target, which, if it had not been for his armour, would have cleft him
to the waist. Don Quixote, feeling the weight of this tremendous blow
which had destroyed his visor and carried away part of his ear, cried
out aloud: "O Dulcinea, lady of my soul, flower of all beauty, help
thy knight, who finds himself in this great danger!" To say this, to
raise his sword, to cover himself with his buckler, and to rush upon
the Biscayan was the work of a moment. With his head full of rage he
now raised himself in his stirrups, and, gripping his sword more
firmly in his two hands, struck at the Biscayan with such violence
that he caught him a terrible blow on the cushion, knocking this
shield against his head with tremendous violence. It was as though a
mountain had fallen on the Biscayan and crushed him, and the blood
spouted from his nose and mouth and ears. He would have fallen
straightway from his mule if he had not clasped her round the neck;
but he lost his stirrups, then let go his arms, and the mule,
frightened at the blow, began to gallop across the fields, so that
after two or three plunges it threw him to the ground.
Don Quixote leaped off his horse, ran towards him, and setting the
point of his sword between his eyes, bade him yield, or he would cut
off his head.
The lady of the coach now came forward in great grief and begged the
favour of her squire's life.
Don Quixote replied with great stateliness: "Truly, fair lady, I will
grant thy request, but it must be on one condition, that this squire
shall go to Toboso and present himself in my name to the peerless Lady
Dulcinea, that she may deal with him as she thinks well."
The lady, who was in great distress, without considering what Don
Quixote required, or asking who Dulcinea might be, promised that he
should certainly perform this command.
"Then," said Don Quixote, "on the faith of that pledge I will do him
no more harm."
Seeing the contest was now over, and his master about to remount
Rozinante, Sancho ran to hold his stirrups, and before he mounted,
taking him by his hand he kissed it and said: "I desire that it will
please you, good my lord Don Quixote, to bestow on me the government
of that island which in this terrible battle you have won."
To which Don Quixote replied: "Brother Sancho, these are not the
adventures of islands, but of cross roads, wherein nothing is gained
but a broken pate or the loss of an ear. Have patience awhile, for the
adventures will come whereby I can make thee not only a governor, but
something higher."
Sancho thanked him heartily, and kissed his hand again and the hem of
his mailed shirt. Then he helped him to get on Rozinante, and leaped
upon his ass to follow him.
And Don Quixote, without another word to the people of the coach, rode
away at a swift pace and turned into a wood that was hard by, leaving
Sancho to follow him as fast as his beast could trot.
DON QUIXOTE AND THE GOATHERDS
Retold by Judge Parry
As they rode along, Don Quixote turned to his squire and said to him:
"Tell me now in very good earnest, didst thou ever see a more valorous
knight than I am throughout the face of the earth? Didst thou ever
read in histories of any other that hath or ever had more courage in
fighting, more dexterity in wounding, or more skill in overthrowing?"
"The truth is," replied Sancho, "that I have never read any history
whatever, for I can neither read nor write. But what I dare wager is,
that I never in my life served a bolder master than you are, and I
only trust that all this boldness does not land us within the four
walls of the gaol."
"Peace, friend Sancho," said Don Quixote, "when didst thou read of a
knight-errant that was brought before the judge though he killed ever
so many people?"
"I have read nothing, as you know, good master; but a truce to all
this, let me attend to your wound, for you are losing a good deal of
blood in that ear, and I have got some lint and a little white
ointment in my wallet."
"That," said Don Quixote, "would have been unnecessary if I had
remembered to make a bottleful of the balsam of Fierabras, for with
only one drop of it both time and medicines are saved."
"What balsam is that, then?" asked Sancho Panza.
"It is a balsam, the receipt of which I have in my memory, and whoever
possesses it need not fear death nor think to perish by any
wound. Therefore after I have made it and given it unto thee, thou
hast nothing else to do but when thou shalt see that in any battle I
be cloven in twain, than deftly to take up the portion of the body
which is fallen to the ground and put it up again on the half which
remains in the saddle, taking great care to fix it exactly in the
right place. Then thou shalt give me two draughts of the balsam I have
mentioned, and I shall become as sound as an apple."
"If that be true," said Sancho, "I renounce from now the government of
the promised island, and will demand nothing else in payment of my
services but only the receipt of this precious liquor. But tell me, is
it costly in making?"
