_Of the good success which the valorous Don Quixote had in the most
terrifying and incredible adventure of the Windmills, with other
transactions worthy to be transmitted to posterity._
As they were thus discoursing, they discovered some thirty or forty
windmills, in the plain; and as soon as the knight had spied them,
"Fortune," cried he, "directs our affairs better than we could have
wished: look yonder, Sancho, there are at least thirty outrageous
giants, whom I intend to encounter; and having deprived them of life,
we will begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils: for they are
lawful prize; and the extirpation of that cursed brood will be an
acceptable service to heaven." "What giants?" quoth Sancho Panza.
"Those whom thou see'st yonder," answered Don Quixote, "with their
long extended arms; some of that detested race have arms of so immense
a size that sometimes they reach two leagues in length." "Pray look
better, sir," quoth Sancho: "those things yonder are no giants, but
windmills, and the arms are their sails, which being whirled about by
the wind, make the mill go." "'Tis a sign," cried Don Quixote, "thou
art but little acquainted with adventures! I tell thee, they are
giants; and therefore if thou art afraid, go aside and say thy
prayers, for I am resolved to engage in combat with them all." This
said, he clapped spurs to his horse, without giving ear to his squire,
who bawled out to him, and assured him that they were windmills, and
no giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit of the
contrary, that he did not so much as hear his squire, nor was he
sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them.
"Stand, cowards!" cried he as loud as he could; "stand your ground,
ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single knight, who dares
encounter you all." At the same time the wind rising, the mill-sails
began to move, which, when Don Quixote spied, "Base miscreants," cried
he, "though you move more arms than the giant Briareus, you shall pay
for your arrogance." He most devoutly recommended himself to his Lady
Dulcinea, imploring her assistance in this perilous adventure; and so
covering himself with his shield, and couching his lance, he rushed
with Rozinante's utmost speed upon the first windmill he could come
at, and running his lance into the sail, the wind whirled it about
with such swiftness, that the rapidity of the motion presently broke
the lance into shivers, and hurled away both knight and horse along
with it, till down he fell, rolling a good way off in the field.
Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive to help his master,
whom he found lying, and not able to stir. "Did not I give your
worship fair warning?" cried he; "did not I tell you they were
windmills, and that nobody could think otherwise, unless he had also
windmills in his head?" "Peace, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote;
"there is nothing so subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I
am verily persuaded, that cursed necromancer Freston, who carried away
my study and my books, has transformed these giants into windmills, to
deprive me of the honour of the victory; such is his inveterate malice
against me: but in the end, all his pernicious wiles and stratagems
shall prove ineffectual against the prevailing edge of my sword." "So
let it be," replied Sancho. And heaving him up again upon his legs,
once more the knight mounted poor Rozinante, who was half disjointed
with his fall.
[Illustration: DON QUIXOTE. P. 27.]
This adventure was the subject of their discourse, as they made the
best of their way towards the pass of Lapice; for Don Quixote took
that road, believing he could not miss of adventures in one so
mightily frequented.
Sancho desired him now to consider that it was high time to go to
dinner; but his master answered him, that he might eat whenever he
pleased; as for himself, he was not yet disposed to do so. Sancho
having obtained leave, fixed himself as orderly as he could upon his
ass; and taking some victuals out of his wallet, fell to munching
lustily; and ever and anon he lifted his bottle to his nose, and
fetched such hearty pulls, that it would have made the best-pampered
vintner in Malaga dry to have seen him.
In fine, they passed that night under some trees; from one of which
Don Quixote tore a withered branch, which in some sort was able to
serve him for a lance, and to this he fixed the head or spear of his
broken lance. But he did not sleep all that night, keeping his
thoughts intent on his dear Dulcinea, in imitation of what he had read
in books of chivalry, where the knights pass their time, without
sleep, in forests and deserts, wholly taken up with entertaining
thoughts of their absent ladies. The next day they went on directly
towards the pass of Lapice, which they discovered about three o'clock.
