DON QUIXOTE

 by Miguel de Cervantes

 Translated by John Ormsby

 Volume I. 

 Part 6. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

OF WHAT HAPPENED TO THE INGENIOUS GENTLEMAN IN THE INN WHICH HE TOOK TOBE A CASTLE

The innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote slung across the ass, asked Sancho whatwas amiss with him. Sancho answered that it was nothing, only that he hadfallen down from a rock and had his ribs a little bruised. The innkeeperhad a wife whose disposition was not such as those of her callingcommonly have, for she was by nature kind-hearted and felt for thesufferings of her neighbours, so she at once set about tending DonQuixote, and made her young daughter, a very comely girl, help her intaking care of her guest. There was besides in the inn, as servant, anAsturian lass with a broad face, flat poll, and snub nose, blind of oneeye and not very sound in the other. The elegance of her shape, to besure, made up for all her defects; she did not measure seven palms fromhead to foot, and her shoulders, which overweighted her somewhat, madeher contemplate the ground more than she liked. This graceful lass, then, helped the young girl, and the two made up a very bad bed for Don Quixotein a garret that showed evident signs of having formerly served for manyyears as a straw-loft, in which there was also quartered a carrier whosebed was placed a little beyond our Don Quixote's, and, though only madeof the pack-saddles and cloths of his mules, had much the advantage ofit, as Don Quixote's consisted simply of four rough boards on two notvery even trestles, a mattress, that for thinness might have passed for aquilt, full of pellets which, were they not seen through the rents to bewool, would to the touch have seemed pebbles in hardness, two sheets madeof buckler leather, and a coverlet the threads of which anyone that chosemight have counted without missing one in the reckoning. 

On this accursed bed Don Quixote stretched himself, and the hostess andher daughter soon covered him with plasters from top to toe, whileMaritornes--for that was the name of the Asturian--held the light forthem, and while plastering him, the hostess, observing how full of whealsDon Quixote was in some places, remarked that this had more the look ofblows than of a fall. 

It was not blows, Sancho said, but that the rock had many points andprojections, and that each of them had left its mark. "Pray, senora, " headded, "manage to save some tow, as there will be no want of some one touse it, for my loins too are rather sore. "

"Then you must have fallen too, " said the hostess. 

"I did not fall, " said Sancho Panza, "but from the shock I got at seeingmy master fall, my body aches so that I feel as if I had had a thousandthwacks. "

"That may well be, " said the young girl, "for it has many a time happenedto me to dream that I was falling down from a tower and never coming tothe ground, and when I awoke from the dream to find myself as weak andshaken as if I had really fallen. "

"There is the point, senora, " replied Sancho Panza, "that I withoutdreaming at all, but being more awake than I am now, find myself withscarcely less wheals than my master, Don Quixote. "

"How is the gentleman called?" asked Maritornes the Asturian. 

"Don Quixote of La Mancha, " answered Sancho Panza, "and he is aknight-adventurer, and one of the best and stoutest that have been seenin the world this long time past. "

"What is a knight-adventurer?" said the lass. 

"Are you so new in the world as not to know?" answered Sancho Panza. "Well, then, you must know, sister, that a knight-adventurer is a thingthat in two words is seen drubbed and emperor, that is to-day the mostmiserable and needy being in the world, and to-morrow will have two orthree crowns of kingdoms to give his squire. "

"Then how is it, " said the hostess, "that belonging to so good a masteras this, you have not, to judge by appearances, even so much as acounty?"

"It is too soon yet, " answered Sancho, "for we have only been a monthgoing in quest of adventures, and so far we have met with nothing thatcan be called one, for it will happen that when one thing is looked foranother thing is found; however, if my master Don Quixote gets well ofthis wound, or fall, and I am left none the worse of it, I would notchange my hopes for the best title in Spain. "

To all this conversation Don Quixote was listening very attentively, andsitting up in bed as well as he could, and taking the hostess by the handhe said to her, "Believe me, fair lady, you may call yourself fortunatein having in this castle of yours sheltered my person, which is such thatif I do not myself praise it, it is because of what is commonly said, that self-praise debaseth; but my squire will inform you who I am. I onlytell you that I shall preserve for ever inscribed on my memory theservice you have rendered me in order to tender you my gratitude whilelife shall last me; and would to Heaven love held me not so enthralledand subject to its laws and to the eyes of that fair ingrate whom I namebetween my teeth, but that those of this lovely damsel might be themasters of my liberty. "