"With less than three _reals_" said Don Quixote, "a man may make
three gallons of it. But I mean to teach thee greater secrets than
this, and do thee greater favours also. And now let me dress my wound,
for this ear pains me more than I would wish."
Sancho took out of his wallet his lint and ointment to cure his
master. But before he could use them Don Quixote saw that the visor of
his helmet was broken, and he had like to have lost his senses.
Setting his hand to his sword, he cried: "I swear an oath to lead the
life which was led by the great Marquis of Mantua when he swore to
revenge the death of his nephew Baldwin, which was not to eat off a
tablecloth, nor to comb his hair, nor to change his clothes, nor to
quit his armour, and other things which, though I cannot now remember,
I take as said, until I have had complete revenge on him that hath
done this outrage."
"Look, your worship, Sir Don Quixote." said Sancho, when he heard
these strange words, "you must note that if the Biscayan has done what
you told him, and presented himself before my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso,
then he has fully satisfied his debt, and deserves no other penalty
unless he commits a new fault."
"Thou hast spoken well and hit the mark truly," answered Don Quixote;
"and, therefore, in respect of that, I set the oath aside. But I make
it and confirm it again, that I will lead the life I have said, until
I take by force another helmet as good as this from some other
knight."
"Such oaths are but mischief," said Sancho discontentedly, "for tell
me now, if by chance we do not come across a man armed with a helmet,
what are we to do? Do but consider that armed men travel not these
roads, but only carriers and waggoners, who not only wear no helmets,
but never heard them named all the days of their life."
"Thou art mistaken in this," said Don Quixote, "for we shall not have
been here two hours before we shall see more knights than went up
against Albraca to win Angelica the Fair."
"So be it," said Sancho, "and may all turn out well for us, that the
time may come for the winning of that island which is costing me so
dear."
"Have no fear for thine island, Sancho Panza," said Don Quixote; "and
now look if thou hast aught to eat in thy wallet, for soon we should
go in search of some castle where we may lodge the night and make the
balsam of which I have spoken, for in truth this ear of mine pains me
greatly."
"I have got here an onion and a bit of cheese and a few crusts of
bread, but such coarse food is not fit for so valiant a knight as your
worship."
"How little dost thou understand the matter," replied Don Quixote,
"for it is an honour to knights-errant not to eat more than once a
month, and if by chance they should eat, to eat only of that which is
next at hand! And all this thou mightest have known hadst thou read as
many books as I have done. For though I studied many, yet did I never
find that knights-errant did ever eat but by mere chance, or at some
costly banquets that were made for them. And the remainder of their
days they lived on herbs and roots. Therefore, friend Sancho, let not
that trouble thee which is my pleasure, for to a knight-errant that
which comes is good."
"Pardon me, sir," said Sancho, "for since I can neither read nor
write, as I have already told you, I have not fallen in rightly with
the laws of knighthood. But from henceforth my wallet shall be
furnished with all sorts of dried fruits for your worship, because you
are a knight, and for myself, seeing I am none, I will provide fowls
and other things, which are better eating."
So saying he pulled out what he had, and the two fell to dinner in
good peace and company.
But being desirous to look out for a lodging for that night, they cut
short their meagre and sorry meal, mounted at once a-horseback, and
made haste to find out some dwellings before night did fall.
But the sun and their hopes did fail them at the same time, they being
then near the cabins of some goatherds. Therefore they determined to
pass the night there. And though Sancho's grief was great to lie out
of a village, yet Don Quixote was more joyful than ever, for he
thought that as often as he slept under the open heaven, so often did
he perform an act worthy of a true knight-errant.
They were welcomed by the goatherds very cordially, and Sancho, having
put up Rozinante and his ass the best way he could, made his way
towards the smell given out by certain pieces of goat's flesh which
were boiling in a pot on the fire. And though he longed that very
instant to see if they were ready, he did not do so, for he saw the
goatherds were themselves taking them off the fire and spreading some
sheep-skins on the ground, and were laying their rustic table as
quickly as might be. Then with many expressions of good will they
invited the two to share in what they had. Those who belonged to the
fold, being six in number, sat round on the skins, having first with
rough compliments asked Don Quixote to seat himself upon a trough
which they placed for him turned upside down.
