"Do!" said Don Quixote, "why, what can we do but help the weaker side?
Look yonder, Sancho, that knight whom thou seest in the gilded armory
with a lion crouching at the feet of a lady painted on his shield,
that is the valiant Laurcalco. That other, the giant on his right,
Brandabarbaran." And he ran over a long list of names of knights whom
he believed that he saw.
Sancho listened, as dumb as a fish; but at last he gasped. "Why,
master, you might as well tell me that it snows. Never a knight, nor a
giant, nor a man can I see."
"How!" answered Don Quixote, "canst thou not hear their horses neigh,
and their drums beating?"
"Drums!" said Sancho. "Not I! I hear only the bleating of sheep."
"Since you are afraid," said the Knight, "stand aside, and I will go
by myself to fight."
With that, he galloped down on to the plain, shouting, leaving Sancho
bawling to him, "Hold, sir! Stop! For Heaven's sake come back. As sure
as I'm a sinner, they are only harmless sheep. Come back, I say."
But Don Quixote, paying not the least heed, galloped on furiously and
charged into the middle of the sheep, spearing them right and left,
trampling the living and the dead under "Rozinante's" feet. The
shepherds, finding that he took no notice of their shouts, now hurled
stones at him from their slings, and one big stone presently hit the
Knight fair in his ribs and doubled him up in the saddle.
Gasping for breath, with all speed Don Quixote got from his wallet a
bottle filled with a mixture he had made, a mixture which he firmly
believed to be a certain cure for all wounds. Of this he took a long
gulp, but just at that moment another big stone hit him such a rap on
the mouth that the bottle was smashed into a thousand pieces, and half
of his teeth were knocked out.
Down dropped the Knight on the ground, and the shepherds thinking that
he was killed, ran away, taking with them seven dead sheep which he
had slain.
Sancho Panza found his master in a very bad way, with nearly all the
teeth gone from one side of his mouth, and with a terrible pain under
his ribs.
"Ah! master," he said, "I told you they were sheep. Why would not you
listen to me?"
"Sheep! Sancho. No, no! There is nothing so easy for a wizard like
Freston as to change things from one shape to the other. I will wager
if you now mount your ass and ride over the hill after them, you will
find no sheep there, but the knights and squires come back to their
own shape, and the armies marching as when we first saw them."
Now, after this and many other adventures (about which, perhaps, you
may some day read for yourself), Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode
away into the mountains, for the Knight was sorely in need of a quiet
place in which to rest.
So weary were he and his squire, that one night, when they had ridden
into a wood, and it chanced that the horse and the ass stood still,
both Don Quixote and Sancho Panza fell sound asleep without even
getting out of their saddles. There sat the Knight, leaning on his
lance; and Sancho, doubled over the pommel, snored as loud as if he
had been in a four-post feather bed.
It happened that a wandering thief saw them as he passed.
"Now," thought he, "I want something to ride upon, for I'm tired of
walking in these abominable mountains. Here's a chance of a good ass.
But how am I to get it, without waking its master?"
Very quietly he cut four long sticks. One after the other he placed
these under each side of Sancho's saddle; then loosening the girths,
he gradually raised the sticks till the saddle was clear of the
animal's back.
Gently, in the moonlight, he led the tired ass away, and Sancho,
undisturbed, snored on.
When it was broad daylight, the squire awoke, and without opening his
eyes, stretched himself. Down fell the sticks; down with a terrible
bump fell Sancho.
"Body o' me!" he yelled, "where is my ass?" And with many tears he
searched high and low, but no ass was then to be found, nor for many
months afterwards. And how at last Sancho got back the ass you must
read for yourself in the History of Don Quixote. For yourself, too,
you must read of Don Quixote's adventures in the mountains; how he
there did penance; and of many other things, till at last the Curate
and the Barber of La Mancha took him home in a cart which the Knight
believed to be an enchanted chariot.
V
HOW DON QUIXOTE SAW DULCINEA
Now a third time did Don Quixote set off on his search for adventures,
and as he and Sancho Panza rode again away from their village, it
seemed to Don Quixote that certainly it was his duty as a
knight-errant to visit the Mistress of his Heart, the beautiful
Dulcinea.
It was midnight when they reached Toboso, and the whole town was
still, everybody in bed and asleep.
"Lead me to her palace, Sancho," said Don Quixote.
"Palace?" cried Sancho, "What palace do you mean? Body o' me! When
last I saw her, she lived in a little cottage in a blind alley. And
even if it were a palace, we can't go and thunder at the door at this
time o' night."