The hostess, her daughter, and the worthy Maritornes listened inbewilderment to the words of the knight-errant; for they understood aboutas much of them as if he had been talking Greek, though they couldperceive they were all meant for expressions of good-will andblandishments; and not being accustomed to this kind of language, theystared at him and wondered to themselves, for he seemed to them a man ofa different sort from those they were used to, and thanking him inpothouse phrase for his civility they left him, while the Asturian gaveher attention to Sancho, who needed it no less than his master. 

The carrier had made an arrangement with her for recreation that night, and she had given him her word that when the guests were quiet and thefamily asleep she would come in search of him and meet his wishesunreservedly. And it is said of this good lass that she never madepromises of the kind without fulfilling them, even though she made themin a forest and without any witness present, for she plumed herselfgreatly on being a lady and held it no disgrace to be in such anemployment as servant in an inn, because, she said, misfortunes andill-luck had brought her to that position. The hard, narrow, wretched, rickety bed of Don Quixote stood first in the middle of this star-litstable, and close beside it Sancho made his, which merely consisted of arush mat and a blanket that looked as if it was of threadbare canvasrather than of wool. Next to these two beds was that of the carrier, madeup, as has been said, of the pack-saddles and all the trappings of thetwo best mules he had, though there were twelve of them, sleek, plump, and in prime condition, for he was one of the rich carriers of Arevalo, according to the author of this history, who particularly mentions thiscarrier because he knew him very well, and they even say was in somedegree a relation of his; besides which Cide Hamete Benengeli was ahistorian of great research and accuracy in all things, as is veryevident since he would not pass over in silence those that have beenalready mentioned, however trifling and insignificant they might be, anexample that might be followed by those grave historians who relatetransactions so curtly and briefly that we hardly get a taste of them, all the substance of the work being left in the inkstand fromcarelessness, perverseness, or ignorance. A thousand blessings on theauthor of "Tablante de Ricamonte" and that of the other book in which thedeeds of the Conde Tomillas are recounted; with what minuteness theydescribe everything!

To proceed, then: after having paid a visit to his team and given themtheir second feed, the carrier stretched himself on his pack-saddles andlay waiting for his conscientious Maritornes. Sancho was by this timeplastered and had lain down, and though he strove to sleep the pain ofhis ribs would not let him, while Don Quixote with the pain of his hadhis eyes as wide open as a hare's. 

The inn was all in silence, and in the whole of it there was no lightexcept that given by a lantern that hung burning in the middle of thegateway. This strange stillness, and the thoughts, always present to ourknight's mind, of the incidents described at every turn in the books thatwere the cause of his misfortune, conjured up to his imagination asextraordinary a delusion as can well be conceived, which was that hefancied himself to have reached a famous castle (for, as has been said, all the inns he lodged in were castles to his eyes), and that thedaughter of the innkeeper was daughter of the lord of the castle, andthat she, won by his high-bred bearing, had fallen in love with him, andhad promised to come to his bed for a while that night without theknowledge of her parents; and holding all this fantasy that he hadconstructed as solid fact, he began to feel uneasy and to consider theperilous risk which his virtue was about to encounter, and he resolved inhis heart to commit no treason to his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, eventhough the queen Guinevere herself and the dame Quintanona should presentthemselves before him. 

