_What happened to Don Quixote with Donna Rodriguez; as also other
passages worthy to be recorded._
Don Quixote, thus unhappily hurt, was extremely discontented and
melancholy. He was some days without appearing in public; and one
night, when he was thus confined to his apartment, as he lay awake
reflecting on his misfortunes and Altisidora's importunities, he
perceived somebody was opening his chamber-door with a key, and
presently imagined that the damsel herself was coming. "No," said he,
loud enough to be heard, "the greatest beauty in the universe shall
never remove the dear idea of the charming fair that is engraved and
stamped in the very centre of my heart, and the most secret recesses
of my breast. No, thou only mistress of my soul, whether transformed
into a country girl, or into one of the nymphs of the golden Tagus,
that weave silk and gold in the loom; whether Merlin or Montesinos
detained thee where they pleased, be where thou wilt, thou still art
mine; and wherever I shall be, I must and will be thine." Just as he
ended his speech, the door opened. He fixed his eyes on it, and when
he expected to have seen the doleful Altisidora, he beheld a most
reverend matron approaching in a white veil, so long that it covered
her from head to foot. Betwixt her left-hand fingers she carried half
a candle lighted, and held her right before her face to keep the blaze
of the taper from her eyes, which were hidden by a huge pair of
spectacles. All the way she trod very softly, and moved at a very slow
pace. Don Quixote watched her motions, and observing her garb and
silence, took her for some enchantress that came in that dress to
practise her wicked sorceries upon him, and began to make the sign of
the cross as fast as he could. The vision advanced all the while; and
being got to the middle of the chamber, lifted up its eyes and saw Don
Quixote thus making a thousand crosses on his breast. But if he was
astonished at the sight of such a figure, she was no less affrighted
at his; so that, as soon as she spied him, so lank, bepatched and
muffled up, "Bless me," cried she, "what is this!" With the sudden
fright she dropped the candle, and now, being in the dark, as she was
running out, the length of her dress made her stumble, and down she
fell in the middle of the chamber. Don Quixote at the same time was in
great anxiety. "Phantom," cried he, "or whatsoever thou art, I conjure
thee to tell me who thou art, and what thou requirest of me?" The old
woman, hearing herself thus conjured, judged Don Quixote's fears by
her own, and therefore, with a low and doleful voice, "My Lord Don
Quixote," said she, "if you are he, I am neither a phantom nor a
ghost, but Donna Rodriguez, my lady duchess's matron of honour, who
come to you about a certain grievance of the nature of those which you
use to redress." "Tell me, Donna Rodriguez," said Don Quixote, "are
not you come to manage some love intrigue? If you are, take it from
me, you will lose your labour: it is all in vain, thanks to the
peerless beauty of my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. In a word, madam,
provided you come not on some such embassy, you may go light your
candle and return, and we will talk of any thing you please." "I have
come with no such purpose," said the duenna. "But stay a little, I
will go light my candle, and then I will tell you my misfortunes; for
it is you that sets to right every thing in the world." This said,
away she went, without stopping for an answer.
Donna Rodriguez, having returned, sat down in a chair at some
distance, without taking off her spectacles, or setting down the
candle. After they had both remained some minutes in silence, the
first that broke it was the knight. "Now, madam," said he, "you may
freely unburden your heart, sure of attention to your complaints and
assistance in your distress." "I believe as much," said the matron,
"and promised myself no less charitable an answer from a person of so
graceful and pleasing a presence. The case, then, is, noble sir, that
though you see me sitting in this chair, in the middle of Arragon, in
the habit of an insignificant unhappy duenna, I am of Asturias de
Oviedo, and one of the best families in that province. But my hard
fortune, and the neglect of my parents, brought me to Madrid, where,
because they could do no better, they placed me with a court lady to
be her chambermaid. And, though I say it, for all manner of plain work
I was never outdone by any one in all my life. My father and mother
left me at service, and returned home; and some few years after they
both died, and went to heaven, I hope; for they were very good and
religious Catholics. Then was I left an orphan, and wholly reduced to
the sorrowful condition of such court-servants, wretched wages, and a
slender allowance. About the same time the gentleman-usher fell in
love with me before I dreamt of any such thing. He was somewhat
stricken in years, had a fine beard, was a personable man, and, what
is more, as good a gentleman as the king; for he was of the mountains.
We did not carry matters so close but it came to my lady's ear; and
so, without more ado, she caused us to be married in the face of our
holy mother the Catholic church, from which marriage sprung a
daughter, who made an end of my good fortune, if I had any. When she
came to be sixteen years of age, who should happen to fall in love
with her but a rich farmer's son, that lives in one of my lord duke's
villages not far off; he courted her, gained her consent, and was
under promise of marriage to her; but he now refuses to make his word
good. The duke is no stranger to the business, for I have made
complaint to him about it many and many times, and begged of him to
enjoin the young man to wed my daughter; but he turns his deaf ear to
me, and cannot endure I should speak to him of it, because the young
knave's father is rich, and lends the duke money, and is bound for him
upon all occasions, so that he would by no means disoblige him.
"Therefore, sir, I apply myself to your worship, and beseech you to
see my daughter righted, either by entreaties or by force, seeing
every body says you were sent into the world to redress grievances and
assist those in adversity. Be pleased to cast an eye of pity on my
daughter's orphan state, her beauty, her youth, and all her other good
parts; for, on my conscience, of all the damsels my lady has, there is
not one can come up to her by a mile; no, not she that is cried up as
the finest of them all, whom they call Altisidora: I am sure she is
not to be named the same day; for, let me tell you, sir, all is not
gold that glisters. This same Altisidora, after all, is a hoity-toity,
that has more vanity than beauty, and less modesty than confidence."
Scarce had this passed, when the chamber-door flew open, which so
startled Donna Rodriguez, that she let fall her candle, and the room
remained as dark as a wolf's mouth, as the saying is; and presently
the poor duenna felt somebody hold her by the throat, and squeeze it
so hard, that it was not in her power to cry out; and another beat her
so unmercifully that it would have moved any one but those that did it
to pity. Don Quixote was not without compassion, yet he lay silent,
not knowing what the meaning of this bustle might be, and fearing lest
the tempest that poured on the poor matron might also light upon
himself; and not without reason; for indeed, after the mute
executioners had well beat the old gentlewoman (who durst not cry
out), they came to Don Quixote, and pinched him so hard and so long,
that in his own defence he could not forbear laying about him with his
fists as well as he could, till at last, after the scuffle had lasted
about half an hour, the invisible phantoms vanished. Donna Rodriguez,
lamenting her hard fortune, left the room without speaking a word to
the knight. As for him, he remained where he was, sadly pinched and
tired, and very moody and thoughtful, not knowing who this wicked
enchanter could be that had used him in that manner. But now let us
leave him, and return to Sancho Panza, who calls upon us, as the order
of our history requires.