WHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE THING, WHICH MAY BE REGARDED
AS AN ADVENTURE, THAT HAPPENED TO DON QUIXOTE
Don Quixote was extremely weighed down and oppressed by the disaster
of the morning. When they had ridden but a short way they came to a
place where there was a spring, and they dismounted to refresh their
dusty throats and to wash themselves. The knight was wearied, and
Sancho suggested that he lie down and rest for a while. The suggestion
pleased his master, who said he would do so if his squire would give
himself three or four hundred lashes with Rocinante's reins in the
meantime, as a help toward his Dulcinea's disenchantment. But after
some arguing, Sancho wiggled himself out of the business for the
moment, having pleaded an ill-nourished body--in spite of his constant
eating. He said it was, besides, no easy matter to flog oneself in
cold blood, but promised to make good some time, unexpectedly. Then
they both ate a little, and soon afterward they fell asleep beside
their faithful beasts. They awoke, refreshed, and made off to reach an
inn--and Sancho gave thanks to Heaven that Don Quixote took it for an
inn--that they had sighted in the distance before they went to sleep.
When they arrived at the inn Sancho at once took the beasts to the
stable and fed them, while Don Quixote retired to his room. When
supper time came the landlord brought in a stewpan which contained
cow-heels that tasted, he swore, like calves' feet; and the knight and
his squire gathered gluttonously around the meal. They had scarcely
began eating, however, when Don Quixote heard his name mentioned next
door, and, surprised, he listened and heard some one say: "What
displeases me most in this Second Part of 'Don Quixote of La Mancha'
is that it represents Don Quixote as now cured of his love for
Dulcinea del Toboso."
Like a flash the knight was on his feet, shouting to the adjoining
room: "Whoever he may be who says that Don Quixote of La Mancha has
forgotten Dulcinea del Toboso, I will teach him with equal arms that
what he says is very far from true; for his motto is constancy, and
his profession is to maintain the same with his life and never wrong
it."
Immediately voices from the other room wished to know who was speaking;
and Sancho shouted back that it was his master, and that his master was
none other than Don Quixote of La Mancha himself. In the next instant two
gentlemen entered the room, and as soon as they perceived Don Quixote,
they fell on his neck and embraced him, saying that they were pleased and
proud beyond measure to meet so distinguished and illustrious a
personage, their own morning star of knight-errantry. One of the
gentlemen, Don Jeronimo, assured him that there was no doubt in his mind
that he was the real Don Quixote of the First Part, and not the
counterfeit one of the Aragonese Second Part. With these words he put his
copy of the Second Part, which he had just been reading, into Don
Quixote's hands and begged him to read it. Don Quixote took it and
glanced it through, and after having read a few pages, he returned it to
the gentleman, with the remark that he had already discovered three
things in the book that ought to be censured; and he said that when an
author could make such a colossal mistake as to speak of Sancho's wife as
Mari Guiterrez, one would be likely to doubt the veracity of every other
statement of his in the book.
When Sancho heard of this audacious libel, he became red in the face
with indignation. "A nice sort of historian, indeed!" he burst out.
"He must know a deal about our affairs when he calls my wife, Teresa
Panza, Mari Guiterrez! Take the book again, senor, and see whether I
am in it and whether he has changed my name!"
The gentleman looked at Sancho in an expectant manner, and said: "From
your talk, friend, no doubt you are Sancho Panza, Senor Don Quixote's
squire."
When Sancho affirmed this, saying he was proud of it, it was Don
Jeronimo's turn to become indignant; for it seemed to him nothing
short of blasphemy to take all the drollery out of the Sancho, whom he
saw before him here, he said, and who had furnished him with so many
enjoyable moments through his amusing talk, while he was reading the
First Part. The Sancho of the Second Part was a stupid character, a
fool with no sense of humor whatever, he declared; and his declaration
promptly brought forth a proverb from Sancho's lips, which summed up
his contempt for the new author. "Let him who knows how ring the
bells," he exclaimed.
The two gentlemen now invited the knight errant to join them at
supper, as they knew, they said, that the inn could afford nothing
that was befitting a warrior as illustrious as he. Always courteous,
Don Quixote acquiesced, and they withdrew to the adjoining room,
leaving Sancho and the landlord to sup by themselves. At supper Don
Quixote related to the two gentlemen his many strange adventures, and
they listened with the utmost interest; they could not help admiring
his elegant and finished speech, and at the same time were astounded
at the strange mixture of good sense and wit and absurd nonsense that
flowed from his lips.
When Sancho had finished his cow-heels, he betook himself to the room
where his master and the gentleman were supping; and as he entered he
asked Don Jeronimo: "If this author calls me glutton, as your Worships
say, I trust he does not call me drunkard too."
Don Jeronimo said that the author had been impertinent enough to do so,
although he assured Sancho that he could see by his face that the author
had lied. "Believe me," declared the squire, "the Sancho and the Don
Quixote of this history must be different persons from those that appear
in the one Cid Hamet Benengeli wrote, who are ourselves--my master,
valiant, wise, and true in love, and I, simple, droll, and neither
glutton nor drunkard."
The other gentleman, Don Juan, was of Sancho's opinion, and he added
that he thought no one but Cid Hamet, the original author, should be
permitted to write the history of Don Quixote's achievements--just as
Alexander issued an order that no one but Apelles should presume to
paint his portrait.
They carried on a conversation in this manner until quite late in the
night. Don Juan offered the Second Part to our hero to read, but Don
Quixote declined it, saying that it would only be flattering and
encouraging to the author if he should, by chance, learn that he had
read his book. Then they asked him where he would be bound for when he
left the inn; and when he told them Saragossa, they mentioned that the
author had given a description in the book of a tilting at the ring in
that city, in which he who was called Don Quixote had participated.
That made the knight change his intentions at once. Now he was
determined not to set foot in Saragossa: thus he would make the author
commit perjury, trap him as a complete liar, and hold him up to
ridicule before the whole world. The gentlemen thought this a most
ingenious way to treat the blaspheming author, and made a suggestion
that there were to be other jousts at Barcelona, to which he would be
welcomed; and Don Quixote announced that he would go there instead.
Then he begged leave in his usual courteous manner to retire, and
withdrew to his room.
Early on the following morning the knight rose, and bade good-by to
his two new friends by knocking at the partition that separated their
rooms, while Sancho paid the landlord for the lodging and the
cow-heels.