While he was taken up with these vagaries, then, the time and thehour--an unlucky one for him--arrived for the Asturian to come, who inher smock, with bare feet and her hair gathered into a fustian coif, withnoiseless and cautious steps entered the chamber where the three werequartered, in quest of the carrier; but scarcely had she gained the doorwhen Don Quixote perceived her, and sitting up in his bed in spite of hisplasters and the pain of his ribs, he stretched out his arms to receivehis beauteous damsel. The Asturian, who went all doubled up and insilence with her hands before her feeling for her lover, encountered thearms of Don Quixote, who grasped her tightly by the wrist, and drawingher towards him, while she dared not utter a word, made her sit down onthe bed. He then felt her smock, and although it was of sackcloth itappeared to him to be of the finest and softest silk: on her wrists shewore some glass beads, but to him they had the sheen of precious Orientpearls: her hair, which in some measure resembled a horse's mane, herated as threads of the brightest gold of Araby, whose refulgence dimmedthe sun himself: her breath, which no doubt smelt of yesterday's stalesalad, seemed to him to diffuse a sweet aromatic fragrance from hermouth; and, in short, he drew her portrait in his imagination with thesame features and in the same style as that which he had seen in hisbooks of the other princesses who, smitten by love, came with all theadornments that are here set down, to see the sorely wounded knight; andso great was the poor gentleman's blindness that neither touch, norsmell, nor anything else about the good lass that would have made any buta carrier vomit, were enough to undeceive him; on the contrary, he waspersuaded he had the goddess of beauty in his arms, and holding herfirmly in his grasp he went on to say in low, tender voice:

"Would that found myself, lovely and exalted lady, in a position to repaysuch a favour as that which you, by the sight of your great beauty, havegranted me; but fortune, which is never weary of persecuting the good, has chosen to place me upon this bed, where I lie so bruised and brokenthat though my inclination would gladly comply with yours it isimpossible; besides, to this impossibility another yet greater is to beadded, which is the faith that I have pledged to the peerless Dulcineadel Toboso, sole lady of my most secret thoughts; and were it not thatthis stood in the way I should not be so insensible a knight as to missthe happy opportunity which your great goodness has offered me. "

Maritornes was fretting and sweating at finding herself held so fast byDon Quixote, and not understanding or heeding the words he addressed toher, she strove without speaking to free herself. The worthy carrier, whose unholy thoughts kept him awake, was aware of his doxy the momentshe entered the door, and was listening attentively to all Don Quixotesaid; and jealous that the Asturian should have broken her word with himfor another, drew nearer to Don Quixote's bed and stood still to see whatwould come of this talk which he could not understand; but when heperceived the wench struggling to get free and Don Quixote striving tohold her, not relishing the joke he raised his arm and delivered such aterrible cuff on the lank jaws of the amorous knight that he bathed allhis mouth in blood, and not content with this he mounted on his ribs andwith his feet tramped all over them at a pace rather smarter than a trot. The bed which was somewhat crazy and not very firm on its feet, unable tosupport the additional weight of the carrier, came to the ground, and atthe mighty crash of this the innkeeper awoke and at once concluded thatit must be some brawl of Maritornes', because after calling loudly to herhe got no answer. With this suspicion he got up, and lighting a lamphastened to the quarter where he had heard the disturbance. The wench, seeing that her master was coming and knowing that his temper wasterrible, frightened and panic-stricken made for the bed of Sancho Panza, who still slept, and crouching upon it made a ball of herself. 

The innkeeper came in exclaiming, "Where art thou, strumpet? Of coursethis is some of thy work. " At this Sancho awoke, and feeling this massalmost on top of him fancied he had the nightmare and began to distributefisticuffs all round, of which a certain share fell upon Maritornes, who, irritated by the pain and flinging modesty aside, paid back so many inreturn to Sancho that she woke him up in spite of himself. He then, finding himself so handled, by whom he knew not, raising himself up aswell as he could, grappled with Maritornes, and he and she between thembegan the bitterest and drollest scrimmage in the world. The carrier, however, perceiving by the light of the innkeeper candle how it faredwith his ladylove, quitting Don Quixote, ran to bring her the help sheneeded; and the innkeeper did the same but with a different intention, for his was to chastise the lass, as he believed that beyond a doubt shealone was the cause of all the harmony. And so, as the saying is, cat torat, rat to rope, rope to stick, the carrier pounded Sancho, Sancho thelass, she him, and the innkeeper her, and all worked away so briskly thatthey did not give themselves a moment's rest; and the best of it was thatthe innkeeper's lamp went out, and as they were left in the dark they alllaid on one upon the other in a mass so unmercifully that there was not asound spot left where a hand could light. 

