a love affair of his own which caused -him much anxiety.</p> - -<p>'He had fallen in love with the daughter of a farmer, -his father's vassal, whose parents were rich, and she -herself was beautiful, modest, and virtuous. But he did -not dare to tell his father of his love because of their -difference in rank, and though he had promised to marry -this farmer's daughter, he had come to fear that the Duke -would never consent to let him carry out his desire. He -told me that he could find no better mode of keeping the -remembrance of her beauty out of his mind, than by -leaving home for some months; and he suggested that -we should both depart for awhile to my father's house, -under the pretence of going to buy horses, for the city -where I was born was a place where they bred the best -horses in the world.</p> - -<p>'When I heard of his wishes I did all I could to -strengthen them, and urged him to carry out his plan, -which offered me a chance of seeing once more my dear -Lucinda.</p> - -<p>'At last the Duke gave him leave, and ordered me to go -with him. We arrived at my native city, and my father -gave him the reception due to his rank. I again saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -Lucinda. My love for her increased, though indeed it -had never grown cold, and to my sorrow I told Don -Fernando all about it, for I thought by the laws of -friendship it was not right to hide anything from him. -I described her beauty, her grace, and her wit, with -such eloquence, that my praises stirred in him a desire to -see a damsel enriched by such rare virtues. To my -misfortune I yielded to his wish, and took him with me -one night to a window where Lucinda and I were wont -to speak together. He stood mute, as one beside himself, -and from that moment he could speak nothing but -praises of my Lucinda. Yet I confess that I took no -pleasure in hearing her thus praised, because it roused -in me a strange feeling of jealousy. I did not fear the -faith and honour of Lucinda, but at the same time I felt -a hidden terror of the future. Now Don Fernando -continued, as my friend, to read all the letters I sent to -Lucinda, or she to me, under the pretence that he took -great delight in the wit of both of us, and it fell out that -Lucinda asked me to send her a book of the Knightly -Adventures of Amadis of Gaul.'</p> - -<p>No sooner did Don Quixote hear the name of one of -his favourite heroes than he interrupted the story, saying: -'If, my good Sir, you had told me that your Lady -Lucinda was a reader of knightly adventures, you need -not have said anything else to make me acknowledge -her wit. Waste no further words on her beauty and -worth, for now I assert that from her devotion to books -of Knighthood, the Lady Lucinda is the fairest and most -accomplished woman in all the world. Pardon my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -interruption, but when I hear anything said of the books -of Knights Errant, I can no more keep from speaking of -them than the sunbeams can help giving forth warmth. -Therefore forgive me, and proceed.'</p> - -<p>While Don Quixote was speaking, Cardenio held his -head down, his face grew sullen, and he bit his lip. -When he looked up, he seemed to have forgotten all -about his story, and in a burst of rage said: 'A -plague on all your books of Knighthood! Amadis -was a fool, and the Queen Madasima was a wicked -woman.'</p> - -<p>'By all that is good,' replied Don Quixote, in great -anger—for this Queen was a favourite heroine of his—'it -is a villainy to say such a thing. The Queen Madasima -was a very noble lady, and whoever says or thinks the -contrary lies like an arrant coward, and this I will make -him know a-horseback or a-foot, armed or disarmed, by -night or day, as he liketh best.'</p> - -<p>Cardenio stood gazing at Don Quixote strangely—for -now the mad fit was on him—and hearing himself called -liar and coward, he caught up a stone that was near him, -and gave the Knight such a blow with it that he threw -him backwards on the ground. Sancho Panza, seeing -his Master so roughly handled, set upon the madman -with his fists, but the Tattered One overthrew him with -one blow and trampled him under his feet like dough. -After this he departed into the wood very quietly.</p> - -<p>Sancho got up and wanted to take vengeance on the -Goatherd, who, he said, should have warned them about -the madman. The Goatherd declared he had done so,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -and Sancho retorted that he had not; and from words -they got to blows, and had seized each other by the -beards, when Don Quixote parted them, saying that the -Goatherd was in no way to blame for what had happened. -He then again inquired where Cardenio was likely to be -found, and the Goatherd repeated what he had said at -first, that his abode was uncertain, but that if they went -much about in those parts they would be sure to meet -with him either mad or sane.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XVI -<br /> -Of the Strange Adventures that happened to the -Knight of the Mancha in the Brown Mountains, -and of the Penance he did there in -imitation of Beltenebros</h2> - - -<p>Don Quixote took leave of the Goatherd, and, mounting -once again on Rozinante, he commanded Sancho to -follow him, who obeyed, but with a very ill will. They -travelled slowly, entering the thickest and roughest part -of the mountains, and at last Sancho Panza, who was -growing very impatient, burst out: 'Good Sir Don -Quixote, let me speak what is on my mind, for it is -a hard thing to go about looking for adventures all one's -life, and find nothing but tramplings under the feet, -and tossings in blankets, and stoning, and blows, and -buffets.'</p> - -<p>'Speak on,' replied his Master, 'for I will hear what -thou hast to say.'</p> - -<p>'Then,' replied Sancho, 'I would know what benefit -your Worship could reap by taking the part of the -Queen Magimasas, or whatever you call her. For if -you had let it pass, I believe the madman would have -finished his tale, and I should have escaped a beating.'</p> - -<div id="Illus16" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus16.jpg" width="477" height="700" alt="DON QUIXOTE DOING PENANCE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE DOING PENANCE</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p>'In faith, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote, 'if thou -knewest as well as I do, how honourable a lady was -Queen Madasima, thou wouldst rather say I behaved -with great patience. Cardenio knew not what he was -saying to call her wicked, and must have been out of his -senses.'</p> - -<p>'So say I,' said Sancho, 'and you ought not to take -notice of the words of a madman.'</p> - -<p>'Against sane and mad,' replied Don Quixote, 'is -every Knight Errant bound to stand up for the honour -of women, whoever they may be. Be silent, therefore, -and meddle not with what does not concern thee. -Understand that all I do is guided by the rules of -Knighthood, which are better known to me than to any -Knight that ever lived.'</p> - -<p>'Sir!' replied Sancho, 'is there any rule of Knighthood -which obliges us to wander among the mountains -looking for a madman, who, if he is found, will probably -break our heads again?'</p> - -<p>'Peace, I say, Sancho, once again!' exclaimed Don -Quixote, 'for thou must know that it is not only the -desire of finding the madman that brings me into these -wilds, but because I have in mind to carry out an adventure -that shall bring me eternal fame and renown -over the whole face of the earth.'</p> - -<p>'Is it a dangerous adventure?' asked Sancho.</p> - -<p>'That is according as it turns out,' replied Don -Quixote. 'But I will keep you no longer in the dark -about it. You must know that Amadis of Gaul was -the most perfect of all the Knights Errant. And as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -he was the morning star and the sun of all valiant -Knights, so am I wise in imitating all he did. And -I remember that when his Lady Oriana disdained his -love, he showed his wisdom, virtue, and manhood by -changing his name to Beltenebros and retiring to a wild -country, there to perform a penance. And as I may -more easily imitate him in this than in slaying giants, -beheading serpents, killing monsters, destroying armies, -and putting navies to flight, and because this mountain -seems to fit for the purpose, I intend myself to do -penance here.'</p> - -<p>'But what is it that your Worship intends to do in -this out of the way spot?' asked Sancho.</p> - -<p>'Have not I told thee already,' replied his Master, -'that I mean to copy Amadis of Gaul, by acting here the -part of a despairing, mad, and furious lover?'</p> - -<p>'I believe,' continued Sancho, 'that the Knights who -went through these penances must have had some reason -for so doing, but what cause has your Worship for -going mad? What Lady hath disdained you? How -has the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso ever treated you -unkindly?'</p> - -<p>'That is just the point of it,' said Don Quixote: 'for -a Knight Errant to go mad for good reason has no -merit in it, but the whole kernel of the matter is to -go mad without a cause. Therefore, Sancho, waste no -more time, for mad I am, and mad I shall remain, until -thou return again with the answer to a letter which I -mean to send with thee to my Lady Dulcinea. If the -answer is such as I deserve, my penance will end, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -if the contrary, I shall run mad in good earnest. But -tell me, Sancho, hast thou kept safely the helmet of -Mambrino?'</p> - -<p>'Really, Sir Knight,' answered Sancho, 'I cannot -listen patiently to some things your Worship says, and -I sometimes think all you tell me of Knighthood is -nothing but a pack of lies. For to hear your Worship -say that a barber's basin is Mambrino's helmet, and not -to find out your mistake in four days, makes one wonder -whether one is standing on one's head or one's heels. -I carry the basin right enough in my baggage, all -battered and dented, and intend to take it home and -put it to rights, and soap my beard in it when I return -to my wife and children.'</p> - -<p>'Ah, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote, 'I think that -thou hast the shallowest pate that ever any Squire had -or hath in this world. Is it possible thou hast so long -travelled with me and not found out that all the adventures -of Knights Errant appear illusions, follies, and -dreams, and turn out all contrariwise? So this that thou -callest a barber's basin is to me Mambrino's helmet, and -to another person has some other shape altogether. -Not that it has all these shapes, but these things are the -work of wicked enchanters or magicians, who transform -everything, making things seem what they please in -order to annoy us.'</p> - -<p>By this time they had arrived at the foot of a lofty -mountain, which stood like a huge rock apart from all -the rest. Close by glided a smooth river, hemmed in -on every side by a green and fertile meadow. Around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -were many fine trees and plants and flowers, which -made the spot a most delightful one.</p> - -<p>'Here!' cried Don Quixote in a loud voice, 'I elect -to do my penance. Here shall the tears from my eyes -swell the limpid streams, and here shall the sighs of -my heart stir the leaves of every mountain tree. O -Dulcinea of Toboso, day of my night and star of my -fortunes, consider the pass to which I am come, and -return a favourable answer to my wishes!'</p> - -<p>With this he alighted from Rozinante, and, taking off -his saddle and bridle, gave him a slap on his haunches, -and said: 'He gives thee liberty that wants it himself, -O steed, famous for thy swiftness and the great works -thou hast done!'</p> - -<p>When Sancho heard all this he could not help saying: -'I wish Dapple were here, for he deserves at least -as long a speech in his praise; but truly, Sir Knight, -if my journey with your letter, and your penance here, -are really to take place, it would be better to saddle -Rozinante again, that he may supply the want of mine -Ass.'</p> - -<p>'As thou likest about that,' said Don Quixote; 'but -thou must not depart for three days as yet, during -which time thou shalt see what I will say and do for -my Lady's sake, that thou mayest tell her all about it.'</p> - -<p>'But what more can I see,' asked Sancho, 'than -what I have already seen?'</p> - -<p>'Thou art well up in the matter, certainly,' replied -his Master, 'for as yet I have done nothing, and if I -am to be a despairing lover, I must tear my clothes, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -throw away mine armour, and beat my head against -these rocks, with many other things that shall make thee -marvel.'</p> - -<p>'For goodness' sake,' cried Sancho, 'take care how -you go knocking your head against rocks, for you might -happen to come up against so ungracious a rock that it -would put an end to the penance altogether. If the -knocks on the head are necessary, I should content -yourself, seeing that this madness is all make-believe, -with striking your head on some softer thing, and leave -the rest to me, for I will tell your Lady that I saw you -strike your head on the point of a rock that was harder -than a diamond.'</p> - -<p>'I thank thee, Sancho, for thy good will,' replied the -Knight, 'but the rules of Knighthood forbid me to act -or to speak a lie, and therefore the knocks of the head -must be real solid knocks, and it will be necessary -for thee to leave me some lint to cure them, seeing -that fortune has deprived us of that precious -Balsam.'</p> - -<p>'It was worse to lose the Ass,' said Sancho, 'seeing -that with him we lost lint and everything; but pray, -your Worship, never mention that horrible Balsam -again, for the very name of it nearly turns me inside -out. And now write your letter, and let me saddle -Rozinante and begone, for I warrant when I once get to -Toboso I will tell the Lady Dulcinea such strange -things of your follies and madness, that I shall make -her as soft as a glove even though I find her harder -than a cork-tree. And with her sweet and honied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -answer I will return as speedily as a witch on a broomstick, -and release you from your penance.'</p> - -<p>'But how shall we write a letter here?' said Don -Quixote.</p> - -<p>'And how can you write the order for the handing -over to me of the ass-colts?' asked Sancho.</p> - -<p>'Seeing there is no paper,' said the Knight, 'we -might, like the ancients, write on waxen tablets, but that -wax is as hard to find as paper. But now that I come -to think of it, there is Cardenio's pocket-book. I will -write on that, and thou shalt have the matter of it -written out in a good round hand at the first village -wherein thou shalt find a schoolmaster.'</p> - -<p>'But what is to be done about the signature?' asked -Sancho.</p> - -<p>'The letters of Amadis were never signed,' replied -Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'That is all very well,' said Sancho, 'but the paper -for the three asses must be signed, for if it be copied out -they shall say it is false, and then I shall not get the -ass-colts.'</p> - -<p>'Well, then, the order for the ass-colts shall be signed -in the book,' said Don Quixote; 'and as for the love-letter, -thou shalt put this ending to it, "Yours till -death, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance." And it -will be no great matter that it goes in a strange hand, -for as well as I remember Dulcinea can neither read nor -write, nor has she ever seen my handwriting. For -indeed, during the twelve years I have been loving her -more dearly than the light of my eyes, I have only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -seen her four times, and I doubt if she hath ever noticed -me at all, so closely have her father Lorenzo Corchuelo, -and her mother Aldonza brought her up.'</p> - -<p>'Ha! ha!' cried Sancho, 'then the Lady Dulcinea -of Toboso is the daughter of Lorenzo Corchuelo, and is -called Aldonza Corchuelo?'</p> - -<p>'That is she,' said Don Quixote, 'and a lady worthy -to be the Empress of this wide universe.'</p> - -<p>'I know her very well,' replied Sancho, 'and can tell -you that she can throw an iron bar with the strongest -lad in our village. She is a girl of mettle, tall and -stout, and a sturdy lass that can hold her own with -any Knight Errant in the world. Out upon her, what -an arm she hath! Why, I saw her one day stand on -top of the church belfry, to call her father's servants -from the fields, and, though they were half a league off, -they heard her as though she were in the next field; and -the best of her is there is nothing coy about her, but -she jokes with all and makes game and jest of everybody. -To be frank with you, Sir Don Quixote, I -have been living under a great mistake, for, really and -truly, I thought all this while that the Lady Dulcinea -was some great Princess with whom your Worship was -in love.'</p> - -<p>'I have told thee, Sancho, many times before now,' -said Don Quixote, 'that thou art a very great babbler. -Understand, then, that my Lady Dulcinea is to me as -good and beautiful as any Princess in the world, and -that is enough.'</p> - -<p>With these words he took out the pocket-book, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -going aside, began to write with great gravity. When -he had ended, he called Sancho to him and read him the -following letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p><span class="smcap">'Sovereign Lady,</span><br /></p> - -<p>'The sore wounded one, O sweetest Dulcinea of -Toboso, sends thee the health which he wants himself. -If thy beauty disdain me, I cannot live. My -good Squire Sancho will give thee ample account, O -ungrateful fair one, of the penance I do for love of thee. -Should it be thy pleasure to favour me, I am thine. If -not, by ending my life I shall satisfy both thy cruelty -and my desires.</p> - -<p>'Thine until death,</p> -<p><span class="smcap">'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance.'</span></p> -</blockquote> - - -<p>'By my fathers life,' said Sancho, 'it is the noblest -thing that ever I heard in my life; and now will your -Worship write the order for the three ass-colts?'</p> - -<p>'With pleasure,' answered Don Quixote, and he did -as he was desired.</p> - -<p>'And now,' said Sancho, 'let me saddle Rozinante -and be off. For I intend to start without waiting to -see those mad pranks your Worship is going to play. -There is one thing I am afraid of, though, and that is, -that on my return I shall not be able to find the place -where I leave you, it is so wild and difficult.'</p> - -<p>'Take the marks well, and when thou shouldst return -I will mount to the tops of the highest rocks. Also it -will be well to cut down some boughs and strew them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -after you as you go, that they may serve as marks to -find your way back, like the clue in Theseus' labyrinth.'</p> - -<p>Sancho did this, and, not heeding his Master's request -to stay and see him go through some mad tricks in -order that he might describe them to Dulcinea, he -mounted Rozinante and rode away.</p> - -<p>He had not got more than a hundred paces when he -returned and said: 'Sir, what you said was true, and -it would be better for my conscience if I saw the follies -you are about to do before I describe them to your -Lady.'</p> - -<p>'Did I not tell thee so?' said Don Quixote; 'wait but -a minute.'</p> - -<p>Then stripping himself in all haste of most of his -clothes, Don Quixote began cutting capers and turning -somersaults in his shirt tails, until even Sancho was -satisfied that he might truthfully tell the Lady Dulcinea -that her lover was mad, and so, turning away, he started -in good earnest upon his journey.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus17.jpg" width="530" height="436" alt="THE CURATE AND THE BARBER IN DISGUISE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE CURATE & THE BARBER IN DISGUISE</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII -<br /> -Of Sancho's Journey to the Lady Dulcinea</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>Don Quixote, left to himself, climbed to the top of a -high mountain, and spent his days making poems about -the beautiful Dulcinea, which he recited to the rocks -and trees around him. In this, and in calling upon the -nymphs of the streams, and the satyrs of the woods, -to hear his cries, did he pass his time while Sancho was -away.</p> - -<p>As for his Squire, turning out on the highway, he -took the road which led to Toboso, and arrived the next -day at the Inn where he had been tossed in a blanket. -He no sooner saw it than he imagined that he was once -again flying through the air, and he half made up his -mind that he would not enter the Inn, although it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -now dinner-hour and he felt a marvellous longing to -taste some cooked meat again, as he had eaten nothing -but cold fare for a good many days.</p> - -<p>This longing made him draw near to the Inn, remaining -still in some doubt as to whether he should enter it -or not.</p> - -<p>As he stood musing, there came out of the Inn two -persons who recognised him at once, and the one said to -the other: 'Tell me, Sir Curate, is not that horseman -riding there Sancho Panza, who departed with Don -Quixote to be his Squire?'</p> - -<p>'It is,' said the Curate, 'and that is Don Quixote's -horse.'</p> - -<p>They knew him well enough, for they were Don -Quixote's friends, the Curate and the Barber, who not -so long ago had helped to burn his books and wall up -his library; so, wanting to learn news of Don Quixote, -they went up to him and said: 'Friend Sancho Panza, -where have you left your Master?'</p> - -<p>Sancho Panza knew them instantly, but wanted to -conceal the place and manner in which the Knight -remained, and answered that his Master was kept in a -certain place by affairs of the greatest importance of -which he must say nothing.