DON QUIXOTE

 Volume II. 

 Part 19. 

 by Miguel de Cervantes

 Translated by John Ormsby

CONTENTS

Part II. 

CHAPTER IOF THE INTERVIEW THE CURATE AND THE BARBER HAD WITH DON QUIXOTEABOUT HIS MALADY

CHAPTER IIWHICH TREATS OF THE NOTABLE ALTERCATION WHICH SANCHO PANZA HADWITH DON QUIXOTE'S NIECE, AND HOUSEKEEPER, TOGETHER WITH OTHER DROLLMATTERS

CHAPTER IIIOF THE LAUGHABLE CONVERSATION THAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE, SANCHO PANZA, AND THE BACHELOR SAMSON CARRASCO

CHAPTER IVIN WHICH SANCHO PANZA GIVES A SATISFACTORY REPLY TO THE DOUBTS ANDQUESTIONS OF THE BACHELOR SAMSON CARRASCO, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERSWORTH KNOWING AND TELLING

CHAPTER VOF THE SHREWD AND DROLL CONVERSATION THAT PASSED BETWEEN SANCHOPANZA AND HIS WIFE TERESA PANZA, AND OTHER MATTERS WORTHY OF BEINGDULY RECORDED

CHAPTER VIOF WHAT TOOK PLACE BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS NIECE ANDHOUSEKEEPER; ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT CHAPTERS IN THE WHOLE HISTORY

CHAPTER VIIOF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE, TOGETHER WITHOTHER VERY NOTABLE INCIDENTS

CHAPTER VIIIWHEREIN IS RELATED WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TO SEE HISLADY DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO

CHAPTER IXWHEREIN IS RELATED WHAT WILL BE SEEN THERE

CHAPTER XWHEREIN IS RELATED THE CRAFTY DEVICE SANCHO ADOPTED TO ENCHANT THELADY DULCINEA, AND OTHER INCIDENTS AS LUDICROUS AS THEY ARE TRUE

CHAPTER XIOF THE STRANGE ADVENTURE WHICH THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE HAD WITHTHE CAR OR CART OF "THE CORTES OF DEATH"

CHAPTER XIIOF THE STRANGE ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE WITHTHE BOLD KNIGHT OF THE MIRRORS

CHAPTER XIIIIN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE ADVENTURE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE GROVE, TOGETHER WITH THE SENSIBLE, ORIGINAL, AND TRANQUIL COLLOQUY THATPASSED BETWEEN THE TWO SQUIRES

CHAPTER XIVWHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE ADVENTURE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE GROVE

CHAPTER XVWHEREIN IT IS TOLD AND KNOWN WHO THE KNIGHT OF THE MIRRORS AND HISSQUIRE WERE

CHAPTER XVIOF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH A DISCREET GENTLEMAN OF LA MANCHA

CHAPTER XVIIWHEREIN IS SHOWN THE FURTHEST AND HIGHEST POINT WHICH THE UNEXAMPLEDCOURAGE OF DON QUIXOTE REACHED OR COULD REACH; TOGETHER WITH THEHAPPILY ACHIEVED ADVENTURE OF THE LIONS

CHAPTER XVIIIOF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE IN THE CASTLE OR HOUSE OF THE KNIGHT OFTHE GREEN GABAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERS OUT OF THE COMMON

CHAPTER XIXIN WHICH IS RELATED THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENAMOURED SHEPHERD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER TRULY DROLL INCIDENTS

CHAPTER XXWHEREIN AN ACCOUNT IS GIVEN OF THE WEDDING OF CAMACHO THE RICH, TOGETHER WITH THE INCIDENT OF BASILIO THE POOR

CHAPTER XXIIN WHICH CAMACHO'S WEDDING IS CONTINUED, WITH OTHER DELIGHTFUL INCIDENTS

CHAPTER XXIIWHERIN IS RELATED THE GRAND ADVENTURE OF THE CAVE OF MONTESINOS INTHE HEART OF LA MANCHA, WHICH THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE BROUGHT TO AHAPPY TERMINATION

CHAPTER XXIIIOF THE WONDERFUL THINGS THE INCOMPARABLE DON QUIXOTE SAID HE SAWIN THE PROFOUND CAVE OF MONTESINOS, THE IMPOSSIBILITY AND MAGNITUDE OFWHICH CAUSE THIS ADVENTURE TO BE DEEMED APOCRYPHAL

CHAPTER XXIVWHEREIN ARE RELATED A THOUSAND TRIFLING MATTERS, AS TRIVIAL ASTHEY ARE NECESSARY TO THE RIGHT UNDERSTANDING OF THIS GREAT HISTORY

CHAPTER XXVWHEREIN IS SET DOWN THE BRAYING ADVENTURE, AND THE DROLL ONE OFTHE PUPPET-SHOWMAN, TOGETHER WITH THE MEMORABLE DIVINATIONS OF THEDIVINING APE

CHAPTER XXVIWHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE DROLL ADVENTURE OF THE PUPPET-SHOWMAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGS IN TRUTH RIGHT GOOD

CHAPTER XXVIIWHEREIN IT IS SHOWN WHO MASTER PEDRO AND HIS APE WERE, TOGETHER WITHTHE MISHAP DON QUIXOTE HAD IN THE BRAYING ADVENTURE, WHICH HE DIDNOT CONCLUDE AS HE WOULD HAVE LIKED OR AS HE HAD EXPECTED

CHAPTER XXVIIIOF MATTERS THAT BENENGELI SAYS HE WHO READS THEM WILL KNOW, IF HEREADS THEM WITH ATTENTION

CHAPTER XXIXOF THE FAMOUS ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED BARK

CHAPTER XXXOF DON QUIXOTE'S ADVENTURE WITH A FAIR HUNTRESS

CHAPTER XXXIWHICH TREATS OF MANY AND GREAT MATTERS

CHAPTER XXXIIOF THE REPLY DON QUIXOTE GAVE HIS CENSURER, WITH OTHER INCIDENTS, GRAVE AND DROLL

CHAPTER XXXIIIOF THE DELECTABLE DISCOURSE WHICH THE DUCHESS AND HER DAMSELS HELDWITH SANCHO PANZA, WELL WORTH READING AND NOTING

CHAPTER XXXIVWHICH RELATES HOW THEY LEARNED THE WAY IN WHICH THEY WERE TODISENCHANT THE PEERLESS DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO, WHICH IS ONE OF THERAREST ADVENTURES IN THIS BOOK

CHAPTER XXXVWHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE INSTRUCTION GIVEN TO DON QUIXOTE TOUCHINGTHE DISENCHANTMENT OF DULCINEA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MARVELLOUS INCIDENTS

CHAPTER XXXVIWHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE AND UNDREAMT-OF ADVENTURE OF THEDISTRESSED DUENNA, ALIAS THE COUNTESS TRIFALDI, TOGETHER WITH A LETTERWHICH SANCHO PANZA WROTE TO HIS WIFE, TERESA PANZA

CHAPTER XXXVIIWHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE NOTABLE ADVENTURE OF THE DISTRESSED DUENNA

CHAPTER XXXVIIIWHEREIN IS TOLD THE DISTRESSED DUENNA'S TALE OF HER MISFORTUNES

CHAPTER XXXIXIN WHICH THE TRIFALDI CONTINUES HER MARVELLOUS AND MEMORABLE STORY

CHAPTER XLOF MATTERS RELATING AND BELONGING TO THIS ADVENTURE AND TO THISMEMORABLE HISTORY

CHAPTER XLIOF THE ARRIVAL OF CLAVILENO AND THE END OF THIS PROTRACTED ADVENTURE

CHAPTER XLIIOF THE COUNSELS WHICH DON QUIXOTE GAVE SANCHO PANZA BEFORE HE SETOUT TO GOVERN THE ISLAND, TOGETHER WITH OTHER WELL-CONSIDERED MATTERS

CHAPTER XLIIIOF THE SECOND SET OF COUNSELS DON QUIXOTE GAVE SANCHO PANZA

CHAPTER XLIVHOW SANCHO PANZA WAS CONDUCTED TO HIS GOVERNMENT, AND OF THE STRANGEADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE IN THE CASTLE

CHAPTER XLVOF HOW THE GREAT SANCHO PANZA TOOK POSSESSION OF HIS ISLAND, ANDOF HOW HE MADE A BEGINNING IN GOVERNING

CHAPTER XLVIOF THE TERRIBLE BELL AND CAT FRIGHT THAT DON QUIXOTE GOT IN THECOURSE OF THE ENAMOURED ALTISIDORA'S WOOING

CHAPTER XLVIIWHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE ACCOUNT OF HOW SANCHO PANZA CONDUCTEDHIMSELF IN HIS GOVERNMENT

CHAPTER XLVIIIOF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH DONA RODRIGUEZ, THE DUCHESS'SDUENNA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER OCCURRENCES WORTHY OF RECORD AND ETERNALREMEMBRANCE

CHAPTER XLIXOF WHAT HAPPENED SANCHO IN MAKING THE ROUND OF HIS ISLAND

CHAPTER LWHEREIN IS SET FORTH WHO THE ENCHANTERS AND EXECUTIONERS WERE WHOFLOGGED THE DUENNA AND PINCHED DON QUIXOTE, AND ALSO WHAT BEFELL THEPAGE WHO CARRIED THE LETTER TO TERESA PANZA, SANCHO PANZA'S WIFE

CHAPTER LIOF THE PROGRESS OF SANCHO'S GOVERNMENT, AND OTHER SUCHENTERTAINING MATTERS

CHAPTER LIIWHEREIN IS RELATED THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND DISTRESSED ORAFFLICTED DUENNA, OTHERWISE CALLED DONA RODRIGUEZ

CHAPTER LIIIOF THE TROUBLOUS END AND TERMINATION SANCHO PANZA'S GOVERNMENT CAME TO

CHAPTER LIVWHICH DEALS WITH MATTERS RELATING TO THIS HISTORY AND NO OTHER

CHAPTER LVOF WHAT BEFELL SANCHO ON THE ROAD, AND OTHER THINGS THAT CANNOT BESURPASSED

CHAPTER LVIOF THE PRODIGIOUS AND UNPARALLELED BATTLE THAT TOOK PLACE BETWEENDON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA AND THE LACQUEY TOSILOS IN DEFENCE OF THEDAUGHTER OF DONA RODRIGUEZ

CHAPTER LVIIWHICH TREATS OF HOW DON QUIXOTE TOOK LEAVE OF THE DUKE, AND OFWHAT FOLLOWED WITH THE WITTY AND IMPUDENT ALTISIDORA, ONE OF THEDUCHESS'S DAMSELS

