_What happened to Sancho by the way; with other matters which you will
have no more to do than to see._
Sancho pursued his way until the night overtook him within half a
league of the duke's castle. However, as it was summer-time, he was
not much uneasy, and chose to go out of the road, with a design to
stay there till the morning. But, while he sought some place where he
might rest himself, he and Dapple tumbled of a sudden into a very deep
hole, among the ruins of an old building. As he was falling, he
fancied himself sinking down into some bottomless abyss; but he was in
no such danger, for by the time he had descended somewhat lower than
eighteen feet, Dapple made a full stop at the bottom, and his rider
found himself still on his back, without the least hurt in the world.
Presently Sancho began to consider the condition of his bones, held
his breath, and felt all about him; and finding himself sound and in a
whole skin, he thought he could never give Heaven sufficient thanks
for his wondrous preservation; for at first he gave himself over for
lost and broken into a thousand pieces. He groped with both hands
about the walls of the pit to try if it were possible to get out
without help; but he found them all so steep, that there was not the
least hold or footing to get up. This grieved him to the soul; and to
increase his sorrow, Dapple began to raise his voice in a very piteous
and doleful manner, which pierced his master's very heart: nor did the
poor beast make such moan without reason, for to say the truth, he was
but in a woful condition. "Woe's me," cried Sancho, "what sudden and
unthought of mischances every foot befall us poor wretches in this
miserable world! Who would have thought that he who but yesterday saw
himself seated on the throne of an island-governor, and had servants
and vassals at his beck, should to-day find himself buried in a pit,
without the least soul to help him or come to his relief? Here we are
likely to perish with hunger, I and my ass, if we do not die before,
he of his bruises, and I of grief and anguish. At least, I shall not
be so lucky as was my master Don Quixote, when he went down into the
cave of the enchanter Montesinos. He found better fare there than he
could have at his own house; the cloth was laid, and his bed made, and
he saw nothing but pleasant visions; but I am like to see nothing here
but toads and snakes. Unhappy creature that I am! What have my foolish
designs and whimsies brought me to?"
At length, after a whole night's lamenting and complaining at a
miserable rate, the day came on; and its light having confirmed Sancho
in his doubts of the possibility of getting out of that place without
help, he again made a vigorous outcry, to try whether any body might
not hear him. But alas, all his calling was in vain; for all around
there was nobody within hearing; and at first he gave himself over for
dead and buried. He cast his eyes on Dapple, and seeing him extended
on the ground, and sadly dejected, he went to him, and tried to get
him on his legs, which, with much ado, by means of his assistance, the
poor beast did at last, being hardly able to stand. Then he took a
luncheon of bread out of his wallet, that had run the same fortune
with them, and giving it to the ass, who took it not at all amiss, and
made no bones of it, "Here," said Sancho, as if the beast had
understood him, "a fat sorrow is better than a lean." At length, he
perceived on one side of the pit a great hole, wide enough for a man
to creep through stooping. He drew to it, and having crawled through
on all fours, found that it led into a vault, that enlarged itself the
further it extended, which he could easily perceive, the sun shining
in towards the top of the concavity. Having made this discovery, he
went back to his ass, and like one that knew what belonged to digging,
with a stone he began to remove the earth that was about the hole, and
laboured so effectually, that he soon made a passage for his
companion. Then taking him by the halter, he led him along through the
cave, to try if he could not find a way to get out on the other side.
"Alas!" said he to himself, "what a heart of a chicken have I! This,
which to me is a sad disaster, to my master Don Quixote would be a
rare adventure. He would look upon these caves and dungeons as lovely
gardens and glorious palaces, and hope to be led out of these dark
narrow cells into some fine meadow; while I, luckless, heartless
wretch that I am, every step I take, expect to sink into some deeper
pit than this, and go down I do not know whither." Thus he went on,
lamenting and despairing, and thought he had gone somewhat more than
half a league, when at last he perceived a kind of confused light,
like that of day, break in at some open place, but which, to poor
Sancho, seemed a prospect of a passage into another world.
But here we leave him a while; and return to Don Quixote, who
entertained and pleased himself with the hopes of a speedy combat
between him and Donna Rodriguez's enemy, whose wrongs he designed to
see redressed.