OF WHAT HAPPENED TO DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TO BARCELONA
For six days Don Quixote and Sancho traveled without anything
happening to them worth recording. At the end of the sixth day they
came to a grove of oak and cork trees, where they dismounted and
settled themselves for the night. Sancho, who had been nourished
plentifully that day, at once fell asleep, but Don Quixote's mind
wandered hither and thither into strange regions and imaginary places;
and he thought of the sad plight of his beloved one. The more he
considered the cruelty of his squire, the more enraged he became; and
at last he decided that the only thing for him to do was to strip
Sancho and administer the beating himself. With this intention he
began to undo the squire's garments.
Sancho, being awakened and realizing his master's foul play, now had
lost all desire for sleep. He reminded his master that the whipping
would have no effect toward Dulcinea's disenchantment, unless it was
applied voluntarily and by his own hand. But Don Quixote insisted that
there must be an end to this nonsense, for he had no desire to let his
peerless Dulcinea suffer because of his squire's uncharitable
disposition. And then he proceeded, with Rocinante's reins in his
hand, to give his squire, as he said, two thousand lashes on account
of the three thousand three hundred. But Sancho was on his feet in an
instant, and began to grapple with his master, and he crushed his
emaciated body almost to flatness in his firm grip. Then he suddenly
let him loose and despatched him with a kick to no mean distance, and,
still pursuing his victim, he there sat upon him. Don Quixote managed
at last to gather all the breath that had not been squeezed out of him
by the combat, and supported by that he ejaculated in a hoarse
whisper:
"How now, traitor! Dost thou revolt against thy master and natural
lord? Dost thou rise against him who gives thee his bread?"
"I neither put down king, nor set up king," replied Sancho, himself
somewhat out of breath. And then he proceeded to dictate the peace
terms, and he extracted a promise from his natural lord never to try
to whip him again, neither awake nor asleep.
Then the victor disappeared in the grove and went to lie down against
a tree: but just as he had placed himself comfortably, he was
frightened almost to death by seeing two feet, with shoes and
stockings, dangling in the air above his head. He ran to another tree,
thinking he had been dreaming, and there he found a like apparition
haunting him. He began to scream aloud, calling upon his master for
help, and ran to search for him. Don Quixote asked him what had
frightened him, and the squire replied that all the trees were full of
feet and legs. Don Quixote calmly looked at the dead bodies in the
trees and told his squire that no doubt they were outlaws that had
been hanged by the authorities; and he took them to be a sign that
they were now close to Barcelona. They then lay down to rest for the
night.
When they awoke at dawn, they found themselves surrounded by a band of
men who turned out to be highwaymen. The band stripped them of all
they possessed, and were just about to search Sancho further for
money, when a swarthy-looking man in his thirties appeared, mounted on
a splendid horse and armed with many pistols. It was their captain,
and none other than the notorious Roque Guinart, a man who had taken
to the life of banditry and hold-ups because of having been wronged by
the authorities.
When the bandit captain observed what his men were about to do to Sancho,
he commanded them to stop, and to return everything they had taken away
from the knight and his squire. He asked Don Quixote why he looked so
dejected, and the knight responded that he was grieved that he had been
taken unaware, saying that had he been armed with his lance and shield
and mounted on his Rocinante when he found himself surrounded by these
men, he would have defended himself to the last drop of his blood, in
accordance with all the rules of knight-errantry. And then he told Roque
that he was the Don Quixote of La Mancha who had filled the whole world
with the wonder of his achievements; and he thanked him for his great
courtesy and mercifulness.
