OF MATTERS THAT BENENGELI SAYS HE WHO READS THEM WILL KNOW,
IF HE READS THEM WITH ATTENTION
When Dapple reached his faithful playmate, Rocinante, Sancho fell from
his back and rolled at his master's feet. There he lay; but Don
Quixote was angry and showed no compassion.
"In an evil hour didst thou take to braying, Sancho! Where hast thou
learned that it is well done to mention the rope in the house of the
man that has been hanged? To the music of brays what harmonies couldst
thou expect to get but cudgels?"
Having thus reprimanded his squire, the good knight looked to his
wounds, which Sancho complained of, but found him only discolored.
"I feel as if I was speaking through my shoulders," wailed Sancho; and
then he begged his master to hasten away from such evil premises. Of
course, he also had to say something scornful about Don Quixote's
having abandoned him in the heat of battle; but the knight begged him
to consider that there was a difference between flying and retiring.
Don Quixote succeeded in making Sancho mount and remain on the donkey's
back, and then they set off toward a grove which they sighted in the
distance. Sancho's back pained him fearfully, but he was much relieved
when he learned from his master--who had seen the accident--that it was
caused by his having been smitten by a man armed with a staff. The cause
being removed as it were, Sancho was jubilant, although his heart and
courage fell as soon as he, in the course of his usual chattering,
touched upon the subject of knight-errantry. While bewailing his fate, he
forgot his pain; therefore Don Quixote was generous and Christian enough
to beg him to keep on talking to himself. Sancho suddenly was reminded of
his island, and in turn reminded his master of his promise concerning it.
This impertinence was rewarded by the knight's demanding of him:
"Well, how long is it, Sancho, since I promised thee an island?"
And Sancho retorted innocently: "If I remember rightly, it must be
over twenty years, three days more or less."
Don Quixote then had to laugh, for it would have been ridiculous not
to do so. His wrath was aroused, however, when Sancho again showed his
covetousness--his one really great failing, Don Quixote thought--and
he told him to keep all the money he had, and betake himself back to
his Teresa.
Sancho was moved to tears by his master's wrath, and he confessed in a
broken voice that if he had only had a tail he would have been a
complete ass himself. But, he said, if his master should care to
attach one to him, he would willingly wear one, and serve him all his
life as an ass. Then he asked on bended knees to be forgiven, saying
that if he talked much it was less from malice than from ignorance,
and finished up his harangue with a proverb that had nothing whatever
to do with the rest of his discourse.
So Don Quixote forgave his squire, and by that time they had reached
the grove, and they spent the night there under the trees: Don Quixote
in soliloquies and meditation, Sancho in pain and restlessness. In the
morning they continued on their way to find the river Ebro.