</p> - -<p>'That will not do, friend Sancho,' said the Barber. -'If thou dost not tell us where he is, we shall believe -that thou hast robbed and slain him, seeing that thou art -riding his horse. Verily thou must find us the owner of -the steed, or it will be the worse for thee.'</p> - -<p>'Your threats do not trouble me, for I am not one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -who would rob or murder anybody, and, for my Master, -he is enjoying himself doing penance in the Brown -Mountains, where I have just left him.'</p> - -<p>Then Sancho told them from beginning to end how -his Master was carrying out his penance, and of the mad -pranks he intended to perform, and how he, Sancho, was -bearing a letter to the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, who -was none other than the daughter of Lorenzo Corchuelo, -with whom the Knight was head and ears in love.</p> - -<p>Both of them were amazed at what they heard, -although they knew something of Don Quixote's madness -already. They asked Sancho to show them the -letter he was carrying to the Lady Dulcinea. Sancho -told them it was written in the pocket-book, and that he -was ordered to get it copied out at the first village he -came to.</p> - -<p>The Curate told him that if he would show it to them, -he would make a fair copy of it for him. Then Sancho -thrust his hand into his bosom to search for the little -book, but he could not find it, nor would he have found -it if he had hunted until Doomsday, for he had left it -with Don Quixote, who had quite forgotten to give it to -him, nor had he remembered to ask for it when he came -away. When Sancho discovered that the book was -lost, his face grew as pale as death, and feeling all over -his body he saw clearly that it was not to be found. -Without more ado he laid hold of his beard, and with -both his fists plucked out half his hair and gave himself -half a dozen blows about his face and nose, so that he -was soon bathed in his own blood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<p>Seeing this, the Curate and the Barber asked him -what was the matter, that he should treat himself so ill.</p> - -<p>'What is the matter?' cried poor Sancho. 'Why, I -have let slip through my fingers three of the finest ass-colts -you ever saw.'</p> - -<p>'How so?' asked the Barber.</p> - -<p>'Why, I have lost the pocket-book,' replied Sancho, -'which had in it not only the letter for Dulcinea, but also -a note of hand signed by my Master addressed to his -Niece, ordering her to give me three ass-colts of the -four or five that were left at his house.' So saying, he -told them the story of his lost Dapple.</p> - -<p>The Curate comforted him by telling him that as soon -as they had found his Master they would get him to -write out the paper again in proper form. With this -Sancho took courage, and said if that could be done -all would be right, for he cared not much for the loss -of Dulcinea's letter as he knew it by heart.</p> - -<p>'Say it then, Sancho,' said the Barber, 'and we will -write it out.'</p> - -<p>Then Sancho stood still and began to scratch his head -and try to call the letter to memory. He stood first -on one leg and then on the other, and looked first to -heaven and then to earth, while he gnawed off half his -nails, and at the end of a long pause said: 'I doubt if I -can remember all, but it began, "High and unsavoury -Lady."'</p> - -<p>'I warrant you,' interrupted the Barber, 'it was not -"unsavoury" but "sovereign Lady."'</p> - -<p>'So it was,' cried Sancho; 'and then there was something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -about the wounded one sending health and sickness -and what not to the ungrateful fair, and so it scrambled -along until it ended in "Yours till death, the Knight of -the Rueful Countenance."'</p> - -<p>They were both much amused at Sancho's good -memory, and praised it highly, asking him to repeat the -letter once or twice more to them, so that they might be -able to write it down when they got a chance. Three -times did Sancho repeat it, and each time he made as -many new mistakes. Then he told them other things -about his Master, but never a word about being tossed -in a blanket, although he refused, without giving any -reason, to enter the Inn, though he begged them to bring -him something nice and hot to eat, and some barley -for Rozinante, when they had finished their own repast.</p> - -<p>With that they went into the Inn, and after a while -the Curate brought him some meat, which Sancho was -very glad to see.</p> - -<p>Now whilst the Curate and the Barber were in the -Inn they discussed together the best means of bringing -Don Quixote back to his home, and the Curate hit upon -a plan which fitted in well with Don Quixote's humour, -and seemed likely to be successful. This plan was, as -he told the Barber, to dress himself like a wandering -damsel, while the Barber took the part of her Squire, -and in this disguise they were to go to where Don -Quixote was undergoing his penance, and the Curate, -pretending that he was an afflicted and sorely distressed -damsel, was to demand of him a boon, which as a valiant -Knight Errant he could not refuse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - -<p>The service which the damsel was to ask was that -Don Quixote would follow her where she should lead -him, to right a wrong which some wicked Knight had -done her. Besides this, she was to pray him not to -command her to unveil herself or inquire as to her -condition, until he had done her right against the wicked -Knight. And thus they hoped to lead Don Quixote -back to his own village, and afterwards to cure him of -his mad ideas.</p> - -<p>The Curate's notion pleased the Barber well, and they -resolved to carry it out. They borrowed of the Innkeeper's -wife a gown and a head-dress, leaving with her -in exchange the Curate's new cassock. The Barber -made for himself a great beard of a red ox's tail in which -the Innkeeper used to hang his horse-comb.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper's wife asked them what they wanted -these things for, and the Curate told her shortly all -about Don Quixote's madness, and how this disguise -was necessary to bring him away from the mountains -where he had taken up his abode.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper and his wife then remembered all -about their strange guest, and told the Barber and the -Curate all about him and his Balsam, and how Sancho -had fared with the blanket. Then the Innkeeper's wife -dressed up the Curate so cleverly that it could not have -been better done. She attired him in a stuff gown -with bands of black velvet several inches broad, and a -bodice and sleeves of green velvet trimmed with white -satin, both of which might have been made in the days -of the Flood. The Curate would not consent to wear a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -head-dress like a woman's, but put on a white quilted -linen nightcap, which he carried to sleep in. Then -with two strips of black stuff he made himself a mask -and fixed it on, and this covered his face and beard very -neatly. He then put on his large hat, and, wrapping -himself in his cloak, seated himself like a woman sideways -on his mule, whilst the Barber mounted his, with -a beard reaching down to his girdle, made, as was said, -from a red ox's tail.</p> - -<p>They now took their leave, and all at the Inn wished -them a good success; but they had not gone very far -when the Curate began to dread that he was not doing -right in dressing up as a woman and gadding about in -such a costume, even on so good an errand. He therefore -proposed to the Barber that he should be the distressed -damsel, and he, the Curate, would take the part of the -Squire and teach him what to say and how to behave. -Sancho now came up to them, and, seeing them in their -strange dresses, could not contain his laughter.</p> - -<p>The Curate soon threw off his disguise, and the Barber -did the same, and both resolved not to dress up any -more until they should come nearer to Don Quixote, -when the Barber should be the distressed damsel and -the Curate should be the Squire.</p> - -<p>Then they pursued their journey towards the Brown -Mountains, guided by Sancho, to whom they explained -that it was necessary that his Master should be led away -from his penance, if he was ever to become an Emperor -and be in a position to give Sancho his desired Island.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus18.jpg" width="530" height="421" alt="THE STORY OF CARDENIO CONTINUED" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE STORY OF CARDENIO CONTINUED</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII -<br /> -The Story of Cardenio continued</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>The next day they arrived at the place where Sancho -had left the boughs strewn along his path, and there he -told them they were near to Don Quixote, and that they -had better get dressed. For they had told Sancho part -of their plan to take away his Master from this wretched -penance he was performing, and warned him not to tell -the Knight who they were. They also said that if Don -Quixote asked, as they were sure he would, whether he -had delivered his letter to Dulcinea, he was to say that -he had done so; but as his Lady could not read, she had -sent a message that he was to return to her. Sancho -listened to all this talk, and said he would remember -everything, for he was anxious that his Master should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -give up penances and go forth again in search of Islands. -He also suggested that it were best he should go on in -advance, as perhaps the message from Dulcinea would -of itself be enough to bring Don Quixote away from the -mountains.</p> - -<p>With that, Sancho went off into the mountain gorges, -leaving the other two behind by a stream overhung with -pleasant trees and rocks.</p> - -<p>It was one of the hottest days of August, when in -those parts the heat is very great, and it was about three -in the afternoon when Sancho left them. The two were -resting in the shade at their ease when they heard the -sound of a voice, not accompanied by any instrument, -but singing very sweetly and melodiously. The song -surprised them not a little, for this did not seem the -place in which to find so good a singer.</p> - -<p>The singer finished his song, and the Barber and -Curate, in wonder and delight, listened for more. But as -silence continued, they agreed to go in search of this -strange musician. As they were moving away he again -burst into song, and at the end of this, uttered a deep -sigh, and the music was changed into sobs and heart-rending -moans.</p> - -<p>They had not gone far in their search when, in turning -the corner of a rock, they saw a man of the same figure -that Sancho had described to them when he had told -them the story of Cardenio. The Curate at once went -up to him, and in a kindly manner begged him to quit -this wretched, wandering life, lest he should perish among -the mountains.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<p>Cardenio, who was in his right mind at this time, and -quite free from his mad fit, replied: 'Whoever you may -be, good Sirs, I see clearly that, unworthy as I am, there -are yet human beings who would show me kindness by -persuading me to live in some better place; and I know -myself how this terrible madness masters me, and many -blame my outrageous conduct rather than pity my misfortunes. -But if you will listen to my story, you will -know why I have been driven here, what has made me -mad, and will understand how far I ought to be blamed, -and how much I may be pitied.'</p> - -<p>The Curate and the Barber, who wanted nothing -better than to learn the cause of his woe from his own -lips, asked him to tell his story, and promised they would -do all they could for his consolation.</p> - -<p>Upon this Cardenio began his story, and told them all -that he had told Don Quixote, until he came to the book -that Lucinda had borrowed about Amadis of Gaul. -There was no interruption from Don Quixote on this -occasion, so Cardenio went on to tell them how, when -Lucinda returned the book he found in it a letter full of -the most tender wishes beautifully expressed.</p> - -<p>'It was this letter,' continued Cardenio, 'that moved -me to again ask Lucinda for wife; it was this letter -also which made Don Fernando determine to ruin me -before my happiness could be complete. I told Don -Fernando how matters stood with me, and how her -father expected mine to ask for Lucinda, and how I dared -not speak to my father about it for fear he should refuse -his consent; not because he was ignorant of the beauty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -and worth of Lucinda, but because he did not wish me -to marry so soon, or at least not until he had seen what -the Duke Ricardo would do for me. I told Don -Fernando that I could not venture to speak to my father -about it, and he offered to speak on my behalf, and -persuade my father to ask for Lucinda's hand.</p> - -<p>'How could I imagine that with a gentleman like -Fernando, my own friend, such a thing as treachery was -possible? But so it was! And my friend, as I thought -him, knowing that my presence was a stumbling-block -to his plans, asked me to go to his elder brother's to -borrow some money from him to pay for six horses which -Fernando had bought in the city. It never entered my -thoughts to imagine his villainy, and I went with a right -good will to do his errand. That night I spoke with -Lucinda, and told her what had been arranged between -me and Fernando, telling her to hope that all would -turn out well. As I left her, tears filled her eyes, and -we both seemed full of misery and alarm, tokens, as I -now think, of the dark fate that awaited me. I reached -the town to which I was sent, and delivered my letters -to Don Fernando's brother. I was well received, but -there seemed no haste to send me back again, and I was -put off with many excuses about the difficulty of raising -the money that Don Fernando needed. In this way I -rested several days, much to my disgust, and it seemed -to me impossible to live apart from Lucinda for so long -a time.</p> - -<p>'But on the fourth day after I had arrived, there -came a man in search of me with a letter, which, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -handwriting, I knew to be Lucinda's. I opened it, not -without fear, knowing that it must be some serious -matter which would lead her to write to me, seeing she -did it so rarely. I asked the bearer, before I read the -letter, who had given it to him, and how long it had -been on the way. He answered that, passing by chance -at midday through a street in my native city, a very -beautiful lady had called to him from a window. "Poor -thing," said he, "her eyes were all bedewed with tears, -and she spoke hurriedly, saying: 'Brother, if thou art a -good man, as thou seemest to be, I pray thee take this -letter to the person named in the address, and in so -doing thou shalt do me a great service. And that thou -mayest not want money to do it, take what thou shalt -find wrapped in that handkerchief."'</p> - -<p>'"So saying she threw out of the window a handkerchief -in which was wrapped a hundred <i>reals</i>, this ring of -gold which I carry here, and this letter which I have -given you. I made signs to her that I would do what -she bade, and as I knew you very well I made up my -mind not to trust any other messenger, but to come -myself, and so I have travelled this journey, which you -know is some eighteen leagues, in but sixteen hours."</p> - -<p>'Whilst the kind messenger was telling his story, I remained -trembling with the letter in my hand, until at last -I took courage and opened it, when these words caught -my eyes:—</p> - -<p>'"The promise Don Fernando made to you to persuade -your father to speak to mine, he has kept after his -own fashion. Know, then, that he has himself asked me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -for wife, and my father, carried away by his rank and -position, has agreed to his wishes, so that in two days we -are to be privately married. Imagine how I feel, and -consider if you should not come at once. Let me hope -that this reaches your hand ere mine be joined to his -who keeps his promised faith so ill."</p> - -<p>'Such were the words of her letter, and they caused -me at once to set out on my journey without waiting for -the despatch of Don Fernando's business, for now I knew -that it was not a matter of buying horses, but the pursuit of -his own wretched pleasure, that had led to my being sent -to his brother. The rage which I felt for Don Fernando, -joined to the fear I had of losing the jewel I had won by -so many years of patient love, seemed to lend me wings, -and I arrived at my native city as swiftly as though I -had flown, just in time to see and speak with Lucinda. -I entered the city secretly, and left my mule at the house -of the honest man who had brought my letter, and went -straight to the little iron gate where I had so often met -Lucinda.</p> - -<p>'There I found her, and as soon as she saw me she -said in deep distress: "Cardenio, I am attired in -wedding garments, and in the hall there waits for me -the traitor, Don Fernando, and my covetous father, with -other witnesses, who shall see my death rather than my -wedding. Be not troubled, dear friend, for if I cannot -persuade them to give me my freedom, I can at least end -my life with this dagger."</p> - -<p>'I answered her in great distress, saying: "Sweet -lady, if thou carriest a dagger, I also carry a sword to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -defend thy life, or to kill myself, should fortune be -against us."</p> - -<p>'I believe she did not hear all I said, for she was -hastily called away, and I aroused myself from my grief, -as best I could, and went into the house, for I knew -well all the entrances and exits. Then, without being -seen, I managed to place myself in a hollow formed -by the window of the great hall, which was covered -by two pieces of tapestry drawn together, whence I -could see all that went on in the hall without any one -seeing me.</p> - -<p>'The bridegroom entered the hall, wearing his ordinary -dress. His groomsman was a first cousin of Lucinda's, -and no one else was in the room but the servants of the -house. In a little while Lucinda came out of her dressing-room -with her mother and two of her maids. My -anxiety gave me no time to note what she wore. I was -only able to mark the colours, which were crimson and -white; and I remember the glimmer with which the -jewels and precious stones shone in her head-dress. But -all this was as nothing to the singular beauty of her fair -golden hair.</p> - -<p>'When they were all stood in the hall, the Priest of the -parish entered, and, taking each by the hand, asked: -"Will you, Lady Lucinda, take the Lord Don Fernando -for your lawful husband?" I thrust my head and neck -out of the tapestry to hear what Lucinda answered. The -Priest stood waiting for a long time before she gave it, -and then, when I expected, nay, almost hoped, that she -would take out the dagger to stab herself, or unloose her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -tongue to speak the truth, or make some confession of -her love for me, I heard her say in a faint and languishing -voice, "I will."</p> - -<p>'Then Don Fernando said the same, and, giving her -the ring, the knot was tied. But when the Bridegroom -approached to embrace her, she put her hand to her -heart and fell fainting in her mother's arms.</p> - -<p>'It remains only for me to tell in what a state I was, -when in that "Yes!" I saw all my hopes at an end. I -burned with rage and jealousy. All the house was in a -tumult when Lucinda fainted, and, her mother unclasping -her dress to give her air, found in her bosom a paper, -which Fernando seized and went aside to read by the -light of a torch. Whilst he read it he fell into a chair -and covered his face with his hands in melancholy -discontent.</p> - -<p>'Seeing every one was in confusion I ventured forth, -not caring where I went, not having even a desire to take -vengeance on my enemies. I left the house, and came -to where I had left my mule, which I caused to be -saddled. Then without a word of farewell to any one I -rode out of the city, and never turned my head to look -back at it again.</p> - -<p>'All night I travelled, and about dawn I came to one -of the entrances to these mountains, through which I -wandered three days at random. I then left my mule, -and such things as I had, and took to living in these -wilds. My most ordinary dwelling is in the hollow of a -cork-tree, which is large enough to shelter this wretched -body. The goatherds who live among these mountains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -give me food out of charity. They tell me, when they -meet me in my wits, that at other times I rush out at -them and seize with violence the food they would offer -me in kindness.</p> - -<p>'I know that I do a thousand mad things, but without -Lucinda I shall never recover my reason, and I feel -certain that my misery can only be ended by death.'</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus19.jpg" width="530" height="444" alt="THE DISCOVERY OF DOROTHEA" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE DISCOVERY OF DOROTHEA</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX -<br /> -The Story of Dorothea, who loved Don -Fernando</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>As soon as Cardenio had finished his melancholy story, -the Curate was about to offer him some consolation, -when he was stopped by hearing a mournful voice -calling out: 'Oh that I could find an end to this life of -misery! Alas, how much more agreeable to me is the -company of these rocks and thickets than the society of -faithless man! Would that I had any one to advise me -in difficulty, to comfort me in distress, or to avenge my -wrongs!'