Just then they heard the violent sound of hoofs clattering against the
hard road, and as they turned they beheld a youth, extremely pleasing
in appearance, who was coming their way in a wild gallop. As he
reached them, he flung himself from his horse and addressed Roque, who
then perceived that it was not a lad but a maiden. She said she was
the daughter of his friend Simon Forte, and named Claudia Jeronima,
and that she, unbeknown to her father, had fallen in love with and
become engaged to the son of her father's arch enemy, Clauquel
Torrellas, whose son was named Vicente. Yesterday, she went on, she
had learned that he had promised to marry another one, and full of
jealousy she had stolen upon him this morning in the guise that he now
saw her in and shot him in the presence of his servants near his
house. She had left him at once, and she now wanted Roque to procure
for her a safe-conduct that she might take refuge in France where she
had relatives. She also wanted to extract a promise from him to
protect her father from the wrath and revenge of the Torrellas.
Roque was evidently much taken with the girl, for he gave her a glance
full of admiration; nor had she failed to make an impression on Don
Quixote and Sancho. Don Quixote wanted at once to go in quest of the
knight and make him keep his troth, and Sancho added that his master
was an admirable match-maker. But Roque hastily took leave of them,
and accompanied only by the fair Claudia, he had soon come to the spot
where she had left Don Vicente. This young gentleman was surrounded by
some servants who had been attempting to carry him to his home, but he
had begged them to take him no further, for the pain was too great, he
said and he felt that he was dying. All were astounded at the sight
of the feared Roque, who dismounted with Claudia.
The fair maiden approached her lover, and clasping his hand, she said:
"Hadst thou given me this according to our compact thou hadst never
come to this pass." And then the young lady told Don Vicente what she
had heard; but he disavowed to her any intention to marry any one else
but herself. Hearing this she broke down completely, flung herself
upon his breast, and sobbed convulsively; and then she fainted.
When she came to, she found that her beloved one had passed away, and
her grief then knew no bounds. Again and again she would be overcome
by her feelings, and swoon so that they had to sprinkle water on her
face. Roque was moved to tears, and so were the servants, and Claudia
said that she would go into cloister for the rest of her life to atone
for her sin. Roque approved of her decision, and offered to conduct
her wherever she wished to go, but she declined his company, with many
thanks, and bade him farewell in tears. Roque then directed the
servants to take the body of Don Vicente to the dead man's father, and
returned to his band.
He found Don Quixote addressing his men on lawlessness, but they
seemed to be little impressed with his sermon. Soon afterward a
sentinel came up to his captain, and reported that people were coming
along on the road to Barcelona, and Roque, having made certain that
they were not armed troops out to enforce the law and in search of
bandits, gave order to capture the travelers and have them brought
before him.
Here the outlaw revealed himself again to Don Quixote as a naturally
kindly and tender-hearted man, for though the travelers possessed a
good deal of money, he assessed them but one hundred and forty crowns.
Of this money he gave the men of his band two crowns each; that left
twenty crowns over, and this he divided between some pilgrims who were
on their way to Rome and our worthy Sancho. The travelers were two
captains of Spanish infantry, and some titled ladies; and the women
felt so grateful to Roque for his generosity, and his unusual behavior
and courtesy touched them so, that they wanted to kiss his hand,
considering him in the light of a hero rather than a robber. Roque did
not forget to give them a safe-conduct to the leaders of his bands,
for there were many of them, operating all through that region.
One of Roque's men seemed dissatisfied with such leniency as he had
seen displayed, and voiced his opinion rather too loudly, for the
leader of the band heard it, and the offender's head was nearly cleft
open in the next second. The captain turned to Don Quixote and
remarked that that was the way he punished impudence; then he calmly
sat down and wrote a letter to a friend of his in Barcelona, telling
him of the early arrival there of the famous Don Quixote of La Mancha,
of whose exploits in knight-errantry the whole world knew; and, to be
exact, he fixed Saint John the Baptist's day as the very day on which
our knight would make his first appearance in the very midst of the
city of Barcelona under the auspices of him to whom he addressed this
letter, and who would be grateful for the infinite joy Don Quixote and
his droll squire Sancho Panza would afford him and the city. He sent
the letter by one of his trusted followers, who, disguised as a
peasant, made his way into Barcelona and delivered the letter to the
right person.