_A further account of our Knight's misfortunes._
Don Quixote perceiving that he was not able to stir, resolved to have
recourse to his usual remedy, which was to bethink himself what
passage in his books might afford him some comfort: and presently his
frenzy brought to his remembrance the story of Baldwin and the Marquis
of Mantua, when Charlot left the former wounded on the mountain; a
story learned and known by little children, not unknown to young men
and women, celebrated, and even believed, by the old, and yet not a
jot more authentic than the miracles of Mahomet. This seemed to him as
if made on purpose for his present circumstances, and therefore he
fell a rolling and tumbling up and down, expressing the greatest pain
and resentment, and breathing out, with a languishing voice, the same
complaints which the wounded Knight of the Wood is said to have made!
"Alas! where are you, lady dear,
That for my woe you do not moan?
You little know what ails me here,
Or are to me disloyal grown."
Thus he went on with the lamentations in that romance, till he came to
these verses:--
"O thou, my uncle and my prince,
Marquis of Mantua, noble lord!"--
When kind fortune so ordered it that a ploughman, who lived in the
same village, and near his house, happened to pass by, as he came from
the mill with a sack of wheat. The fellow seeing a man lie at his full
length on the ground, asked him who he was, and why he made such a sad
complaint. Don Quixote, whose distempered brain presently represented
to him the countryman as the Marquis of Mantua, his imaginary uncle,
made him no answer, but went on with the romance. The fellow stared,
much amazed to hear a man talk such unaccountable stuff; and taking
off the vizor of his helmet, broken all to pieces with blows bestowed
upon it by the mule-driver, he wiped off the dust that covered his
face, and presently knew the gentleman. "Master Quixada!" cried he
(for so he was properly called when he had the right use of his
senses, and had not yet from a sober gentleman transformed himself
into a wandering knight); "how came you in this condition?" But the
other continued his romance, and made no answers to all the questions
the countryman put to him, but what followed in course in the book:
which the good man perceiving, he took off the battered adventurer's
armour as well as he could, and fell a searching for his wounds; but
finding no sign of blood, or any other hurt, he endeavoured to set him
upon his legs; and at last with a great deal of trouble, he heaved him
upon his own ass, as being the more easy and gentle carriage: he also
got all the knight's arms together, not leaving behind so much as the
splinters of his lance; and having tied them up, and laid them on
Rozinante, which he took by the bridle, and his ass by the halter, he
led them all towards the village, and trudged on foot himself, while
he reflected on the extravagances which he heard Don Quixote utter.
Nor was the Don himself less melancholy; for he felt himself so
bruised and battered that he could hardly sit on the ass; and now and
then he breathed such grievous sighs, as seemed to pierce the very
skies, which moved his compassionate neighbour once more to entreat
him to declare to him the cause of his grief: so he bethought himself
of the Moor Abindaraez, whom Rodrigo de Narvaez, Alcade of Antequera,
took and carried prisoner to his castle; so that when the husbandman
asked him how he did and what ailed him, he answered word for word as
the prisoner Abindaraez replied to Rodrigo de Narvaez, in the Diana of
George di Montemayor, where that adventure is related; applying it so
properly to his purpose, that the countryman wished himself any where
than within the hearing of such strange nonsense; and being now fully
convinced that his neighbour's brains were turned, he made all the
haste he could to the village, to be rid of him. Don Quixote in the
mean time thus went on: "You must know, Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, that
this beautiful Xerifa, of whom I gave you an account, is at present
the most lovely Dulcinea del Toboso, for whose sake I have done, still
do, and will achieve the most famous deeds of chivalry that ever were,
are, or ever shall be seen in the universe." "Good sir," replied the
husbandman, "I am not Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, nor the Marquis of
Mantua, but Pedro Alonzo by name, your worship's neighbour; nor are
you Baldwin, nor Abindaraez, but only that worthy gentleman Senior
Quixada." "I know very well who I am," answered Don Quixote; "and
what's more, I know, that I may not only be the persons I have named,
but also the twelve peers of France, nay and the nine worthies all in
one; since my achievements will out-rival not only the famous exploits
which made any of them singly illustrious, but all their mighty deeds
accumulated together."