When they came near it, "Here it is, brother Sancho," said Don
Quixote, "that we may, as it were, thrust our arms up to the very
elbows in that which we call adventures. But let me give thee one
necessary caution; know, that though thou shouldst see me in the
greatest extremity of danger, thou must not offer to draw thy sword in
my defence, unless thou findest me assaulted by base plebeians and
vile scoundrels; for in such a case thou mayest assist thy master;
but if those with whom I am fighting are knights, thou must not do it;
for the laws of chivalry do not allow thee to encounter a knight till
thou art one thyself." "Never fear," quoth Sancho; "I'll be sure to
obey your worship in that, I'll warrant you; for I have ever loved
peace and quietness, and never cared to thrust myself into frays and
quarrels."
As they were talking, they spied coming towards them two monks of the
order of St. Benedict mounted on two dromedaries, for the mules on
which they rode were so high and stately, that they seemed little
less. After them came a coach, with four or five men on horseback, and
two muleteers on foot. There proved to be in the coach a Biscayan
lady, who was going to Seville to meet her husband, that was there in
order to embark for the Indies, to take possession of a considerable
post. Scarce had the Don perceived the monks, who were not of the same
company, though they went the same way, but he cried to his squire,
"Either I am deceived, or this will prove the most famous adventure
that ever was known; for without all question those two black things
that move towards us must be necromancers, that are carrying away by
force some princess in that coach; and 'tis my duty to prevent so
great an injury." "I fear me this will prove a worse job than the
windmills," quoth Sancho; "take warning, sir, and do not be led away a
second time." "I have already told thee, Sancho," replied Don Quixote,
"thou art miserably ignorant in matters of adventures: what I say is
true, and thou shalt find it so presently." This said, he spurred on
his horse, and posted himself just in the midst of the road where the
monks were to pass. And when they came within hearing, he immediately
cried out in a loud and haughty tone, "Release those high-born
princesses whom you are violently conveying away in the coach, or else
prepare to meet with instant death, as the just punishment of your
deeds." The monks stopped, no less astonished at the figure than at
the expressions of the speaker. "Sir knight," cried they, "we are no
such persons as you are pleased to term us, but religious men of the
order of St. Benedict, that travel about our affairs, and are wholly
ignorant whether or no there are any princesses carried away by force
in that coach." "I am not to be deceived," replied Don Quixote; "I
know you well enough, perfidious caitiffs:" and immediately, without
waiting their reply, he set spurs to Rozinante, and ran so furiously,
with his lance couched, against the first monk, that if he had not
prudently flung himself to the ground, the knight would certainly have
laid him either dead, or grievously wounded. The other observing this,
clapped his heels to his mule's flanks, and scoured over the plain as
if he had been running a race with the wind. Sancho no sooner saw the
monk fall, but he leapt off his ass, and running to him, began to
strip him immediately; but the two muleteers, who waited on the
monks, came up to him, and asked why he offered to strip him? Sancho
told them that this belonged to him as lawful plunder, being the
spoils won in battle by his lord and master Don Quixote. The fellows,
with whom there was no jesting, not knowing what he meant by his
spoils and battle, and seeing Don Quixote at a good distance in deep
discourse by the side of the coach, fell both upon poor Sancho, threw
him down, tore his beard from his chin, trampled on him, and there
left him lying without breath or motion. In the mean while the monk,
scared out of his wits and as pale as a ghost, got upon his mule again
as fast as he could, and spurred after his friend, who stayed for him
at a distance, expecting the issue of this strange adventure; but
being unwilling to stay to see the end of it, they made the best of
their way, making more signs of the cross than if the devil had been
posting after them.
Don Quixote was all this while engaged with the lady in the coach.
"Lady," cried he, "your discretion is now at liberty to dispose of
your beautiful self as you please; for the presumptuous arrogance of
those who attempted to enslave your person lies prostrate in the dust,
overthrown by this arm: and that you may not be at a loss for the name
of your deliverer, know I am called Don Quixote de la Mancha, by
profession a knight-errant and adventurer, captive to that peerless
beauty Donna Dulcinea del Toboso: nor do I desire any other recompense
for the service I have done you, but that you return to Toboso to
present yourself to that lady, and let her know what I have done to
purchase your deliverance." So saying he bade her courteously
farewell, and pursued his way.