CHAPTER LVIIIWHICH TELLS HOW ADVENTURES CAME CROWDING ON DON QUIXOTE IN SUCHNUMBERS THAT THEY GAVE ONE ANOTHER NO BREATHING-TIME

CHAPTER LIXWHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE THING, WHICH MAY BE REGARDED AS ANADVENTURE, THAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE

CHAPTER LXOF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TO BARCELONA

CHAPTER LXIOF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON ENTERING BARCELONA, TOGETHER WITHOTHER MATTERS THAT PARTAKE OF THE TRUE RATHER THAN OF THE INGENIOUS

CHAPTER LXIIWHICH DEALS WITH THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED HEAD, TOGETHERWITH OTHER TRIVIAL MATTERS WHICH CANNOT BE LEFT UNTOLD

CHAPTER LXIIIOF THE MISHAP THAT BEFELL SANCHO PANZA THROUGH THE VISIT TO THEGALLEYS, AND THE STRANGE ADVENTURE OF THE FAIR MORISCO

CHAPTER LXIVTREATING OF THE ADVENTURE WHICH GAVE DON QUIXOTE MORE UNHAPPINESSTHAN ALL THAT HAD HITHERTO BEFALLEN HIM

CHAPTER LXVWHEREIN IS MADE KNOWN WHO THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE MOON WAS; LIKEWISEDON GREGORIO'S RELEASE, AND OTHER EVENTS

CHAPTER LXVIWHICH TREATS OF WHAT HE WHO READS WILL SEE, OR WHAT HE WHO HAS ITREAD TO HIM WILL HEAR

CHAPTER LXVIIOF THE RESOLUTION DON QUIXOTE FORMED TO TURN SHEPHERD AND TAKE TOA LIFE IN THE FIELDS WHILE THE YEAR FOR WHICH HE HAD GIVEN HIS WORDWAS RUNNING ITS COURSE; WITH OTHER EVENTS TRULY DELECTABLE AND HAPPY

CHAPTER LXVIIIOF THE BRISTLY ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE

CHAPTER LXIXOF THE STRANGEST AND MOST EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DONQUIXOTE IN THE WHOLE COURSE OF THIS GREAT HISTORY

CHAPTER LXXWHICH FOLLOWS SIXTY-NINE AND DEALS WITH MATTERS INDISPENSABLE FORTHE CLEAR COMPREHENSION OF THIS HISTORY

CHAPTER LXXIOF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO ON THEWAY TO THEIR VILLAGE

CHAPTER LXXIIOF HOW DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO REACHED THEIR VILLAGE

CHAPTER LXXIIIOF THE OMENS DON QUIXOTE HAD AS HE ENTERED HIS OWN VILLAGE, ANDOTHER INCIDENTS THAT EMBELLISH AND GIVE A COLOUR TO THIS GREAT HISTORY

CHAPTER LXXIVOF HOW DON QUIXOTE FELL SICK, AND OF THE WILL HE MADE, AND HOW HE DIED

DON QUIXOTE

PART II. 

DEDICATION OF PART II. 

TO THE COUNT OF LEMOS:

These days past, when sending Your Excellency my plays, that had appearedin print before being shown on the stage, I said, if I remember well, that Don Quixote was putting on his spurs to go and render homage to YourExcellency. Now I say that "with his spurs, he is on his way. " Should hereach destination methinks I shall have rendered some service to YourExcellency, as from many parts I am urged to send him off, so as todispel the loathing and disgust caused by another Don Quixote who, underthe name of Second Part, has run masquerading through the whole world. And he who has shown the greatest longing for him has been the greatEmperor of China, who wrote me a letter in Chinese a month ago and sentit by a special courier. He asked me, or to be truthful, he begged me tosend him Don Quixote, for he intended to found a college where theSpanish tongue would be taught, and it was his wish that the book to beread should be the History of Don Quixote. He also added that I should goand be the rector of this college. I asked the bearer if His Majesty hadafforded a sum in aid of my travel expenses. He answered, "No, not evenin thought. "

"Then, brother, " I replied, "you can return to your China, post haste orat whatever haste you are bound to go, as I am not fit for so long atravel and, besides being ill, I am very much without money, whileEmperor for Emperor and Monarch for Monarch, I have at Naples the greatCount of Lemos, who, without so many petty titles of colleges andrectorships, sustains me, protects me and does me more favour than I canwish for. "

Thus I gave him his leave and I beg mine from you, offering YourExcellency the "Trabajos de Persiles y Sigismunda, " a book I shall finishwithin four months, Deo volente, and which will be either the worst orthe best that has been composed in our language, I mean of those intendedfor entertainment; at which I repent of having called it the worst, for, in the opinion of friends, it is bound to attain the summit of possiblequality. May Your Excellency return in such health that is wished you;Persiles will be ready to kiss your hand and I your feet, being as I am, Your Excellency's most humble servant. 

From Madrid, this last day of October of the year one thousand sixhundred and fifteen. 

At the service of Your Excellency:

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE

God bless me, gentle (or it may be plebeian) reader, how eagerly mustthou be looking forward to this preface, expecting to find thereretaliation, scolding, and abuse against the author of the second DonQuixote--I mean him who was, they say, begotten at Tordesillas and bornat Tarragona! Well then, the truth is, I am not going to give thee thatsatisfaction; for, though injuries stir up anger in humbler breasts, inmine the rule must admit of an exception. Thou wouldst have me call himass, fool, and malapert, but I have no such intention; let his offence behis punishment, with his bread let him eat it, and there's an end of it. What I cannot help taking amiss is that he charges me with being old andone-handed, as if it had been in my power to keep time from passing overme, or as if the loss of my hand had been brought about in some tavern, and not on the grandest occasion the past or present has seen, or thefuture can hope to see. If my wounds have no beauty to the beholder'seye, they are, at least, honourable in the estimation of those who knowwhere they were received; for the soldier shows to greater advantage deadin battle than alive in flight; and so strongly is this my feeling, thatif now it were proposed to perform an impossibility for me, I wouldrather have had my share in that mighty action, than be free from mywounds this minute without having been present at it. Those the soldiershows on his face and breast are stars that direct others to the heavenof honour and ambition of merited praise; and moreover it is to beobserved that it is not with grey hairs that one writes, but with theunderstanding, and that commonly improves with years. I take it amiss, too, that he calls me envious, and explains to me, as if I were ignorant, what envy is; for really and truly, of the two kinds there are, I onlyknow that which is holy, noble, and high-minded; and if that be so, as itis, I am not likely to attack a priest, above all if, in addition, heholds the rank of familiar of the Holy Office. And if he said what he didon account of him on whose behalf it seems he spoke, he is entirelymistaken; for I worship the genius of that person, and admire his worksand his unceasing and strenuous industry. After all, I am grateful tothis gentleman, the author, for saying that my novels are more satiricalthan exemplary, but that they are good; for they could not be that unlessthere was a little of everything in them. 

I suspect thou wilt say that I am taking a very humble line, and keepingmyself too much within the bounds of my moderation, from a feeling thatadditional suffering should not be inflicted upon a sufferer, and thatwhat this gentleman has to endure must doubtless be very great, as hedoes not dare to come out into the open field and broad daylight, buthides his name and disguises his country as if he had been guilty of somelese majesty. If perchance thou shouldst come to know him, tell him fromme that I do not hold myself aggrieved; for I know well what thetemptations of the devil are, and that one of the greatest is putting itinto a man's head that he can write and print a book by which he will getas much fame as money, and as much money as fame; and to prove it I willbeg of you, in your own sprightly, pleasant way, to tell him this story. 

There was a madman in Seville who took to one of the drollest absurditiesand vagaries that ever madman in the world gave way to. It was this: hemade a tube of reed sharp at one end, and catching a dog in the street, or wherever it might be, he with his foot held one of its legs fast, andwith his hand lifted up the other, and as best he could fixed the tubewhere, by blowing, he made the dog as round as a ball; then holding it inthis position, he gave it a couple of slaps on the belly, and let it go, saying to the bystanders (and there were always plenty of them): "Do yourworships think, now, that it is an easy thing to blow up a dog?"--Doesyour worship think now, that it is an easy thing to write a book?

And if this story does not suit him, you may, dear reader, tell him thisone, which is likewise of a madman and a dog. 

In Cordova there was another madman, whose way it was to carry a piece ofmarble slab or a stone, not of the lightest, on his head, and when hecame upon any unwary dog he used to draw close to him and let the weightfall right on top of him; on which the dog in a rage, barking andhowling, would run three streets without stopping. It so happened, however, that one of the dogs he discharged his load upon was acap-maker's dog, of which his master was very fond. The stone came downhitting it on the head, the dog raised a yell at the blow, the master sawthe affair and was wroth, and snatching up a measuring-yard rushed out atthe madman and did not leave a sound bone in his body, and at everystroke he gave him he said, "You dog, you thief! my lurcher! Don't yousee, you brute, that my dog is a lurcher?" and so, repeating the word"lurcher" again and again, he sent the madman away beaten to a jelly. Themadman took the lesson to heart, and vanished, and for more than a monthnever once showed himself in public; but after that he came out againwith his old trick and a heavier load than ever. He came up to wherethere was a dog, and examining it very carefully without venturing to letthe stone fall, he said: "This is a lurcher; ware!" In short, all thedogs he came across, be they mastiffs or terriers, he said were lurchers;and he discharged no more stones. Maybe it will be the same with thishistorian; that he will not venture another time to discharge the weightof his wit in books, which, being bad, are harder than stones. Tell him, too, that I do not care a farthing for the threat he holds out to me ofdepriving me of my profit by means of his book; for, to borrow from thefamous interlude of "The Perendenga, " I say in answer to him, "Long lifeto my lord the Veintiquatro, and Christ be with us all. " Long life to thegreat Conde de Lemos, whose Christian charity and well-known generositysupport me against all the strokes of my curst fortune; and long life tothe supreme benevolence of His Eminence of Toledo, Don Bernardo deSandoval y Rojas; and what matter if there be no printing-presses in theworld, or if they print more books against me than there are letters inthe verses of Mingo Revulgo! These two princes, unsought by any adulationor flattery of mine, of their own goodness alone, have taken it upon themto show me kindness and protect me, and in this I consider myself happierand richer than if Fortune had raised me to her greatest height in theordinary way. The poor man may retain honour, but not the vicious;poverty may cast a cloud over nobility, but cannot hide it altogether;and as virtue of itself sheds a certain light, even though it be throughthe straits and chinks of penury, it wins the esteem of lofty and noblespirits, and in consequence their protection. Thou needst say no more tohim, nor will I say anything more to thee, save to tell thee to bear inmind that this Second Part of "Don Quixote" which I offer thee is cut bythe same craftsman and from the same cloth as the First, and that in it Ipresent thee Don Quixote continued, and at length dead and buried, sothat no one may dare to bring forward any further evidence against him, for that already produced is sufficient; and suffice it, too, that somereputable person should have given an account of all these shrewdlunacies of his without going into the matter again; for abundance, evenof good things, prevents them from being valued; and scarcity, even inthe case of what is bad, confers a certain value. I was forgetting totell thee that thou mayest expect the "Persiles, " which I am nowfinishing, and also the Second Part of "Galatea. "

CHAPTER I. 