Don Quixote sat down, but Sancho remained on foot to serve him with
the cup which was made of horn. Seeing him standing, his master said:
"That thou mayest see, Sancho, the good which is in knight-errantry,
and how fair a chance they have who exercise it to arrive at honour
and position in the world, I desire that here by my side, and in
company of these good people, thou dost seat thyself, and be one and
the same with me that am thy master and natural lord. That thou dost
eat in my dish and drink in the same cup wherein I drink. For the
same may be said of knight-errantry as is said of love, that it makes
all things equal."
"Thanks for your favour," replied Sancho, "but I may tell your worship
that provided I have plenty to eat I can eat it as well and better
standing and by myself, than if I were seated on a level with an
emperor. And, indeed, if I speak the truth, what I eat in my corner
without ceremony, though it be but a bread and onion, smacks much
better than turkeycocks at other tables, where I must chaw my meat
leisurely, drink but little, wipe my hands often, nor do other things
that solitude and liberty allow."
"For all that," said Don Quixote, "here shalt thou sit, for the humble
shall be exalted," and taking him by the arm, he forced his squire to
sit down near himself.
The goatherds did not understand the gibberish of squires and
knights-errant, and did nothing but eat, hold their peace, and stare
at their guests, who with great relish were gorging themselves with
pieces as big as their fists. The course of flesh being over, the
goatherds spread on the skins a great number of parched acorns and
half a cheese, harder than if it had been made of mortar. The horn in
the meantime was not idle, but came full from the wineskins and
returned empty, as though it had been a bucket sent to the well.
After Don Quixote had satisfied his appetite, he took up a fistful of
acorns, and beholding them earnestly, began in this manner: "Happy
time and fortunate ages were those which our ancestors called Golden:
not because gold--so much prized in this our Iron Age--was gotten in
that happy time without any labours, but because those who lived in
that time knew not these two words, _Thine_ and _Mine_. In
that holy age all things were in common. No man needed to do aught but
lift up his hand and take his food from the strong oak, which did
liberally invite them to gather his sweet and savoury fruit. The clear
fountains and running rivers did offer them transparent water in
magnificent abundance, and in the hollow trees did careful bees erect
their commonwealth, offering to every hand without interest the
fertile crop of their sweet labours." Thus did the eloquent knight
describe the Golden Age, when all was peace, friendship, and concord,
and then he showed the astonished goatherds how an evil world had
taken its place, and made it necessary for knights-errant like himself
to come forward for the protection of widows and orphans, and the
defence of distressed damsels. All this he did because the acorns that
were given him called to his mind the Golden Age. The goatherds sat
and listened with grave attention, and Sancho made frequent visits to
the second wine-skin during his discourse. At length it was ended, and
they sat round the fire, drinking their wine and listening to one of
the goat herds singing, and towards night, Don Quixote's ear becoming
very painful, one of his hosts made a dressing of rosemary leaves and
salt, and bound up his wound. By this means being eased of his pain,
he was able to lie down in one of the huts and sleep soundly after his
day's adventures.
Don Quixote spent several days among the goatherds, and at length,
when his wound was better, he thanked them for their hospitality, and
rode away in search of new adventures, followed by the faithful
Sancho.
They came to a halt in a pleasant meadow rich with beautiful grass, by
the side of a delightful and refreshing stream, which seemed to invite
them to stop and spend there the sultry hours of noon, which were
already becoming oppressive.
Don Quixote and Sancho dismounted, and leaving Rozinante and Dapple
loose, to feed on the grass that was there in plenty, they ransacked
the wallet, and without any ceremony fell to eating what they found in
it.
Sancho had neglected to tie up Rozinante, and, as luck would have it,
a troop of Galician ponies belonging to some Yanguesian carriers,
whose custom it is to rest at noon with their teams in spots and
places where grass and water abound, were feeding in the same valley.
It must be believed that Rozinante supposed that the grass the ponies
were feeding on was better than his own; but be that as it may, he
started off at a little swift trot to feed among them. They resented
his appearance, and, as he sought to enter their ranks and feed among
them, they received him with their heels and teeth, with such vigour
that in a trice he had burst his girth, and his saddle was stripped
from his back. But the worst of all was that the carriers, taking part
with their own ponies, ran up with stakes and so belaboured him that
they brought him to the ground in a sore plight.