"When we find it, I will tell thee what to do. But, here! What is
this?" said the Knight, riding up to a huge building, and knocking at
the door. "This indeed, without doubt, must be her palace."
But it was only the great Church of Toboso. Hunt as he would, he found
no Dulcinea's palace, and as morning began to break, Sancho persuaded
him to come and rest in a grove of trees two miles outside the town.
From there Sancho was again sent to look for Dulcinea, bearing many
messages from his sorrowful master.
"Cheer up, sir," said Sancho. "I'll be back in a trice. Don't be cast
down. Faint heart never won fair lady."
And Sancho rode away, leaving the Knight sitting on his horse, very
full of melancholy. But he had not ridden far, when, turning round and
finding that his master was no longer in sight, the squire dismounted,
and lying down under a shady tree, began to think the matter over.
"Friend Sancho," said he to himself, "what's this you are doing?"
"Why, hunting for a Princess, who, my master says, is the Sun of
Beauty, and all sorts of other fine things, and who lives in a King's
palace, or great castle, somewhere or other."
"And how are you going to find her?"
"Why, it's like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay, to look for
Dulcinea all over Toboso. My master's mad, there's no doubt of that;
and perhaps I'm not very much better, for they say birds of a feather
flock together. But if he's so mad as to mistake windmills for giants,
and flocks of sheep for armies, why, it shouldn't be so very hard to
make him believe that the first country lass I meet is the Lady
Dulcinea. If he won't believe, I'll swear it, and stand to it, so that
he'll think some of those wicked wizards of his have played another
trick on him, and have changed her into some other shape just to spite
him."
Having thus settled his plans, Sancho lay there till the evening, so
that his master might think that all the day had been spent in going
to and from Toboso, and in looking for Dulcinea.
As luck would have it, just as he mounted his ass to ride back to Don
Quixote, he spied coming that way three country lasses mounted on
asses. As soon as Sancho saw the girls, he made haste to get to his
master.
"What news, Sancho?" asked the Knight. "Has your fortune been good?"
"Ay, marry has it, sir," answered Sancho, "you have no more to do but
to clap spurs to 'Rozinante' and get into the open fields, and you'll
meet my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso with two of her damsels coming to see
you."
"Blessed Heaven!" cried the Knight. "What do you say, my dear Sancho?
Is it possible?"
"Possible!" said Sancho. "Why should I play a trick on you? Come, sir,
and you will see her presently, all dressed up and decked with jewels.
Her damsels and she are all covered with diamonds, and rubies, and
cloth of gold. And what is more, they are riding three flea-bitten
gambling hags, the like of which won't be seen again."
"Ambling nags, thou meanest, Sancho," said Don Quixote.
"Well, well, master, gambling hags or ambling nags, it's all one and
the same thing. Any way, I'm sure I never set eyes on more beautiful
ladies than those that sit upon them."
"Let us be moving then, Sancho. And as a reward for your good news, I
promise you the very best things I get in our next adventure. And if
that is not enough, then I will give you the three colts that I have
at home in La Mancha."
"Thank you for the colts," said Sancho. "As for the other things, I'm
not sure that they will be worth so very much."
They were now out of the wood, and could see the three country lasses
at a little distance.
Don Quixote looked long towards Toboso, but seeing no one anywhere but
these girls, he was much troubled in his mind, and asked Sancho if he
were sure that the Princess had left the city.
"Left the city!" cried Sancho. "Why where are your eyes, sir? In the
name of wonder, do you not see her and her maidens coming towards us
now, as bright as the sun at midday?"
"I see nothing, Sancho, but three country wenches riding on asses."
"Now Heaven help me," cried Sancho, "is it possible that you can
mistake three what do you call 'ems--ambling nags as white as snow,
for three asses! Pull my beard out by the roots if it is not so."
"Believe me, Sancho, they are asses."
"Come, sir," answered Sancho, "do but clear your eyes, and go and
speak to the Mistress of your Heart, for she is near you now."
So saying, Sancho hurried up to one of the girls, and, jumping off his
ass, fell on his knees before her, gabbling a lot of nonsense.
Don Quixote followed, and also knelt down, gazing with doubting and
sorrowful eyes on the creature that Sancho had told him was the
beautiful Dulcinea. He was lost in wonder, for she was a flat-nosed,
blubber-cheeked, bouncing country girl, and Don Quixote could not
utter a word.