OF THE INTERVIEW THE CURATE AND THE BARBER HAD WITH DON QUIXOTE ABOUT HISMALADY

Cide Hamete Benengeli, in the Second Part of this history, and thirdsally of Don Quixote, says that the curate and the barber remained nearlya month without seeing him, lest they should recall or bring back to hisrecollection what had taken place. They did not, however, omit to visithis niece and housekeeper, and charge them to be careful to treat himwith attention, and give him comforting things to eat, and such as weregood for the heart and the brain, whence, it was plain to see, all hismisfortune proceeded. The niece and housekeeper replied that they did so, and meant to do so with all possible care and assiduity, for they couldperceive that their master was now and then beginning to show signs ofbeing in his right mind. This gave great satisfaction to the curate andthe barber, for they concluded they had taken the right course incarrying him off enchanted on the ox-cart, as has been described in theFirst Part of this great as well as accurate history, in the last chapterthereof. So they resolved to pay him a visit and test the improvement inhis condition, although they thought it almost impossible that therecould be any; and they agreed not to touch upon any point connected withknight-errantry so as not to run the risk of reopening wounds which werestill so tender. 

They came to see him consequently, and found him sitting up in bed in agreen baize waistcoat and a red Toledo cap, and so withered and dried upthat he looked as if he had been turned into a mummy. They were verycordially received by him; they asked him after his health, and he talkedto them about himself very naturally and in very well-chosen language. Inthe course of their conversation they fell to discussing what they callState-craft and systems of government, correcting this abuse andcondemning that, reforming one practice and abolishing another, each ofthe three setting up for a new legislator, a modern Lycurgus, or abrand-new Solon; and so completely did they remodel the State, that theyseemed to have thrust it into a furnace and taken out something quitedifferent from what they had put in; and on all the subjects they dealtwith, Don Quixote spoke with such good sense that the pair of examinerswere fully convinced that he was quite recovered and in his full senses. 

The niece and housekeeper were present at the conversation and could notfind words enough to express their thanks to God at seeing their masterso clear in his mind; the curate, however, changing his original plan, which was to avoid touching upon matters of chivalry, resolved to testDon Quixote's recovery thoroughly, and see whether it were genuine ornot; and so, from one subject to another, he came at last to talk of thenews that had come from the capital, and, among other things, he said itwas considered certain that the Turk was coming down with a powerfulfleet, and that no one knew what his purpose was, or when the great stormwould burst; and that all Christendom was in apprehension of this, whichalmost every year calls us to arms, and that his Majesty had madeprovision for the security of the coasts of Naples and Sicily and theisland of Malta. 

To this Don Quixote replied, "His Majesty has acted like a prudentwarrior in providing for the safety of his realms in time, so that theenemy may not find him unprepared; but if my advice were taken I wouldrecommend him to adopt a measure which at present, no doubt, his Majestyis very far from thinking of. "

The moment the curate heard this he said to himself, "God keep thee inhis hand, poor Don Quixote, for it seems to me thou art precipitatingthyself from the height of thy madness into the profound abyss of thysimplicity. "

But the barber, who had the same suspicion as the curate, asked DonQuixote what would be his advice as to the measures that he said ought tobe adopted; for perhaps it might prove to be one that would have to beadded to the list of the many impertinent suggestions that people were inthe habit of offering to princes. 

"Mine, master shaver, " said Don Quixote, "will not be impertinent, but, on the contrary, pertinent. "

"I don't mean that, " said the barber, "but that experience has shown thatall or most of the expedients which are proposed to his Majesty areeither impossible, or absurd, or injurious to the King and to thekingdom. "

"Mine, however, " replied Don Quixote, "is neither impossible nor absurd, but the easiest, the most reasonable, the readiest and most expeditiousthat could suggest itself to any projector's mind. "

"You take a long time to tell it, Senor Don Quixote, " said the curate. 

"I don't choose to tell it here, now, " said Don Quixote, "and have itreach the ears of the lords of the council to-morrow morning, and someother carry off the thanks and rewards of my trouble. "

"For my part, " said the barber, "I give my word here and before God thatI will not repeat what your worship says, to King, Rook or earthlyman--an oath I learned from the ballad of the curate, who, in theprelude, told the king of the thief who had robbed him of the hundredgold crowns and his pacing mule. "

"I am not versed in stories, " said Don Quixote; "but I know the oath is agood one, because I know the barber to be an honest fellow. "

"Even if he were not, " said the curate, "I will go bail and answer forhim that in this matter he will be as silent as a dummy, under pain ofpaying any penalty that may be pronounced. "

"And who will be security for you, senor curate?" said Don Quixote. 

"My profession, " replied the curate, "which is to keep secrets. "

"Ods body!" said Don Quixote at this, "what more has his Majesty to dobut to command, by public proclamation, all the knights-errant that arescattered over Spain to assemble on a fixed day in the capital, for evenif no more than half a dozen come, there may be one among them who alonewill suffice to destroy the entire might of the Turk. Give me yourattention and follow me. Is it, pray, any new thing for a singleknight-errant to demolish an army of two hundred thousand men, as if theyall had but one throat or were made of sugar paste? Nay, tell me, howmany histories are there filled with these marvels? If only (in an evilhour for me: I don't speak for anyone else) the famous Don Belianis werealive now, or any one of the innumerable progeny of Amadis of Gaul! Ifany these were alive today, and were to come face to face with the Turk, by my faith, I would not give much for the Turk's chance. But God willhave regard for his people, and will provide some one, who, if not sovaliant as the knights-errant of yore, at least will not be inferior tothem in spirit; but God knows what I mean, and I say no more. "

"Alas!" exclaimed the niece at this, "may I die if my master does notwant to turn knight-errant again;" to which Don Quixote replied, "Aknight-errant I shall die, and let the Turk come down or go up when helikes, and in as strong force as he can, once more I say, God knows whatI mean. " But here the barber said, "I ask your worships to give me leaveto tell a short story of something that happened in Seville, which comesso pat to the purpose just now that I should like greatly to tell it. "Don Quixote gave him leave, and the rest prepared to listen, and he beganthus:

"In the madhouse at Seville there was a man whom his relations had placedthere as being out of his mind. He was a graduate of Osuna in canon law;but even if he had been of Salamanca, it was the opinion of most peoplethat he would have been mad all the same. This graduate, after some yearsof confinement, took it into his head that he was sane and in his fullsenses, and under this impression wrote to the Archbishop, entreating himearnestly, and in very correct language, to have him released from themisery in which he was living; for by God's mercy he had now recoveredhis lost reason, though his relations, in order to enjoy his property, kept him there, and, in spite of the truth, would make him out to be maduntil his dying day. The Archbishop, moved by repeated sensible, well-written letters, directed one of his chaplains to make inquiry ofthe madhouse as to the truth of the licentiate's statements, and to havean interview with the madman himself, and, if it should appear that hewas in his senses, to take him out and restore him to liberty. Thechaplain did so, and the governor assured him that the man was still mad, and that though he often spoke like a highly intelligent person, he wouldin the end break out into nonsense that in quantity and qualitycounterbalanced all the sensible things he had said before, as might beeasily tested by talking to him. The chaplain resolved to try theexperiment, and obtaining access to the madman conversed with him for anhour or more, during the whole of which time he never uttered a word thatwas incoherent or absurd, but, on the contrary, spoke so rationally thatthe chaplain was compelled to believe him to be sane. Among other things, he said the governor was against him, not to lose the presents hisrelations made him for reporting him still mad but with lucid intervals;and that the worst foe he had in his misfortune was his large property;for in order to enjoy it his enemies disparaged and threw doubts upon themercy our Lord had shown him in turning him from a brute beast into aman. In short, he spoke in such a way that he cast suspicion on thegovernor, and made his relations appear covetous and heartless, andhimself so rational that the chaplain determined to take him away withhim that the Archbishop might see him, and ascertain for himself thetruth of the matter. Yielding to this conviction, the worthy chaplainbegged the governor to have the clothes in which the licentiate hadentered the house given to him. The governor again bade him beware ofwhat he was doing, as the licentiate was beyond a doubt still mad; butall his cautions and warnings were unavailing to dissuade the chaplainfrom taking him away. The governor, seeing that it was the order of theArchbishop, obeyed, and they dressed the licentiate in his own clothes, which were new and decent. He, as soon as he saw himself clothed like onein his senses, and divested of the appearance of a madman, entreated thechaplain to permit him in charity to go and take leave of his comradesthe madmen. The chaplain said he would go with him to see what madmenthere were in the house; so they went upstairs, and with them some ofthose who were present. Approaching a cage in which there was a furiousmadman, though just at that moment calm and quiet, the licentiate said tohim, 'Brother, think if you have any commands for me, for I am goinghome, as God has been pleased, in his infinite goodness and mercy, without any merit of mine, to restore me my reason. I am now cured and inmy senses, for with God's power nothing is impossible. Have strong hopeand trust in him, for as he has restored me to my original condition, solikewise he will restore you if you trust in him. I will take care tosend you some good things to eat; and be sure you eat them; for I wouldhave you know I am convinced, as one who has gone through it, that allthis madness of ours comes of having the stomach empty and the brainsfull of wind. Take courage! take courage! for despondency in misfortunebreaks down health and brings on death. '

"To all these words of the licentiate another madman in a cage oppositethat of the furious one was listening; and raising himself up from an oldmat on which he lay stark naked, he asked in a loud voice who it was thatwas going away cured and in his senses. The licentiate answered, 'It isI, brother, who am going; I have now no need to remain here any longer, for which I return infinite thanks to Heaven that has had so great mercyupon me. '

"'Mind what you are saying, licentiate; don't let the devil deceive you, 'replied the madman. 'Keep quiet, stay where you are, and you will saveyourself the trouble of coming back. '

"'I know I am cured, ' returned the licentiate, 'and that I shall not haveto go stations again. '

"'You cured!' said the madman; 'well, we shall see; God be with you; butI swear to you by Jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth, that forthis crime alone, which Seville is committing to-day in releasing youfrom this house, and treating you as if you were in your senses, I shallhave to inflict such a punishment on it as will be remembered for agesand ages, amen. Dost thou not know, thou miserable little licentiate, that I can do it, being, as I say, Jupiter the Thunderer, who hold in myhands the fiery bolts with which I am able and am wont to threaten andlay waste the world? But in one way only will I punish this ignoranttown, and that is by not raining upon it, nor on any part of its districtor territory, for three whole years, to be reckoned from the day andmoment when this threat is pronounced. Thou free, thou cured, thou in thysenses! and I mad, I disordered, I bound! I will as soon think of sendingrain as of hanging myself. 