It so happened that there was lodging that night in the inn a caudrilleroof what they call the Old Holy Brotherhood of Toledo, who, also hearingthe extraordinary noise of the conflict, seized his staff and the tincase with his warrants, and made his way in the dark into the roomcrying: "Hold! in the name of the Jurisdiction! Hold! in the name of theHoly Brotherhood!"

The first that he came upon was the pummelled Don Quixote, who laystretched senseless on his back upon his broken-down bed, and, his handfalling on the beard as he felt about, he continued to cry, "Help for theJurisdiction!" but perceiving that he whom he had laid hold of did notmove or stir, he concluded that he was dead and that those in the roomwere his murderers, and with this suspicion he raised his voice stillhigher, calling out, "Shut the inn gate; see that no one goes out; theyhave killed a man here!" This cry startled them all, and each dropped thecontest at the point at which the voice reached him. The innkeeperretreated to his room, the carrier to his pack-saddles, the lass to hercrib; the unlucky Don Quixote and Sancho alone were unable to move fromwhere they were. The cuadrillero on this let go Don Quixote's beard, andwent out to look for a light to search for and apprehend the culprits;but not finding one, as the innkeeper had purposely extinguished thelantern on retreating to his room, he was compelled to have recourse tothe hearth, where after much time and trouble he lit another lamp. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

IN WHICH ARE CONTAINED THE INNUMERABLE TROUBLES WHICH THE BRAVE DONQUIXOTE AND HIS GOOD SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA ENDURED IN THE INN, WHICH TO HISMISFORTUNE HE TOOK TO BE A CASTLE

By this time Don Quixote had recovered from his swoon; and in the sametone of voice in which he had called to his squire the day before when helay stretched "in the vale of the stakes, " he began calling to him now, "Sancho, my friend, art thou asleep? sleepest thou, friend Sancho?"

"How can I sleep, curses on it!" returned Sancho discontentedly andbitterly, "when it is plain that all the devils have been at me thisnight?"

"Thou mayest well believe that, " answered Don Quixote, "because, either Iknow little, or this castle is enchanted, for thou must know-but thisthat I am now about to tell thee thou must swear to keep secret untilafter my death. "

"I swear it, " answered Sancho. 

"I say so, " continued Don Quixote, "because I hate taking away anyone'sgood name. "

"I say, " replied Sancho, "that I swear to hold my tongue about it tillthe end of your worship's days, and God grant I may be able to let it outtomorrow. "

"Do I do thee such injuries, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that thouwouldst see me dead so soon?"

"It is not for that, " replied Sancho, "but because I hate keeping thingslong, and I don't want them to grow rotten with me from over-keeping. "

"At any rate, " said Don Quixote, "I have more confidence in thy affectionand good nature; and so I would have thee know that this night therebefell me one of the strangest adventures that I could describe, and torelate it to thee briefly thou must know that a little while ago thedaughter of the lord of this castle came to me, and that she is the mostelegant and beautiful damsel that could be found in the wide world. WhatI could tell thee of the charms of her person! of her lively wit! ofother secret matters which, to preserve the fealty I owe to my ladyDulcinea del Toboso, I shall pass over unnoticed and in silence! I willonly tell thee that, either fate being envious of so great a boon placedin my hands by good fortune, or perhaps (and this is more probable) thiscastle being, as I have already said, enchanted, at the time when I wasengaged in the sweetest and most amorous discourse with her, there came, without my seeing or knowing whence it came, a hand attached to some armof some huge giant, that planted such a cuff on my jaws that I have themall bathed in blood, and then pummelled me in such a way that I am in aworse plight than yesterday when the carriers, on account of Rocinante'smisbehaviour, inflicted on us the injury thou knowest of; whenceconjecture that there must be some enchanted Moor guarding the treasureof this damsel's beauty, and that it is not for me. "

"Not for me either, " said Sancho, "for more than four hundred Moors haveso thrashed me that the drubbing of the stakes was cakes and fancy-breadto it. But tell me, senor, what do you call this excellent and rareadventure that has left us as we are left now? Though your worship wasnot so badly off, having in your arms that incomparable beauty you spokeof; but I, what did I have, except the heaviest whacks I think I had inall my life? Unlucky me and the mother that bore me! for I am not aknight-errant and never expect to be one, and of all the mishaps, thegreater part falls to my share. "

"Then thou hast been thrashed too?" said Don Quixote. 