"Come! get out of the way," screamed the girl, "and let us go about
our business. We're in a hurry."
"Rise, Sancho," said Don Quixote when he heard the girl's voice. "I am
now convinced that misfortune has not yet finished with me. O most
beautiful lady! a spiteful enchanter puts mists before my eyes, and
hides from me your loveliness."
"My grandmother take him!" cried the girl. "Listen to his gibberish!
Get out of the way, and let us alone." And kicking her donkey in the
ribs, she galloped away with her friends. Don Quixote followed them
long with his eyes.
"O the spite of those wicked enchanters!" he sighed, "to turn my
beautiful Dulcinea into so vile a shape as that: to take from her the
sweet and delicate scent of fragrant flowers, and give to her what she
has. For, to tell the truth, Sancho, she gave me such a whiff of raw
onions that it was like to upset me altogether."
"O the vile and evil-minded enchanters!" cried Sancho. "Oh that I
might see the lot of you threaded on one string, and hung up in the
smoke like so many herrings." And Sancho turned away to hide his
laughter.
Don Quixote rode on, very sad, and letting "Rozinante" go where he
pleased.
VI
HOW DON QUIXOTE FOUGHT WITH A LION; AND HOW HE DEFEATED THE MOORS
As Don Quixote and Sancho Panza went along, they were overtaken by a
gentleman in a fine green coat, who rode a very good mare. This
gentleman stared very hard at Don Quixote, and the two began to speak
together about knight-errantry, and were so interested in what they
were saying, that Sancho took the opportunity of riding over to ask
for a little milk from some shepherds, who were milking their ewes
near at hand.
While he was thus away from his master, a wagon, on top of which
fluttered little yellow and red flags, came along the road towards
them. Don Quixote at once imagined this to be some new adventure, and
he called to Sancho for his helmet. At the moment, Sancho was
bargaining with the shepherds for some curds. Hearing his master call,
he had not time to wait till the shepherds could give him a bowl in
which to carry them, and not wishing to lose his bargain (for he had
paid the shepherds), he poured the curds into the Knight's helmet, and
galloped off to see what his master wanted.
"Give me my helmet," said Don Quixote, "for if I know anything of my
business, here is an adventure for which I must be ready."
The gentleman in green, hearing what Don Quixote said, looked
everywhere, but he could see nothing except the wagon coming towards
them, and as that had on it the King of Spain's colors, he thought
that no doubt it was one of his Majesty's treasure-vans. He said as
much to Don Quixote, but the Knight answered: "Sir, I cannot tell
when, or where, or in what shape, my enemies will attack me. It is
always wise to be ready. Fore-warned is fore-armed. Give me my helmet,
Sancho!"
Snatching it out of Sancho's unwilling hands, he clapped it on his
head without looking into it.
"What is this, Sancho?" he cried, as the whey ran down his face. "What
is the matter with me? Is my brain melting, or am I breaking out in a
cold sweat? If I am, it is not from fear. This must be a dreadful
adventure that is coming. Quick. Sancho! give me something to wipe
away the torrent of sweat, for I am almost blinded."
Without a word, Sancho handed to his master a cloth. Don Quixote dried
himself, and then took off his helmet to see what it was that felt so
cold on his head.
"What is this white stuff?" said he, putting some of the curds to his
nose. "Sancho, you vile traitor, you have been putting curds in my
helmet!"
"Curds!--I?" cried Sancho. "Nay, the devil must have put them there.
Would I dare to make such a mess in your helmet, sir? It must have
been one of those vile enchanters. Where could I get curds? I would
sooner put them in my stomach than in your helmet."
"Well, that's true, I dare say," said Don Quixote. "There's something
in that."
Then again he put on the helmet, and made ready for the adventure.
"Now come what may, I dare meet it," he cried.
The wagon had now come near to them. On top was seated a man, and the
driver rode one of the mules that drew it. Don Quixote rode up.
"Whither go ye, my friends?" said he. "What wagon is this, and what
have you in it? What is the meaning of the flags?"
"The wagon is mine," said the driver, "and I have in it a lion that is
being sent to the King, and the flags are flying to let the people
know that it is the King's property."
"A lion!" cried Don Quixote, "Is it a large one?"
"The biggest I ever saw," said the man on top of the wagon. "I am the
keeper, and I have had charge of many lions, but I never saw one so
large as this. Pray get out of the way, sir, for we must hurry on to
our stopping-place. It is already past his feeding-time; he is
beginning to get hungry, and they are always savage when they are
hungry."