"Those present stood listening to the words and exclamations of themadman; but our licentiate, turning to the chaplain and seizing him bythe hands, said to him, 'Be not uneasy, senor; attach no importance towhat this madman has said; for if he is Jupiter and will not send rain, I, who am Neptune, the father and god of the waters, will rain as oftenas it pleases me and may be needful. '

"The governor and the bystanders laughed, and at their laughter thechaplain was half ashamed, and he replied, 'For all that, Senor Neptune, it will not do to vex Senor Jupiter; remain where you are, and some otherday, when there is a better opportunity and more time, we will come backfor you. ' So they stripped the licentiate, and he was left where he was;and that's the end of the story. "

"So that's the story, master barber, " said Don Quixote, "which came in sopat to the purpose that you could not help telling it? Master shaver, master shaver! how blind is he who cannot see through a sieve. Is itpossible that you do not know that comparisons of wit with wit, valourwith valour, beauty with beauty, birth with birth, are always odious andunwelcome? I, master barber, am not Neptune, the god of the waters, nordo I try to make anyone take me for an astute man, for I am not one. Myonly endeavour is to convince the world of the mistake it makes in notreviving in itself the happy time when the order of knight-errantry wasin the field. But our depraved age does not deserve to enjoy such ablessing as those ages enjoyed when knights-errant took upon theirshoulders the defence of kingdoms, the protection of damsels, the succourof orphans and minors, the chastisement of the proud, and the recompenseof the humble. With the knights of these days, for the most part, it isthe damask, brocade, and rich stuffs they wear, that rustle as they go, not the chain mail of their armour; no knight now-a-days sleeps in theopen field exposed to the inclemency of heaven, and in full panoply fromhead to foot; no one now takes a nap, as they call it, without drawinghis feet out of the stirrups, and leaning upon his lance, as theknights-errant used to do; no one now, issuing from the wood, penetratesyonder mountains, and then treads the barren, lonely shore of thesea--mostly a tempestuous and stormy one--and finding on the beach alittle bark without oars, sail, mast, or tackling of any kind, in theintrepidity of his heart flings himself into it and commits himself tothe wrathful billows of the deep sea, that one moment lift him up toheaven and the next plunge him into the depths; and opposing his breastto the irresistible gale, finds himself, when he least expects it, threethousand leagues and more away from the place where he embarked; andleaping ashore in a remote and unknown land has adventures that deserveto be written, not on parchment, but on brass. But now sloth triumphsover energy, indolence over exertion, vice over virtue, arrogance overcourage, and theory over practice in arms, which flourished and shoneonly in the golden ages and in knights-errant. For tell me, who was morevirtuous and more valiant than the famous Amadis of Gaul? Who morediscreet than Palmerin of England? Who more gracious and easy thanTirante el Blanco? Who more courtly than Lisuarte of Greece? Who moreslashed or slashing than Don Belianis? Who more intrepid than Perion ofGaul? Who more ready to face danger than Felixmarte of Hircania? Who moresincere than Esplandian? Who more impetuous than Don Cirongilio ofThrace? Who more bold than Rodamonte? Who more prudent than King Sobrino?Who more daring than Reinaldos? Who more invincible than Roland? and whomore gallant and courteous than Ruggiero, from whom the dukes of Ferraraof the present day are descended, according to Turpin in his'Cosmography. ' All these knights, and many more that I could name, senorcurate, were knights-errant, the light and glory of chivalry. These, orsuch as these, I would have to carry out my plan, and in that case hisMajesty would find himself well served and would save great expense, andthe Turk would be left tearing his beard. And so I will stay where I am, as the chaplain does not take me away; and if Jupiter, as the barber hastold us, will not send rain, here am I, and I will rain when I please. Isay this that Master Basin may know that I understand him. "

"Indeed, Senor Don Quixote, " said the barber, "I did not mean it in thatway, and, so help me God, my intention was good, and your worship oughtnot to be vexed. "

"As to whether I ought to be vexed or not, " returned Don Quixote, "Imyself am the best judge. "

Hereupon the curate observed, "I have hardly said a word as yet; and Iwould gladly be relieved of a doubt, arising from what Don Quixote hassaid, that worries and works my conscience. "

"The senor curate has leave for more than that, " returned Don Quixote, "so he may declare his doubt, for it is not pleasant to have a doubt onone's conscience. "

"Well then, with that permission, " said the curate, "I say my doubt isthat, all I can do, I cannot persuade myself that the whole pack ofknights-errant you, Senor Don Quixote, have mentioned, were really andtruly persons of flesh and blood, that ever lived in the world; on thecontrary, I suspect it to be all fiction, fable, and falsehood, anddreams told by men awakened from sleep, or rather still half asleep. "

"That is another mistake, " replied Don Quixote, "into which many havefallen who do not believe that there ever were such knights in the world, and I have often, with divers people and on divers occasions, tried toexpose this almost universal error to the light of truth. Sometimes Ihave not been successful in my purpose, sometimes I have, supporting itupon the shoulders of the truth; which truth is so clear that I canalmost say I have with my own eyes seen Amadis of Gaul, who was a man oflofty stature, fair complexion, with a handsome though black beard, of acountenance between gentle and stern in expression, sparing of words, slow to anger, and quick to put it away from him; and as I have depictedAmadis, so I could, I think, portray and describe all the knights-errantthat are in all the histories in the world; for by the perception I havethat they were what their histories describe, and by the deeds they didand the dispositions they displayed, it is possible, with the aid ofsound philosophy, to deduce their features, complexion, and stature. "

"How big, in your worship's opinion, may the giant Morgante have been, Senor Don Quixote?" asked the barber. 

"With regard to giants, " replied Don Quixote, "opinions differ as towhether there ever were any or not in the world; but the Holy Scripture, which cannot err by a jot from the truth, shows us that there were, whenit gives us the history of that big Philistine, Goliath, who was sevencubits and a half in height, which is a huge size. Likewise, in theisland of Sicily, there have been found leg-bones and arm-bones so largethat their size makes it plain that their owners were giants, and as tallas great towers; geometry puts this fact beyond a doubt. But, for allthat, I cannot speak with certainty as to the size of Morgante, though Isuspect he cannot have been very tall; and I am inclined to be of thisopinion because I find in the history in which his deeds are particularlymentioned, that he frequently slept under a roof and as he found housesto contain him, it is clear that his bulk could not have been anythingexcessive. "

"That is true, " said the curate, and yielding to the enjoyment of hearingsuch nonsense, he asked him what was his notion of the features ofReinaldos of Montalban, and Don Roland and the rest of the Twelve Peersof France, for they were all knights-errant. 

"As for Reinaldos, " replied Don Quixote, "I venture to say that he wasbroad-faced, of ruddy complexion, with roguish and somewhat prominenteyes, excessively punctilious and touchy, and given to the society ofthieves and scapegraces. With regard to Roland, or Rotolando, or Orlando(for the histories call him by all these names), I am of opinion, andhold, that he was of middle height, broad-shouldered, rather bow-legged, swarthy-complexioned, red-bearded, with a hairy body and a severeexpression of countenance, a man of few words, but very polite andwell-bred. "

"If Roland was not a more graceful person than your worship hasdescribed, " said the curate, "it is no wonder that the fair Lady Angelicarejected him and left him for the gaiety, liveliness, and grace of thatbudding-bearded little Moor to whom she surrendered herself; and sheshowed her sense in falling in love with the gentle softness of Medororather than the roughness of Roland. "

"That Angelica, senor curate, " returned Don Quixote, "was a giddy damsel, flighty and somewhat wanton, and she left the world as full of hervagaries as of the fame of her beauty. She treated with scorn a thousandgentlemen, men of valour and wisdom, and took up with a smooth-facedsprig of a page, without fortune or fame, except such reputation forgratitude as the affection he bore his friend got for him. The great poetwho sang her beauty, the famous Ariosto, not caring to sing heradventures after her contemptible surrender (which probably were not overand above creditable), dropped her where he says:

How she received the sceptre of Cathay, Some bard of defter quill may sing some day;

and this was no doubt a kind of prophecy, for poets are also calledvates, that is to say diviners; and its truth was made plain; for sincethen a famous Andalusian poet has lamented and sung her tears, andanother famous and rare poet, a Castilian, has sung her beauty. "

"Tell me, Senor Don Quixote, " said the barber here, "among all those whopraised her, has there been no poet to write a satire on this LadyAngelica?"

"I can well believe, " replied Don Quixote, "that if Sacripante or Rolandhad been poets they would have given the damsel a trimming; for it isnaturally the way with poets who have been scorned and rejected by theirladies, whether fictitious or not, in short by those whom they select asthe ladies of their thoughts, to avenge themselves in satires andlibels--a vengeance, to be sure, unworthy of generous hearts; but up tothe present I have not heard of any defamatory verse against the LadyAngelica, who turned the world upside down. "

"Strange, " said the curate; but at this moment they heard the housekeeperand the niece, who had previously withdrawn from the conversation, exclaiming aloud in the courtyard, and at the noise they all ran out. 

CHAPTER II. 

WHICH TREATS OF THE NOTABLE ALTERCATION WHICH SANCHO PANZA HAD WITH DONQUIXOTE'S NIECE, AND HOUSEKEEPER, TOGETHER WITH OTHER DROLL MATTERS

The history relates that the outcry Don Quixote, the curate, and thebarber heard came from the niece and the housekeeper exclaiming toSancho, who was striving to force his way in to see Don Quixote whilethey held the door against him, "What does the vagabond want in thishouse? Be off to your own, brother, for it is you, and no one else, thatdelude my master, and lead him astray, and take him tramping about thecountry. "

To which Sancho replied, "Devil's own housekeeper! it is I who amdeluded, and led astray, and taken tramping about the country, and notthy master! He has carried me all over the world, and you are mightilymistaken. He enticed me away from home by a trick, promising me anisland, which I am still waiting for. "

"May evil islands choke thee, thou detestable Sancho, " said the niece;"What are islands? Is it something to eat, glutton and gormandiser thatthou art?"