</p> - -<p>This was overheard by the Curate and all who were -with him, and thinking that the person who spoke must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -be hard by, they went to search, and had not gone -twenty paces when they saw behind a large rock a boy -sitting under an ash-tree. He wore a peasant's dress, -but as he was bending down to wash his feet in the -brook, his head was turned from them. They approached -softly and without speaking, while his whole -attention was employed in bathing his legs in the stream. -They wondered at the whiteness and beauty of his feet, -that did not seem formed to tread the furrows, or follow -the cattle or the plough, as his dress seemed to suggest. -The Curate, who was ahead of the rest, made signs to -them to crouch down, or hide themselves behind a rock. -This done, they all gazed at the beautiful youth, who -was clad in a grey jacket, and wore breeches and hose -of the same cloth, with a grey hunting-cap on his head. -Having washed his delicate feet, he wiped them with a -handkerchief which he took out of his cap, and in doing -so he raised his head, showing to those who were -looking at him a face of such exquisite beauty that -Cardenio murmured: 'Since this is not Lucinda, it can -be no earthly but some celestial being.'</p> - -<p>The youth took off his cap, and, shaking his head, a -wealth of hair, that Apollo might have envied, fell down -upon his shoulders, and discovered to them all that the -peasant was not only a woman, but one of the most -delicate and handsome women they had ever seen. -Even Cardenio had to admit to himself that only -Lucinda could rival her in beauty. Her golden locks -fell down in such length and quantity that they not only -covered her shoulders, but concealed everything except<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -her feet, and the bystanders more than ever desired to -know who this mysterious beauty might be. Some one -advanced, and at the noise the beauteous phantasy -raised her head, and thrust aside her locks with both -hands, to see what it was that had startled her. No -sooner did she perceive them than she started up, and, -without staying to put on her shoes or tie up her hair, -seized her bundle, and took to flight full of alarm, but -she had not run six yards when her delicate feet, unable -to bear the roughness of the stones, failed her, and she -fell to the ground.</p> - -<p>They all ran to her assistance, and the Curate, who -was first, said: 'Stay, Madam, whosoever you are; those -you see here have no desire to harm you, and there is -therefore no necessity whatever for flight.'</p> - -<p>To this she made no reply, being ashamed and confused, -but the Curate, taking her hand, continued in a -kindly manner: 'Madam, it can be no slight cause that -has hidden your beauty in such an unworthy disguise, -and brought you to this lonely place where we have -found you. Let us at least offer you our advice and -counsel in your distress, for no sorrow can be so great -that kind words may not be of service. Therefore, -Madam, tell us something of your good or evil fortune, -that we may help you in your troubles as best we -can.'</p> - -<p>At first, while the Curate spoke, the disguised damsel -stood rapt in attention, and gaped and gazed at them -all as if she were some stupid villager, who did not -understand what was said; but finding that the Curate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -understood something of her secret, she sighed deeply, -and said: 'Since these mountains cannot conceal me, -and my poor hair betrays my secret, it would be vain -for me to pretend things which you could not be -expected to believe. Therefore I thank you all, gentlemen, -for your kindness and courtesy, and I will tell you -something of my misfortunes, not to win your pity, but -that you may know why it is I wander here alone and in -this strange disguise.'</p> - -<p>All this was said in such a sweet voice, and in so sensible -a manner, that they again assured her of their wish -to serve her, and begged that she would tell them her -story.</p> - -<p>To this she replied by putting on her shoes and binding -up her hair, and seating herself upon a rock in the -midst of her three hearers. Then, brushing away a few -tears from her eyes, she began in a clear voice the story -of her life.</p> - -<p>'In the Province of Andalusia there is a certain town -from which a great Duke takes his name, which makes -him one of our Grandees, as they are called in Spain. -He has two sons. The elder is heir to his estates, the -younger is heir to I know not what, unless it be his -father's evil qualities. To this nobleman my parents are -vassals, of humble and low degree, but still so rich that -if nature had gifted them with birth equal to their -wealth, I should have been nobly born, nor should I -now have suffered these strange misfortunes. They are -but farmers and plain people, and what they mostly -prized was their daughter, whom they thought to be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -best treasure they had. As they had no other child, -they were almost too affectionate and indulgent, and I -was their spoilt child. And as I was the mistress of -their affection, so also was I mistress of all their goods. -I kept the reckoning of their oil-mills, their wine-presses, -their cattle and sheep, their beehives—in a word, of -all that a rich farmer like my father could possess. -I engaged and dismissed the servants, and was the -stewardess of the estate. The spare hours that were -left from the management of the farm I spent with -the needle, the lace cushion, and the distaff, or else I -would read some good book or practise upon my -harp.</p> - -<p>'This was the life that I led in my father's house. -And though I seldom went abroad except to church, yet -it seems I had attracted the eyes of the Duke's younger -son, Don Fernando, for so he was called.'</p> - -<p>No sooner did she mention the name of Don Fernando -than Cardenio's face changed colour, and the -Curate and Barber noticing it, feared that he would -burst out into one of his mad fits. But he did nothing -but tremble and remain silent, and the girl continued -her story.</p> - -<p>'No sooner, then, had Don Fernando seen me than -he was smitten with love for me, and from that moment -I had no peace. I could not sleep for his serenades. I -had numerous letters from him, full of declarations of -love, and at last at his earnest entreaty we had many -meetings. But though he talked much of love, yet I -knew that his father would not allow him to marry the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -daughter of one of his own vassals, and my parents both -assured me that the Duke would never consent to our -marriage.</p> - -<p>'One evening Don Fernando gave me a beautiful -ring, and promised that he would always be true to me, -and from that moment I felt that I was betrothed to -him, and that he really intended, in spite of the Duke's -opposition, to make me his wife. For some days I lived -in the greatest joy, and Don Fernando came constantly -to see me, but after a while his visits grew less frequent, -and at last ceased altogether, and I heard that he had -gone on a visit to another city.</p> - -<p>'I waited in hopes of receiving a letter from him, but -none came. Ah, how sad and bitter those days and -hours were to me, when I first began to doubt and even -to disbelieve in my lover's faith! I had to keep watch -on my tears, and wear a happy face for fear my parents -should find out the reason of my unhappiness. All this -time of doubt, however, came to an end at an instant. -For at last it was announced in the town that Don -Fernando had married, in the city where he was visiting, -a damsel of exceeding beauty and of very noble birth -called Lucinda, and there were many strange tales told -of their wedding.'</p> - -<p>Cardenio, hearing the name of Lucinda, did nothing -but shrug his shoulders, bow his head, and shed bitter -tears. But yet, for all that, Dorothea, for such was the -maiden's name, did not interrupt the thread of her story, -but continued.</p> - -<p>'When this doleful news reached my ears, I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -inflamed with rage and fury. I ordered one of my -father's shepherds to attend me, and without saying a -word to my parents, I packed up some dresses and some -money and jewels, and set off on foot for the city where -Don Fernando had gone, that I might get from him at -least some explanation of his wickedness. In two days -and a half I arrived at my journey's end, and the -first person I asked told me the whole story of Don -Fernando's wedding. He told me that at the time of -the wedding, after Lucinda had uttered her consent to -be Fernando's wife, she had fainted, and there fell from -her bosom a letter written in her own hand, in which -she said that she could not be the wife of Don Fernando, -because she was betrothed to Cardenio, a gentleman of -that city. The letter went on to say that she intended -to kill herself at the end of the ceremony, and upon -her was found a dagger, which seemed to bear out what -she said. Don Fernando seeing this, and thinking that -Lucinda had mocked him, would have stabbed her with -the dagger had her parents not prevented him. After -this, I was told, Don Fernando fled, and I learned that -this Cardenio had been present at the wedding, and, -hearing her words, had vanished from the city in -despair, leaving a letter behind, declaring the wrongs -Lucinda had done to him. The whole city were talking -of these terrible things, and they talked the more when -it was known that Lucinda was missing from her father's -house, and that her parents had almost lost their reason -in their distress. When I heard all these things I made -up my mind I would find Don Fernando, married or unmarried.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -But before I left the city on my search, I was -told there was a proclamation made by the public crier, -offering a large reward for any one who should bring me -back to my parents. Fearing that this might tempt the -shepherd to betray my whereabouts, I made my escape -from the city, and in this disguise came to the Brown -Mountains, where I have lived for some months with -an old Goatherd, and I help him to tend his goats. -Here I have managed to pass as a peasant lad -until my hair betrayed me to you gentlemen as -what I am, a distressed and unfortunate maiden. -This is indeed the true story of my tragedy, for -which consolation is in vain, and relief, I fear me, -impossible.'</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XX -<br /> -Of the pleasant Plan they carried out to persuade -Don Quixote not to continue his Penance</h2> - - -<p>When the unfortunate Dorothea had finished her story, -she remained silent, her face flushed with sorrow; and -as the Priest was about to comfort her, Cardenio took -her by the hand and said: 'Lady, thou art the beautiful -Dorothea, daughter unto rich Cleonardo.'</p> - -<p>Dorothea was amazed when she heard her father's -name spoken by a person of such wretched appearance -as Cardenio, and answered: 'Who art thou, friend, -that knowest so well my father's name? For, unless I -am mistaken, I did not once name him throughout all -my story.'</p> - -<p>'I am,' said Cardenio, 'the unlucky one to whom -Lucinda was betrothed; and I, too, had thought that I -was without hope of comfort. But now I hear that -Lucinda will not marry Fernando because she is mine, -and Fernando cannot marry Lucinda because he is -yours, it seems to me that there is yet some consolation -for both of us. And I vow, on the faith of a gentleman, -not to forsake you until I see you in the possession of -Don Fernando.'</p> - -<div id="Illus20" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus20.jpg" width="484" height="700" alt="THE MEETING OF DOROTHEA AND DON QUIXOTE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE MEETING OF DOROTHEA & DON QUIXOTE</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Curate now told them both the nature of his -errand, and begged that they would join him in his -travels, and stay as long as they pleased at his village. -By this time they heard the voice of Sancho Panza, -who, not finding them where he had left them, was -calling out as loudly as he might.</p> - -<p>They went to meet him, and asked for Don Quixote. -Sancho told them that he had found him almost naked -to his shirt, lean and yellow, half dead with hunger, and -sighing for the Lady Dulcinea; and although he had -told him that she commanded him to journey to Toboso, -yet he declared that he had made up his mind not to -appear before her until he had done feats worthy of -her great beauty.</p> - -<p>The Curate now returned and told Dorothea of their -plan, and she at once offered to act the part of the -distressed damsel, for she had a lady's dress in the -bundle which she carried.</p> - -<p>'The sooner, then, we set about our work the better,' -said the Barber.</p> - -<p>Dorothea retired to put on her robe of a fine rich -woollen cloth, a short mantle of another green stuff, and -a collar and many rich jewels which she took from a -little casket. With these things she adorned herself so -gorgeously that she appeared to be a Princess at least. -When Sancho saw her he was amazed, and asked the -Curate with great eagerness to tell him who the lady -was, and what she was doing in these out of the way -places.</p> - -<p>'This beautiful lady, brother Sancho,' replied the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -Curate, 'is the heiress in direct line of the mighty Kingdom -of Micomicon, who has come in search of thy -Master, to ask of him a boon, which is to avenge her of -a wrong done by a wicked Giant. And, owing to the -great fame of thy Master which has spread through -all lands, this beautiful Princess has come to find -him out.'</p> - -<p>'A happy searcher and a happy finding,' cried -Sancho; 'my Master shall soon slay the great lubber of -a Giant, unless he turn out to be a phantom, for he has -no power over those things. And when this is done, -my Lord shall marry the Princess, whose name, by the -bye, you have not yet told me, and by this means -shall he become an Emperor, and have Islands to give -away.'</p> - -<p>'Her name,' replied the Curate, 'is the Princess -Micomicona, and as to your Master's marriage, I will -do what I can to help.'</p> - -<p>Sancho was quite satisfied with these answers, and, -when Dorothea had mounted the mule, he guided them -towards the spot where Don Quixote was to be found. -And as they went along, the Barber told Sancho he -must in no way pretend to know who he was, for if -he did, Don Quixote would never leave the mountains -and would never become an Emperor. The Curate -and Cardenio remained behind, promising to join them -again on the first opportunity.</p> - -<p>Having travelled about three-quarters of a league, -they found Don Quixote clothed, though still unarmed, -sitting amidst the rocks. No sooner did Sancho tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -Dorothea that this was his Master than she whipped up -her palfrey, closely followed by the well-bearded Barber, -who jumped from his mule, and ran to help his lady -alight.</p> - -<p>Quickly dismounting, she threw herself on her knees -before Don Quixote, and refusing his efforts to raise -her, spoke as follows: 'Never will I rise from this -position, most valiant and invincible Knight, until you -grant me a boon which will not only add to your honour -and renown, but also assist the most injured and unfortunate -damsel that ever the sun beheld. And if the -valour of your mighty arm be equal to what I have -heard of your immortal fame, you can indeed render -aid to a miserable being who comes from a far-distant -land to seek your help.'</p> - -<p>'Beauteous lady,' replied Don Quixote, 'I will not -answer one word, nor hear a jot of your affairs, until you -rise from the ground.'</p> - -<p>'I will not rise, my Lord,' answered the unfortunate -maiden, 'until I have obtained from you the boon -I beg.'</p> - -<p>'Dear Lady,' replied Don Quixote, 'it is granted, -so that it be not anything that touches my duty to -my King, my country, or the chosen Queen of my -heart.'</p> - -<p>'Your kindness shall in no way affect them,' replied -Dorothea.</p> - -<p>At this moment Sancho came up and whispered softly -in his Master's ear: 'Sir, you may very well grant -the request she asketh, for it is a mere nothing; it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -only to kill a monstrous Giant, and she that demands -it is the Princess Micomicona, Queen of the great Kingdom -of Micomicon in Ethiopia.'</p> - -<p>'Let her be what she will,' said Don Quixote, 'I -will do my duty towards her.' And then turning to -the damsel, he said: 'Rise, most beautiful Lady, for -I grant you any boon you shall please to ask of -me.'</p> - -<p>'Why, then,' said Dorothea, 'what I ask of you is, -that you will at once come away with me to the place -where I shall guide you, and that you promise me not -to undertake any new adventure, until you have revenged -me on a traitor who has driven me out of my -Kingdom.'</p> - -<p>'I grant your request,' said Don Quixote, 'and therefore, -Lady, you may cast away from this day forward -all the melancholy that troubles you, for this mighty -arm shall restore you to your Kingdom.'</p> - -<p>The distressed damsel strove with much ado to kiss -his hand, but Don Quixote, who was a most courteous -Knight, would not permit it, and, making her arise, -treated her with the greatest respect.</p> - -<p>He now commanded Sancho to saddle Rozinante and -help him to arm himself, and this done the Knight was -ready to depart. The Barber, who had been kneeling -all the while, had great difficulty to stop laughing aloud -at all this, and his beard was in danger of falling off. -He was glad to get up and help his Lady to mount -the mule, and when Don Quixote was mounted, and -the Barber himself had got upon his beast, they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -ready to start. As for Sancho, who trudged along on -foot, he could not help grieving for the loss of his -Dapple; but he bore it all with patience, for now he -saw his Master on the way to marry a Princess, and -so become at least King of Micomicon, though it -grieved him to think that that country was peopled by -blackamoors, and that when he became a ruler his -vassals would all be black.</p> - -<p>While this was going on, the Curate and Cardenio -had not been idle. For the Curate was a cunning -plotter, and had hit on a bright idea. He took from -his pocket a pair of scissors, and cut off Cardenio's -rugged beard and trimmed his hair very cleverly. And -when he had thrown his riding-cloak over Cardenio's -shoulders, he was so unlike what he was before, that -he would not have known himself in a looking-glass. -This finished, they went out to meet Don Quixote and -the others.</p> - -<p>When they came towards them, the Curate looked -earnestly at the Knight for some time, and then ran -towards him with open arms, saying: 'In a good hour -is this meeting with my worthy countryman, the mirror -of Knighthood, Don Quixote of the Mancha, the -Champion of the distressed.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote did not at first know him, but when -he remembered the Curate he wanted to alight, saying: -'It is not seemly, reverend Sir, that I should ride -whilst you travel on foot.'</p> - -<p>But the Curate would not allow him to dismount -and give him his horse, but suggested that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -he might ride behind the lady's Squire on his -mule.</p> - -<p>'I did not think of that, good Master Curate,' said -Don Quixote; 'but I know my Lady the Princess will -for my sake order her Squire to lend you the use of his -saddle.'</p> - -<p>'That I will,' said the Princess; 'and I know my -Squire is the last man to grudge a share of his beast -to this reverend Father.'</p> - -<p>'That is most certain,' said the Barber, and got off -his steed at once.</p> - -<p>The Curate now mounted, but the misfortune was -that when the Barber tried to get up behind, the mule, -which was a hired one, lifted up her legs and kicked -out with such fury that she knocked Mr. Nicholas to -the ground, and, as he rolled over, his beard fell off and -lay upon the earth. Don Quixote, seeing that huge -mass of beard torn from the jaw without blood, and -lying at a distance from the Squire's face, said: 'This, -I vow, is one of the greatest miracles I ever saw in my -life. The beard is taken off as clean by the heel of the -mule as if it had been done by the hand of a barber.'</p> - -<p>The Curate, seeing the risk they ran of their plan -being found out, came to where Master Nicholas was -lying, and with one jerk clapped it on again, muttering -as he did so some Latin words, which he said were -a charm for fixing on beards.</p> - -<p>By this means, to Don Quixote's amazement, the -Squire was cured again, and he asked the Curate to -tell him this charm, which, he said, since it could heal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -a wound of this kind, must be good for even more -dangerous injuries.</p> - -<p>The Curate agreed to tell him the secret some other -day, and, having mounted the mule, the party rode -slowly away towards the Inn.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus21.jpg" width="530" height="434" alt="SANCHO PANZA RECOVERS HIS DAPPLE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>SANCHO PANZA RECOVERS HIS DAPPLE</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI -<br /> -Of the Journey to the Inn</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>The Curate rode first on the mule, and with him rode -Don Quixote and the Princess. The others, Cardenio, -the Barber, and Sancho Panza, followed on foot.</p> - -<p>And as they rode, Don Quixote said to the damsel: -'Madam, let me entreat your Highness to lead the way -that most pleaseth you.'</p> - -<p>Before she could answer, the Curate said: 'Towards -what Kingdoms would you travel? Are you for your -native land of Micomicon?'</p> - -<p>She, who knew very well what to answer, being no -babe, replied: 'Yes, Sir, my way lies towards that Kingdom.