_Continuation again of the adventure of the Knight of the Wood._
Much conversation passed between the two knights. Among other things,
he of the Wood said to Don Quixote, "In fact, sir knight, I must
confess that, by destiny, or rather by choice, I became enamoured of
the peerless Casildea de Vandalia:--peerless I call her, because she
is without her peer, either in rank, beauty, or form. Casildea repaid
my honourable and virtuous passion by employing me as Hercules was
employed by his stepmother, in many and various perils; promising me,
at the end of each of them, that the next should crown my hopes; but,
alas! she still goes on, adding link after link to the chain of my
labours, insomuch that they are now countless; nor can I tell when
they are to cease, and my tender wishes be gratified. One time she
commanded me to go and challenge Giralda, the famous giantess of
Seville, who is as stout and strong as if she were made of brass, and,
though never stirring from one spot, is the most changeable and
unsteady woman in the world. I came, I saw, I conquered; I made her
stand still, and fixed her to a point; for, during a whole week, no
wind blew but from the north. Another time she commanded me to weigh
those ancient statues, the fierce bulls of Guisando, an enterprise
better suited to a porter than a knight. Another time she commanded me
to plunge headlong into Cabra's cave (direful mandate!), and bring her
a particular detail of all that lies enclosed within its dark abyss. I
stopped the motion of the Giralda, I weighed the bulls of Guisando, I
plunged headlong into the cavern of Cabra and brought to light its
hidden secrets; yet still my hopes are dead! In short, she has now
commanded me to travel over all the provinces of Spain, and compel
every knight whom I meet to confess that in beauty she excels all
others now in existence; and that I am the most valiant and the most
enamoured knight in the universe. In obedience to this command I have
already traversed the greatest part of Spain, and have vanquished
divers knights who have had the presumption to contradict me. But what
I value myself most upon is having vanquished, in single combat, that
renowned knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, and made him confess that my
Casildea is more beautiful than his Dulcinea; and I reckon that, in
this conquest alone, I have vanquished all the knights in the world;
for this Don Quixote has conquered them all, and I, having overcome
him, his glory, his fame, and his honour, are, consequently
transferred to me. All the innumerable exploits of the said Don
Quixote I therefore consider as already mine, and placed to my
account."
Don Quixote was amazed at the assertions of the Knight of the Wood,
and had been every moment at the point of giving him the lie; but he
restrained himself, that he might convict him of falsehood from his
own mouth; and therefore he said, very calmly, "That you may have
vanquished, sir knight, most of the knights-errant of Spain, or even
of the whole world, I will not dispute; but that you have conquered
Don Quixote de la Mancha I have much reason to doubt. Some one
resembling him, I allow, it might have been; though, in truth, I
believe there are not many like him." "How say you?" cried he of the
Wood; "as sure as I am here alone, I fought with Don Quixote,
vanquished him, and made him surrender to me! He is a man of an erect
figure, withered face, long and meagre limbs, grizzle-haired,
hawk-nosed, with large black mustachios, and styles himself the Knight
of the Sorrowful Figure. The name of his squire is Sancho Panza; he
oppresses the back and governs the reins of a famous steed called
Rozinante--in a word, the mistress of his thoughts is one Dulcinea del
Toboso, formerly called Aldonza Lorenzo, as my Casildea, being of
Andalusia, is now distinguished by the name of Casildea de Vandalia.
And now, if I have not sufficiently proved what I have said, here is
my sword, which shall make incredulity itself believe." "Softly, sir
knight," said Don Quixote, "and hear what I have to say. You must know
that this Don Quixote you speak of is the dearest friend I have in the
world, insomuch that he is, as it were, another self; and,
notwithstanding the very accurate description you have given of him, I
am convinced, by the evidence of my senses, that you have never
subdued him. It is, indeed, possible that, as he is continually
persecuted by enchanters, some one of these may have assumed his
shape, and suffered himself to be vanquished, in order to defraud him
of the fame which his exalted feats of chivalry have acquired him over
the whole face of the earth. A proof of their malice occurred but a
few days since, when they transformed the figure and face of the
beautiful Dulcinea del Toboso into the form of a mean rustic wench.