"Didn't I say so? worse luck to my line!" said Sancho. 

"Be not distressed, friend, " said Don Quixote, "for I will now make theprecious balsam with which we shall cure ourselves in the twinkling of aneye. "

By this time the cuadrillero had succeeded in lighting the lamp, and camein to see the man that he thought had been killed; and as Sancho caughtsight of him at the door, seeing him coming in his shirt, with a cloth onhis head, and a lamp in his hand, and a very forbidding countenance, hesaid to his master, "Senor, can it be that this is the enchanted Moorcoming back to give us more castigation if there be anything still leftin the ink-bottle?"

"It cannot be the Moor, " answered Don Quixote, "for those underenchantment do not let themselves be seen by anyone. "

"If they don't let themselves be seen, they let themselves be felt, " saidSancho; "if not, let my shoulders speak to the point. "

"Mine could speak too, " said Don Quixote, "but that is not a sufficientreason for believing that what we see is the enchanted Moor. "

The officer came up, and finding them engaged in such a peacefulconversation, stood amazed; though Don Quixote, to be sure, still lay onhis back unable to move from pure pummelling and plasters. The officerturned to him and said, "Well, how goes it, good man?"

"I would speak more politely if I were you, " replied Don Quixote; "is itthe way of this country to address knights-errant in that style, youbooby?"

The cuadrillero finding himself so disrespectfully treated by such asorry-looking individual, lost his temper, and raising the lamp full ofoil, smote Don Quixote such a blow with it on the head that he gave him abadly broken pate; then, all being in darkness, he went out, and SanchoPanza said, "That is certainly the enchanted Moor, Senor, and he keepsthe treasure for others, and for us only the cuffs and lamp-whacks. "

"That is the truth, " answered Don Quixote, "and there is no use introubling oneself about these matters of enchantment or being angry orvexed at them, for as they are invisible and visionary we shall find noone on whom to avenge ourselves, do what we may; rise, Sancho, if thoucanst, and call the alcaide of this fortress, and get him to give me alittle oil, wine, salt, and rosemary to make the salutiferous balsam, forindeed I believe I have great need of it now, because I am losing muchblood from the wound that phantom gave me. "

Sancho got up with pain enough in his bones, and went after the innkeeperin the dark, and meeting the officer, who was looking to see what hadbecome of his enemy, he said to him, "Senor, whoever you are, do us thefavour and kindness to give us a little rosemary, oil, salt, and wine, for it is wanted to cure one of the best knights-errant on earth, wholies on yonder bed wounded by the hands of the enchanted Moor that is inthis inn. "

When the officer heard him talk in this way, he took him for a man out ofhis senses, and as day was now beginning to break, he opened the inngate, and calling the host, he told him what this good man wanted. Thehost furnished him with what he required, and Sancho brought it to DonQuixote, who, with his hand to his head, was bewailing the pain of theblow of the lamp, which had done him no more harm than raising a coupleof rather large lumps, and what he fancied blood was only the sweat thatflowed from him in his sufferings during the late storm. To be brief, hetook the materials, of which he made a compound, mixing them all andboiling them a good while until it seemed to him they had come toperfection. He then asked for some vial to pour it into, and as there wasnot one in the inn, he decided on putting it into a tin oil-bottle orflask of which the host made him a free gift; and over the flask herepeated more than eighty paternosters and as many more ave-marias, salves, and credos, accompanying each word with a cross by way ofbenediction, at all which there were present Sancho, the innkeeper, andthe cuadrillero; for the carrier was now peacefully engaged in attendingto the comfort of his mules. 

This being accomplished, he felt anxious to make trial himself, on thespot, of the virtue of this precious balsam, as he considered it, and sohe drank near a quart of what could not be put into the flask andremained in the pigskin in which it had been boiled; but scarcely had hedone drinking when he began to vomit in such a way that nothing was leftin his stomach, and with the pangs and spasms of vomiting he broke into aprofuse sweat, on account of which he bade them cover him up and leavehim alone. They did so, and he lay sleeping more than three hours, at theend of which he awoke and felt very great bodily relief and so much easefrom his bruises that he thought himself quite cured, and verily believedhe had hit upon the balsam of Fierabras; and that with this remedy hemight thenceforward, without any fear, face any kind of destruction, battle, or combat, however perilous it might be. 