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> - -<p>'If it be so,' said the Curate, 'you must pass through -the village where I dwell, and from thence your Ladyship -must take the road to Carthagena, where you may -embark. And, if you have a prosperous journey, you -may come within the space of nine years to the Lake -Meona, I mean Meolidas, which stands on this side of -your Highness's Kingdom some hundred days' journey -or more.'</p> - -<p>'You are mistaken, good Sir,' said she, 'for it is not -yet fully two years since I left there, and, though I never -had fair weather, I have arrived in time to see what I so -longed for, the presence of the renowned Don Quixote -of the Mancha, whose glory was known to me as soon -as my foot touched the shores of Spain.'</p> - -<p>'No more,' cried Don Quixote. 'I cannot abide to -hear myself praised, for I am a sworn enemy to flattery. -And though I know what you speak is but truth, yet it -offends mine ears. And I can tell you this, at least, -that whether I have valour or not, I will use it in your -service, even to the loss of my life. But let me know, -Master Curate, what has brought you here?'</p> - -<p>'You must know, then,' replied the Curate, 'that -Master Nicholas, the Barber, and myself travelled towards -Seville to recover certain sums of money which a -kinsman of mine in the Indies had sent me. And passing -yesterday through this way we were set upon by four -robbers, who took everything that we had. And it is said -about here, that those who robbed us were certain galley -slaves, who they say were set at liberty, almost on this -very spot, by a man so valiant that in spite of the guard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -he released them all. And doubtless he must be out of -his wits, or else he must be as great a knave as they, to -loose the wolf among the sheep, and rebel against his -King by taking from the galleys their lawful prey.'</p> - -<p>Sancho had told the Curate of the adventure with the -galley slaves, and the Curate spoke of it to see what -Don Quixote would say. The Knight, however, durst -not confess his part in the adventure, but rode on, -changing colour at every word the Curate spoke.</p> - -<p>When the Curate had finished, Sancho burst out: -'By my father, Master Curate, he that did that deed -was my Master, and that not for want of warning, for I -told him beforehand that it was a sin to deliver them, -and that they were great rogues who had been sent to -the galleys to punish them for their crimes.'</p> - -<p>'You bottlehead!' replied Don Quixote. 'It is not -the duty of Knights Errant to examine whether the -afflicted, enslaved, and oppressed whom they meet by -the way are in sorrow for their own default; they must -relieve them because they are needy and in distress, -looking at their sorrow and not at their crimes. And -if any but the holy Master Curate shall find fault with -me on this account, I will tell him that he knows nought -of Knighthood, and that he lies in his throat, and this I -will make him know by the power of my sword.'</p> - -<p>Dorothea, who was discreet enough to see they were -carrying the jest too far, now said: 'Remember, Sir -Knight, the boon you promised me, never to engage in -any other adventure, be it ever so urgent, until you have -seen me righted. And had Master Curate known that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -it was the mighty arm of Don Quixote that freed the -galley slaves, I feel sure he would have bit his tongue -through ere he spoke words which might cause you -anger.'</p> - -<p>'That I dare swear,' said the Curate.</p> - -<p>'Madam,' replied Don Quixote, 'I will hold my peace -and keep my anger to myself, and will ride on peaceably -and quietly until I have done the thing I promised. Tell -me, therefore, without delay, what are your troubles and -on whom am I to take revenge.'</p> - -<p>To this Dorothea replied: 'Willingly will I do what -you ask, so you will give me your attention.'</p> - -<p>At this Cardenio and the Barber drew near to hear -the witty Dorothea tell her tale, and Sancho, who was -as much deceived as his Master, was the most eager of -all to listen.</p> - -<p>She, after settling herself in her saddle, began with a -lively air to speak as follows: 'In the first place, I would -have you know, gentlemen, that my name is ——' Here -she stopped a moment, for she had forgotten what name -the Curate had given her.</p> - -<p>He, seeing her trouble, said quickly: 'It is no wonder, -great Lady, that you hesitate to tell your misfortunes. -Great sufferers often lose their memory, so that they -even forget their own names, as seems to have happened -to your Ladyship, who has forgotten that she is -called the Princess Micomicona, heiress of the great -Kingdom of Micomicon.'</p> - -<p>'True,' said the damsel, 'but let me proceed. The -King, my father, was called Tinacrio the Sage, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -learned in the magic art. By this he discovered that -my mother, the Queen Xaramilla, would die before him, -and that I should soon afterwards be left an orphan. -This did not trouble him so much as the knowledge -that a certain Giant, called Pandafilando of the Sour -Face, Lord of a great Island near our border, when he -should hear that I was an orphan, would pass over with -a mighty force into my Kingdom and take it from me. -My father warned me that when this came to pass I -should not stay to defend myself, and so cause the -slaughter of my people, but should at once set out for -Spain, where I should meet with a Knight whose fame -would then extend through all that Kingdom. His -name, he said, should be Don Quixote, and he would -be tall of stature, have a withered face, and on his right -side, a little under his left shoulder, he should have a -tawny spot with certain hairs like bristles.'</p> - -<p>On hearing this, Don Quixote said: 'Hold my horse, -son Sancho, and help me to strip, for I would know if I -am the Knight of whom the sage King spoke.'</p> - -<p>'There is no need,' said Sancho, 'for I know that -your Worship has such a mark near your backbone.'</p> - -<p>'It is enough,' said Dorothea, 'for among friends we -must not be too particular, and whether it is on your -shoulder or your backbone is of no importance. And, -indeed, no sooner did I land in Osuna than I heard -of Don Quixote's fame, and felt sure that he was the man.'</p> - -<p>'But how did you land in Osuna, Madam,' asked Don -Quixote, 'seeing that it is not a sea town?'</p> - -<p>'Sir,' said the Curate, 'the Princess would say that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -she landed at Malaga, and that Osuna was the first -place wherein she heard tidings of your Worship.'</p> - -<p>'That is so,' said Dorothea; 'and now nothing remains -but to guide you to Pandafilando of the Sour Face, that -I may see you slay him, and once again enter into my -Kingdom. For all must succeed as the wise Tinacrio, -my father, has foretold, and if the Knight of the -prophecy, when he has killed the Giant, so desires, -then it will be my lot to become his wife, and he will -at once possess both me and my Kingdom.'</p> - -<p>'What thinkest thou of this, friend Sancho? Did I -not tell thee this would come about? Here we have -a Kingdom to command and a Queen to marry.'</p> - -<p>When Sancho heard all this he jumped for joy, and -running to Dorothea stopped her mule, and asking her -very humbly to give him her hand to kiss, he kneeled -down as a sign that he accepted her as his Queen and -Lady.</p> - -<p>All around could scarcely hide their laughter at the -Knight's madness and the Squire's simplicity, and when -Dorothea promised Sancho to make him a great lord, -and Sancho gave her thanks, it roused their mirth -anew.</p> - -<p>'Madam,' continued Don Quixote, who appeared to -be full of thought, 'I repeat all I have said, and make -my vow anew, and when I have cut off the head of -Pandafilando I will put you in peaceable possession of -your Kingdom, but since my memory and will are -captive to another, it is not possible for me to marry.'</p> - -<p>So disgusted was Sancho with what he heard that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -cried out in a great rage: 'Surely, Sir Don Quixote, -your Worship is not in your right senses. Is it possible -your Worship can refuse to marry a Princess like this? -A poor chance have I of getting a Countship if your -Worship goes on like this, searching for mushrooms at -the bottom of the sea. Is my Lady Dulcinea more -beautiful? She cannot hold a candle to her. Marry -her! Marry at once, and when you are King make -me a Governor.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote, who heard such evil things spoken of -his Lady Dulcinea, could not bear them any longer, and -therefore, lifting up his lance, without speaking a word -to Sancho, gave him two blows that brought him to the -earth, and if Dorothea had not called to the Knight -to spare him, without doubt he would have taken his -Squire's life.</p> - -<p>'Think you, miserable villain,' cried Don Quixote, 'that -it is to be all sinning on thy side and pardoning on mine? -Say, scoffer with the viper's tongue, who dost thou think -hath gained this Kingdom and cut off the head of this -Giant and made thee Marquis—for all this I take to be -a thing as good as completed—unless it be the worth -and valour of Dulcinea using my arm as her instrument? -She fights in my person, and I live and breathe in her. -From her I hold my life and being. O villain, how -ungrateful art thou that seest thyself raised from the -dust of the earth to be a nobleman, and speakest evil -of her who gives thee such honours!'</p> - -<p>Sancho was not too much hurt to hear what his -Master said. He jumped up nimbly and ran behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -Dorothea's palfrey, and from there said to his Master: -'Tell me, your Worship, if you are not going to marry -this great Princess, how this Kingdom will become -yours, and how you can do me any favours. Pray -marry this Queen now we have her here. I say nothing -against Lady Dulcinea's beauty, for I have never seen -her.'</p> - -<p>'How, thou wicked traitor, thou hast not seen her!' -cried Don Quixote. 'Didst thou not but now bring me -a message from her?'</p> - -<p>'I mean,' replied Sancho, 'not seen her for long -enough to judge of her beauty, though, from what I -did see, she appeared very lovely.'</p> - -<p>'Ah!' said Don Quixote, 'then I do excuse thee, but -have a care what thou sayest, for, remember, the pitcher -may go once too often to the well.'</p> - -<p>'No more of this,' said Dorothea. 'Run, Sancho, -kiss your Master's hand, and ask his pardon. Henceforth -speak no evil of the Lady Dulcinea, and trust that -fortune may find you an estate where you may live like -a Prince.'</p> - -<p>Sancho went up hanging his head and asked his -Lord's hand, which he gave him with a grave air, and, -after he had kissed it, the Knight gave him his blessing, -and no more was said about it.</p> - -<p>While this was passing, they saw coming along the -road on which they were a man riding upon an Ass, -and when he drew near he seemed to be a gipsy. But -Sancho Panza, whenever he met with any asses, followed -them with his eyes and his heart, and he had hardly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -caught sight of the man when he knew him to be the -escaped robber, Gines of Passamonte, and the Ass to be -none other than his beloved Dapple.</p> - -<p>Gines had disguised himself as a gipsy, but Sancho -knew him, and called out in a loud voice: 'Ah! thief -Gines, give up my jewel, let go my life, give up -mine Ass, give up the comfort of my home. Fly, -scoundrel! Begone, thief! Give back what is none of -thine.'</p> - -<p>He need not have used so many words, for Gines -leaped off at the first and raced away from them all as -fast as his legs could carry him.</p> - -<p>Sancho then ran up to Dapple, and, embracing him, -cried: 'How hast thou been cared for, my darling and -treasure, Dapple of mine eyes, my sweet companion?' -With this he stroked and kissed him as if he had -been a human being. But the Ass held his peace, -and allowed Sancho to kiss and cherish him without -answering a word.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus22.jpg" width="530" height="411" alt="SANCHO'S STORY OF HIS VISIT TO THE LADY DULCINEA" /> -<div class="caption"><p>SANCHO'S STORY OF HIS VISIT TO THE LADY DULCINEA</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXII -<br /> -The Story Sancho Panza told his Master of his -Visit to the Lady Dulcinea</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>When the rest came up they all congratulated Sancho -on finding his ass, and Don Quixote promised that he -would still give him the three ass-colts, for which -Sancho thanked him heartily.</p> - -<p>While the Knight and his Squire rode on ahead, the -Curate said to Cardenio: 'Is it not marvellous to see -the strange way in which this good gentleman believes -all these inventions, and this only because they wear -the style and fashion of the follies he is so fond of -reading?'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> - -<p>'It is so,' said Cardenio, 'and indeed, if he were a -character in a story-book no one would believe in -him.'</p> - -<p>'There is another thing, too,' said the Curate, 'that -apart from his folly about Knighthood, no one would -esteem him to be other than a man of excellent -judgment.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote at the same time was saying to Sancho: -'Friend Sancho, let us bury all injuries, and tell me when, -how, and where didst thou find Dulcinea. What was -she doing? What saidst thou to her? What answer -made she? How did she look when she read my letter? -Who copied it for thee? Tell me all, without adding -to it or lying, for I would know everything.'</p> - -<p>'Master,' replied Sancho, 'if I must speak the truth, -nobody copied out the letter, for I carried no letter -at all.'</p> - -<p>'Thou sayest true,' said Don Quixote, 'for I found -the pocket-book, wherein it was written, two days after -thy departure, and I did expect that thou wouldst -return for it.'</p> - -<p>'I had done so,' said Sancho, 'if I had not carried it -in my memory when you read it to me, so that I could -say it to a parish clerk, who copied it out of my head, -word for word, so exactly that he said that in all the -days of his life he had never read such a pretty -letter.'</p> - -<p>'And hast thou it still by heart, Sancho?' asked Don -Quixote.</p> - -<p>'No, Sir, for after I gave it, seeing that it was to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -of no more use, I let myself forget it. If I remember, it -began, <i>Scrubby Queen, Sovereign Lady</i>, and the ending—<i>yours -till death, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance</i>—but -between these things I put in three hundred <i>hearts</i>, -and <i>loves</i>, and <i>dear eyes</i>.'</p> - -<p>'All this I like to hear, therefore say on,' said Don -Quixote. 'Thou didst arrive; and what was the Queen -of Beauty doing then? I daresay thou foundest her -threading pearls or embroidering some curious device -with golden threads for this her captive Knight.'</p> - -<p>'No, that I did not,' said Sancho, 'but winnowing -two bushels of wheat in the yard of her house.'</p> - -<p>'Why, then,' said Don Quixote, 'thou mayest reckon -that each grain of wheat was a pearl, seeing they were -touched by her hands. But tell me, when thou didst -deliver my letter, did she kiss it? Did she use any -ceremony worthy of such a letter? Or what did -she?'</p> - -<p>'When I went to give it to her,' said Sancho, 'she -was all in a bustle with a good lot of wheat in her sieve, -and said to me: "Lay down that letter there on the sack, -for I cannot read it until I have winnowed all that is -here."'</p> - -<p>'O discreet Lady!' said Don Quixote; 'she must -have done that, so that she might read and enjoy it at -leisure. Go on, then, Sancho, and tell all she said about -me, and what thou saidst to her.'</p> - -<p>'She asked me nothing,' replied the Squire, 'but I -told her the state which I left you in for her sake, -doing penance all naked from the girdle up among these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -rocks like a brute beast, and I told her how you slept -on the ground and never combed your beard, but spent -your time weeping and cursing your fortune.'</p> - -<p>'There thou saidst ill,' said Don Quixote, 'for I do -not curse my fortune, but rather bless it, seeing that it -hath made me worthy to merit the love of so beautiful a -lady as Dulcinea of Toboso. But tell me, after she -had sifted her corn and sent it to the mill, did she then -read my letter?'</p> - -<p>'The letter,' replied Sancho, 'she did never read, for -she said she could neither read nor write, and therefore -she tore it into small pieces, and would allow no one to -read it lest the whole village might know her secrets. -Lastly, she told me that I was to say to your Worship -that she kissed your hands, and that she had a greater -desire to see you than to write to you. Therefore she -begged, as you loved her, that you should quit these -bushes and brambles, and leave off these mad pranks, -and set out for Toboso, for she had a great longing to -see your Worship. She laughed a good deal when I -told her they called your Worship the Knight of the -Rueful Countenance. I asked her whether the beaten -Biscayan came there. She said yes, and that he was a -very good fellow. I asked also after the galley slaves; -but she told me that she had seen none of them as yet.'</p> - -<p>'All goes well, then,' said Don Quixote; 'but tell me, -what jewel did she bestow on thee at thy departure for -reward of the tidings thou hadst brought? For it is a -usual and ancient custom among Knights Errant and -their Ladies to give to their Squires, damsels, or dwarfs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -who bring good tidings, some rich jewel as a reward for -their welcome news.'</p> - -<p>'It may well be,' replied Sancho; 'and I think it was -a most excellent custom, but I doubt if it exists -nowadays, for it would seem to be the manner of our -age only to give a piece of bread and cheese; for this -was all that my Lady Dulcinea bestowed on me when -I took my leave, and, by the way, the cheese was made -of sheep's milk.'</p> - -<p>'She is marvellous liberal,' said the Knight; 'and if -she gave thee not a jewel of gold, it was doubtless -because she had none then about her. But that will be -put right some day. Knowest thou, Sancho, at what -I am astonished? It is at thy sudden return, for it -seems to me thou wast gone and hast come back -again in the air, for thou hast been away but a little -more than three days, although Toboso is more than -thirty leagues from hence. Therefore I do believe -that the wise Enchanter, who takes care of my affairs -and is my friend, must have helped thee to travel -without thy being aware of it. For there are sages -that take up a Knight Errant sleeping in his bed, and, -without knowing how or in what manner, he awakes -the next day more than a thousand leagues from the -place where he fell asleep. For otherwise Knights -Errant could not help one another in perils as they -do now. For it may be that one is fighting in the -mountains of Armenia with some dragon or fierce -serpent, and is at the point of death, and, just when he -least expects it, he sees on a cloud, or in a chariot of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -fire, some other Knight, his friend, who a little before -was in England, who helps him and delivers him from -danger. And all this is done by the craft and wisdom -of those sage Enchanters who take care of valorous -Knights. But, leaving all this apart, what dost thou -think I should do about my Lady's commands to go and -see her?'</p> - -<p>'Tell me, good your Worship,' replied Sancho, 'do you -intend to journey to Toboso and lose so rich and noble -a prize as this Princess? Peace! take my advice and -marry her in the first village that hath a parish priest, -or let the Curate do it, for he is here, and remember -the old saying, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the -bush."'</p> - -<p>'Look you, Sancho,' said his Master, 'if you counsel -me to marry, to the end that I may be King when I -have slain the Giant and be able to give you an Island, -know that I can do that without marrying, for I will -make it a condition that upon conquering this monster -they shall give me a portion of the Kingdom, although -I marry not the Princess, and this I will bestow upon -thee.'</p> - -<p>'Let it be so, then,' said Sancho. 'And trouble not -your mind, I pray you, to go and see the Lady Dulcinea -at this moment, but go away and kill the Giant and let -us finish off this job, for I believe it will prove of great -honour and greater profit.'</p> - -<p>'I believe, Sancho,' said Don Quixote, 'that thou art -in the right, and I will follow thy advice in going first -with the Princess rather than visiting Dulcinea.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> - -<p>At this moment Master Nicholas the Barber called -out to them to stay awhile, for they wished to halt and -drink at a small spring hard by. Don Quixote stopped, -to Sancho's very great content, as he was already tired -of telling so many lies, and feared that his Master would -entrap him in his own words. For although he knew -that Dulcinea was a peasant lass of Toboso, yet he had -never seen her in all his life.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus23.jpg" width="530" height="434" alt="ANDREW SALUTES DON QUIXOTE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>ANDREW SALUTES DON QUIXOTE</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIII -<br /> -What happened during their further Journey -towards the Inn</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>They all dismounted at the spring, and by this time -Cardenio had dressed himself in the boy's clothes that -Dorothea had worn, which, though by no means good, -were better than those he cast off. The Curate had -brought some scanty provisions from the Inn, and they -sat down near the spring to satisfy, as well as they -could, the hunger they all felt.