OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO ON
THE WAY TO THEIR VILLAGE
Don Quixote and Sancho traveled along, both in a state of depression.
Don Quixote was sad because he had been forced to give up the glories
of knight-errantry and chivalry; Sancho because Altisidora had not
kept her word when she promised to give him the smocks. To Sancho it
seemed a terrible injustice that physicians should be paid even if
their patients died, and here he had brought back a human being from
the dead, and was being rewarded in this ungrateful manner!
But Don Quixote's sadness was suddenly brightened by a hope that he
might at last be able to prevail upon Sancho to bring about the
disenchantment of Dulcinea. Knowing Sancho's covetousness, he offered
him money as a bribe. Now Sancho became interested, and consented,
for the love of his wife and children, to whip himself at a price of a
quarter-real a lash, generously throwing the five lashes he had
already given himself into the bargain.
"O blessed Sancho! O dear Sancho!" exclaimed Don Quixote. "How we
shall be bound to serve thee, Dulcinea and I, all the days of our
lives that Heaven may grant us! But look here, Sancho: when wilt thou
begin the scourging? For if thou wilt make short work of it, I will
give thee a hundred reals over and above."
Sancho swore that he would begin the scourging that very night, and
begged his master that he arrange it so that they spend the night in
the open.
Night came at last, and when they had supped, Sancho proceeded to make
a sturdy whip out of Dapple's halter. When he had finished this task
he made off for a distant part of the woods. He left his master with
such a determined look in his eyes that Don Quixote thought it best to
warn him not to go too fast but to take a breathing-space between
lashes so that he would not cut his body to pieces. He was afraid
also, he said, that Sancho might become so enthusiastic over what he
was doing, or so anxious to come to the end of the lashes that he
might overtax his strength, collapse and die; and he begged Sancho
particularly not to do that, for then he would have gone through all
his suffering in vain. When Sancho had stripped himself to the waist,
Don Quixote placed himself where he could hear the sound of the
lashes, and counted them on his rosary that Sancho would make neither
too much nor too little effort to disenchant Dulcinea.
After half a dozen lashes, Sancho felt that he had inflicted a
sufficient measure of pain upon himself already, and demanded a higher
price for his service. Don Quixote told Sancho that he would pay him
twice the amount promised; and the squire began again. But this time
he did not whip himself but let the lashes fall on a tree; and with
each lash he gave out the most heartrending cries, and uttered such
groans that his master began to feel the pain of his squire's torture
in his own heart. When he had counted a thousand lashes or thereabout,
he was quite worried about Sancho and begged him to stop for the
present, but Sancho told his master he might as well brave the
remainder of the ordeal now.
Seeing his squire in such a sacrificing mood, Don Quixote retired at
his request, and Sancho continued with the lashing, which he
administered to a perfectly innocent tree with such brutality and
ferocity that the bark flew in all directions. All the while he gave
vent to his pain by fierce shrieks, and then there came one long
agonizing cry, which nearly rent Don Quixote's heart, and Sancho
exclaimed piteously: "Here dies Sancho, and all with him!" Don Quixote
hastened to his squire's side, and insisted for the sake of his
unsupported wife and children that he go no further, but to wait until
some other time with the rest. Sancho retorted with a request that his
master cover his shoulders with his cloak, as the exertion had been
too great and had made him perspire freely, and he did not wish to run
the risk of catching cold. Don Quixote did as he was asked and begged
Sancho to lie down; then he covered him with the cloak.
At dawn they resumed their journey, and when they had traveled three
leagues, they came to an inn. Don Quixote did not take it for a castle
this time; as a matter of fact, ever since he had found himself
vanquished, he had begun to talk of and see things in a more rational
way. They entered, and when Sancho saw the painted pictures on the
wall he remarked to his master that not long from now there would be
paintings picturing their deeds in every tavern and inn in the
country. Don Quixote then turned to his squire and asked him whether
he would like to finish the whipping business that day, and Sancho
said it made no difference to him when he did it; he only made a
suggestion that he thought he would prefer to do it among the trees as
they seemed to help him bear the pain miraculously. But on second
consideration Don Quixote deemed it advisable to put it off till a
later time, when they were closer to their village, in case Sancho
should have a breakdown as a result of his flogging himself. Their
conversation came to an end when Sancho began to shoot proverbs at his
master out of the corner of his mouth at such a speed that Don Quixote
was overwhelmed and tore his hair in desperation.
CHAPTERS LXXII-LXXIII
OF THE OMENS DON QUIXOTE HAD AS HE ENTERED HIS OWN VILLAGE;
AND OTHER INCIDENTS THAT EMBELLISH AND GIVE A COLOR TO THIS
GREAT HISTORY
When they had left the inn that day Don Quixote and his squire
traveled all through the night, and the following morning they arrived
at their own village, from which they had been absent so long.
Among the first to meet them were the curate and Samson Carrasco, who
had discovered at a distance the red robe the Duchess had given to
Sancho as a memento of their friendship. Sancho had thrown it over his
donkey and the discarded armor, and it shone in the morning sun as
brightly as a fiery sunset. Dapple was also adorned with the miter,
which proudly crowned the beast's head.
[Illustration: "WITH EACH LASH HE GAVE OUT THE MOST HEARTRENDING
CRIES."--_Page 333_]
When Don Quixote saw his old friends, he dismounted and embraced them;
and all the little boys in town came running to see the sight of
Dapple and the returning revivers of knight-errantry. They called out
to their playmates: "Come here, fellows, and see how Sancho Panza's
donkey is rigged out; and take a look at Don Quixote's horse: he is
leaner than ever!"
As they walked through the village, it was a whole parade that
followed them; and at Don Quixote's house they were received by the
niece and the housekeeper, who had already heard of the return.
Teresa Panza, too, had been given the news, but she was sorely
disappointed when she ran out with her two dirty children to welcome
the returning Governor. She scolded him soundly for coming home
dressed like a vagabond. But Sancho told her to put a clamp on her
tongue, for he did bring her money, at any rate, he said. Then his
daughter fell on his neck and kissed him, and in the next instant the
whole family had dragged him inside their little cottage.
Don Quixote shut himself in with the curate and the bachelor, as soon
as he had entered his house, and related to them the sad story of his
defeat, and the promise he had made to the Knight of the White Moon;
and then he broached his new idea, that of turning shepherd. He told
his friends he had chosen new names for them, for he hoped that they
would share his new life with him; and they at once praised his scheme
and promised that as shepherds they would accompany him in his pursuit
of happiness. Samson added that he would be an especially valuable
member of the pastoral colony, for he knew how to write poetry, and
would devote his time to singing the praises of their simple life. Of
course, there must be shepherdesses, too, Don Quixote ruled, and they
could be represented by such modest and virtuous women as Dulcinea and
Teresa Panza.
When they had conversed in this pleasant manner for some time, the curate
and the bachelor left, begging Don Quixote to take good care of himself
and to eat plentifully. As soon as they had departed, the niece and the
housekeeper, who had overheard the three men, entered the late knight's
room and begged him not to turn shepherd saying that his health was not
such as to allow him to dwell in the open in the damp night air; sooner
or later he would succumb, they said, and take ill and die. They were
both agreed that the foolishness of knight-errantry was much better than
this craze. They entreated him to remain at home, to go to confession
often, and to indulge in doing good deeds and being kind to the poor,
instead. But Don Quixote would have none of their advice. He told them he
knew where his duty lay. Then he implored them to put him to bed, saying
that they ought to know he had always their interest at heart, no matter
what happened.
The two women began to weep, and then they helped Don Quixote to bed,
and there they did all they could to make him comfortable, and gave
him something to eat.