"It is not something to eat, " replied Sancho, "but something to governand rule, and better than four cities or four judgeships at court. "

"For all that, " said the housekeeper, "you don't enter here, you bag ofmischief and sack of knavery; go govern your house and dig yourseed-patch, and give over looking for islands or shylands. "

The curate and the barber listened with great amusement to the words ofthe three; but Don Quixote, uneasy lest Sancho should blab and blurt outa whole heap of mischievous stupidities, and touch upon points that mightnot be altogether to his credit, called to him and made the other twohold their tongues and let him come in. Sancho entered, and the curateand the barber took their leave of Don Quixote, of whose recovery theydespaired when they saw how wedded he was to his crazy ideas, and howsaturated with the nonsense of his unlucky chivalry; and said the curateto the barber, "You will see, gossip, that when we are least thinking ofit, our gentleman will be off once more for another flight. "

"I have no doubt of it, " returned the barber; "but I do not wonder somuch at the madness of the knight as at the simplicity of the squire, whohas such a firm belief in all that about the island, that I suppose allthe exposures that could be imagined would not get it out of his head. "

"God help them, " said the curate; "and let us be on the look-out to seewhat comes of all these absurdities of the knight and squire, for itseems as if they had both been cast in the same mould, and the madness ofthe master without the simplicity of the man would not be worth afarthing. "

"That is true, " said the barber, "and I should like very much to knowwhat the pair are talking about at this moment. "

"I promise you, " said the curate, "the niece or the housekeeper will tellus by-and-by, for they are not the ones to forget to listen. "

Meanwhile Don Quixote shut himself up in his room with Sancho, and whenthey were alone he said to him, "It grieves me greatly, Sancho, that thoushouldst have said, and sayest, that I took thee out of thy cottage, whenthou knowest I did not remain in my house. We sallied forth together, wetook the road together, we wandered abroad together; we have had the samefortune and the same luck; if they blanketed thee once, they belabouredme a hundred times, and that is the only advantage I have of thee. "

"That was only reasonable, " replied Sancho, "for, by what your worshipsays, misfortunes belong more properly to knights-errant than to theirsquires. "

"Thou art mistaken, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "according to the maximquando caput dolet, etc. "

"I don't understand any language but my own, " said Sancho. 

"I mean to say, " said Don Quixote, "that when the head suffers all themembers suffer; and so, being thy lord and master, I am thy head, andthou a part of me as thou art my servant; and therefore any evil thataffects or shall affect me should give thee pain, and what affects theegive pain to me. "

"It should be so, " said Sancho; "but when I was blanketed as a member, myhead was on the other side of the wall, looking on while I was flyingthrough the air, and did not feel any pain whatever; and if the membersare obliged to feel the suffering of the head, it should be obliged tofeel their sufferings. "

"Dost thou mean to say now, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that I did notfeel when they were blanketing thee? If thou dost, thou must not say soor think so, for I felt more pain then in spirit than thou didst in body. But let us put that aside for the present, for we shall haveopportunities enough for considering and settling the point; tell me, Sancho my friend, what do they say about me in the village here? What dothe common people think of me? What do the hidalgos? What do thecaballeros? What do they say of my valour; of my achievements; of mycourtesy? How do they treat the task I have undertaken in reviving andrestoring to the world the now forgotten order of chivalry? In short, Sancho, I would have thee tell me all that has come to thine ears on thissubject; and thou art to tell me, without adding anything to the good ortaking away anything from the bad; for it is the duty of loyal vassals totell the truth to their lords just as it is and in its proper shape, notallowing flattery to add to it or any idle deference to lessen it. And Iwould have thee know, Sancho, that if the naked truth, undisguised byflattery, came to the ears of princes, times would be different, andother ages would be reckoned iron ages more than ours, which I hold to bethe golden of these latter days. Profit by this advice, Sancho, andreport to me clearly and faithfully the truth of what thou knowesttouching what I have demanded of thee. "

"That I will do with all my heart, master, " replied Sancho, "providedyour worship will not be vexed at what I say, as you wish me to say itout in all its nakedness, without putting any more clothes on it than itcame to my knowledge in. "

"I will not be vexed at all, " returned Don Quixote; "thou mayest speakfreely, Sancho, and without any beating about the bush. "

"Well then, " said he, "first of all, I have to tell you that the commonpeople consider your worship a mighty great madman, and me no less afool. The hidalgos say that, not keeping within the bounds of yourquality of gentleman, you have assumed the 'Don, ' and made a knight ofyourself at a jump, with four vine-stocks and a couple of acres of land, and never a shirt to your back. The caballeros say they do not want tohave hidalgos setting up in opposition to them, particularly squirehidalgos who polish their own shoes and darn their black stockings withgreen silk. "

"That, " said Don Quixote, "does not apply to me, for I always go welldressed and never patched; ragged I may be, but ragged more from the wearand tear of arms than of time. "

"As to your worship's valour, courtesy, accomplishments, and task, thereis a variety of opinions. Some say, 'mad but droll;' others, 'valiant butunlucky;' others, 'courteous but meddling, ' and then they go into such anumber of things that they don't leave a whole bone either in yourworship or in myself. "

"Recollect, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that wherever virtue exists in aneminent degree it is persecuted. Few or none of the famous men that havelived escaped being calumniated by malice. Julius Caesar, the boldest, wisest, and bravest of captains, was charged with being ambitious, andnot particularly cleanly in his dress, or pure in his morals. OfAlexander, whose deeds won him the name of Great, they say that he wassomewhat of a drunkard. Of Hercules, him of the many labours, it is saidthat he was lewd and luxurious. Of Don Galaor, the brother of Amadis ofGaul, it was whispered that he was over quarrelsome, and of his brotherthat he was lachrymose. So that, O Sancho, amongst all these calumniesagainst good men, mine may be let pass, since they are no more than thouhast said. "

"That's just where it is, body of my father!"

"Is there more, then?" asked Don Quixote. 

"There's the tail to be skinned yet, " said Sancho; "all so far is cakesand fancy bread; but if your worship wants to know all about thecalumnies they bring against you, I will fetch you one this instant whocan tell you the whole of them without missing an atom; for last nightthe son of Bartholomew Carrasco, who has been studying at Salamanca, camehome after having been made a bachelor, and when I went to welcome him, he told me that your worship's history is already abroad in books, withthe title of THE INGENIOUS GENTLEMAN DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA; and hesays they mention me in it by my own name of Sancho Panza, and the ladyDulcinea del Toboso too, and divers things that happened to us when wewere alone; so that I crossed myself in my wonder how the historian whowrote them down could have known them. "

"I promise thee, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "the author of our historywill be some sage enchanter; for to such nothing that they choose towrite about is hidden. "

"What!" said Sancho, "a sage and an enchanter! Why, the bachelor SamsonCarrasco (that is the name of him I spoke of) says the author of thehistory is called Cide Hamete Berengena. "

"That is a Moorish name, " said Don Quixote. 

"May be so, " replied Sancho; "for I have heard say that the Moors aremostly great lovers of berengenas. "

"Thou must have mistaken the surname of this 'Cide'--which means inArabic 'Lord'--Sancho, " observed Don Quixote. 

"Very likely, " replied Sancho, "but if your worship wishes me to fetchthe bachelor I will go for him in a twinkling. "

"Thou wilt do me a great pleasure, my friend, " said Don Quixote, "forwhat thou hast told me has amazed me, and I shall not eat a morsel thatwill agree with me until I have heard all about it. "

"Then I am off for him, " said Sancho; and leaving his master he went inquest of the bachelor, with whom he returned in a short time, and, allthree together, they had a very droll colloquy. 

CHAPTER III. 

OF THE LAUGHABLE CONVERSATION THAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE, SANCHOPANZA, AND THE BACHELOR SAMSON CARRASCO

Don Quixote remained very deep in thought, waiting for the bachelorCarrasco, from whom he was to hear how he himself had been put into abook as Sancho said; and he could not persuade himself that any suchhistory could be in existence, for the blood of the enemies he had slainwas not yet dry on the blade of his sword, and now they wanted to makeout that his mighty achievements were going about in print. For all that, he fancied some sage, either a friend or an enemy, might, by the aid ofmagic, have given them to the press; if a friend, in order to magnify andexalt them above the most famous ever achieved by any knight-errant; ifan enemy, to bring them to naught and degrade them below the meanest everrecorded of any low squire, though as he said to himself, theachievements of squires never were recorded. If, however, it were thefact that such a history were in existence, it must necessarily, beingthe story of a knight-errant, be grandiloquent, lofty, imposing, grandand true. With this he comforted himself somewhat, though it made himuncomfortable to think that the author was a Moor, judging by the titleof "Cide;" and that no truth was to be looked for from Moors, as they areall impostors, cheats, and schemers. He was afraid he might have dealtwith his love affairs in some indecorous fashion, that might tend to thediscredit and prejudice of the purity of his lady Dulcinea del Toboso; hewould have had him set forth the fidelity and respect he had alwaysobserved towards her, spurning queens, empresses, and damsels of allsorts, and keeping in check the impetuosity of his natural impulses. Absorbed and wrapped up in these and divers other cogitations, he wasfound by Sancho and Carrasco, whom Don Quixote received with greatcourtesy. 

The bachelor, though he was called Samson, was of no great bodily size, but he was a very great wag; he was of a sallow complexion, but verysharp-witted, somewhere about four-and-twenty years of age, with a roundface, a flat nose, and a large mouth, all indications of a mischievousdisposition and a love of fun and jokes; and of this he gave a sample assoon as he saw Don Quixote, by falling on his knees before him andsaying, "Let me kiss your mightiness's hand, Senor Don Quixote of LaMancha, for, by the habit of St. Peter that I wear, though I have no morethan the first four orders, your worship is one of the most famousknights-errant that have ever been, or will be, all the world over. Ablessing on Cide Hamete Benengeli, who has written the history of yourgreat deeds, and a double blessing on that connoisseur who took thetrouble of having it translated out of the Arabic into our Castilianvulgar tongue for the universal entertainment of the people!"

Don Quixote made him rise, and said, "So, then, it is true that there isa history of me, and that it was a Moor and a sage who wrote it?"