Thus discoursing, they at last got near their village about sunset;
but the countryman stayed at some distance till it was dark, that the
distressed gentleman might not be seen so scurvily mounted, and then
he led him home to his own house, which he found in great confusion.
The curate and the barber of the village, both of them Don Quixote's
intimate acquaintances, happened to be there at that juncture, as also
the housekeeper, who was arguing with them: "What do you think, pray,
good Doctor Perez," said she, (for this was the curate's name) "what
do you think of my master's mischance? neither he, nor his horse, nor
his target, lance, nor armour, have been seen these six days. What
shall I do, wretch that I am? I dare lay my life, and it is as sure as
I am a living creature, that those cursed books of errantry, which he
used to be always poring upon, have set him beside his senses; for now
I remember I have heard him often mutter to himself that he had a mind
to turn knight-errant, and ramble up and down the world to find out
adventures." His niece added, addressing herself to the barber; "You
must know, Mr. Nicholas, that many times my uncle would read you those
unconscionable books of disventures for eight-and-forty hours
together; then away he would throw his book, and drawing his sword, he
would fall a fencing against the walls; and when he had tired himself
with cutting and slashing, he would cry he had killed four giants as
big as any steeples; and the sweat which he put himself into, he would
say was the blood of the wounds he had received in the fight: then
would he swallow a huge jug of cold water, and presently he would be
as quiet and as well as ever he was in his life; and he said that this
same water was a sort of precious drink brought him by the sage
Esquife, a great magician and his special friend. Now, it is I who am
the cause of all this mischief, for not giving you timely notice of my
uncle's raving, that you might have put a stop to it, ere it was too
late, and have burnt all these excommunicated books; for there are I
do not know how many of them that deserve as much to be burnt as those
of the rankest heretics." "I am of your mind," said the curate; "and
verily to-morrow shall not pass over before I have fairly brought them
to a trial, and condemned them to the flames, that they may not
minister occasion to such as would read them, to be perverted after
the example of my good friend."
The countryman, who, with Don Quixote, stood without, listening to all
this discourse, now perfectly understood the cause of his neighbour's
disorder; and, without any more ado, he called out, "Open the gates
there, for the Lord Baldwin, and the Lord Marquis of Mantua, who is
coming sadly wounded; and for the Moorish Lord Abindaraez, whom the
valorous Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, Alcade of Antequera, brings
prisoner." At which words they all got out of doors; and the one
finding it to be her uncle, and the other to be her master, and the
rest their friend, who had not yet alighted from the ass, because
indeed he was not able, they all ran to embrace him; to whom Don
Quixote: "Forbear," said he, "for I am sorely hurt, by reason that my
horse failed me; carry me to bed, and, if it be possible, let the
enchantress Urganda be sent for to cure my wounds." "Now," quoth the
housekeeper, "see whether I did not guess right, on which foot my
master halted!--Come, get to bed, I beseech you; and, my life for
yours, we will take care to cure you without sending for that same
Urganda. A hearty curse, I say, light upon those books of chivalry
that have put you in this pickle!" Whereupon they carried him to his
bed, and searched for his wounds, but could find none; and then he
told them he was only bruised, having had a dreadful fall from his
horse Rozinante while he was fighting ten giants, the most outrageous
and audacious upon the face of the earth. "Ho, ho!" cried the curate,
"are there giants too in the dance? nay, then, we will have them all
burnt by to-morrow night." Then they asked the Don a thousand
questions, but to every one he made no other answer, but that they
should give him something to eat, and then leave him to his repose.
They complied with his desires; and then the curate informed himself
at large in what condition the countryman had found him; and having
had a full account of every particular, as also of the knight's
extravagant talk, both when the fellow found him, and as he brought
him home, this increased the curate's desire of effecting what he had
resolved to do next morning: at which time he called upon his friend,
Mr. Nicholas the barber, and went with him to Don Quixote's house.