Upon this Don Quixote and Sancho, who witnessed the basting of
Rozinante, came running up all out of breath, and Don Quixote said to
Sancho: "From what I see, friend Sancho, these be no knights, but
base, rascally fellows of low breeding. I say this, that thou mayest
freely aid me in taking vengeance for the wrong which they have done
to Rozinante before our eyes."
"What vengeance can we take," replied Sancho, "when there are more
than twenty, and we are but two--nay, perhaps but one and a half?"
"I count for a hundred," said Don Quixote, and without further parley
he drew his sword and flew upon the Yanguesians, boldly followed by
Sancho Panza.
With his first blow Don Quixote pierced a buff coat that one of them
wore, wounding him grievously in the shoulder. Then the Yanguesians,
finding themselves so rudely handled by two men only, they being so
many, betook themselves to their stakes, and hemming in their
adversaries in the midst of them, they laid on with great fury. In
fact the second thwack brought Sancho to the ground, and the same fate
soon befell Don Quixote, whose dexterity and courage availed him
nothing, for he fell at the feet of his unfortunate steed, who had not
yet been able to arise.
Then, seeing the mischief they had done, the Yanguesians loaded their
team with as much haste as possible, and went their way, leaving the
adventurers in a doleful plight and a worse humour.
HOW DON QUIXOTE ARRIVED AT AN INN WHICH HE IMAGINED TO BE A CASTLE
Retold by Judge Parry
For some time after the Yanguesian carriers had gone on their way Don
Quixote and Sancho Panza lay on the ground groaning and saying
nothing.
The first that came to himself was Sancho Panza, who cried in a weak
and pitiful voice: "Sir Don Quixote! O Sir Don Quixote!"
"What wouldst thou, brother Sancho?" answered Don Quixote in the same
faint and grievous tone as Sancho.
"I would, if it were possible," said Sancho Panza, "that your worship
should give me a couple of mouthfuls of that balsam of Fierabras, if
so be that your worship has it at hand. Perhaps it will be as good for
broken bones as for wounds."
"If I had it here," sighed Don Quixote, "we should lack nothing. But I
swear to thee, Sancho Panza, on the faith of a knight-errant, that
before two days pass, unless fortune forbids, I will have it in my
possession."
"I pray you," asked Sancho, "in how many days do you think we shall be
able to move our feet?"
"I cannot say," said the battered knight; "but I take on myself the
blame of all, for I should not have drawn my sword against men that
are not knights. Therefore, brother Sancho, take heed of what I tell
thee, for it mightily concerns the welfare of us both; and it is this,
that when thou seest such rabble offer us any wrong, wait not for me
to draw sword upon them, for I will not do it in any wise, but put
thou thy hand to thy sword and chastise them at thy pleasure."
But Sancho Panza did not much relish his master's advice, and replied:
"Sir, I am a peaceable, sober, and quiet man, and can let pass any
injury whatever, for I have a wife and children to take care
of. Therefore, let me also say a word to your worship, that by no
manner of means shall I put hand to sword either against clown or
against knight. And from this time forth I forgive whatever insults
are paid to me, whether they are or shall be paid by persons high or
low, rich or poor, gentle or simple."
On hearing this his master said: "Would that I had breath enough to be
able to speak easily, and that the pain I feel in this rib were less,
that I, might make thee understand, Sancho, the mistake thou art
making! How can I appoint thee governor of an island when thou wouldst
make an end of all by having neither valour nor will to defend thy
lands or revenge thine injuries?"
"Alas!" groaned Sancho. "I would that I had the courage and
understanding of which your worship speaks, but in truth at this
moment I am more fit for plasters than preachments. See if your
worship can rise, and we will help Rozinante, although he deserves it
not, for he was the chief cause of all this mauling."
"Fortune always leaves one door open in disasters, and your Dapple
will now be able to supply the want of Rozinante and carry me hence to
some castle where I may be healed of my wounds. Nor shall I esteem
such riding a dishonour, for I remember to have read that old Silenus,
tutor and guide of the merry god of Laughter, when he entered the city
of a hundred gates, rode very pleasantly, mounted on a handsome ass."