</p> - -<p>Whilst they took their ease, a young lad passed by, -who looked very earnestly at all those who sat round -the spring, and after a moment ran up to Don Quixote, -and embracing his legs, burst into tears, crying: 'Ah,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -my Lord, do not you know me? Look well upon me. -I am the boy Andrew whom you unloosed from the oak-tree -to which I was tied.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote knew him at once, and, taking him by -the hand, turned to those who were present and said: -'That you may see how important it is to have Knights -Errant in the world to set right the wrongs and injuries -which are done by insolent and wicked men, you must -know that a few days ago, as I rode through a wood, I -heard piteous screams and cries as of some person in -sore distress. I hastened instantly to the place, and -there I found tied to an oak this boy whom you see here, -and I am glad that he is here, because if I shall not say -the truth, he may check me. He was tied to an oak-tree, -stark naked from the waist upward, and a certain -clown, whom I afterwards learned to be his master, was -beating him with a horse's bridle. As soon as I saw him -I asked the master the reason of his cruelty. The -Farmer replied that he was beating him because he was -his servant, and that he had been guilty of carelessness -due rather to knavery than stupidity. At which the lad -said, "Sir, he beats me only because I ask him for my -wages." The Farmer answered with many excuses, -which I heard but did not believe. I made him at once -untie the boy, and forced him to swear me an oath that -he would take him home with him and pay him every -<i>real</i> upon the nail. Is not all this true, son Andrew? -Answer, nor hesitate in anything. Tell these gentlemen -what passed, that they may learn how necessary it -is to have Knights Errant up and down the highways.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> - -<p>'All that your Worship says is very true,' replied the -lad;' but the end of the business was very contrary to -what you imagine.'</p> - -<p>'How contrary?' asked Don Quixote. 'Did not the -clown pay thee, then?'</p> - -<p>'He not only did not pay me,' answered the boy, 'but -as soon as you had passed out of the wood, and we were -alone again, he tied me to the same tree and gave me -afresh so many blows that I had like to be flayed alive. -And at each blow he uttered some jest to make a mock -of your Lordship, and if I had not felt so much pain, -I could have found it in my heart to have laughed very -merrily. In fact, he left me in such a wretched plight -that I have been in hospital ever since. And you are at -fault in all this, for if you had ridden on your way, and -not come meddling in other folk's affairs, perhaps my -master would have contented himself with giving me -a dozen blows or so, and would presently have let me -loose and paid me my wages. But, because you abused -him so harshly, his anger was aroused, and as he could -not revenge himself on you, as soon as he was alone he -let loose the storm of his wrath upon me, in such a -manner that I fear I shall never be a man again as long -as I live.'</p> - -<p>'The mischief was,' said Don Quixote, 'in my going -away, for I should not have departed until I had seen -thee paid. For I might well have known that no churl -will keep his word if he finds that it does not suit him -to keep it. But yet, Andrew, thou dost remember how -I swore that if he paid thee not, I would return and seek<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -him out, and find him though he should hide himself in -the belly of a whale.'</p> - -<p>'That is true,' replied Andrew, 'but it is all of no -use.'</p> - -<p>'Thou shalt see whether it is of use or no presently,' -said Don Quixote, and so saying he got up hastily and -commanded Sancho to bridle Rozinante, who was feeding -whilst they did eat.</p> - -<p>Dorothea asked him what it was he meant to do. He -answered that he meant to go in search of the Farmer -and punish him for his bad conduct, and make him pay -Andrew to the last farthing, in spite of all the churls in -the world. To which she answered, entreating him to -remember that he could not deal with any other adventure, -according to his promise, until he had finished hers; -and as he knew this better than any one else, he must -restrain his anger until he returned from her Kingdom.</p> - -<p>'That is true,' answered Don Quixote; 'and Andrew -must have patience until my return, for I once more -vow and promise anew never to rest until he be satisfied -and paid.'</p> - -<p>'I do not believe these vows,' said Andrew; 'I would -rather just now have as much money as would help me -on my way to Seville than all the revenge in the world. -Give me something to eat, and let me go, and may -all Knights Errant be as erring to themselves as they -have been with me.'</p> - -<p>Sancho took out of his bag a piece of bread and -cheese, and, giving it to the lad, said: 'Take it, brother -Andrew, for each of us has a share in your misfortune.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<p>'What share have you in it?' asked Andrew.</p> - -<p>'This piece of bread and cheese which I give thee,' -said Sancho, 'for no one knows whether I shall have -need of it again or not. For you must know, my friend, -that we Squires to Knights Errant suffer great hunger -and ill-luck, and many things which are better felt than -told.'</p> - -<p>Andrew laid hold of his bread and cheese, and, seeing -that no one gave him anything else, bowed his head and -went on his way. And as he went he turned to Don -Quixote and said: 'I pray you, Sir Knight Errant, if -you meet me again, although you should see me being -cut to pieces, do not come to my aid, but leave me to my -ill fate. For it cannot be so great but that greater will -result from your help, and may you and all the Knights -Errant that ever were born in the world keep your -paths away from mine.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote started up to chastise him, but he set off -running so fast that no one tried to pursue him. The -Knight was greatly ashamed at Andrew's story, and the -others had much ado not to laugh outright, and so put -him to utter confusion.</p> - -<p>When they had finished their dinner, they saddled and -went to horse once more, and travelled all that day and -the next without any adventure of note, until they -arrived at the Inn, which was the dread and terror of -Sancho Panza, and though he would rather not have -entered it, yet he could not avoid doing so. The Innkeeper, -the Hostess, her daughter, and Maritornes, -seeing Don Quixote and Sancho return, went out to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -meet them with tokens of great love and joy. The -Knight returned their compliments with grave courtesy, -and bade them prepare a better bed than they gave him -the last time.</p> - -<p>'Sir,' said the Hostess, 'if you would pay us better -than the last time, we would give you one fit for a -Prince.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote answered that he would, and they prepared -a reasonable good bed for him in the same room -where he lay before. Then he went off to bed at once, -because he was tired and weary, both in body and -mind.</p> - -<p>He had scarcely locked himself in, when the Hostess -ran at the Barber, seizing him by the beard, and cried: -'By my troth, but my tail shall no longer be used for a -beard, for the comb which used to be kept in the tail -gets tossed about the floor, and it is a shame.'</p> - -<p>But the Barber would not give it up for all her -tugging, until the Curate told him to let her have it, -for there was no longer any need of a disguise, as the -Barber might now appear in his own shape, and tell Don -Quixote that after he had been robbed by the galley -slaves he had fled for refuge to that Inn. As for the -Princess's Squire, if the Knight should ask after him, -they could say he had been sent on before to her Kingdom, -to announce to her subjects that she was returning, -bringing with her one who should give them all -their freedom. On this the Barber gave up the tail to -the landlady, together with the other things they had -borrowed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> - -<p>All the people of the Inn were struck with Dorothea's -beauty and the comeliness of the shepherd -Cardenio. The Curate made them get ready a dinner -of the best the Inn could produce, and the Innkeeper, in -hope of better payment, prepared them very speedily -a good dinner. All this was done whilst Don Quixote -slept, and they agreed not to wake him, for they thought -it would do him more good to sleep than to eat.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div id="Illus24" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus24.jpg" width="482" height="700" alt="DON QUIXOTE'S EXTRAORDINARY BATTLE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE'S EXTRAORDINARY BATTLE</p></div> -</div> - -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XXIV -<br /> -Of the extraordinary Battle which Don Quixote -waged with what he took to be a Giant</h2> - - -<p>Don Quixote was still asleep when the dinner was -served, and during dinner—the Innkeeper, his wife, his -daughter, and Maritornes being there, as well as all the -travellers—they talked of Don Quixote's strange craze, -and of the state in which they had found him. The -Hostess told them of what had happened between him -and the Carrier, and glancing round to see if Sancho -were present, and not seeing him, she told them the -story of his being tossed in the blanket, to the no small -entertainment of all the company.</p> - -<p>The Curate told him it was the books of Knighthood -that Don Quixote had read that had turned his head.</p> - -<p>'I know not how that can be,' said the Innkeeper, 'for -to my thinking there is no finer reading in the world; -and when it is harvest-time, the reapers here often -collect during the midday heat, and one who can read -takes one of these books in hand, while some thirty of -us get round him, and sit listening with so much delight -that I could find it in my heart to be hearing such -stories day and night.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>'And I think well of them, too,' said the Hostess, 'for -when the reading is going on, you are so full of it that -you forget to scold me, and I have a good time of it.'</p> - -<p>'Ah,' said her daughter, 'I too listen, and though I -like not the fights which please my father, yet the -lamentations which the Knights make when they are -away from their Ladies make me weep for pity, and I -enjoy that.'</p> - -<p>'We have need here,' said the Curate, 'of our friends, -the old woman and the Niece. Beware, my good Host, -of these books, and take care that they carry you not on -the road they have taken Don Quixote.'</p> - -<p>'Not so,' said the Innkeeper, 'I shall not be such a -fool as to turn Knight Errant; for I see well enough -that it is not the fashion now to do as they used to do in -the times when these famous Knights roamed about the -world. All that is of no use nowadays.'</p> - -<p>Sancho came in in the midst of this, and was amazed -to hear them say that Knights Errant now were of no -use, and that books of Knighthood were full of follies -and lies, and he made up his mind to see the end of this -voyage of his Master, and if that did not turn out as -happily as he expected, to return home to his wife and -children and to his former labours.</p> - -<p>At this moment a noise came from the room where -Don Quixote was lying, and Sancho went hastily to see -if his Master wanted anything.</p> - -<p>In a few moments he returned, rushing wildly back, -and shouting at the top of his voice: 'Come, good Sirs, -quickly, and help my Master, who is engaged in one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -the most terrible battles my eyes have ever seen. I -swear he has given the Giant, the enemy of my Lady, -the Princess Micomicona, such a cut, that he has sliced -his head clean off like a turnip.'</p> - -<p>'What sayest thou, friend?' said the Curate. 'Art -thou in thy wits, Sancho? How can it be as you say, -when the Giant is at least two thousand leagues from -here?'</p> - -<p>By this time they heard a marvellous great noise -within the chamber, and Don Quixote shouting out: -'Hold, thief, scoundrel, rogue! now I have thee, and -thy scimitar shall not avail thee!'</p> - -<p>And it seemed as if he were striking a number of -mighty blows on the walls.</p> - -<p>'Do not stand there listening,' cried Sancho, 'but go -in and part the fray, or aid my Master. Though I -think it will not now be necessary, for doubtless the -Giant is dead by now, and giving an account of the ill -life he led; for I saw his blood was all about the house -and his head cut off, which is as big as a great wine-bag.'</p> - -<p>'May I be hewed in pieces,' cried the Innkeeper on -hearing this, 'if Don Quixote has not been slashing at -one of the skins of red wine that are standing filled at -his bed head, and the wine that is spilt must be what -this fellow takes for blood.'</p> - -<p>So saying he ran into the room, and the rest followed -him, and found Don Quixote in the strangest guise -imaginable. He was in his shirt, which did not reach -to his knees. His legs were very long and lean, covered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -with hair, and not over clean. On his head he wore a -greasy red nightcap which belonged to the Innkeeper. -Round his left arm he had folded the blanket from off -his bed, at which Sancho gazed angrily, for he owed that -blanket a grudge. In his right hand he gripped his -naked sword, with which he laid round about him with -many a thwack, shouting out as if indeed he was at -battle with some terrible Giant. The best sport of all -was that his eyes were not open, for he was indeed -asleep, and dreaming that he was fighting a Giant. For -his imagination was so full of the adventure in front of -him that he dreamed that he had already arrived at -Micomicon, and was there in combat with his enemy; -and he had given so many blows to the wine-bags, supposing -them to be the Giant, that the whole chamber -flowed with wine.</p> - -<p>When the Innkeeper saw this, he flew into such a rage -that he set upon Don Quixote with his clenched fist, -and began to pummel him, so that if Cardenio and the -Curate had not pulled him off, he would have finished -the battle of the Giant altogether. In spite of this, the -poor Knight did not awake until the Barber got a great -kettleful of cold water from the well, and threw it right -over him, when Don Quixote woke up, but even then -did not understand where he was.</p> - -<p>As for Sancho, he went up and down the floor, -searching for the Giant's head, and seeing he could not -find it, said: 'Now I know that everything I see in -this house is enchanted, for this head is not to be seen -here, though I myself saw it cut off with my own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -eyes, and the blood running from the body as from a -fountain.'</p> - -<p>'What blood or what fountain dost thou cackle of -here?' cried the Innkeeper. 'Thou thief! dost thou not -see that the blood and the fountain is no other thing -but the wine-bags which are ripped open, and the red -wine which swims up and down the room?'</p> - -<p>'I know nothing but this,' replied Sancho, 'that if I -cannot find the Giant's head, my Earldom will dissolve -like salt cast into water.' For indeed Sancho awake -was worse than his Master asleep, so greatly had his -Master's promises turned his brain.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper was at his wits' end at seeing the -stupidity of the Squire and the mischief done by his -Master, but he determined that they should not as before -go away without paying; that Knighthood should be no -excuse for this, and he would make them pay for the -very patches in the wine-skins that had been ruined.</p> - -<p>All this time the Curate was holding Don Quixote's -hands, who, believing that he had finished the adventure -and was in the presence of the Princess Micomicona -herself, fell on his knees before the Curate, and said: -'Your Highness, exalted and beautiful Lady, may live -from henceforth secure from any danger that this -wretched Giant might have done to you; and I am also -freed this day from the promise I made to you, seeing -that I have, with the assistance of her through whose -favour I live and breathe, so happily completed my -labour.'</p> - -<p>'Did I not say so?' cried Sancho, hearing his Master.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -'I was not drunk. My Master has salted the Giant -down this time, and my Earldom is secure.'</p> - -<p>Who could help laughing at the follies of the two, -Master and man? All of them laughed except the Innkeeper, -who burst out into fits of anger ten times worse -than before.</p> - -<p>At length the Barber, Cardenio, and the Curate -managed, not without much ado, to get Don Quixote to -bed again, and presently left him sleeping, with every -sign of being worn out. They let him sleep, and went -out to comfort Sancho Panza, whose grief was great at -not finding the Giant's head. But they had more to do -to pacify the Innkeeper, who was almost out of his wits -at the sudden death of his wine-skins.</p> - -<p>His wife, too, was running up and down, scolding and -crying out: 'Alas, the unlucky hour when this Knight -Errant came to my house! Would that mine eyes had -never seen him, for he has cost me dear. The last time -he was here he went away scot free for his supper, bed, -straw, and barley for himself, his man, his horse, and his -ass, because he said he was a Knight Errant. Then for -his sake the other gentlemen came and took away my -good tail, and have returned it damaged, and now he -breaks my wine-skins and spills the wine. I wish I -may see as much of his blood spilt.' And backed up -by Maritornes, the good Innkeeper's wife continued her -lamentations with great fury.</p> - -<p>At length the Curate quelled the storm, promising to -satisfy them for the wine and the skins, and also for the -damage to the tail, about which there was so much fuss.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -Dorothea comforted Sancho, telling him that as soon as -ever it was made certain that his Master had slain the -Giant, and placed her safely in her Kingdom, she would -give him the best Earldom she had.</p> - -<p>With this he was consoled, and told her that he himself -had seen the Giant's head cut off, and that it had a -beard which reached down to his girdle, and that if the -beard could not now be found it was because the affairs -of this house were all guided by enchantment, as he -knew to his cost by what had happened to himself in his -last visit.</p> - -<p>Dorothea replied that she was of the same opinion, -and bade him be of good cheer, since all would be well -ended to his heart's desire.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus25.jpg" width="530" height="412" alt="OF THE RARE ADVENTURES AT THE INN" /> -<div class="caption"><p>OF THE RARE ADVENTURES AT THE INN</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXV -<br /> -Which treats of other rare Adventures which -happened at the Inn</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>Later in the day the Innkeeper, who was standing -at the door, cried out: 'Here is a fine troop of guests -coming. If they stop here, we may sing and rejoice.'</p> - -<p>'Who are they?' asked Cardenio.</p> - -<p>'Four men on horseback,' answered the Innkeeper, -'with lances and targets, and all with black masks on -their faces. With them comes a woman dressed in -white, on a side-saddle, and her face also masked, and -two lackeys that run with them on foot.'</p> - -<p>'Are they near?' asked the Curate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<p>'So near,' replied the Innkeeper, 'that they are now -arriving.'</p> - -<p>Hearing this, Dorothea veiled her face, and Cardenio -went into Don Quixote's room; and they had hardly -time to do this when the whole party, of whom the -Innkeeper had spoken, entered the Inn. The four who -were on horseback were of comely and gallant bearing, -and, having dismounted, went to help down the Lady on -the side-saddle; and one of them, taking her in his arms, -placed her upon a chair that stood at the door of the -room into which Cardenio had entered. All this while -neither she nor they took off their masks, or said a -word, only the Lady, as she sank into the chair, breathed -a deep sigh, and let fall her arms as one who was sick -and faint. The lackeys led away the horses to the -stable.</p> - -<p>The Curate, seeing and noting all this, and curious -to know who they were that came to the Inn in such -strange attire and keeping so close a silence, went -after one of the lackeys, and asked of him what he -wanted to learn.</p> - -<p>'Faith, Sir, I cannot tell you who these are, but -they seem to be persons of good quality, especially he -who went to help the Lady dismount. The rest obey -him in all things.'</p> - -<p>'And the Lady—who is she?' asked the Curate.</p> - -<p>'I cannot tell you that neither,' replied the lackey, -'for I have not once seen her face during all the -journey, though I have often heard her groan and utter -deep sighs.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> - -<p>'And have you heard the name of any of them?' -asked the Curate.</p> - -<p>'Not I, indeed,' replied the man; 'they travel in -silence, and nothing is heard but the sighs and sobs of -the poor Lady, and it is our firm belief that, wherever -she is going, she is going against her will.'</p> - -<p>'May be it is so,' said the Curate, and he returned to -the Inn.</p> - -<p>Dorothea, who heard the disguised Lady sigh so -mournfully, moved by pity, drew near to her and -asked: 'What ails you, good Madam, for I offer you -my service and good-will, and would help you as much -as lies in my power?'</p> - -<p>To this the unhappy Lady made no reply; and though -Dorothea again spoke kindly to her, yet she sat silent -and spoke not a word.</p> - -<p>At length the masked gentleman came across and -said to Dorothea: 'Lady, do not trouble yourself to -offer anything to that woman; she is of a most ungrateful -nature, and not wont to return any courtesy.'