WHICH RELATES HOW THEY LEARNED THE WAY IN WHICH THEY WERE TO
DISENCHANT THE PEERLESS DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO, WHICH IS ONE OF
THE RAREST ADVENTURES IN THIS BOOK
When the Duke and the Duchess had hit upon a plan they proceeded to
make preparations for its being carried out, and on the sixth day they
invited Don Quixote to go hunting with them. There was an array of
huntsmen and beaters, as great a retinue as the Duke could possibly
get together. Both Don Quixote and his squire had been presented with
splendid hunting suits; but Don Quixote did not accept his, saying
that he would soon have to return to the hard pursuits of his calling,
and that it would only be a burden to carry it along.
Sancho did not know that his beautiful suit was destined to be torn
that very day. A wild boar came along, and Sancho deserted his Dapple
and climbed quickly up into the tallest tree he could find; but fate
would have it that the branch gave way, and Sancho fell onto a branch
below, where he hung suspended by a great rent in his breeches,
screaming with all his might that he would be devoured by the boar;
but the boar fell in the next moment, pierced by many spears, and
Sancho was helped to the ground by his master.
The boar was taken to some tents nearby, where dinner soon was ready
and being served for the hunters. Sancho could not refrain then from
showing the Duchess what had befallen him in the tree-top, expressing
to her his opinion of hunts of that kind, involving so much risk. Much
better, he thought, it would be to hunt hares and other little
animals. And then he went on at a tremendous speed, repeating proverb
after proverb, one minute telling the Duchess how he would govern his
island, and the next minute talking about something in his home
village.
Night fell as they were talking. It was a very dark night, which
helped to make the Duke's plan seem more likely of success. They had
all left the tents and gone into the wood, when suddenly it seemed as
if the whole space was afire in one blazing red mass of flames; then
there came the sound of trumpets, numberless ones it seemed, and of
hoofs, as if hordes of horses had passed through the wood, and of
drums, and of battle-cries in Moorish. It was one long, tremendous,
indescribable confusion. The Duke and the Duchess were seemingly taken
aback; Don Quixote did not know what to think or do; and Sancho was
absolutely panic-stricken. It was a din so overwhelming that even
those who had arranged it were aghast and afraid.
Then there came a sudden lull, and a messenger--dressed like a demon
and blowing a horn that sounded a weird and sickly note--appeared
before their eyes, apparently in great haste. The Duke called to him
and asked him where he was going; and he replied in a coarse voice
that he was the Devil and was looking for Don Quixote of La Mancha. He
pointed to the on-riding troops, and said that they were enchanters
who were bringing the famous Lady Dulcinea del Toboso and the great
Frenchman Montesinos on a triumphal car to seek their disenchantment
through the only one who could accomplish it, the Knight of the Lions.
On hearing this, Don Quixote said: "If you are the Devil, you ought to
know that I am Don Quixote!"
Whereupon the Devil exclaimed in surprise that he had not noticed the
knight at all because he was so preoccupied with so many other things
that he had almost forgotten what he was there for. Judging the Devil
by his remark Sancho decided he was a very honest fellow and a good
Christian; otherwise he would not have sworn--as Sancho did--by God
and his conscience. After that the squire concluded that even hell had
its quota of souls.
The Devil asked Don Quixote to communicate with Montesinos that he
might receive instructions as to how to carry out the disenchantment
of Lady Dulcinea; and then he turned around his horse and was gone.
The whole thing had happened so suddenly that even Don Quixote was
perplexed and seemed as if he did not know whether to believe what he
had seen and heard. Sancho was dumbfounded and frightened out of his
wits.
As Don Quixote made no move to follow the Devil's advice, the Duke
turned to him and asked whether he intended to remain where he was. He
answered that he would even if all the devils from hell should attack
him. Scarcely had he vowed this when he had to gather all his courage
in order not to give way to fear, for again there broke out a noise
and din that surpassed anything that he had ever heard: shots of
cannon and muskets, shouts and screams from all sides, and the
terrific sound of all the trumpets, horns, drums, bugles and clarions;
and then came the heavy creaking noise of carts, coming through the
wood and all brightly lighted with rows of tapers.
It was too much for poor Sancho. He fell fainting on the Duchess'
skirt. She ordered her servants to fan him and to throw water in his
face, and he regained consciousness just as one of the carts was
passing. It was drawn by four oxen, completely covered with black
cloth, and attached to each horn was a lighted wax taper. Leading the
oxen were two demons with such horrible, frightful faces that Sancho
shut his eyes tightly after having got one glance of them. An old,
worthy-looking man with a long, snow-white beard sat on a raised seat
on the cart; and when he passed Don Quixote he said in a deep voice:
"I am the sage Lirgandeo." And the cart continued. Then followed other
carts, with other sages, and Sancho's face suddenly lighted up, for he
heard sweet music in the distance, and he said to the Duchess:
"Senora, where there is music, there can be no mischief."
But Don Quixote would not commit himself, for all he remarked was:
"That remains to be seen."