Sancho Panza, who also regarded the amendment of his master asmiraculous, begged him to give him what was left in the pigskin, whichwas no small quantity. Don Quixote consented, and he, taking it with bothhands, in good faith and with a better will, gulped down and drained offvery little less than his master. But the fact is, that the stomach ofpoor Sancho was of necessity not so delicate as that of his master, andso, before vomiting, he was seized with such gripings and retchings, andsuch sweats and faintness, that verily and truly be believed his lasthour had come, and finding himself so racked and tormented he cursed thebalsam and the thief that had given it to him. 

Don Quixote seeing him in this state said, "It is my belief, Sancho, thatthis mischief comes of thy not being dubbed a knight, for I am persuadedthis liquor cannot be good for those who are not so. "

"If your worship knew that, " returned Sancho--"woe betide me and all mykindred!--why did you let me taste it?"

At this moment the draught took effect, and the poor squire began todischarge both ways at such a rate that the rush mat on which he hadthrown himself and the canvas blanket he had covering him were fit fornothing afterwards. He sweated and perspired with such paroxysms andconvulsions that not only he himself but all present thought his end hadcome. This tempest and tribulation lasted about two hours, at the end ofwhich he was left, not like his master, but so weak and exhausted that hecould not stand. Don Quixote, however, who, as has been said, felthimself relieved and well, was eager to take his departure at once inquest of adventures, as it seemed to him that all the time he loiteredthere was a fraud upon the world and those in it who stood in need of hishelp and protection, all the more when he had the security and confidencehis balsam afforded him; and so, urged by this impulse, he saddledRocinante himself and put the pack-saddle on his squire's beast, whomlikewise he helped to dress and mount the ass; after which he mounted hishorse and turning to a corner of the inn he laid hold of a pike thatstood there, to serve him by way of a lance. All that were in the inn, who were more than twenty persons, stood watching him; the innkeeper'sdaughter was likewise observing him, and he too never took his eyes offher, and from time to time fetched a sigh that he seemed to pluck up fromthe depths of his bowels; but they all thought it must be from the painhe felt in his ribs; at any rate they who had seen him plastered thenight before thought so. 

As soon as they were both mounted, at the gate of the inn, he called tothe host and said in a very grave and measured voice, "Many and great arethe favours, Senor Alcaide, that I have received in this castle of yours, and I remain under the deepest obligation to be grateful to you for themall the days of my life; if I can repay them in avenging you of anyarrogant foe who may have wronged you, know that my calling is no otherthan to aid the weak, to avenge those who suffer wrong, and to chastiseperfidy. Search your memory, and if you find anything of this kind youneed only tell me of it, and I promise you by the order of knighthoodwhich I have received to procure you satisfaction and reparation to theutmost of your desire. "

The innkeeper replied to him with equal calmness, "Sir Knight, I do notwant your worship to avenge me of any wrong, because when any is done meI can take what vengeance seems good to me; the only thing I want is thatyou pay me the score that you have run up in the inn last night, as wellfor the straw and barley for your two beasts, as for supper and beds. "

"Then this is an inn?" said Don Quixote. 

"And a very respectable one, " said the innkeeper. 

"I have been under a mistake all this time, " answered Don Quixote, "forin truth I thought it was a castle, and not a bad one; but since itappears that it is not a castle but an inn, all that can be done now isthat you should excuse the payment, for I cannot contravene the rule ofknights-errant, of whom I know as a fact (and up to the present I haveread nothing to the contrary) that they never paid for lodging oranything else in the inn where they might be; for any hospitality thatmight be offered them is their due by law and right in return for theinsufferable toil they endure in seeking adventures by night and by day, in summer and in winter, on foot and on horseback, in hunger and thirst, cold and heat, exposed to all the inclemencies of heaven and all thehardships of earth. "

"I have little to do with that, " replied the innkeeper; "pay me what youowe me, and let us have no more talk of chivalry, for all I care about isto get my money. "

"You are a stupid, scurvy innkeeper, " said Don Quixote, and putting spursto Rocinante and bringing his pike to the slope he rode out of the innbefore anyone could stop him, and pushed on some distance without lookingto see if his squire was following him. 