</p> - -<p>'I have never spoken,' said the silent Lady, 'since -I am too unhappy to do so, and am almost drowned in -my misfortunes.'</p> - -<p>Cardenio overheard these words very clearly and -distinctly, for he was close to her who uttered them, the -door of Don Quixote's room being the only thing that -separated them, and he cried aloud: 'What is this I -hear? What voice is this that hath touched mine ear?'</p> - -<p>The Lady, moved with a sudden passion, turned her -head at these cries, and as she could not see who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -uttered them, she rose to her feet and would have -entered the room, but the gentleman stopped her and -would not let her move a step.</p> - -<p>This sudden movement loosened the mask, which -fell from her face, discovering her marvellous beauty. -But her countenance was wan and pale, and she turned -her eyes from place to place as one distracted, which -caused Dorothea and the rest to behold her with a -vast pity.</p> - -<p>The gentleman held her fast by the shoulders, and -was so busied that he could not hold up his own mask, -which fell from his face, and, as it did so, Dorothea -looked up and discovered that it was her lover, Don -Fernando.</p> - -<p>Scarce had she known him than, breathing out a long -and most pitiful 'Alas!' from the bottom of her heart, -she fell backward in a swoon. And if the Barber had -not been by good chance at hand, she would have fallen -on the ground with all the weight of her body.</p> - -<p>The Curate removed the veil from her face, and -cast water thereon, and Don Fernando, as soon as he -looked upon her, turned as pale as death. Cardenio, -who had heard the moan which Dorothea uttered, as -she fell fainting on the floor, came out of the room, and -saw Don Fernando holding his beloved Lucinda.</p> - -<p>All of them held their peace and beheld one another; -Dorothea looking on Don Fernando, Don Fernando -on Cardenio, Cardenio on Lucinda, and Lucinda on -Cardenio, all stood dumb and amazed, as folk that knew -not what had befallen them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<p>Lucinda was the first to break the silence. 'Leave -me, Don Fernando,' she cried, 'for the sake of what is -due to yourself. Let me cleave to the wall whose ivy I -am, to his support from whom neither your threats nor -your promises could part me.'</p> - -<p>By this time Dorothea had come to herself, and -seeing that Don Fernando did not release Lucinda, -she arose, and casting herself at his feet, shed a flood -of crystal tears as she thus addressed him: 'If the -sun of Lucinda's beauty hath not blinded thine eyes, -know that she who is kneeling at thy feet is the hapless -and miserable Dorothea. I am that lowly country girl -to whom thou didst promise marriage. Know, my -dear Lord, that the matchless love I bear thee may -make amends for the beauty and nobility of her for -whom thou dost abandon me. Thou canst not be the -beautiful Lucinda's, because thou art mine; nor she -thine, for she belongs to Cardenio. And all this being -so, as in truth it is, and seeing that thou art as good as -thou art noble, wherefore put off making me once more -happy again? Do not vex the declining years of my -parents, who have ever been loyal vassals to thine. -For remember, whether thou wilt or no, thou must ever -remain my promised husband.'</p> - -<p>These and many other reasons did the grieved -Dorothea use, with so much feeling and so many tears, -that all who were present, even those who had come -with Don Fernando, could not help from giving her -their sympathy.</p> - -<p>As for Don Fernando, he stood gazing fixedly at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -Dorothea for some time, and at last, overwhelmed with -remorse and admiration, he took her to his arms, -saying: 'Thou hast vanquished, O beautiful Dorothea. -Thou hast vanquished!'</p> - -<p>At the same moment, Cardenio, who had stood close -to Don Fernando, started forward to catch the fainting -Lucinda, who threw both her arms around his neck, -crying: 'Thou, and thou only, art my Lord and Master.'</p> - -<p>Thus were the true lovers all united, and the good -Curate, the Barber, and even Sancho Panza joined -in their tears, delighted that so much joy had taken -the place of so much misery. As for Sancho, he excused -himself afterwards for his tears, saying he wept -only because he saw that Dorothea was not the Queen -of Micomicona as he had imagined, from whom he -hoped to have received such mighty gifts and favours.</p> - -<p>Each in turn told his or her story, and Don Fernando -gave an account of all that had befallen him in the -city, after he had found the scroll that Lucinda had -written in which she declared her love for Cardenio.</p> - -<p>And it appeared that, the day after the interruption -of the wedding, Lucinda had secretly departed from -her father's house, and had fled no one knew whither; -but within a few months Don Fernando had learned -that she was in a certain convent, intending to remain -there all the days of her life, if she could not pass them -with Cardenio. As soon as he had learned that, choosing -three gentlemen to aid him, he went to the place where -she was. One day he surprised her walking with one -of the nuns in the cloisters, and carried her off without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -giving her a chance to resist. From there they brought -her to a certain village, where they disguised themselves, -and so rode on until they came to the Inn. But -Lucinda, after she was in his power, did nothing but -weep and sigh without speaking a word.</p> - -<p>Thus in silence and tears had they reached this Inn, -which to him and all of them would always remain the -most beautiful place in the world, since it had seen the -end of so many troubles, and brought him back to his -own true love.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus26.jpg" width="530" height="414" alt="DON QUIXOTE ADDRESSING DOROTHEA" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE ADDRESSING DOROTHEA</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVI -<br /> -Wherein is continued the History of the -famous Princess Micomicona</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>Sancho gave ear to what he heard with no small grief -of mind, seeing that all hopes of his Earldom vanished -away like smoke, and the fair Princess Micomicona was -turned into Dorothea, whilst his Master was sound -asleep, careless of all that happened. Dorothea could -not believe that the happiness she enjoyed was not a -dream. Cardenio and Lucinda were of a similar mind, -and Don Fernando was truly thankful that he was free -from the dangerous path he had taken, which must have -ended in loss of all honour and credit.</p> - -<p>In a word, all were contented and happy. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -Curate, like a man of sense, congratulated every one -on his good fortune; but she that kept greatest Jubilee -and joy was the Hostess, because Cardenio and the -Curate had promised to pay all the damages done by -Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>Only Sancho, as has been said, was unhappy and -sorrowful. And thus he went with a melancholy face to -his Master, who was then just awaking, and said: 'Your -Worship, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, may -well sleep on as long as you please, without troubling -yourself to kill any Giant, or restore to the Princess -her Kingdom, for all that is done and finished already.'</p> - -<p>'That I well believe,' replied Don Quixote, 'for I -have had the most monstrous and terrible battle with -that Giant that ever I had all the days of my life; -and yet with one back stroke, swish, I tumbled his -head to the ground, and his blood gushed forth, so that -streams of it ran along the earth as if it had been water.'</p> - -<p>'As if it had been red wine, your Worship might have -said,' replied Sancho, 'for I would have you know, if -you do not know already, that the dead Giant is no -other than a ruined wine-bag, and the blood six-and-twenty -gallons of red wine.'</p> - -<p>'What sayest thou, madman?' cried Don Quixote. -'Art thou in thy right wits?'</p> - -<p>'Get up, Sir,' said Sancho, 'and you shall see yourself -the fine piece of work you have done, and what we have -to pay. You shall behold the Queen turned into a -private Lady, called Dorothea, with many other things -that may well astonish you.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I should marvel at nothing,' replied Don Quixote, -'for if thou rememberest right, I told thee, the other -time that we were here, how all that happened here was -done by enchantment, and it would be no wonder if it -were the same now.'</p> - -<p>'I should believe it all,' replied Sancho, 'if my tossing -in the blanket had been a thing of that sort. Only -it was not so, but very real and certain. And I saw -the Innkeeper, who is here to this day, hold one end of -the blanket and toss me up to the sky with very good -grace and strength, and as much mirth as muscle. And -where it comes to knowing persons, I hold, though I -may be a simpleton and a sinner, that there is no -enchantment, but only bruising and bad luck.'</p> - -<p>'Well,' cried Don Quixote, 'time will show; but give -me my clothes, for I would see these wonders that thou -speakest of for myself.'</p> - -<p>Sancho gave him his clothes, and, whilst he was -making him ready, the Curate told Don Fernando and -the rest, of Don Quixote's mad pranks, and the plan -he had used to get him away from the Brown Mountains, -where he imagined he was exiled through the disdain -of his Lady.</p> - -<p>The Curate told them further, that since the good -fortune of the Lady Dorothea prevented them carrying -out their scheme, they must invent some other way of -taking him home to his village.</p> - -<p>Cardenio offered to continue the adventure, and let -Lucinda take Dorothea's part.</p> - -<p>'No,' cried Don Fernando. 'It shall not be so, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -I will have Dorothea herself carry out her plan, and if -the good Knight's home is not far from here, I shall be -very glad to help in his cure.'</p> - -<p>'It is not more than two days' journey,' said the -Curate.</p> - -<p>'Even if it were more,' replied Don Fernando, 'I -should be happy to make the journey in so good a -cause.'</p> - -<p>At this moment Don Quixote sallied out, completely -armed with Mambrino's helmet, which had a great hole -in it, on his head, his shield on his arm, and leaning on -his lance. His grotesque appearance amazed Don -Fernando and his companions very much, who wondered -at his gaunt face so withered and yellow, the -strangeness of his arms, and his grave manner of -proceeding.</p> - -<p>All stood silent to see what he would do, whilst the -Knight, casting his eyes on the beautiful Dorothea, -with great gravity and calmness spoke as follows: 'I -am informed, beautiful Lady, by this my Squire, that -your greatness has come to an end, and your condition -is destroyed. For, instead of being a Queen and a -mighty Princess, you are now become a private damsel. -If this has been done by the special order of that sage -magician, the King your Father, because he dreaded -that I could not give you all necessary help, I say -that he does not know half his art, and has never understood -the histories of knightly adventures. For if -he had read them with the attention that I have, he -would have found how many Knights of less fame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -than myself have ended far more desperate adventures -than this, for it is no great matter to kill a Giant, be -he ever so proud. For in truth it is not so many -hours since I myself fought with one; but I will be -silent, lest they tell me I lie. Time, the detecter of all -things, will disclose it when we least expect.'</p> - -<p>'Thou foughtest with two wine-bags, not with a Giant,' -cried the Innkeeper.</p> - -<p>Don Fernando told him to be silent and not to interrupt -Don Quixote, who continued his speech thus: 'In -fine, I say, high and disinherited Lady, do not trouble -if your Father has made this change in you, for there -is no peril so great on earth but my sword shall open a -way through it, and by overthrowing your enemies' head -to the ground I shall set your crown on your own -head within a few days.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote said no more, but waited for the -Princess's answer. She knowing Don Fernando's -wish that she should continue to carry out their plan, -answered with a good grace and pleasant manner, saying: -'Whosoever informed you, valorous Knight of -the Rueful Countenance, that I have altered and transformed -my being, hath not told you the truth, for I -am the very same to-day as I was yesterday. True -it is that my fortunes have somewhat changed, and -given me more than I hoped for or could wish for, but -for all that I have not ceased to be what I was before, -and I still hope to have the aid of your valorous and -invincible arm. Therefore, good my Lord, restore to -my Father his honour, and believe him to be both wise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -and sagacious, for by his magic he has found me a -remedy for all my misfortunes. For I believe that had -it not been for you, I should never have attained the -happiness I now enjoy, and that I speak the truth -these good gentlemen will bear witness. All that is -now wanted is that to-morrow morning we set out on -our journey. As for the conclusion of the good success -I hourly expect, that I leave to the valour of your -invincible arm.'</p> - -<p>Thus spoke the witty Dorothea, and Don Quixote, -having heard her, turned to Sancho with an air of great -indignation, and said: 'Now, I say unto thee, Sancho, -thou art the veriest little rascal in all Spain. Tell me, -thief and vagabond, didst thou not tell me that this -Princess was turned into a damsel, and that she was -called Dorothea? And that the head that I slashed -from a Giant's shoulders, was a wine-skin, with a -thousand other follies, that threw me into the greatest -confusion I was ever in in my life? I vow,' he continued, -looking up to the heavens and crashing his teeth -together, 'I vow that I am about to make such a havoc -of thee, as shall beat some wit into the pates of all the -lying Squires that shall hereafter ever serve Knights -Errant in this world.'</p> - -<p>'I pray you have patience, good my Lord,' answered -Sancho, 'for it may well befall me to be deceived -touching the change of the Lady and Princess Micomicona. -But in what touches the Giant's head, or at -least the cutting of the wine-bags, and that the blood -was but red wine, I am not deceived, I swear. For the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -bags lie wounded there at your own bed-head, and the -red wine hath made a lake in your room: and all this -you will know, when his honour the Landlord asks you -to pay the damages.'</p> - -<p>'I tell thee, Sancho, thou art a blockhead,' said Don -Quixote. 'Pardon me, we have had enough of it.'</p> - -<p>'Enough, indeed,' said Don Fernando, 'and let me -entreat you to say no more of it. Seeing my Lady the -Princess says she will go away to-morrow, as it is too -late to depart to-day, let us agree to spend this evening -in pleasant discourse, and to-morrow we will attend the -worthy Knight, Don Quixote, and be eye-witnesses of -the valorous feats of arms he shall do in carrying out -this adventure.'</p> - -<p>It was now time for supper, and they all sat down -at a long table, for there was not a square or round -one in the whole house. And they gave the principal -end to Don Quixote, though he did all he could to -refuse it; but when he had taken it, he commanded -that the Lady Micomicona should sit at his elbow, as -he was her champion. The others being placed in -due order, they all enjoyed a pleasant supper, listening -to the wise, strange discourse that Don Quixote held -upon his favourite subject of knightly adventures.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XXVII -<br /> -Of the strange Enchantment of the Unfortunate -Knight</h2> - - -<p>After supper it appeared that there were not sufficient -rooms in the house for all the company, so the ladies -retired to the best apartments, whilst the gentlemen -sought rest where they could get it with the least -discomfort. Sancho Panza found a bed on his Ass's -harness, where he was soon fast asleep, and Don Quixote -satisfied his sense of duty by arming himself, mounting -Rozinante, and riding round the Inn, that he might act -as sentinel of this imaginary Castle.</p> - -<p>In a short time all the Inn was drowned in a deep -silence. Only the Innkeeper's daughter and Maritornes -were not asleep, but knowing very well Don Quixote's -humour, and that he was armed on horseback outside -the Inn keeping guard, the two agreed to play him some -trick, or at least to pass a little time listening to his -nonsense.</p> - -<div id="Illus27" class="illcenter"> -<img src="images/illus27.jpg" width="479" height="700" alt="THE ENCHANTMENT OF DON QUIXOTE" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE ENCHANTMENT OF DON QUIXOTE</p></div> -</div> - -<p>It so happened that there was not any window in all -the Inn which looked out into the fields, but only a hole in -the barn, out of which they were used to throw the straw. -To this hole came the two damsels, and saw Don Quixote -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>mounted and leaning on his lance, breathing forth ever -and anon such doleful and deep sighs, that it seemed -as if each one of them would tear his very soul. They -noted besides how he said in a soft and amorous voice: -'O my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, the perfection of all -beauty, the sum-total of discretion, the treasury of grace, -the storehouse of virtue, the ideal of all that is worthy, -modest, or delightful in all the world! What might thy -Ladyship be doing at this present? Art thou perhaps -thinking of thy captive Knight who most readily exposeth -himself to so many dangers for thy sake? Give me -tidings of her, O thou Moon! Mayhap thou dost now -look down upon her pacing some gallery of her sumptuous -palace, or leaning against some balcony thinking what -glory she shall give me for my pains, what quiet to my -cares, what life to my death, and what reward for my -services. And thou, O Sun, who art even now busy -saddling thy horses to set off betimes and go forth and -see my Lady, I beseech thee when thou seest her to -salute her on my behalf, but take care that thou dost not -kiss her on her face lest thou provokest my jealousy.'</p> - -<p>So far the Knight had proceeded when the Innkeeper's -daughter began to call him softly to her, -saying: 'Sir Knight, approach a little way, if you -please.'</p> - -<p>At this signal Don Quixote turned his head and saw -by the light of the moon, which shined then very clearly, -that they beckoned him from the hole in the barn, which -he imagined to be a fair window full of iron bars gilded -in costly fashion with gold, fit for so rich a Castle as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -imagined that Inn to be. In a moment he believed, in -his strange fancy, that the beautiful damsel, daughter to -the Lord of the Castle, conquered by love of him, was -come to have speech with him.</p> - -<p>In this fancy, and because he would not show himself -discourteous and ungrateful, he turned Rozinante about -and came over to the hole, and then, having beheld the -two damsels, he said: 'I take pity on you, beautiful -Lady, that you have fixed your love where it is not -possible to find another's in return. Nor must you -blame this miserable Knight Errant, whom love hath -wholly disabled from paying his addresses to any other -than to her who at first sight became the Lady of his -choice. Pardon me, therefore, good Lady, and retire -yourself to your room, and be pleased to say no more to -me, that I may not appear ungrateful to you. And if, -of the love you bear me, you can find me any other way -wherein I may serve you, demand it boldly, for I swear -to pleasure you in this, even though my task be to bring -you a lock of Medusa's hairs, which are all of snakes, or -to capture the beams of the sun in a phial of glass.'</p> - -<p>'My Lady needs none of these things, Sir Knight,' -answered Maritornes.</p> - -<p>'What doth she then want, discreet dame?' asked -Don Quixote.</p> - -<p>'Only one of your fair hands,' said Maritornes, 'that -she may fulfil the desire that brought her to this window -with so great danger to herself, that if her Lord and -Father knew of it, the least he would do would be to -slice off her ear.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> - -<p>'He had best beware of what he does,' answered Don -Quixote, 'unless he would make the most disastrous end -that ever father made in this world, for having laid -violent hands on the delicate limbs of his amorous -daughter.'</p> - -<p>Maritornes had no doubt but that Don Quixote -would give up his hand as he was requested, and, having -made up her mind what she would do, she went down -into the stable, and fetched out Sancho Panza's Ass's -halter. With this she returned again as quickly as -possible, and came to the hole just as Don Quixote had -set his feet upon Rozinante's saddle that he might the -better reach the barred windows at which he thought the -lovesick damsel was standing.</p> - -<p>And as he stretched forth his hand to her he cried: -'Hold, Lady, this hand, or, as I may better say, this -scourge of evildoers. Hold, I say, this hand, which no -other woman ever touched before, not even she herself -who holds entire possession of my whole body. Nor do -I give it to you to the end that you should kiss it, but -that you may behold the strength of the sinews, the -knitting of the muscles, the large and swelling veins, -whereby you may learn how mighty is the force of that -arm to which such a hand is knit.'</p> - -<p>'We shall see that presently,' said Maritornes.</p> - -<p>And then, making a running knot in the halter, she -cast it on the wrist of his hand, and, coming down from -the hole, she tied the other end of the halter very fast to -the bolt of the hay-loft door.