"What!" cried Don Quixote, "lion whelps against me! I'll let those
gentlemen know who send lions this way, that I am not to be scared by
any of their lions. So, Mr. Keeper, just jump down and open his cage,
and let him out. In spite of all the enchanters in the world that have
sent him to try me, I'll let the animal see who Don Quixote de la
Mancha is."
Up ran Sancho to the gentleman in green.
"O good, dear sir," he cried, "don't let my master get at the lion, or
we shall all be torn to pieces."
"Why," said the gentleman, "is your master so mad that you fear he'll
set upon such a dangerous brute."
"Oh no, sir, he's not mad; he's only rash, very, very rash," cried
Sancho.
"Well," said the gentleman, "I'll see to it," and up he went to Don
Quixote, who was trying to get the keeper to open the cage.
"Sir," said he, "knight-errants ought not to engage in adventures from
which there is no hope of coming off in safety. That is more like
madness than courage. Besides, this is the King's wagon; it will
never do to stop that. And after all, the lion has not been sent
against you; it is a present to the King."
"Pray, sir," cried Don Quixote, "will you attend to your own business?
This is mine, and I know best whether this lion has been sent against
me or not. Now you, sir," he cried to the keeper, "either open that
cage at once, or I'll pin you to your wagon with my spear."
"For mercy's sake, sir," cried the driver, "do but let me take my
mules out of harm's way before the lion gets out. My cart and my mules
are all I have in the world, and I shall be ruined if harm comes to
them."
"Take them out quickly, then," said Don Quixote, "and take them where
you please."
On this the driver made all the haste he could to unharness his mules,
while the keeper called aloud, "Take notice, everybody, that it is
against my will that I am forced to let loose the lion, and that this
gentleman here is to blame for all the damage that will be done. Get
out of the way, everybody: look out for yourselves."
Once more the gentleman in green tried to persuade Don Quixote not to
be so foolish, but the Knight only said, "I know very well what I am
doing. If you are afraid, and do not care to see the fight, just put
spurs to your mare and take yourself where you think you will be
safe."
Sancho now hurried up, and with tears in his eyes begged his master
not to put himself in so great danger, but Don Quixote only said,
"Take yourself away, Sancho, and leave me alone. If I am killed, go,
as I have so often told you, to the beautiful Dulcinea, and tell
her--you know what to tell her."
The gentleman in green, finding that words were thrown away on Don
Quixote, now quickly followed the driver, who had hastily taken his
mules as far away as he could beyond the brow of the hill. Sancho
hurried after them at the top speed of his ass, kicking him in the
ribs all the while to make him go even faster, and loudly bewailing
his master's coming death. The keeper made one more attempt to turn
Don Quixote from his folly, but again finding it useless, very
unwillingly opened the cage door.
Meantime the Knight had been thinking whether it would be best to
fight the lion on foot or on horseback, and he had made up his mind to
fight on foot, for the reason that "Rozinante" would probably be too
much afraid to face the lion. So he got off his horse, drew his sword,
and holding his shield in front of him, marched slowly up to the cage.
The keeper, having thrown the door wide open, now quickly got himself
out of harm's way.
The lion, seeing the cage open, and Don Quixote standing in front,
turned round and stretched out his great paws. Then he opened his
enormous mouth, and, letting out a tongue as long as a man's arm,
licked the dust off his face. Now rising to his feet, he thrust his
head out of the door and glared around with eyes like burning coals.
It was a sight to make any man afraid; but Don Quixote calmly waited
for the animal to jump out and come within reach of his sword.
The lion looked at him for a moment with its great yellow eyes--then,
slowly turning, it strolled to the back of the cage, gave a long,
weary yawn, and lay quietly down.
"Force him to come out," cried Don Quixote to the keeper, "beat him."
"Not I," said the man. "I dare not for my life. He would tear me to
pieces. And let me advise you, sir, to be content with your day's
work. I beseech you, go no further. You have shown how brave you are.
No man can be expected to do more than challenge his enemy and wait
ready for him. If he does not come, the fault and the disgrace are
his."
"'Tis true," said the Knight. "Shut the door, my friend, and give me
the best certificate you can of what you have seen me do; how you
opened the door, and how I waited for the lion to come out, and how he
turned tail and lay down. I am obliged to do no more."
So saying, Don Quixote put on the end of his spear the cloth with
which he had wiped the curds from his face, and began to wave to the
others to come back.
