OF THE REPLY DON QUIXOTE GAVE HIS CENSURER, WITH OTHER
INCIDENTS, GRAVE AND DROLL
Had Don Quixote not been where he was and had the man who thus
assailed him not been of the church, it is safe to say that Don
Quixote would have made his defamer retract his words at the point of
his sword. But instead he calmed himself, and began a long discourse
on the virtues of knight-errantry, finishing it with an avowal of his
intentions which, he swore, were to do good to all and evil to none.
As for his deserving to be called a fool, he would leave that to the
judgment of the Duke and the Duchess. But their worships never got a
chance to utter a word before Sancho broke in with the most stupendous
praise of his master's speech.
The churchman wanted to know whether he was the Sancho Panza of the
book he had seen in print, to which Sancho replied that he most
certainly was, and corroborated it with a string of proverbs, ending
his long-winded reply to the confessor's question with a wish for long
life for his master and himself, saying that neither one of them would
be in any want of empires or islands to rule. Whereupon the Duke at
once said he conferred upon Sancho this very moment the government of
one of his islands; and hearing this Don Quixote whispered to
Sancho--who could not believe his own ears--to go down on his knees
and thank the Duke for his kindness.
The ecclesiastic could stand this impudence no longer, and he rose
from his seat and left the room in disgust and ill-temper. The Duke
wanted to call him back, but he was in such hysterics from hearing
Sancho's proverbial nonsense that he could not speak. After the
churchman's departure Don Quixote again took to discoursing, and
delivered a tirade on the subject of giving and taking offense,
comparing the confessor's rebuke to the offense of a woman, whose only
weapon was her tongue and who therefore could not be punished by the
sword. They marveled at his knowledge and at the quality of his
language, however amusing he himself appeared; but it was Sancho who
particularly took their fancy, for the ducal pair thought they had
never met any one quite so amusing and droll in all their life. And
when Don Quixote had ended his discourse, Sancho himself burst out
regarding the priest: "By my faith, I am certain if Reinaldos of
Montalvan had heard the little man's words, he would have given him
such a spank on the mouth that he would not have spoken for the next
three years."
The dinner was now over, and four maidens entered: one carrying a
silver basin, another one a jug, also of silver, a third one towels,
while the fourth had her sleeves rolled up, and, approaching Don
Quixote, began to soap his face and beard. Don Quixote thought this
must be a custom after all ducal meals, so he submitted in amazement
and stretched out his legs comfortably, that he should not appear out
of place in such surroundings. When his face was all lathered, the
barber maiden pretended there was no more water in the jug; and by
this time the lather had worked its way into the knight's eyes, and he
sat there making the most fierce and ludicrous faces until the water
finally arrived. Then the Duke, in order that Don Quixote should have
no suspicions, ordered the maiden to wash his face and beard as well.
But the one who really was crying for and needing such a washing was
Sancho. He at last got up sufficient courage to ask the Duchess that
he might share in the ceremony, and she promised him that if necessary
the maidens would even put him in the bathtub. This kind offer Sancho
declined--with many thanks, however--saying he would be just as
grateful for having only his beard washed.
While Sancho went with the seneschal to have this attended to, Don
Quixote lingered at the table with the Duke and the Duchess. The
latter was anxious to have the hero tell her something about his Lady
Dulcinea; and Don Quixote became reminiscent and began to sigh,
telling her in exalted and flowery language of his great platonic love
for this lady, who was now enchanted by some evil sage. When the
Duchess asked Don Quixote if it were true that she was only an
imaginary figure, he replied meekly that there was a good deal to be
said on that point; still, he thought, one must not go to extreme
lengths in asking for proof. They discussed many other things, not
forgetting Sancho, whom his master praised for his drollery and
criticised for being a booby.
Suddenly a great noise was heard and the next moment Sancho burst
into the room trembling with rage. He was followed by some of the
servants in the kitchen. Round his neck was a straining cloth, and
dirty lather was splashed in various places over his person. He
presented an appearance that at once made the Duchess scream with
laughter. He proceeded to tell how he had been set upon by the
kitchen-boy, who had been appointed barber by the rest, and how the
lad had attempted to lather his face with kitchen soap and dishwater,
applied with a scrubbing-brush. Don Quixote thought it best here to
make the servants understand that he would tolerate no such jokes on
his squire, so he addressed them in severe fashion and then ordered
them back to the kitchen, with the Duchess' kind consent.
When the servants had left Sancho thought it a duty to himself and his
master--in order to uphold their mutual dignity and for the sake of
freeing himself from any untoward suspicion--to speak on his own
behalf: "Let them bring a comb here and curry this beard of mine, and
if they get anything out of it that offends against cleanliness, let
them clip me to the skin." And when the Duchess had acknowledged her
faith in Sancho and his virtues, the poor squire's happiness knew no
bounds. He offered to serve her for the rest of his life. He wished
that he might soon be dubbed a knight that he might carry out his
desire on that point. She thanked him for expressing such a friendly
feeling for her, and told him that she could plainly judge by his
courteous offer to her that he had been reared in no other school than
that of the great knight Don Quixote of La Mancha. And she assured
him that the Duke would not forget the island he had promised him: she
would see to that.
Don Quixote was now feeling the necessity for his mid-day nap, and
begged to be permitted to retire. Sancho wanted to do the same, and
remarked to the Duchess that he usually slept about four or five hours
in the middle of a warm summer day; but upon her earnest request he
promised her to try to wake up after an hour and come and visit with
her and her duennas.