"So true is it, senor, " said Samson, "that my belief is there are morethan twelve thousand volumes of the said history in print this very day. Only ask Portugal, Barcelona, and Valencia, where they have been printed, and moreover there is a report that it is being printed at Antwerp, and Iam persuaded there will not be a country or language in which there willnot be a translation of it. "

"One of the things, " here observed Don Quixote, "that ought to give mostpleasure to a virtuous and eminent man is to find himself in his lifetimein print and in type, familiar in people's mouths with a good name; I saywith a good name, for if it be the opposite, then there is no death to becompared to it. "

"If it goes by good name and fame, " said the bachelor, "your worshipalone bears away the palm from all the knights-errant; for the Moor inhis own language, and the Christian in his, have taken care to set beforeus your gallantry, your high courage in encountering dangers, yourfortitude in adversity, your patience under misfortunes as well aswounds, the purity and continence of the platonic loves of your worshipand my lady Dona Dulcinea del Toboso-"

"I never heard my lady Dulcinea called Dona, " observed Sancho here;"nothing more than the lady Dulcinea del Toboso; so here already thehistory is wrong. "

"That is not an objection of any importance, " replied Carrasco. 

"Certainly not, " said Don Quixote; "but tell me, senor bachelor, whatdeeds of mine are they that are made most of in this history?"

"On that point, " replied the bachelor, "opinions differ, as tastes do;some swear by the adventure of the windmills that your worship took to beBriareuses and giants; others by that of the fulling mills; one cries upthe description of the two armies that afterwards took the appearance oftwo droves of sheep; another that of the dead body on its way to beburied at Segovia; a third says the liberation of the galley slaves isthe best of all, and a fourth that nothing comes up to the affair withthe Benedictine giants, and the battle with the valiant Biscayan. "

"Tell me, senor bachelor, " said Sancho at this point, "does the adventurewith the Yanguesans come in, when our good Rocinante went hankering afterdainties?"

"The sage has left nothing in the ink-bottle, " replied Samson; "he tellsall and sets down everything, even to the capers that worthy Sancho cutin the blanket. "

"I cut no capers in the blanket, " returned Sancho; "in the air I did, andmore of them than I liked. "

"There is no human history in the world, I suppose, " said Don Quixote, "that has not its ups and downs, but more than others such as deal withchivalry, for they can never be entirely made up of prosperousadventures. "

"For all that, " replied the bachelor, "there are those who have read thehistory who say they would have been glad if the author had left out someof the countless cudgellings that were inflicted on Senor Don Quixote invarious encounters. "

"That's where the truth of the history comes in, " said Sancho. 

"At the same time they might fairly have passed them over in silence, "observed Don Quixote; "for there is no need of recording events which donot change or affect the truth of a history, if they tend to bring thehero of it into contempt. AEneas was not in truth and earnest so pious asVirgil represents him, nor Ulysses so wise as Homer describes him. "

"That is true, " said Samson; "but it is one thing to write as a poet, another to write as a historian; the poet may describe or sing things, not as they were, but as they ought to have been; but the historian hasto write them down, not as they ought to have been, but as they were, without adding anything to the truth or taking anything from it. "

"Well then, " said Sancho, "if this senor Moor goes in for telling thetruth, no doubt among my master's drubbings mine are to be found; forthey never took the measure of his worship's shoulders without doing thesame for my whole body; but I have no right to wonder at that, for, as mymaster himself says, the members must share the pain of the head. "

"You are a sly dog, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "i' faith, you have nowant of memory when you choose to remember. "

"If I were to try to forget the thwacks they gave me, " said Sancho, "myweals would not let me, for they are still fresh on my ribs. "

"Hush, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "and don't interrupt the bachelor, whomI entreat to go on and tell all that is said about me in this history. "

"And about me, " said Sancho, "for they say, too, that I am one of theprincipal presonages in it. "

"Personages, not presonages, friend Sancho, " said Samson. 

"What! Another word-catcher!" said Sancho; "if that's to be the way weshall not make an end in a lifetime. "

"May God shorten mine, Sancho, " returned the bachelor, "if you are notthe second person in the history, and there are even some who wouldrather hear you talk than the cleverest in the whole book; though thereare some, too, who say you showed yourself over-credulous in believingthere was any possibility in the government of that island offered you bySenor Don Quixote. "

"There is still sunshine on the wall, " said Don Quixote; "and when Sanchois somewhat more advanced in life, with the experience that years bring, he will be fitter and better qualified for being a governor than he is atpresent. "

"By God, master, " said Sancho, "the island that I cannot govern with theyears I have, I'll not be able to govern with the years of Methuselah;the difficulty is that the said island keeps its distance somewhere, Iknow not where; and not that there is any want of head in me to governit. "

"Leave it to God, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for all will be and perhapsbetter than you think; no leaf on the tree stirs but by God's will. "

"That is true, " said Samson; "and if it be God's will, there will not beany want of a thousand islands, much less one, for Sancho to govern. "

"I have seen governors in these parts, " said Sancho, "that are not to becompared to my shoe-sole; and for all that they are called 'yourlordship' and served on silver. "

"Those are not governors of islands, " observed Samson, "but of othergovernments of an easier kind: those that govern islands must at leastknow grammar. "

"I could manage the gram well enough, " said Sancho; "but for the mar Ihave neither leaning nor liking, for I don't know what it is; but leavingthis matter of the government in God's hands, to send me wherever it maybe most to his service, I may tell you, senor bachelor Samson Carrasco, it has pleased me beyond measure that the author of this history shouldhave spoken of me in such a way that what is said of me gives no offence;for, on the faith of a true squire, if he had said anything about me thatwas at all unbecoming an old Christian, such as I am, the deaf would haveheard of it. "

"That would be working miracles, " said Samson. 

"Miracles or no miracles, " said Sancho, "let everyone mind how he speaksor writes about people, and not set down at random the first thing thatcomes into his head. "

"One of the faults they find with this history, " said the bachelor, "isthat its author inserted in it a novel called 'The Ill-advisedCuriosity;' not that it is bad or ill-told, but that it is out of placeand has nothing to do with the history of his worship Senor Don Quixote. "

"I will bet the son of a dog has mixed the cabbages and the baskets, "said Sancho. 

"Then, I say, " said Don Quixote, "the author of my history was no sage, but some ignorant chatterer, who, in a haphazard and heedless way, setabout writing it, let it turn out as it might, just as Orbaneja, thepainter of Ubeda, used to do, who, when they asked him what he waspainting, answered, 'What it may turn out. ' Sometimes he would paint acock in such a fashion, and so unlike, that he had to write alongside ofit in Gothic letters, 'This is a cock; and so it will be with my history, which will require a commentary to make it intelligible. "

"No fear of that, " returned Samson, "for it is so plain that there isnothing in it to puzzle over; the children turn its leaves, the youngpeople read it, the grown men understand it, the old folk praise it; in aword, it is so thumbed, and read, and got by heart by people of allsorts, that the instant they see any lean hack, they say, 'There goesRocinante. ' And those that are most given to reading it are the pages, for there is not a lord's ante-chamber where there is not a 'Don Quixote'to be found; one takes it up if another lays it down; this one pouncesupon it, and that begs for it. In short, the said history is the mostdelightful and least injurious entertainment that has been hitherto seen, for there is not to be found in the whole of it even the semblance of animmodest word, or a thought that is other than Catholic. "

"To write in any other way, " said Don Quixote, "would not be to writetruth, but falsehood, and historians who have recourse to falsehood oughtto be burned, like those who coin false money; and I know not what couldhave led the author to have recourse to novels and irrelevant stories, when he had so much to write about in mine; no doubt he must have gone bythe proverb 'with straw or with hay, etc, ' for by merely setting forth mythoughts, my sighs, my tears, my lofty purposes, my enterprises, he mighthave made a volume as large, or larger than all the works of El Tostadowould make up. In fact, the conclusion I arrive at, senor bachelor, is, that to write histories, or books of any kind, there is need of greatjudgment and a ripe understanding. To give expression to humour, andwrite in a strain of graceful pleasantry, is the gift of great geniuses. The cleverest character in comedy is the clown, for he who would makepeople take him for a fool, must not be one. History is in a measure asacred thing, for it should be true, and where the truth is, there Godis; but notwithstanding this, there are some who write and fling booksbroadcast on the world as if they were fritters. "

"There is no book so bad but it has something good in it, " said thebachelor. 

"No doubt of that, " replied Don Quixote; "but it often happens that thosewho have acquired and attained a well-deserved reputation by theirwritings, lose it entirely, or damage it in some degree, when they givethem to the press. "

"The reason of that, " said Samson, "is, that as printed works areexamined leisurely, their faults are easily seen; and the greater thefame of the writer, the more closely are they scrutinised. Men famous fortheir genius, great poets, illustrious historians, are always, or mostcommonly, envied by those who take a particular delight and pleasure incriticising the writings of others, without having produced any of theirown. "

"That is no wonder, " said Don Quixote; "for there are many divines whoare no good for the pulpit, but excellent in detecting the defects orexcesses of those who preach. "

"All that is true, Senor Don Quixote, " said Carrasco; "but I wish suchfault-finders were more lenient and less exacting, and did not pay somuch attention to the spots on the bright sun of the work they grumbleat; for if aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus, they should remember howlong he remained awake to shed the light of his work with as little shadeas possible; and perhaps it may be that what they find fault with may bemoles, that sometimes heighten the beauty of the face that bears them;and so I say very great is the risk to which he who prints a book exposeshimself, for of all impossibilities the greatest is to write one thatwill satisfy and please all readers. "

"That which treats of me must have pleased few, " said Don Quixote. 

"Quite the contrary, " said the bachelor; "for, as stultorum infinitum estnumerus, innumerable are those who have relished the said history; butsome have brought a charge against the author's memory, inasmuch as heforgot to say who the thief was who stole Sancho's Dapple; for it is notstated there, but only to be inferred from what is set down, that he wasstolen, and a little farther on we see Sancho mounted on the same ass, without any reappearance of it. They say, too, that he forgot to statewhat Sancho did with those hundred crowns that he found in the valise inthe Sierra Morena, as he never alludes to them again, and there are manywho would be glad to know what he did with them, or what he spent themon, for it is one of the serious omissions of the work. "

"Senor Samson, I am not in a humour now for going into accounts orexplanations, " said Sancho; "for there's a sinking of the stomach comeover me, and unless I doctor it with a couple of sups of the old stuff itwill put me on the thorn of Santa Lucia. I have it at home, and my oldwoman is waiting for me; after dinner I'll come back, and will answer youand all the world every question you may choose to ask, as well about theloss of the ass as about the spending of the hundred crowns;" and withoutanother word or waiting for a reply he made off home. 