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote, feeling the roughness of the halter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -about his wrist, said: 'It seems that you rather rasp -than clasp my hand, but yet I pray you not to handle it -so roughly, seeing it is in no fault for what you suffer -from my inclinations. Remember that those who love -well do not take so cruel revenge on those who love -elsewhere.'</p> - -<p>But nobody gave ear to those words of Don Quixote. -For, as soon as Maritornes had tied him fast, she and the -other, almost bursting with laughter, ran away and left -him fastened in such a manner that it was not possible -for him to loose himself. He was standing, as has been -said, on Rozinante's saddle, with his whole arm thrust -within the hole, and fastened to the bolt of the door, -and was in great fear that if Rozinante budged never so -little on either side he should fall and hang by the arm. -Therefore he durst not make the least movement, though -he might have expected, from Rozinante's patience and -mild spirit, that if he were allowed, he would stand -without stirring for a whole century.</p> - -<p>In fine, Don Quixote, finding that he was tied up and -that the ladies were gone, began at once to imagine that all -this had been done by way of enchantment, as the time -before when he and Sancho had suffered such strange -adventures. Then he was wroth with himself for his -want of judgment and discretion in venturing to enter -the Castle a second time, seeing that he had come off -so badly the first. For it was a maxim with the Knights -Errant, that when they had attempted an adventure and -had not come well out of it, it was a token that it was -not reserved for them but for some other.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>Yet for all this he drew forward his arm to see if he -might deliver himself, but he was so well bound that all -his efforts proved vain. It is true that he drew his arm -cautiously, lest Rozinante should stir, and though he -longed to get into the seat of his saddle again, yet he -could do no other but stand upright or wrench off his -arm. Many times did he wish for the sword of Amadis -against which no enchantment had power. Then he -fell to cursing his stars, or again called upon the Lady -Dulcinea to remember him anew. Now he would call -on his good Squire Sancho Panza, who, buried in sleep, -stretched out upon his pack-saddle, heard him not, -and then he called in vain on the Sage Urganda to -release him.</p> - -<p>Finally, the morning found him so full of despair and -confusion, that he roared like a bull, for he had no hope -that daylight would bring him any cure, as he fully -believed his enchantment would prove everlasting. This -belief was strengthened inasmuch as Rozinante had -not budged ever so little, and he came to the conclusion -that both he and his horse should abide in that state -without eating, drinking, or sleeping, until either the -evil influences of the stars were passed, or some great -Enchanter had disenchanted him.</p> - -<p>In this he was deceived, for scarce did day begin to -peep than there arrived four horsemen at the Inn door, -with firelocks on their saddle-bows, who were officers -of the Holy Brotherhood. They called out at the Inn -door, which was still shut, giving loud knocks, which, -being heard by Don Quixote from the place where he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -stood sentinel, he cried out in a loud and arrogant voice: -'Knights or Squires, or whatsoever else ye be, you are -not to knock any more at the gates of this Castle, seeing -that at such an hour as this either those who are within -are sleeping, or else are not wont to open their fortress -until Phœbus hath spread his beams over the earth. -Therefore stand back and wait until it be clear day, and -then we will see whether it be just or no, that they should -open their gates unto you.'</p> - -<p>'What Castle or Fortress is this,' cried one of them, -'that we should observe these ceremonies? If thou beest -the Innkeeper, command that the door be opened, for we -are travellers that will tarry no longer than to bait our -horses and away, for we ride post-haste.'</p> - -<p>'Doth it seem to you, gentlemen,' said Don Quixote, -'that I look like an Innkeeper?'</p> - -<p>'I know not what thou lookest like,' answered the -other, 'but well I know that thou speakest madly in -calling this Inn a Castle.'</p> - -<p>'It is a Castle,' replied Don Quixote, 'and one of the -best in this Province, and it hath people in it who have -had a sceptre in hand and a Crown on their head.'</p> - -<p>'They be some company of strolling players, then,' -replied the man, laughing, 'for no others hold sceptres -or wear crowns in such a paltry Inn as this is.'</p> - -<p>'Thou knowest but little of the world,' answered Don -Quixote, 'seeing thou art ignorant of the chances that -are wont to happen in Knight Errantry.'</p> - -<p>The man's companions wearied of this discourse, and -turned again to knock with great fury at the door, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -this time they not only waked the Innkeeper but also -all the guests, and the former arose to demand their -pleasure.</p> - -<p>In the meantime it happened that one of the horses -on which they rode came sniffing round Rozinante, who -stood melancholy and sad, with his ears down, bearing up -his outstretched Master. But being after all an animal -of a friendly disposition to his own kind, he could not -refrain from turning round to sniff at him who came -towards him.</p> - -<p>Scarce had he moved one step, when Don Quixote's -two feet, which were close together, slipped, and, sliding -from the saddle, the Knight would have fallen to the -ground had he not remained hanging by the arm. This -caused him so much pain that he felt that his wrist was -being cut off or his arm torn away. For he hung so -near to the ground that he touched it with the tips of his -toes; and this increased his misery, for, feeling the little -that was wanted to set his feet wholly on the ground, he -struggled all he could to reach it, deceived by the hope -that he could indeed touch it if he only stretched himself -a little further.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus28.jpg" width="530" height="436" alt="THE DISPUTED POMMEL" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE DISPUTED POMMEL</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVIII -<br /> -Wherein is continued the wonderful Adventures -at the Inn</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>While Don Quixote hung suspended between heaven -and earth, his outcries were so terrible that the Innkeeper -ran to the door, and opened it hastily and in -great fright, to see who it was that roared so loud.</p> - -<p>Maritornes, whom the cries had also awakened, guessing -what it was, ran to the hay-loft, and, unseen by any -one, loosed the halter that held up Don Quixote, and -he fell at once to the ground in the sight of the Innkeeper -and the four travellers, who, coming up to him, -asked him what ailed him.</p> - -<p>He, without any answer slipped the halter from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -wrist, and, rising to his feet, leaped on Rozinante, -braced on his shield, couched his lance, and, wheeling -round the field, rode back at a hard-gallop, crying out: -'Whosoever shall dare to say that I have been with -just title enchanted, if my Lady, the Princess Micomicona, -will give me leave to do it, I say that he lies, and -I challenge him to single combat.'</p> - -<p>The travellers were amazed at his words, but the -Host told them that they must not mind him, for he -was out of his wits.</p> - -<p>When Don Quixote saw that none of the four -travellers made any account of him or answered his -challenge, he was ready to burst with wrath and fury; -and could he have found that a Knight Errant might -lawfully accept and undertake another enterprise, having -plighted his word and faith not to attempt any until -he had finished that which he had first promised, he -would have fallen upon them all, and made them give -him an answer in spite of themselves.</p> - -<p>Those in the Inn were now fully aroused, and had -come with the Innkeeper to see the new arrivals. -Whilst they were talking to the four travellers, in the -big room where they had supped, they heard a noise -outside, the cause of which was that some dishonest -guests, who had stayed there that night, seeing all -the people busy to know the cause of the four horsemen -coming, had thought to escape scot free without -paying their reckoning. But the Innkeeper, who -attended his own affairs with more diligence than other -men's, stopped them going out and demanded his money,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -upbraiding their dishonest conduct with such words, -that they returned him an answer with their fists; -and this they did so roundly that the poor Innkeeper -was compelled to cry for help.</p> - -<p>His wife and his daughter, seeing Don Quixote -standing by, cried out to him: 'Help, Sir Knight! -help my poor father, whom two wicked men are thrashing -like a bundle of corn.'</p> - -<p>To this Don Quixote answered leisurely and with -great gravity: 'Beautiful damsel, your prayer cannot -at the present time be granted, for I am not permitted -to engage in any new adventure until I have finished -the one I have promised to carry through. And all -that I can now do in your service is what I now say -to you. Run unto your father and bid him continue -and maintain his battle manfully until I demand leave of -the Princess Micomicona to help him out of his distress. -For if she will give me leave, you may make sure that -he will be delivered.'</p> - -<p>'As I am a sinner,' cried Maritornes, who was standing -by, 'before you get that leave you speak of my -Master will be in the other world.'</p> - -<p>'Permit me but to get the leave I speak of,' replied -Don Quixote, 'and it matters not whether he be in the -other world or no. For I would bring him back again -in spite of the other world itself, or at least, I will take -such a revenge on those that sent him there that you -shall be well content.'</p> - -<p>Without saying more he went in and fell on his knees -before Dorothea, demanding her in knightly and courtly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -phrases that she would give him leave to go and aid the -Constable of the Castle who was then plunged in deep -distress.</p> - -<p>The Princess granted him leave very willingly, and -instantly buckling on his shield, and laying hands on -his sword, he ran to the Inn door where the two guests -were still fighting with the Innkeeper. But as soon as -he arrived he stopped and stood still, although Maritornes -and the Hostess asked him twice or thrice the -cause of his delay in assisting their master and husband.</p> - -<p>'I delay,' said Don Quixote, 'because it is not -permitted me to lay hands to my sword against Squire-like -men who are not dubbed Knights. But call me -here my Squire Sancho, for this defence and revenge -belong to him as his duty.'</p> - -<p>All this took place outside the Inn door, where fists -and blows were given and taken much to the Innkeeper's -cost, and to the rage and grief of Maritornes -and the Hostess and her daughter, who were like to -run mad on seeing Don Quixote's cowardice and the -mischief their master, husband, and father was enduring.</p> - -<p>However, though the laws of Knighthood hindered -Don Quixote from fighting, he soon persuaded the -guests, by his wise reproofs of their conduct, to leave -the Innkeeper alone, and pay him what was owing by -them; and all would have been at peace in the Inn -if another traveller had not arrived there at this -moment. This was none other than the Barber from -whom Don Quixote took away the helmet of Mambrino,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -and Sancho Panza the harness or furniture of the ass, -whereof he made an exchange of his own. And while -the Barber was leading his beast to the stable, he -caught sight of Sancho Panza mending some part of -the pack-saddle, or pannel, as it was called.</p> - -<p>As soon as he had eyed him he knew him, and at -once set upon Sancho, saying: 'Ah, Sir thief, here I -have you! Give up my basin and my pannel, with all -the trappings you stole from me.'</p> - -<p>Sancho, finding himself attacked so suddenly, laying -fast hold of the pannel with one hand, with the other -gave the Barber such a buffet that he bathed his teeth -in blood. But for all that the Barber held fast his grip -of the pannel, and cried out so loud that all within the -house came to the noise and scuffle.</p> - -<p>'Help, here, in the name of the King and justice,' -shouted the Barber. 'For this thief and robber by the -highways goeth about to kill me because I seek to get -back my own goods.'</p> - -<p>'Thou liest,' cried Sancho, 'for I am not a robber of -the highways. And my Lord Don Quixote won these -spoils in a fair battle.'</p> - -<p>By this time Don Quixote himself had come to the -spot, not a little proud to see how his Squire defended -himself and attacked his enemy, and he took him from -that moment to be a man of valour, and resolved in his -own mind to dub him Knight on the first occasion -that should offer, because he thought that the order -of Knighthood would be well bestowed on him.</p> - -<p>'Sirs,' said the puzzled and angry Barber, 'this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -pannel is as certainly mine, and I know it as well as if -I had bred it, and there is my ass in the stable who -will not let me lie; so do but try it on him, and if it fit -him not to a hair, I am willing to be called infamous. -And I can say more, that on the very day on which -they took my pannel from me, they robbed me likewise -of a new brazen basin which had never been used, and -cost me a crown.'</p> - -<p>Here Don Quixote could no longer contain himself -from speaking, and, thrusting himself between the two, -to part them asunder, he caused the pannel to be placed -publicly upon the ground until the dispute should be -decided, and said: 'To the end that you may understand -the clear mistake which this good Squire labours -under, see how he calls that a basin, which was, and is, -and always shall be, the helmet of Mambrino, which I -took from him by force in fair battle, and made myself -lord thereof in a lawful and warlike manner. In regard -to the pannel I meddle not; but I can say that my -Squire Sancho asked leave of me to take away the -trappings of this vanquished coward's horse, that he -might adorn his own withal. I gave him leave to do it, -and he took them. As for these being turned from a -horse's furniture to an ass's pannel, I can give no other -reason than the common one in affairs of Knighthood, -that this is done by enchantment. And to confirm -the truth of all I say, run, friend Sancho, speedily, and -bring me out the helmet which this good fellow declares -to be a basin.'</p> - -<p>'By my faith, Sir,' said Sancho, 'if we have no better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -proof of our story than what you say, the helmet of -Mambrino is as arrant a basin as this fellow's trappings -are a pack-saddle.'</p> - -<p>'Do what I command,' replied Don Quixote, 'for I -cannot believe that all things in this Castle are governed -by enchantment.'</p> - -<p>Sancho went for the basin and brought it, and as soon -as Don Quixote saw it, he took it in his hands and -said: 'See, Sirs, with what face can this impudent -Squire declare that this is a basin, and not the helmet -that I have mentioned. I swear to you by the order of -Knighthood which I profess, that this is the very same -helmet which I won from him, without having added or -taken anything from it.'</p> - -<p>'There is no doubt of that,' said Sancho, 'for, -since the time my Lord won it until now, he never -fought but one battle with it, when he delivered the -unlucky chained men. And but for his basin, I mean -helmet, he had not escaped so free as he did, so thick -a shower of stones rained all the time of that battle.'</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus29.jpg" width="530" height="417" alt="DON QUIXOTE ARRESTED" /> -<div class="caption"><p>DON QUIXOTE ARRESTED</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIX -<br /> -Wherein is finally decided the Dispute about -Mambrino's Helmet and the Pannel</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>'Good Sirs,' cried the Barber, 'what do you think of -those who will contend that this is not a basin but a -helmet?'</p> - -<p>'He that shall say the contrary,' said Don Quixote, -'I will make him know that he lies, if he be a Knight; -and if he be but a Squire, that he lies and lies again a -thousand times.'</p> - -<p>The Barber Nicholas, Don Quixote's friend, who was -then with the rest, had a mind to carry the jest further, -and make them all laugh, so, speaking to the other -Barber, he said: 'Sir Barber, or whoever you are, know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -that I am also of your profession, and have held a certificate -for more than twenty years, and I know all the -instruments of a Barber's art well. Moreover, in my -youth I was a soldier, and I know what a helmet is like, -and a morion, and a casque, and other kinds of soldiers' -arms. And therefore I say, always subject to better -opinion, that this good piece which is laid here before us, -and which this good Knight holds in his hand, not only -is not a Barber's basin, but is as far from being one as -white is from black. It is a helmet, though, as I think, -not a complete helmet.'</p> - -<p>'No, truly,' said Don Quixote, 'for it wants the half, -namely the lower part and the visor.'</p> - -<p>'That is true,' said the Curate, who understood his -friend's intention. And Cardenio, Fernando, and his -companions fell in with this design.</p> - -<p>'Lord a' mercy!' cried the poor Barber, half beside -himself. 'Is it possible that so many honourable men -should say that this is no basin but a helmet? It is a -thing to strike with amazement a whole University, be -they never so wise. Enough; if this basin is a helmet, -then must the pack-saddle be a horse's trappings.'</p> - -<p>'To me it looks like a pack-saddle,' said Don Quixote, -'but I have already said I do not meddle with that -matter.'</p> - -<p>'Whether it be a pannel or not,' said the Curate, 'it is -but for Don Quixote to say, for in these matters of -Knighthood, all these gentlemen and myself bow to his -knowledge.'</p> - -<p>'Sirs,' said Don Quixote, 'so many and strange are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -the things that have befallen me in this Castle these two -times I have lodged here, that it would be rash in me to -pronounce a judgment in the matter. To those who say -this is a basin and no helmet I have made my answer, -but whether this be a pannel or the furniture of a horse -I will leave it to others to decide.'</p> - -<p>To those who knew Don Quixote's madness this was -a matter of much laughter and good sport, but to the -four travellers who had arrived that morning, and who -were officers of justice, and soldiers of the Holy Brotherhood, -it seemed the greatest folly in the world.</p> - -<p>But he that was most of all beside himself with wrath -was the Barber, whose basin they had transformed before -his face into the helmet of Mambrino, and whose pannel, -he felt sure, would now be turned into the rich furniture -and equipage of a great horse.</p> - -<p>Those who were in the secret laughed heartily to see -Don Fernando go up and down taking the opinion of -this man and that, whispering in their ear that they might -give their verdict to him in secret.</p> - -<p>And after he had gone round to all those who knew -Don Quixote, he said to the Barber in a loud voice: -'The truth is, good fellow, that I grow weary of asking -so many opinions, for I no sooner ask what I want to -know than they answer me that it is mere madness to -say that this is the pannel of an ass, but rather is it the -furniture of a horse, yes and of a chief horse of -service.'</p> - -<p>'May I never go to heaven,' said the poor distracted -Barber, 'if you be not all deceived! It is a pannel and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -no horse's trappings. But the law takes it from me, and -so farewell to it.'</p> - -<p>The Barber's simplicity caused no less laughter than -the follies of Don Quixote, who said: 'There is now no -more to be done than for every one to take his own.'</p> - -<p>But at that moment one of the four officers of justice, -who had listened to the dispute, full of anger to hear -such nonsense seriously spoken, cried out: 'If this be -not a planned jest, I cannot understand why men of such -intelligence as all these seem to be, should dare to say -that this is not a basin nor this a pannel. For indeed -it is as very a pannel as my father is my father, and -he that hath said or will say anything else must be -drunk.'</p> - -<p>'Thou liest like a clownish knave,' said Don Quixote. -And lifting up his lance, which he always held in his -hand, he aimed such a blow at the trooper's pate, that if -he had not avoided it, it would have thrown him to the -ground.</p> - -<p>The lance was broken into splinters by the fall of -the blow, and the other troopers, seeing their comrade so -misused, cried out for help in the name of the Holy -Brotherhood. The Innkeeper, whose duty it was to -help all officers of justice, ran for his sword, and stood -by to help them. The Barber laid hold of his pannel, -and Sancho Panza did the same. Don Quixote set hand -to his sword and attacked the troopers, and Cardenio -and Don Fernando took his part. The Curate cried -out, the Hostess shrieked, the daughter screamed, -Maritornes howled, while Dorothea and Lucinda stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -frightened and amazed. The Barber battered Sancho, -and Sancho pounded him back again, while Don -Fernando got one of the troopers at his feet, and -belaboured him soundly. The Innkeeper cried aloud -for help for the Holy Brotherhood, and all the Inn -seemed full of wails, cries, screeches, confusion, fears, -terrors, disasters, slashes, buffets, cudgellings, kicks, and -the shedding of blood.