_That gives an account of things which you will know when you have
read it._
The sable night had spun out half her course, when Don Quixote and
Sancho entered Toboso. A profound silence reigned over all the town,
and the inhabitants were fast asleep, and stretched out at their ease.
Nothing disturbed the general tranquillity but now and then the
barking of dogs, that wounded Don Quixote's ears, but more poor
Sancho's heart. Sometimes an ass brayed, hogs grunted, cats mewed;
which jarring mixture of sounds was not a little augmented by the
stillness and serenity of the night, and filled the enamoured
champion's head with a thousand inauspicious chimeras. Nevertheless he
said, "Sancho, lead on to Dulcinea's palace; it is possible we may
find her awake." "To what palace?" answered Sancho; "that in which I
saw her highness was but a little mean house." "It was, I suppose,
some small apartment of her castle which she had retired to," said the
knight, "to amuse herself with her damsels, as is usual with great
ladies and princesses." "Since your worship," quoth Sancho, "will
needs have my Lady Dulcinea's house to be a castle, is this an hour to
find the gates open?" "First, however, let us find this castle,"
replied Don Quixote, "and then I will tell thee how to act;--but look,
my eyes deceive me, or that huge dark pile yonder must be Dulcinea's
palace." "Then lead on, sir," said Sancho; "it may be so; though, if I
were to see it with my eyes, I will believe it just as much as that it
is now day."
The Don led the way, and having gone about two hundred paces, he came
up to the edifice which cast the dark shade; and perceiving a large
tower, he soon found that the building was no palace, but the
principal church of the place; whereupon he said, "We are come to the
church, Sancho." "I see we are," answered Sancho; "and pray God we be
not come to our graves; for it is no good sign to be rambling about
churchyards at such hours, and especially since I have already told
your worship that this same lady's house stands in a blind alley."
"Blockhead!" said the knight; "where hast thou ever found castles and
royal palaces built in blind alleys?" "Sir," said Sancho, "each
country has its customs; so perhaps it is the fashion here to build
your palaces in alleys; and so I beseech your worship to let me look
among these lanes and alleys just before me; and perhaps I may pop
upon this same palace, which I wish I may see devoured by dogs for
bewildering us at this rate." "Speak with more respect, Sancho, of
what regards my lady," said Don Quixote; "let us keep our holidays in
peace, and not throw the rope after the bucket." "I will curb
myself," answered Sancho; "but I cannot think that, though I have seen
the house but once, your worship will needs have me find it at
midnight, when you cannot find it yourself, though you must have seen
it thousands of times." "Thou wilt make me desperate, Sancho," quoth
Don Quixote; "come hither, heretic; have I not told thee a thousand
times that I never saw the peerless Dulcinea in my life, nor ever
stepped over the threshold of her palace, and that I am enamoured by
report alone, and the great fame of her wit and beauty?" "I hear it
now," said Sancho; "and to tell the truth, I have seen her just as
much as your worship." "How can that be?" cried Don Quixote; "didst
thou not tell me that thou sawest her winnowing wheat?" "Take no heed
of that, sir," replied the squire; "for the fact is, her message, and
the sight of her too, were both by hearsay, and I can no more tell who
the Lady Dulcinea is than I can buffet the moon." "Sancho, Sancho,"
answered Don Quixote, "there is a time to jest, and a time when jests
are unseasonable. What! because I say that I never saw nor spoke to
the mistress of my soul, must thou say so likewise, when thou knowest
it to be untrue?"
They were here interrupted by the approach of a man with two mules;
and by the sound of a ploughshare, our travellers rightly guessed that
he was a husbandman. The country-fellow having now come up to them,
Don Quixote said to him, "Good-morrow, honest friend; canst thou
direct me to the palace of the peerless princess, Donna Dulcinea del
Toboso?" "Sir," answered the fellow, "I am a stranger here; for I have
been but a few days in the service of a farmer of this town. But the
parish priest, or the sexton across the road, can give your worship an
account of that same lady princess; for they keep a register of all
the inhabitants of Toboso; not that I think there is any princess
living here, though there are several great ladies that may every one
be a princess in her own house." "Among those, friend," said the Don,
"may be her for whom I am inquiring." "Not unlikely," said the
ploughman, "and so God speed you; for it will soon be daybreak." Then
pricking on his mules, he waited for no more questions.
Sancho seeing his master perplexed, said to him, "Sir, the day comes
on apace, and we shall soon have the sun upon us; so I think we had
better get out of this place, and, while your worship takes shelter in
some wood, I will leave not a corner unsearched for this house,
castle, or palace of my lady; and it shall go hard with me but I find
it; and as soon as I have done so, I will speak to her ladyship, and
tell her where your worship is waiting her orders and directions how
you may see her without damage to her honour and reputation."
"Sancho," quoth Don Quixote, "thou hast uttered a thousand sentences
in a few words. Thy counsel I relish much, and shall most willingly
follow it. Come on, and let us seek for some shelter: then shalt thou
return and seek out my lady, from whose discretion and courtesy I
expect more than miraculous favours." Sancho was impatient till he got
his master out of the town, lest his tricks should be detected; he
therefore hastened on, and when they had gone about two miles, the
knight retired to a shady grove, while the squire returned in quest of
the Lady Dulcinea; on which embassy things occurred well worthy of
credit and renewed attention.