"That may be," replied Sancho, "but there is a difference between
riding a-horseback and being laid athwart like a sack of rubbish."
"Have done with your replies," exclaimed Don Quixote, "and rise as
well as thou art able and sit me on top of thine ass, and let us
depart hence before the night comes and overtakes us in this
wilderness."
Then Sancho, with thirty groans and sixty sighs and a hundred and
twenty curses, lifted up Rozinante--who if he had had a tongue would
have complained louder than Sancho himself--and after much trouble set
Don Quixote on the ass. Then tying Rozinante to his tail, he led the
ass by the halter, and proceeded as best he could to where the
highroad seemed to lie.
And Fortune, which had guided their affairs from good to better, led
him on to a road on which, he spied an inn, which to his annoyance and
Don Quixote's joy must needs be a castle. Sancho protested that it was
an inn, and his master that it was a castle; and their dispute lasted
so long that they had time to arrive there before it was finished; and
into this inn or castle Sancho entered without more parley with all
his team.
The innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote laid athwart of the ass, asked
Sancho what ailed him. Sancho answered that it was nothing, only that
he had fallen down from a rock, and had bruised his ribs somewhat. The
innkeeper's wife was by nature charitable, and she felt for the
sufferings of others, so she hastened at once to attend to Don
Quixote, and made her daughter, a comely young maiden, help her in
taking care of her guest. There was also serving in the inn an
Asturian woman, broad-cheeked, flat-pated, with a snub nose, blind of
one eye and the other not very sound. This young woman, who was called
Maritornes, assisted the daughter, and the two made up a bed for Don
Quixote in a garret which had served for many years as a
straw-loft. The bed on which they placed him was made of four roughly
planed boards on two unequal trestles; a mattress which, in thinness,
might have been a quilt, so full of pellets that if they had not
through the holes shown themselves to be wool, they would to the touch
seem to be pebbles. There was a pair of sheets made of target leather;
and as for the coverlet, if any one had chosen to count the threads of
it he could not have missed one in the reckoning.
On this miserable bed did Don Quixote lie, and presently the hostess
and her daughter plastered him over from head to foot, Maritornes
holding the candle for them.
While she was plastering him, the hostess, seeing that he was in
places black and blue, said that it looked more like blows than a
fall. Sancho, however, declared they were not blows, but that the rock
had many sharp points, and each one had left a mark; and he added:
"Pray, good mistress, spare some of that tow, as my back pains are not
a little."
"In that case," said the hostess, "you must have fallen, too."
"I did not fall," said Sancho Panza, "but with the sudden fright I
took on seeing my master fall, my body aches as if they had given me a
thousand blows, and I now find myself with only a few bruises less
than my master, Don Quixote."
"What is this gentleman's name?" asked Maritornes.
"Don Quixote of the Mancha," answered Sancho Panza; "and he is a
knight-errant, and one of the best and strongest that have been seen
in the world these many ages."
"What is a knight-errant?" asked the young woman.
"Art thou so young in the world that thou knowest it not?" answered
Sancho Panza. "Know then, sister mine, that a knight-errant is a thing
which in two words is found cudgelled and an emperor. To-day he is
the most miserable creature in the world, and the most needy;
to-morrow he will have two or three crowns of kingdoms to give to his
squire."
"How is it, then," said the hostess, "that thou hast not gotten at
least an earldom, seeing thou art squire to this good knight?"
"It is early yet," replied Sancho, "for it is but a month since we set
out on our adventures. But believe me, if my master, Don Quixote, gets
well of his wounds--or his fall, I should say--I would not sell my
hopes for the best title in Spain."
To all this Don Quixote listened very attentively, and sitting up in
his bed as well as he could, he took the hostess's hand and said:
"Believe me, beautiful lady, that you may count yourself fortunate in
having entertained me in this your castle. My squire will inform you
who I am, for self-praise is no recommendation; only this I say, that
I will keep eternally written in memory the service you have done to
me, and I will be grateful to you as long as my life shall endure."
The hostess, her daughter, and the good Maritomes remained confounded
on hearing the words of the knight-errant, which they understood as
well as if he had spoken in Greek, but yet they believed they were
words of compliment, and so they thanked him for his courtesy and
departed, leaving Sancho and his master for the night.