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this chaos, Don Quixote began to -imagine that he was plunged up to the ears in the -battle of the King Agramante, and he cried aloud in a -voice that thundered through the Inn, 'Hold all your -hands, put up your swords, and keep the peace, if you -wish to continue alive.'</p> - -<p>That great and monstrous voice made them all stand -still; on which he continued: 'Did I not tell you, Sirs, -that this Castle was enchanted, and that some legion -of magicians did inhabit it? Note how the discord of -King Agramante's Camp is among us, so that we all of -us fight, and none know for what. Come, therefore, -Master Curate, and make you peace and atonement -between us, for I swear that it is a great wrong and pity -that so many noblemen as we are here should be slain -for so slight causes.'</p> - -<p>The Barber was well content that this should be so, -by reason that both his beard and his pannel had been -torn to pieces, and Sancho was at once obedient to his -Master's voice, as became a dutiful servant. As for the -troopers, when they learned Don Fernando's rank and -position, they were quieted, but they retired from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -brawl grumbling, and by no means satisfied with the -turn things had taken.</p> - -<p>Now it happened that one of these officers—the very -one who was so buffeted by Don Fernando—had with -him a warrant to take into custody one Don Quixote, -who was charged with setting free certain galley slaves. -As soon as he remembered this, he must needs try -whether the description of Don Quixote tallied with the -person before him.</p> - -<p>He took from his bosom a scroll of parchment, and -reading it very leisurely, for he was no great scholar, -at every other word he stared at Don Quixote, and -compared the marks of his warrant with those in the -Knight's face, and found that without doubt he was the -man that was wanted.</p> - -<p>No sooner had he made up his mind about this than, -holding the warrant in his left hand, he laid hold of Don -Quixote's collar with his right so strongly that he could -hardly breathe, and cried aloud: 'Aid for the Holy -Brotherhood. And that you may see that I am in good -earnest, read that warrant, wherein you shall find that -this robber of the highways is to be taken into custody.'</p> - -<p>The Curate took the warrant, and saw that what the -trooper said was true, and that the marks described Don -Quixote very nearly.</p> - -<p>As for the Knight, when he found himself abused by -so base a rascal—as he considered him—his anger was -roused to its height, and he caught the trooper by the -throat with both hands, in such a way that if he had not -been speedily rescued by his companions, he would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -given up his life there and then, before Don Quixote -would have released his hold.</p> - -<p>The Innkeeper was forced to assist his fellow-officer, -and his wife, seeing her husband engaged anew in -battle, raised a fresh cry, which was caught up by her -daughter and Maritornes, who called for help from all -the company.</p> - -<p>Sancho, seeing all that passed, called out: 'By my -faith, all that my Master hath said of the enchantments -of this Castle is true, for it is not possible for a man to -live quietly in it for an hour together.'</p> - -<p>Don Fernando soon parted the trooper and Don -Quixote, but the officers did not cease to demand their -prisoner, and called on the others to help them to bind -him and deliver him up to their pleasure, for so the -service of the King and the Holy Brotherhood required, -in whose name they demanded help in arresting -this robber and brigand of the public paths and -highways.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote laughed to hear them speak so idly, and -said with great calmness: 'Come hither, filthy and baseborn -crew. Dare you call the loosing of the enchained, -the freeing of prisoners, the assisting of the wretched, the -raising of such as are fallen, the giving to those in want,—dare -you, I say, call these things robbing on the highway? -O infamous brood, how little do you know of the -virtue which lies in Knight Errantry! We give you -to understand the sin and error in which you lie, in not -adoring the very shadow, much more the actual presence -of a Knight Errant. Come hither, I say, and tell me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -who was the blockhead who signed a warrant of arrest -against such a Knight as I am? Who was he, that -knows not that Knights Errant are free from all -tribunals; their sword is their law, their valour their -court, and their own will and pleasure their statutes? I -say again, What madman was he that knows not the -privileges that belong to a Knight Errant, from the -day he is dubbed a Knight and devotes himself to a -Knightly calling? What Knight Errant did ever pay -tax or custom? What tailor ever had of him money for -a suit of clothes? What Constable ever lodged him in -his Castle, and made him pay his shot? What King -hath not placed him at his own table? And, finally, -what Knight Errant was there ever, is, or shall be in the -world, who hath not the courage himself alone to give -four hundred cudgellings to four hundred officers if they -stand in his way?'</p> - -<p>Whilst Don Quixote raved in this way, the Curate -was trying to persuade the troopers that Don Quixote -was out of his wits, and that even if they did arrest him -they would have to release him afterwards, as he was a -madman.</p> - -<p>'Indeed,' said the Curate, 'you must not take him, -nor do I believe that he will let himself be taken.'</p> - -<p>The officers were with difficulty persuaded to this -view, but they had seen enough of Don Quixote to convince -them of his madness, and in the end they agreed -that it was better the Curate should endeavour, as he -proposed, to take him to his home, than that they should -arrest him at the risk of their lives.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<p>The dispute between Sancho and the Barber was now -easily settled, for there was very little left of the pannel -for Sancho to keep; and the Curate, without Don -Quixote knowing anything of it, gave the Barber eight -<i>reals</i> for the price of his basin, so that they should hear -nothing further of the dispute of Mambrino's helmet.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/illus30.jpg" width="530" height="438" alt="THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S RETURN HOME" /> -<div class="caption"><p>THE MANNER OF DON QUIXOTE'S RETURN HOME</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXX -<br /> -In which is finished the notable Adventures -of our good Knight</h2> - -</div> - - -<p>The Curate and Don Fernando now took the Innkeeper -aside and settled all his claims against Don Quixote, -for he had sworn that neither Rozinante nor Sancho's -Ass should stir from the Inn until he was paid to the -last farthing. As for Don Quixote, as soon as he found -himself free from all the quarrels by which he had been -surrounded, he held it high time to begin his voyage and -bring to an end the great adventure unto which he was -called and chosen.</p> - -<p>Therefore, having made up his mind to depart, he -went and cast himself upon his knees before Dorothea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -and said: 'I cannot but think, high and worthy Lady, -that our abode in this Castle is nothing profitable, and -may turn out to our disadvantage. For who knows but -that your enemy the Giant hath learned by spies or -other secret means how I intend to come and destroy -him, and he may by now have fortified himself in some -impregnable Castle or Fortress, against the strength of -which even the force of mine invincible arm will be of -little use. Therefore, dear Lady, let us by our diligence -hinder his plans, and let us depart to the place where -fortune calls us.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote said no more but awaited the answer of -the beautiful Princess, who, with a lordly air and in a -style not unworthy of Don Quixote himself, replied as -follows: 'I thank you, Sir Knight, for the desire you -show to assist me in this my great need, and I trust -your desires and mine may succeed, that I may show you -that there are some thankful women on earth. As for my -departure, let it be as you wish, for I have no other will -than that which is yours. Therefore dispose of me at your -own pleasure, for she that hath once given the defence of -her person unto you, and hath put into your hand the -recovery of her estate, ought not to seek to do any other -thing but that which your wisdom shall suggest.'</p> - -<p>'Let our departure, then,' said Don Quixote, 'be -immediate. Saddle me Rozinante, Sancho, and get -ready your Ass and the Queen's palfrey, and let us -take leave of the Constable and these other lords and -depart instantly.'</p> - -<p>Sancho, who was present at all this, stood wagging his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -head from side to side, and said: 'O my Lord, my -Lord, how much more knavery is there in the little -village than is talked of!'</p> - -<p>'What can be noised abroad in any village or in any -of the cities of the world to my discredit, villain?' asked -his Master angrily.</p> - -<p>'If you are angry,' said Sancho, 'I will hold my tongue -and omit to say that which by the duty of a good Squire, -and an honest servant, I am bound to tell you.'</p> - -<p>'Say what thou wilt,' said Don Quixote, and he -waited to hear what his Squire had to say.</p> - -<p>'What I mean,' continued Sancho, 'and what I hold -for most sure and certain is, that this Lady, who calls -herself Queen of the great Kingdom of Micomicona, is -no more a Queen than my mother. For if she were -what she says, she would not at every corner be billing -and cooing with one that is in this good company.'</p> - -<p>Dorothea blushed at Sancho's words, for it was true -indeed that her lover Don Fernando had sometimes on -the sly gathered from her lips the reward of his affections. -She was neither able nor willing to answer Sancho -a word, but let him go on with his speech, which he did -as follows:—</p> - -<p>'This I say, good my Lord, to this end, that if after -we have travelled highways and byways and endured -bad nights and worse days, he that is in this Inn,' and -Sancho looked knowingly at Don Fernando, 'shall -marry our Princess and get the fruits of your labours, -there is no need to hasten, methinks, to saddle Rozinante -or harness Dapple, or make ready the palfrey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -seeing it would be better that we stayed still and looked -after our dinner.'</p> - -<p>You may imagine how great was the fury that inflamed -Don Quixote when he heard his Squire speak so rudely. -It was so great that, with a shaking voice, a faltering -tongue, and the fire sparking out of his eyes, he said: -'O villainous peasant, rash, unmannerly, ignorant, rude, -foul-mouthed backbiter and slanderer! Darest thou -utter such words in my presence and in that of these -noble Ladies? Hast thou dared to entertain such rash -and stupid fancies in thy muddled imagination? Out -of my sight, monster of nature, storehouse of untruth, -armoury of falsehood, sink of roguery, inventor of -villainy, publisher of ravings, enemy of the respect due -to Royal persons. Away, villain, and never more appear -before me on pain of my wrath.'</p> - -<p>So saying, he bent his brows and glared around on -every side as he struck a mighty blow upon the ground -with his right foot. And at these words and furious -gestures, poor Sancho was so greatly frightened, that he -could have wished in that instant that the earth opening -under his feet would swallow him up.</p> - -<p>But the witty Dorothea, who now understood Don -Quixote's humour perfectly, to appease his anger spoke -to him thus: 'Be not offended, good Sir Knight of the -Rueful Countenance, at the idle words your good Squire -hath spoken. For perhaps he hath not said them without -some ground, and we cannot suspect from a man of -his good understanding that he would knowingly slander -or accuse any one falsely. And therefore we must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -believe that without doubt, as you have yourself said, -Sir Knight, in this Castle all things are subject to -enchantment, and it might well happen that Sancho may -have been deceived by some wicked illusion.'</p> - -<p>'I vow,' cried Don Quixote, 'that your Highness has -hit the truth, and that some evil vision appeared to this -sinner, my man Sancho, that made him see things that -he could not have seen unless by enchantment. For I -also know very well, that the great goodness and simplicity -of the poor wretch is such, that he knows not how -to invent a lie on anybody living.'</p> - -<p>'It is even so,' said Don Fernando; 'and therefore, -good Sir Don Quixote, you must pardon him and take -him once more to the bosom of your grace.'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote answered that he did willingly pardon -him; and Sancho, kneeling down on his knees, humbly -asked his Lord's hand, which he gave to him. And after -he had permitted him to kiss it, he gave him his blessing, -saying: 'Now thou shalt finally know, Sancho, that -which I have told thee many times, how that all things -in this Castle come about by means of enchantment.'</p> - -<p>And this Sancho was ready to believe of everything -except the tossing they had given him in the blanket, for -he well knew that he had been tossed by persons of flesh -and blood and bone, and not by visionary and unreal phantoms -and shadows, as his Master was always telling him.</p> - -<p>Two days passed, when it seemed to all the noble -company at the Inn that it was time to depart, and they -considered how, without putting Dorothea and Don Fernando -to the pain of turning back with Don Quixote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -to his village, the Curate and the Barber could carry him -home as they desired, and leave him cured of his folly in -his own home.</p> - -<p>This was the plan they decided on. They made a -bargain with a wagoner, who chanced to pass by that -way with a team of oxen, to carry him in the following -manner:—</p> - -<p>They made a thing like a cage of timber, so big that -Don Quixote might sit or lie in it at his ease, and presently -Don Fernando, Cardenio, their companions, and -the Innkeeper did all, by Master Curate's directions, cover -their faces and disguise themselves as well as they could, -so that they might seem to Don Quixote to be different -persons to any he had seen in the Castle. This being -done, they entered silently into the place where he slept, -reposing after his recent battles. They went up to him as -he was sleeping peacefully, not fearing any such accident, -and, laying hold of him forcibly, they tied his hands and -feet very strongly, so that when he started out of his -sleep he could not move, nor do anything else but stare -and wonder at the strange faces that he saw before him.</p> - -<p>And immediately he fell into the idea, which his wild -imagination had at once suggested to him, that all -these strange figures were spirits and phantoms of that -enchanted Castle, and he believed that he himself was -without doubt enchanted, seeing that he could neither -move nor defend himself.</p> - -<p>All happened as the Curate who plotted the jest -expected; and after they had brought him to the cage, -they shut him within, and afterwards nailed the bars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -thereof so well that they could not easily be broken. -Sancho all this time looked on in wonder to see what -would happen to his Master.</p> - -<p>Then the phantoms mounted him upon their shoulders, -and as he was carried out of his chamber door the Barber -called out in as terrible a voice as he could muster: 'O -Knight of the Rueful Countenance, be not grieved at -thine imprisonment, for so it must be that thine adventures -be more speedily ended. And thou, O most noble -and obedient Squire that ever had sword at girdle, beard -on a face, or dent in a nose, let it not dismay thee to see -carried away thus the flower of all Knighthood. For I -assure thee that all thy wages shall be paid to thee, if -thou wilt follow in the steps of this valorous and enchanted -Knight. And as I am not allowed to say more, -farewell!'</p> - -<p>Don Quixote listened attentively to all this prophecy, -and said: 'O thou, whatsoever thou beest, I desire -thee to request in my name that I may not perish in this -prison before my work is ended. And as concerns my -Squire Sancho Panza, I trust in his goodness that he -will not abandon me in good or bad fortune. For, -though it should fall out through his or my hard lot -that I shall not be able to bestow on him an Island, as -I have promised, his wages cannot be lost to him, for in -my Will, which is made already, I have set down what -he is to have for his many good services.'</p> - -<p>Sancho Panza bowed his head with great reverence -when he heard this, and kissed both his Master's hands, -which were bound tightly together. Then the phantoms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -lifted up the cage and hoisted it on to the wagon that -was drawn by the team of oxen.</p> - -<p>After bidding farewell to all their friends, the procession -started. First went the cart guided by the -carter, then the troopers, then followed Sancho upon -his Ass leading Rozinante by the bridle, and last of all -the Curate and the Barber, riding their mighty mules, -with masks on their faces.</p> - -<p>Don Quixote sat with his hands tied and his legs -stretched out, leaning against a bar of the cage, with -such a silence and such patience that he seemed rather -to be a statue than a man. And thus at an Alderman-like -pace, such as suited the slow steps of the heavy -oxen, they journeyed home.</p> - -<p>At the end of two days they arrived at Don Quixote's -village, into which they entered about noon. This was on -a Sunday, when all the people were in the market-place, -through the midst of which Don Quixote's cart passed. -All drew near to see what was in it, and when they knew -their neighbour they were greatly astounded. A little -boy ran home before, to tell the old woman and the -Niece that their Lord and Uncle was returned. It would -have moved one to pity to have heard the cries and -lamentations the two good women made, and the curses -they poured out against all Books of Knighthood, when -they saw Don Quixote enter the gates of his own house -again in so strange a carriage.</p> - -<p>Sancho Panza's wife, when she heard of his return, -ran forward to meet her husband, and the first question -she asked was whether the Ass were in health or no.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sancho answered that he was come in better health -than his master.</p> - -<p>'Tell me, then,' cried his wife, 'what profit hast thou -reaped by this Squireship? What petticoat hast thou -brought me home? What shoes for the little boys?'</p> - -<p>'I bring none of these things, good wife,' replied -Sancho, 'though I bring things better thought of and -of greater moment.'</p> - -<p>'I am glad of that,' said his wife, 'for I should like to -see them, to the end that my heart may be cheered, -which hath been swollen and sorrowful for so long, all -the time of thine absence.'</p> - -<p>'Thou shalt see them at home,' said Sancho, 'therefore -rest satisfied. For when we travel once again to -seek adventures, thou shalt see me shortly afterwards -an Earl or Governor of an Island, one of the best in -the world.'</p> - -<p>'I pray that it may be so,' replied his wife; 'but what -means that Island, for I understand not the word?'</p> - -<p>'Honey is not made for the ass's mouth,' said Sancho, -'but thou shalt know all in good time. Do not busy -thyself, Joan, to know all things in a sudden. It is -enough that I will tell thee all the truth, and therefore -close thy mouth. I will only say this much unto thee as -yet, that there is nothing in the world so pleasant as for -an honest man to be the Squire of a Knight that seeks -adventures.'</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Now, if I were to tell you that Don Quixote got quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -well and lived quietly at home after all these adventures, -and never went abroad again, I should tell you what is -not true. For some day, and I hope at no great distance -of time, you may read what the great Cervantes has -written, not only of the adventures of which I have told -you the story, but of the second part of Don Quixote's -adventures, some of which are even more wonderful -than the first. There you will learn how Sancho Panza -became at last Governor of an Island for a short space, -and may read of the great wisdom and shrewdness with -which he ruled.</p> - -<p>All these good things will be yours to read some day, -as they have been mine and are every one's. For, like all -the really great stories of the world, this of Don Quixote -belongs to no nation or people, but is the property of -each and all of us, given us freely to enjoy it how and -where we will. And from the humour and wisdom of -such books we may become brighter and better ourselves. -So that when I wish that you may be able to -love and honour all such books, and to read this one as -Cervantes wrote it, and with the care it deserves to be -read, it is the best wish I can give you. And, indeed, -to wish you the gift of understanding it, is the same -thing as wishing you a happy life. -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Don Qvixote of the Mancha, by Judge Parry - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DON QVIXOTE OF THE MANCHA *** - -***** This file should be named 55106-h.htm or 55106-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/0/55106/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Nahum Maso i Carcases and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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