Don Quixote begged and entreated the bachelor to stay and do penance withhim. The bachelor accepted the invitation and remained, a couple of youngpigeons were added to the ordinary fare, at dinner they talked chivalry, Carrasco fell in with his host's humour, the banquet came to an end, theytook their afternoon sleep, Sancho returned, and their conversation wasresumed. 

CHAPTER IV. 

IN WHICH SANCHO PANZA GIVES A SATISFACTORY REPLY TO THE DOUBTS ANDQUESTIONS OF THE BACHELOR SAMSON CARRASCO, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERSWORTH KNOWING AND TELLING

Sancho came back to Don Quixote's house, and returning to the latesubject of conversation, he said, "As to what Senor Samson said, that hewould like to know by whom, or how, or when my ass was stolen, I say inreply that the same night we went into the Sierra Morena, flying from theHoly Brotherhood after that unlucky adventure of the galley slaves, andthe other of the corpse that was going to Segovia, my master and Iensconced ourselves in a thicket, and there, my master leaning on hislance, and I seated on my Dapple, battered and weary with the late frayswe fell asleep as if it had been on four feather mattresses; and I inparticular slept so sound, that, whoever he was, he was able to come andprop me up on four stakes, which he put under the four corners of thepack-saddle in such a way that he left me mounted on it, and took awayDapple from under me without my feeling it. "

"That is an easy matter, " said Don Quixote, "and it is no new occurrence, for the same thing happened to Sacripante at the siege of Albracca; thefamous thief, Brunello, by the same contrivance, took his horse frombetween his legs. "

"Day came, " continued Sancho, "and the moment I stirred the stakes gaveway and I fell to the ground with a mighty come down; I looked about forthe ass, but could not see him; the tears rushed to my eyes and I raisedsuch a lamentation that, if the author of our history has not put it in, he may depend upon it he has left out a good thing. Some days after, Iknow not how many, travelling with her ladyship the Princess Micomicona, I saw my ass, and mounted upon him, in the dress of a gipsy, was thatGines de Pasamonte, the great rogue and rascal that my master and I freedfrom the chain. "

"That is not where the mistake is, " replied Samson; "it is, that beforethe ass has turned up, the author speaks of Sancho as being mounted onit. "

"I don't know what to say to that, " said Sancho, "unless that thehistorian made a mistake, or perhaps it might be a blunder of theprinter's. "

"No doubt that's it, " said Samson; "but what became of the hundredcrowns? Did they vanish?"

To which Sancho answered, "I spent them for my own good, and my wife's, and my children's, and it is they that have made my wife bear sopatiently all my wanderings on highways and byways, in the service of mymaster, Don Quixote; for if after all this time I had come back to thehouse without a rap and without the ass, it would have been a poorlook-out for me; and if anyone wants to know anything more about me, hereI am, ready to answer the king himself in person; and it is no affair ofanyone's whether I took or did not take, whether I spent or did notspend; for the whacks that were given me in these journeys were to bepaid for in money, even if they were valued at no more than fourmaravedis apiece, another hundred crowns would not pay me for half ofthem. Let each look to himself and not try to make out white black, andblack white; for each of us is as God made him, aye, and often worse. "

"I will take care, " said Carrasco, "to impress upon the author of thehistory that, if he prints it again, he must not forget what worthySancho has said, for it will raise it a good span higher. "

"Is there anything else to correct in the history, senor bachelor?" askedDon Quixote. 

"No doubt there is, " replied he; "but not anything that will be of thesame importance as those I have mentioned. "

"Does the author promise a second part at all?" said Don Quixote. 

"He does promise one, " replied Samson; "but he says he has not found it, nor does he know who has got it; and we cannot say whether it will appearor not; and so, on that head, as some say that no second part has everbeen good, and others that enough has been already written about DonQuixote, it is thought there will be no second part; though some, who arejovial rather than saturnine, say, 'Let us have more Quixotades, let DonQuixote charge and Sancho chatter, and no matter what it may turn out, weshall be satisfied with that. '"

"And what does the author mean to do?" said Don Quixote. 

"What?" replied Samson; "why, as soon as he has found the history whichhe is now searching for with extraordinary diligence, he will at oncegive it to the press, moved more by the profit that may accrue to himfrom doing so than by any thought of praise. "

Whereat Sancho observed, "The author looks for money and profit, does he?It will be a wonder if he succeeds, for it will be only hurry, hurry, with him, like the tailor on Easter Eve; and works done in a hurry arenever finished as perfectly as they ought to be. Let master Moor, orwhatever he is, pay attention to what he is doing, and I and my masterwill give him as much grouting ready to his hand, in the way ofadventures and accidents of all sorts, as would make up not only onesecond part, but a hundred. The good man fancies, no doubt, that we arefast asleep in the straw here, but let him hold up our feet to be shodand he will see which foot it is we go lame on. All I say is, that if mymaster would take my advice, we would be now afield, redressing outragesand righting wrongs, as is the use and custom of good knights-errant. "

Sancho had hardly uttered these words when the neighing of Rocinante fellupon their ears, which neighing Don Quixote accepted as a happy omen, andhe resolved to make another sally in three or four days from that time. Announcing his intention to the bachelor, he asked his advice as to thequarter in which he ought to commence his expedition, and the bachelorreplied that in his opinion he ought to go to the kingdom of Aragon, andthe city of Saragossa, where there were to be certain solemn joustings atthe festival of St. George, at which he might win renown above all theknights of Aragon, which would be winning it above all the knights of theworld. He commended his very praiseworthy and gallant resolution, butadmonished him to proceed with greater caution in encountering dangers, because his life did not belong to him, but to all those who had need ofhim to protect and aid them in their misfortunes. 

"There's where it is, what I abominate, Senor Samson, " said Sancho here;"my master will attack a hundred armed men as a greedy boy would half adozen melons. Body of the world, senor bachelor! there is a time toattack and a time to retreat, and it is not to be always 'Santiago, andclose Spain!' Moreover, I have heard it said (and I think by my masterhimself, if I remember rightly) that the mean of valour lies between theextremes of cowardice and rashness; and if that be so, I don't want himto fly without having good reason, or to attack when the odds make itbetter not. But, above all things, I warn my master that if he is to takeme with him it must be on the condition that he is to do all thefighting, and that I am not to be called upon to do anything except whatconcerns keeping him clean and comfortable; in this I will danceattendance on him readily; but to expect me to draw sword, even againstrascally churls of the hatchet and hood, is idle. I don't set up to be afighting man, Senor Samson, but only the best and most loyal squire thatever served knight-errant; and if my master Don Quixote, in considerationof my many faithful services, is pleased to give me some island of themany his worship says one may stumble on in these parts, I will take itas a great favour; and if he does not give it to me, I was born likeeveryone else, and a man must not live in dependence on anyone exceptGod; and what is more, my bread will taste as well, and perhaps evenbetter, without a government than if I were a governor; and how do I knowbut that in these governments the devil may have prepared some trip forme, to make me lose my footing and fall and knock my grinders out? SanchoI was born and Sancho I mean to die. But for all that, if heaven were tomake me a fair offer of an island or something else of the kind, withoutmuch trouble and without much risk, I am not such a fool as to refuse it;for they say, too, 'when they offer thee a heifer, run with a halter; and'when good luck comes to thee, take it in. '"

"Brother Sancho, " said Carrasco, "you have spoken like a professor; but, for all that, put your trust in God and in Senor Don Quixote, for he willgive you a kingdom, not to say an island. "

"It is all the same, be it more or be it less, " replied Sancho; "though Ican tell Senor Carrasco that my master would not throw the kingdom hemight give me into a sack all in holes; for I have felt my own pulse andI find myself sound enough to rule kingdoms and govern islands; and Ihave before now told my master as much. "

"Take care, Sancho, " said Samson; "honours change manners, and perhapswhen you find yourself a governor you won't know the mother that boreyou. "

"That may hold good of those that are born in the ditches, " said Sancho, "not of those who have the fat of an old Christian four fingers deep ontheir souls, as I have. Nay, only look at my disposition, is that likelyto show ingratitude to anyone?"

"God grant it, " said Don Quixote; "we shall see when the governmentcomes; and I seem to see it already. "

He then begged the bachelor, if he were a poet, to do him the favour ofcomposing some verses for him conveying the farewell he meant to take ofhis lady Dulcinea del Toboso, and to see that a letter of her name wasplaced at the beginning of each line, so that, at the end of the verses, "Dulcinea del Toboso" might be read by putting together the firstletters. The bachelor replied that although he was not one of the famouspoets of Spain, who were, they said, only three and a half, he would notfail to compose the required verses; though he saw a great difficulty inthe task, as the letters which made up the name were seventeen; so, if hemade four ballad stanzas of four lines each, there would be a letterover, and if he made them of five, what they called decimas orredondillas, there were three letters short; nevertheless he would try todrop a letter as well as he could, so that the name "Dulcinea del Toboso"might be got into four ballad stanzas. 

"It must be, by some means or other, " said Don Quixote, "for unless thename stands there plain and manifest, no woman would believe the verseswere made for her. "

They agreed upon this, and that the departure should take place in threedays from that time. Don Quixote charged the bachelor to keep it asecret, especially from the curate and Master Nicholas, and from hisniece and the housekeeper, lest they should prevent the execution of hispraiseworthy and valiant purpose. Carrasco promised all, and then tookhis leave, charging Don Quixote to inform him of his good or evilfortunes whenever he had an opportunity; and thus they bade each otherfarewell, and Sancho went away to make the necessary preparations fortheir expedition. 

CHAPTER V. 

OF THE SHREWD AND DROLL CONVERSATION THAT PASSED BETWEEN SANCHO PANZA ANDHIS WIFE TERESA PANZA, AND OTHER MATTERS WORTHY OF BEING DULY RECORDED

The translator of this history, when he comes to write this fifthchapter, says that he considers it apocryphal, because in it Sancho Panzaspeaks in a style unlike that which might have been expected from hislimited intelligence, and says things so subtle that he does not think itpossible he could have conceived them; however, desirous of doing whathis task imposed upon him, he was unwilling to leave it untranslated, andtherefore he went on to say:

Sancho came home in such glee and spirits that his wife noticed hishappiness a bowshot off, so much so that it made her ask him, "What haveyou got, Sancho friend, that you are so glad?"