And now if, after all, you doubt the truth of what I say, behold the
true Don Quixote himself before you, ready to convince you of your
error by force of arms, on foot or on horseback, or in whatever manner
you please." He then rose up, and grasping his sword, awaited the
determination of the Knight of the Wood, who very calmly said in
reply, "A good paymaster wants no pledge: he who could vanquish Signor
Don Quixote under transformation may well hope to make him yield in
his proper person. But as knights-errant should by no means perform
their feats in the dark, like robbers and ruffians, let us wait for
daylight, that the sun may witness our exploits; and let the condition
of our combat be, that the conquered shall remain entirely at the
mercy and disposal of the conqueror; provided that he require nothing
of him but what a knight may with honour submit to." Don Quixote
having expressed himself entirely satisfied with these conditions,
they went to seek their squires, whom they found snoring in the very
same posture as that in which sleep had first surprised them. They
were soon awakened by their masters, and ordered to prepare the
steeds, so that they might be ready at sunrise for a single combat. At
this intelligence Sancho was thunderstruck, and ready to swoon away
with fear for his master, from what he had been told by the Squire of
the Wood of his knight's prowess. Both the squires, however, without
saying a word, went to seek their cattle; and the three horses and
Dapple were found all very sociably together.
"You must understand, brother," said the Squire of the Wood to Sancho,
"that it is not the custom in Andalusia for the seconds to stand idle
with their arms folded while their principals are engaged in combat.
So this is to give you notice that, while our masters are at it, we
must fight too, and make splinters of one another." "This custom,
Signor Squire," answered Sancho, "may pass among ruffians; but among
the squires of knights-errant no such practice is thought of,--at
least I have not heard my master talk of any such custom; and he knows
by heart all the laws of knight-errantry. But supposing there is any
such law, I shall not obey it. I would rather pay the penalty laid
upon such peaceable squires, which, I dare say, cannot be above a
couple of pounds of wax; and that will cost me less money than
plasters to cure a broken head. Besides, how can I fight when I have
got no sword, and never had one in my life?" "I know a remedy for
that," said he of the Wood: "here are a couple of linen bags of the
same size; you shall take one, and I the other, and so, with equal
weapons, we will have a bout at bag-blows." "With all my heart,"
answered Sancho; "for such a battle will only dust our jackets." "It
must not be quite so, either," replied the other; "for, lest the wind
should blow them aside, we must put in them half-a-dozen clean and
smooth pebbles of equal weight; and thus we may brush one another
without much harm or damage." "But I tell you what, master," said
Sancho, "though they should be filled with balls of raw silk, I shall
not fight. Let our masters fight, but let us drink and live; for time
takes care to rid us of our lives without our seeking ways to go
before our appointed term and season." "Nay," replied he of the Wood,
"do let us fight, if it be but for half-an-hour." "No, no," answered
Sancho, "I shall not be so rude nor ungrateful as to have any quarrel
with a gentleman after eating and drinking with him. Besides, who can
set about dry fighting without being provoked to it?" "If that be
all," quoth he of the Wood, "I can easily manage it; for, before we
begin our fight, I will come up and just give you three or four
handsome cuffs, which will lay you flat at my feet and awaken your
choler, though it slept sounder than a dormouse." "Against that
trick," answered Sancho, "I have another not a whit behind it; which
is to take a good cudgel, and, before you come near enough to awaken
my choler, I will bastinado yours into so sound a sleep that it shall
never awake but in another world. Let me tell you, I am not a man to
suffer my face to be handled; so let every one look to the arrow;
though the safest way would be to let that same choler sleep on--for
one man knows not what another can do, and some people go out for
wool, and come home shorn. In all times God blessed the peace-makers,
and cursed the peace-breakers. If a baited cat turns into a lion,
there is no knowing what I, that am a man, may turn into; and
therefore I warn you, master squire, that all the damage and mischief
that may follow from our quarrel must be placed to your account."
"Agreed," replied he of the Wood; "when daylight arrives, we shall see
what is to be done."
And now a thousand sorts of birds, glittering in their gay attire,
began to chirp and warble in the trees, and in a variety of joyous
notes seemed to hail the blushing Aurora, who now displayed her rising
beauties from the bright arcades and balconies of the east, and gently
shook from her locks a shower of liquid pearls, sprinkling that
reviving treasure over all vegetation. The willows distilled their
delicious manna, the fountains smiled, the brooks murmured, the woods
and meads rejoiced at her approach. But scarcely had hill and dale
received the welcome light of day, and objects become visible, when
the first thing that presented itself to the eyes of Sancho Panza was
the squire of the Wood's nose, which was so large that it almost
overshadowed his whole body. Its magnitude was indeed extraordinary;
it was moreover a hawk-nose, full of warts and carbuncles, of the
colour of a mulberry, and hanging two fingers' breadth below his
mouth. The size, the colour, the carbuncles, and the crookedness,
produced such a countenance of horror, that Sancho, at sight thereof,
began to tremble from head to foot, and he resolved within himself to
take two hundred cuffs before he would be provoked to attack such a
hobgoblin.
