WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE DROLL ADVENTURE OF THE
PUPPET-SHOWMAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGS IN TRUTH
RIGHT GOOD
The play, which depicted how Melisendra was released by her husband,
Senor Don Gaiferos, from the hands of the Moors in the city of
Sansuena, now called Saragossa, had only proceeded a short way when
Don Quixote became impatient with the young man who was making the
explanations to the audience. The knight thought he drifted into
unnecessary and superfluous language, and was quick to reprimand him.
The show was continued, and again Don Quixote broke in, criticising
some of the stage effects: bells were never used by the Moors, only
kettledrums, he said. But here Master Pedro begged him not to be so
particular, pleading that the show was given for the sake of
amusement.
Don Quixote acceded, and the show began again.
But it was not long before a number of horsemen were galloping across the
stage in pursuit of the two lovers. Their escape was accompanied by such
blowing of horns and trumpets and beating of drums, that the noise and
din of it all were too much for the poor knight's imagination which was
now stirred to such a pitch that he believed himself in the midst of a
real battle. He drew his sword and plunged against the Moorish horseman
with such vehemence and force, cutting and slashing in all directions,
that every one in the room was aghast at his madness, and ran to hide in
safety. Master Pedro came within an inch of having his ear, not to say
his whole head, cut off, and Don Quixote's fury was not at an end until
he had decapitated all the Moorish pasteboard figures. Lucky it was that
no blood could flow from them, or there would have been a plentiful
stream of it. The ape took refuge on the roof, frightened out of his poor
wits, and even Sancho Panza was more than ordinarily shaken with fear,
for he admitted that he had never seen his master so wrought up.
When Don Quixote was certain of complete victory--in other words,
destruction--he turned and addressed those who had dared to return
after the storm: "I wish I had here before me now all those who do not
or will not believe how useful knights errant are in the world. Just
think, if I had not been here present, what would have become of the
brave Don Gaiferos and the fair Melisendra!"
But Master Pedro was lamenting the loss of all his emperors and kings
and knights and horses, and Sancho was so touched by what he said it
would cost him to buy a new show, that he pleaded with his master to
make restitution; and, although Don Quixote could not see that he had
done any wrong, he generously ordered his squire to pay Master Pedro
the sum of forty reals and three quarters, the landlord having duly
functioned as arbiter and agreed that that was a fair price for the
damage done to the figures. Besides this amount, Master Pedro was
allotted two reals for his trouble in catching the ape.
While they were summing up, Don Quixote, however, had only one thought
in his mind. He was wondering whether Melisendra and her husband had
reached safety by this time: so possessed was he of his infernal
imagination. Master Pedro promised him that as soon as he had caught
his ape, he would put the question to him; and the showman began to
worry about his African companion, hoping that he would soon be
hungry, for then he would know whether he was still alive.
The rest of the evening was passed in peace, and drinking at Don
Quixote's expense, and soon it was morning, and the man with the
halberds took his departure. The scholar and the page left, too, and
Don Quixote generously gave the page twelve reals. But the first one
to depart was the showman: he was afraid that the knight might have
another outbreak, and he had no desire to experience it twice, and
perhaps lose his ape, which he had now caught.
The landlord was extremely pleased with Don Quixote's generosity, and
was sorry to see him depart; but his madness he could make neither
head nor tail of, for he had never seen any one thus afflicted.