"I'll be hanged," cried Sancho when he saw this signal, "if my master
has not killed the lion." And they all hurried up to the wagon where
the keeper gave them a long account of what had happened, adding,
that when he got to court he would tell the King of Don Quixote's
bravery.
"If his Majesty should happen to ask who did this thing, tell him,"
said Don Quixote, "that it was the Knight of the Lions, for that is
the name by which I shall now call myself."
Sancho and his master now rode with the gentleman in green to his
house, where they stopped some days, to the great contentment of
Sancho. And of the wedding at which they were present, of the feast
where Sancho so greatly enjoyed himself, as well as of other matters,
you must read for yourself.
When the Knight and his squire again began their travels, it chanced
that they stopped one night at an inn. To this inn, while Don Quixote
was outside, waiting for supper, there came a man, all dressed in
chamois leather, and wearing over his left eye, and part of his face,
a green patch.
"Have you any lodgings, landlord?" he cried in a loud voice; "for here
comes the fortune-telling ape, and the great puppet-show of
Melisendra's Deliverance."
"Why, bless me!" cried the innkeeper, "if here isn't Master Peter. Now
we shall have a merry night of it. You are welcome, with all my heart.
Where is the ape, Peter?"
"Coming presently," said Master Peter. "I only came on before to see
if lodgings were to be had."
"Lodgings!" cried the landlord. "Why, I'd turn out the Duke of Alva
himself rather than you should want room. Bring on the monkey and the
show, for I have guests in the inn to-night who will pay well to see
the performance."
"That's good news," said Peter, going off to hurry up his cart.
"Who is this Peter?" asked Don Quixote.
"Why, sir," answered the landlord, "he has been going about the
country this long time with his play of Melisendra and Don Gayferos,
one of the very best shows that ever was seen. Then he has the
cleverest ape in the world. You have only to ask it a question and it
will jump on its master's shoulder and whisper the answer in his ear,
and then Master Peter will tell you what it says. It's true, he isn't
always right, but he so often hits the nail on the head that we
sometimes think Satan is in him."
Don Quixote no sooner saw the ape, than he marched up to it, and asked
a question.
"Ah!" said Master Peter, "the animal can't tell what is going to
happen; only what has already happened."
"I wouldn't give a brass centesimo," cried Sancho, "to know what is
past. Who can tell that better than myself? Tell me what my wife
Teresa is doing at home just now."
Master Peter tapped his shoulder: the ape at once sprang on to it, and
putting its head at his ear, began to chatter--as apes do--for a
minute. Then it skipped down again, and immediately Master Peter ran
to Don Quixote and fell on his knees before him.
"O glorious restorer of knight-errantry!" he cried, "who can say
enough in praise of the great Don Quixote de la Mancha, the righter of
wrongs, the comfort of the afflicted and unhappy?"
Don Quixote was amazed at these words, for he was certain that he was
unknown to any one at the inn. He did not guess that Master Peter was
a clever rogue, who, before giving a performance, always made it his
business to find out about those who were likely to be looking on.
As for Sancho, he quaked with fear.
"And thou, honest Sancho," went on Master Peter, "the best squire to
the best knight in the world, be not unhappy about your wife. She is
well, and at this moment is dressing flax. By the same token, she has
at her left hand, to cheer her, a broken-mouthed jug of wine."
"That's like enough," said Sancho.
"Well," cried Don Quixote, "if I had not seen it with my own eyes,
nothing should have made me believe that apes have the gift of second
sight. I am in very truth the Don Quixote de la Mancha that this
wonderful animal has told you about."
But he was not quite pleased at the idea of the ape having such
powers, and taking Sancho aside he spoke to him seriously on the
subject.
While they spoke, the showman came to tell them that the puppet-show
was now ready to begin, and Don Quixote and Sancho went into the room
where it stood, with candles burning all round it. Master Peter got
inside in order to move the puppets, and a boy standing in front
explained what was going on.
The story that was acted by the puppets was that of a certain Don
Gayferos, who rescued his wife Melisendra from captivity by the Moors
in the city of Saragossa. Melisendra was imprisoned in the castle, and
the story goes that Don Gayferos, when riding past, in his search,
spied her on the balcony. Melisendra, with the help of a rope, lets
herself down to her husband, mounts behind him, and the two gallop
away from the city. But Melisendra's flight has been noticed, and the
city bells ring an alarm. The Moors rush out like angry wasps, start
in pursuit, and the capture and death of Don Gayferos and Melisendra
seem certain.