Don Quixote also surveyed his antagonist, but, the beaver of his
helmet being down, his face was concealed; it was evident, however,
that he was a strong-made man, not very tall, and that over his armour
he wore a kind of surtout or loose coat, apparently of the finest gold
cloth, besprinkled with little moons of polished glass, which made a
very gay and shining appearance; a large plume of feathers, green,
yellow, and white, waved above his helmet. His lance, which was
leaning against a tree, was very large and thick, and headed with
pointed steel above a span long. All these circumstances Don Quixote
attentively marked, and inferred from appearances that he was a very
potent knight; but he was not therefore daunted, like Sancho Panza; on
the contrary, with a gallant spirit, he said to the Knight of the
Mirrors, "Sir knight, if your eagerness for combat has not exhausted
your courtesy, I entreat you to lift up your beaver a little, that I
may see whether your countenance corresponds with your gallant
demeanour." "Whether vanquished or victorious in this enterprise, sir
knight," answered he of the Mirrors, "you will have time and leisure
enough for seeing me; and if I comply not now with your request, it is
because I think it would be an indignity to the beauteous Casildea de
Vandalia to lose any time in forcing you to make the confession
required." "However, while we are mounting our horses," said Don
Quixote, "you can tell me whether I resemble that Don Quixote whom you
said you had vanquished." "As like as one egg is to another," replied
he of the Mirrors, "though, as you say you are persecuted by
enchanters, I dare not affirm that you are actually the same person."
"I am satisfied that you acknowledge you may be deceived," said Don
Quixote; "however, to remove all doubt, let us to horse, and in less
time than you would have spent in raising your beaver, if God, my
mistress, and my arm avail me, I will see your face, and you shall be
convinced I am not the vanquished Don Quixote."
They now mounted without more words; and Don Quixote wheeled Rozinante
about, to take sufficient ground for the encounter, while the other
knight did the same; but before Don Quixote had gone twenty paces, he
heard himself called by his opponent, who, meeting him half way, said,
"Remember, sir knight, our agreement; which is, that the conquered
shall remain at the discretion of the conqueror." "I know it,"
answered Don Quixote, "provided that which is imposed shall not
transgress the laws of chivalry." "Certainly," answered he of the
Mirrors. At this juncture the squire's strange nose presented itself
to Don Quixote's sight, who was no less struck than Sancho, insomuch
that he looked upon him as a monster, or some creature of a new
species. Sancho, seeing his master set forth to take his career, would
not stay alone with Long-nose, lest perchance he should get a filip
from that dreadful snout, which would level him to the ground, either
by force or fright. So he ran after his master, holding by the
stirrup-leather, and when he thought it was nearly time for him to
face about, "I beseech your worship," he cried, "before you turn, to
help me into yon cork-tree, where I can see better and more to my
liking the brave battle you are going to have with that knight." "I
rather believe, Sancho," quoth Don Quixote, "that thou art for
mounting a scaffold to see the bull-sports without danger." "To tell
you the truth, sir," answered Sancho, "that squire's monstrous nose
fills me with dread, and I dare not stand near him." "It is indeed a
fearful sight," said Don Quixote, "to any other but myself; come,
therefore, and I will help thee up."
[Illustration: DON QUIXOTE. P. 218.]
While Don Quixote was engaged in helping Sancho up into the cork-tree,
the Knight of the Mirrors took as large a compass as he thought
necessary, and believing that Don Quixote had done the same, without
waiting for sound of trumpet, or any other signal, he turned about his
horse, who was not a whit more active nor more sightly than Rozinante,
and at his best speed, though not exceeding a middling trot, he
advanced to encounter the enemy; but seeing him employed with Sancho,
he reined-in his steed and stopped in the midst of his career; for
which his horse was most thankful, being unable to stir any farther.