To which he replied, "Wife, if it were God's will, I should be very gladnot to be so well pleased as I show myself. "

"I don't understand you, husband, " said she, "and I don't know what youmean by saying you would be glad, if it were God's will, not to be wellpleased; for, fool as I am, I don't know how one can find pleasure in nothaving it. "

"Hark ye, Teresa, " replied Sancho, "I am glad because I have made up mymind to go back to the service of my master Don Quixote, who means to goout a third time to seek for adventures; and I am going with him again, for my necessities will have it so, and also the hope that cheers me withthe thought that I may find another hundred crowns like those we havespent; though it makes me sad to have to leave thee and the children; andif God would be pleased to let me have my daily bread, dry-shod and athome, without taking me out into the byways and cross-roads--and he coulddo it at small cost by merely willing it--it is clear my happiness wouldbe more solid and lasting, for the happiness I have is mingled withsorrow at leaving thee; so that I was right in saying I would be glad, ifit were God's will, not to be well pleased. "

"Look here, Sancho, " said Teresa; "ever since you joined on to aknight-errant you talk in such a roundabout way that there is nounderstanding you. "

"It is enough that God understands me, wife, " replied Sancho; "for he isthe understander of all things; that will do; but mind, sister, you mustlook to Dapple carefully for the next three days, so that he may be fitto take arms; double his feed, and see to the pack-saddle and otherharness, for it is not to a wedding we are bound, but to go round theworld, and play at give and take with giants and dragons and monsters, and hear hissings and roarings and bellowings and howlings; and even allthis would be lavender, if we had not to reckon with Yanguesans andenchanted Moors. "

"I know well enough, husband, " said Teresa, "that squires-errant don'teat their bread for nothing, and so I will be always praying to our Lordto deliver you speedily from all that hard fortune. "

"I can tell you, wife, " said Sancho, "if I did not expect to see myselfgovernor of an island before long, I would drop down dead on the spot. "

"Nay, then, husband, " said Teresa; "let the hen live, though it be withher pip, live, and let the devil take all the governments in the world;you came out of your mother's womb without a government, you have liveduntil now without a government, and when it is God's will you will go, orbe carried, to your grave without a government. How many there are in theworld who live without a government, and continue to live all the same, and are reckoned in the number of the people. The best sauce in the worldis hunger, and as the poor are never without that, they always eat with arelish. But mind, Sancho, if by good luck you should find yourself withsome government, don't forget me and your children. Remember thatSanchico is now full fifteen, and it is right he should go to school, ifhis uncle the abbot has a mind to have him trained for the Church. Consider, too, that your daughter Mari-Sancha will not die of grief if wemarry her; for I have my suspicions that she is as eager to get a husbandas you to get a government; and, after all, a daughter looks better illmarried than well whored. "

"By my faith, " replied Sancho, "if God brings me to get any sort of agovernment, I intend, wife, to make such a high match for Mari-Sanchathat there will be no approaching her without calling her 'my lady. "

"Nay, Sancho, " returned Teresa; "marry her to her equal, that is thesafest plan; for if you put her out of wooden clogs into high-heeledshoes, out of her grey flannel petticoat into hoops and silk gowns, outof the plain 'Marica' and 'thou, ' into 'Dona So-and-so' and 'my lady, 'the girl won't know where she is, and at every turn she will fall into athousand blunders that will show the thread of her coarse homespunstuff. "

"Tut, you fool, " said Sancho; "it will be only to practise it for two orthree years; and then dignity and decorum will fit her as easily as aglove; and if not, what matter? Let her he 'my lady, ' and never mind whathappens. "

"Keep to your own station, Sancho, " replied Teresa; "don't try to raiseyourself higher, and bear in mind the proverb that says, 'wipe the noseof your neigbbour's son, and take him into your house. ' A fine thing itwould be, indeed, to marry our Maria to some great count or grandgentleman, who, when the humour took him, would abuse her and call herclown-bred and clodhopper's daughter and spinning wench. I have not beenbringing up my daughter for that all this time, I can tell you, husband. Do you bring home money, Sancho, and leave marrying her to my care; thereis Lope Tocho, Juan Tocho's son, a stout, sturdy young fellow that weknow, and I can see he does not look sour at the girl; and with him, oneof our own sort, she will be well married, and we shall have her alwaysunder our eyes, and be all one family, parents and children, grandchildren and sons-in-law, and the peace and blessing of God willdwell among us; so don't you go marrying her in those courts and grandpalaces where they won't know what to make of her, or she what to make ofherself. "

"Why, you idiot and wife for Barabbas, " said Sancho, "what do you mean bytrying, without why or wherefore, to keep me from marrying my daughter toone who will give me grandchildren that will be called 'your lordship'?Look ye, Teresa, I have always heard my elders say that he who does notknow how to take advantage of luck when it comes to him, has no right tocomplain if it gives him the go-by; and now that it is knocking at ourdoor, it will not do to shut it out; let us go with the favouring breezethat blows upon us. "

It is this sort of talk, and what Sancho says lower down, that made thetranslator of the history say he considered this chapter apocryphal. 

"Don't you see, you animal, " continued Sancho, "that it will be well forme to drop into some profitable government that will lift us out of themire, and marry Mari-Sancha to whom I like; and you yourself will findyourself called 'Dona Teresa Panza, ' and sitting in church on a finecarpet and cushions and draperies, in spite and in defiance of all theborn ladies of the town? No, stay as you are, growing neither greater norless, like a tapestry figure--Let us say no more about it, for Sanchicashall be a countess, say what you will. "

"Are you sure of all you say, husband?" replied Teresa. "Well, for allthat, I am afraid this rank of countess for my daughter will be her ruin. You do as you like, make a duchess or a princess of her, but I can tellyou it will not be with my will and consent. I was always a lover ofequality, brother, and I can't bear to see people give themselves airswithout any right. They called me Teresa at my baptism, a plain, simplename, without any additions or tags or fringes of Dons or Donas; Cascajowas my father's name, and as I am your wife, I am called Teresa Panza, though by right I ought to be called Teresa Cascajo; but 'kings go wherelaws like, ' and I am content with this name without having the 'Don' puton top of it to make it so heavy that I cannot carry it; and I don't wantto make people talk about me when they see me go dressed like a countessor governor's wife; for they will say at once, 'See what airs the slutgives herself! Only yesterday she was always spinning flax, and used togo to mass with the tail of her petticoat over her head instead of amantle, and there she goes to-day in a hooped gown with her broaches andairs, as if we didn't know her!' If God keeps me in my seven senses, orfive, or whatever number I have, I am not going to bring myself to such apass; go you, brother, and be a government or an island man, and swaggeras much as you like; for by the soul of my mother, neither my daughternor I are going to stir a step from our village; a respectable womanshould have a broken leg and keep at home; and to be busy at something isa virtuous damsel's holiday; be off to your adventures along with yourDon Quixote, and leave us to our misadventures, for God will mend themfor us according as we deserve it. I don't know, I'm sure, who fixed the'Don' to him, what neither his father nor grandfather ever had. "

"I declare thou hast a devil of some sort in thy body!" said Sancho. "Godhelp thee, what a lot of things thou hast strung together, one after theother, without head or tail! What have Cascajo, and the broaches and theproverbs and the airs, to do with what I say? Look here, fool and dolt(for so I may call you, when you don't understand my words, and run awayfrom good fortune), if I had said that my daughter was to throw herselfdown from a tower, or go roaming the world, as the Infanta Dona Urracawanted to do, you would be right in not giving way to my will; but if inan instant, in less than the twinkling of an eye, I put the 'Don' and 'mylady' on her back, and take her out of the stubble, and place her under acanopy, on a dais, and on a couch, with more velvet cushions than all theAlmohades of Morocco ever had in their family, why won't you consent andfall in with my wishes?"

"Do you know why, husband?" replied Teresa; "because of the proverb thatsays 'who covers thee, discovers thee. ' At the poor man people only throwa hasty glance; on the rich man they fix their eyes; and if the said richman was once on a time poor, it is then there is the sneering and thetattle and spite of backbiters; and in the streets here they swarm asthick as bees. "

"Look here, Teresa, " said Sancho, "and listen to what I am now going tosay to you; maybe you never heard it in all your life; and I do not givemy own notions, for what I am about to say are the opinions of hisreverence the preacher, who preached in this town last Lent, and whosaid, if I remember rightly, that all things present that our eyesbehold, bring themselves before us, and remain and fix themselves on ourmemory much better and more forcibly than things past. "

These observations which Sancho makes here are the other ones on accountof which the translator says he regards this chapter as apocryphal, inasmuch as they are beyond Sancho's capacity. 

"Whence it arises, " he continued, "that when we see any person welldressed and making a figure with rich garments and retinue of servants, it seems to lead and impel us perforce to respect him, though memory mayat the same moment recall to us some lowly condition in which we haveseen him, but which, whether it may have been poverty or low birth, beingnow a thing of the past, has no existence; while the only thing that hasany existence is what we see before us; and if this person whom fortunehas raised from his original lowly state (these were the very words thepadre used) to his present height of prosperity, be well bred, generous, courteous to all, without seeking to vie with those whose nobility is ofancient date, depend upon it, Teresa, no one will remember what he was, and everyone will respect what he is, except indeed the envious, fromwhom no fair fortune is safe. "

"I do not understand you, husband, " replied Teresa; "do as you like, anddon't break my head with any more speechifying and rethoric; and if youhave revolved to do what you say-"

"Resolved, you should say, woman, " said Sancho, "not revolved. "

"Don't set yourself to wrangle with me, husband, " said Teresa; "I speakas God pleases, and don't deal in out-of-the-way phrases; and I say ifyou are bent upon having a government, take your son Sancho with you, andteach him from this time on how to hold a government; for sons ought toinherit and learn the trades of their fathers. "

"As soon as I have the government, " said Sancho, "I will send for him bypost, and I will send thee money, of which I shall have no lack, forthere is never any want of people to lend it to governors when they havenot got it; and do thou dress him so as to hide what he is and make himlook what he is to be. "

"You send the money, " said Teresa, "and I'll dress him up for you as fineas you please. "

"Then we are agreed that our daughter is to be a countess, " said Sancho. 

"The day that I see her a countess, " replied Teresa, "it will be the sameto me as if I was burying her; but once more I say do as you please, forwe women are born to this burden of being obedient to our husbands, though they be dogs;" and with this she began to weep in earnest, as ifshe already saw Sanchica dead and buried. 

Sancho consoled her by saying that though he must make her a countess, hewould put it off as long as possible. Here their conversation came to anend, and Sancho went back to see Don Quixote, and make arrangements fortheir departure.