The innkeeper when he saw him go without paying him ran to get payment ofSancho, who said that as his master would not pay neither would he, because, being as he was squire to a knight-errant, the same rule andreason held good for him as for his master with regard to not payinganything in inns and hostelries. At this the innkeeper waxed very wroth, and threatened if he did not pay to compel him in a way that he would notlike. To which Sancho made answer that by the law of chivalry his masterhad received he would not pay a rap, though it cost him his life; for theexcellent and ancient usage of knights-errant was not going to beviolated by him, nor should the squires of such as were yet to come intothe world ever complain of him or reproach him with breaking so just aprivilege. 

The ill-luck of the unfortunate Sancho so ordered it that among thecompany in the inn there were four woolcarders from Segovia, threeneedle-makers from the Colt of Cordova, and two lodgers from the Fair ofSeville, lively fellows, tender-hearted, fond of a joke, and playful, who, almost as if instigated and moved by a common impulse, made up toSancho and dismounted him from his ass, while one of them went in for theblanket of the host's bed; but on flinging him into it they looked up, and seeing that the ceiling was somewhat lower what they required fortheir work, they decided upon going out into the yard, which was boundedby the sky, and there, putting Sancho in the middle of the blanket, theybegan to raise him high, making sport with him as they would with a dogat Shrovetide. 

The cries of the poor blanketed wretch were so loud that they reached theears of his master, who, halting to listen attentively, was persuadedthat some new adventure was coming, until he clearly perceived that itwas his squire who uttered them. Wheeling about he came up to the innwith a laborious gallop, and finding it shut went round it to see if hecould find some way of getting in; but as soon as he came to the wall ofthe yard, which was not very high, he discovered the game that was beingplayed with his squire. He saw him rising and falling in the air withsuch grace and nimbleness that, had his rage allowed him, it is my beliefhe would have laughed. He tried to climb from his horse on to the top ofthe wall, but he was so bruised and battered that he could not evendismount; and so from the back of his horse he began to utter suchmaledictions and objurgations against those who were blanketing Sancho asit would be impossible to write down accurately: they, however, did notstay their laughter or their work for this, nor did the flying Sanchocease his lamentations, mingled now with threats, now with entreaties butall to little purpose, or none at all, until from pure weariness theyleft off. They then brought him his ass, and mounting him on top of itthey put his jacket round him; and the compassionate Maritornes, seeinghim so exhausted, thought fit to refresh him with a jug of water, andthat it might be all the cooler she fetched it from the well. Sancho tookit, and as he was raising it to his mouth he was stopped by the cries ofhis master exclaiming, "Sancho, my son, drink not water; drink it not, myson, for it will kill thee; see, here I have the blessed balsam (and heheld up the flask of liquor), and with drinking two drops of it thou wiltcertainly be restored. "

At these words Sancho turned his eyes asquint, and in a still loudervoice said, "Can it be your worship has forgotten that I am not a knight, or do you want me to end by vomiting up what bowels I have left afterlast night? Keep your liquor in the name of all the devils, and leave meto myself!" and at one and the same instant he left off talking and begandrinking; but as at the first sup he perceived it was water he did notcare to go on with it, and begged Maritornes to fetch him some wine, which she did with right good will, and paid for it with her own money;for indeed they say of her that, though she was in that line of life, there was some faint and distant resemblance to a Christian about her. When Sancho had done drinking he dug his heels into his ass, and the gateof the inn being thrown open he passed out very well pleased at havingpaid nothing and carried his point, though it had been at the expense ofhis usual sureties, his shoulders. It is true that the innkeeper detainedhis alforjas in payment of what was owing to him, but Sancho took hisdeparture in such a flurry that he never missed them. The innkeeper, assoon as he saw him off, wanted to bar the gate close, but the blanketerswould not agree to it, for they were fellows who would not have cared twofarthings for Don Quixote, even had he been really one of theknights-errant of the Round Table.