Don Quixote, thinking his enemy was coming full speed against him,
clapped spurs to Rozinante's flanks, and made him so bestir himself,
that this was the only time in his life that he approached to
something like a gallop; and with this unprecedented fury he soon came
up to where his adversary stood, striking his spurs rowel-deep into
the sides of his charger, without being able to make him stir a
finger's length from the place where he had been checked in his
career. At this fortunate juncture Don Quixote met his adversary
embarrassed not only with his horse but his lance, which he either
knew not how, or had not time, to fix in its rest; and therefore our
knight, who saw not these perplexities, assailed him with perfect
security, and with such force that he soon brought him to the ground,
over his horse's crupper, leaving him motionless and without any signs
of life. Sancho, on seeing this, immediately slid down from the
cork-tree, and in all haste ran to his master, who alighted from
Rozinante, and went up to the vanquished knight, when, unlacing his
helmet to see whether he was dead, or if yet alive, to give him air,
he beheld----but who can relate what he beheld, without causing
amazement, wonder, and terror, in all that shall hear it? He saw, says
the history, the very face, the very figure, the very aspect, the very
physiognomy, the very effigies and semblance of the bachelor Samson
Carrasco! "Come hither, Sancho," cried he aloud, "and see, but believe
not; make haste, son, and mark what wizards and enchanters can do!"
Sancho approached, and seeing the face of the bachelor Samson
Carrasco, he began to cross and bless himself a thousand times over.
All this time the overthrown cavalier shewed no signs of life. "My
advice is," said Sancho, "that, at all events, your worship should
thrust your sword down the throat of this man who is so like the
bachelor Samson Carrasco; for in dispatching him you may destroy one
of those enchanters your enemies." "Thou sayest not amiss," quoth Don
Quixote, "for the fewer enemies the better." He then drew his sword to
put Sancho's advice into execution, when the squire of the Mirrors
came running up, but without the frightful nose, and cried aloud,
"Have a care, Signor Don Quixote, what you do; for it is the bachelor
Samson Carrasco your friend, and I am his squire." Sancho seeing his
face now shorn of its deformity, exclaimed, "The nose! where is the
nose?" "Here it is," said the other, taking from his right-hand pocket
a pasteboard nose, formed and painted in the manner already described;
and Sancho, now looking earnestly at him, made another exclamation.
"Blessed Virgin, defend me!" cried he, "is not this Tom Cecial my
neighbour?" "Indeed am I," answered the unnosed squire; "Tom Cecial I
am, friend Sancho Panza, and I will tell you presently what tricks
brought me hither; but now, good Sancho, entreat, in the mean time,
your master not to hurt the Knight of the Mirrors at his feet: for he
is truly no other than the rash and ill-advised bachelor Samson
Carrasco, our townsman."
By this time the Knight of the Mirrors began to recover his senses,
which Don Quixote perceiving, he clapped the point of his naked sword
to his throat, and said, "You are a dead man, sir knight, if you
confess not that the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso excels in beauty
your Casildea de Vandalia; you must promise also, on my sparing your
life, to go to the city of Toboso, and present yourself before her
from me, that she may dispose of you as she shall think fit; and, if
she leaves you at liberty, then shall you return to me without
delay--the fame of my exploits being your guide--to relate to me the
circumstances of your interview: these conditions being strictly
conformable to the terms agreed on before our encounter, and also to
the rules of knight-errantry." "I confess," said the fallen knight,
"that the lady Dulcinea del Toboso's torn and dirty shoe is preferable
to the ill-combed, though clean, locks of Casildea; and I promise to
go and return from her presence to yours, and give you the exact and
particular account which you require of me."
"You must likewise confess and believe," added Don Quixote, "that the
knight you vanquished was not Don Quixote de la Mancha, but some one
resembling him; as I do confess and believe that, though resembling
the bachelor Samson Carrasco, you are not he, but some other whom my
enemies have purposely transformed into his likeness, to restrain the
impetuosity of my rage, and make me use with moderation the glory of
my conquest." "I confess, judge, and believe every thing, precisely as
you do yourself," answered the disjointed knight; "and now suffer me
to rise, I beseech you, if my bruises do not prevent me." Don Quixote
raised him with the assistance of his squire, on whom Sancho still
kept his eyes fixed; and though from some conversation that passed
between them, he had much reason to believe it was really his old
friend Tom Cecial, he was so prepossessed by all that his master had
said about enchanters, that he would not trust his own eyes. In short,
both master and man persisted in their error; and the Knight of the
Mirrors, with his squire, much out of humour and in ill plight, went
in search of some convenient place where he might searcloth himself
and splinter his ribs. Don Quixote and Sancho continued their journey
to Saragosa, where the history leaves them; to give some account of
the Knight of the Mirrors and his well-snouted squire.