DON QUIXOTE

 Volume II. 

 Part 22. 

 by Miguel de Cervantes

 Translated by John Ormsby

CHAPTER XV. 

WHEREIN IT IS TOLD AND KNOWN WHO THE KNIGHT OF THE MIRRORS AND HIS SQUIREWERE

Don Quixote went off satisfied, elated, and vain-glorious in the highestdegree at having won a victory over such a valiant knight as he fanciedhim of the Mirrors to be, and one from whose knightly word he expected tolearn whether the enchantment of his lady still continued; inasmuch asthe said vanquished knight was bound, under the penalty of ceasing to beone, to return and render him an account of what took place between himand her. But Don Quixote was of one mind, he of the Mirrors of another, for he just then had no thought of anything but finding some villagewhere he could plaster himself, as has been said already. The historygoes on to say, then, that when the bachelor Samson Carrasco recommendedDon Quixote to resume his knight-errantry which he had laid aside, it wasin consequence of having been previously in conclave with the curate andthe barber on the means to be adopted to induce Don Quixote to stay athome in peace and quiet without worrying himself with his ill-starredadventures; at which consultation it was decided by the unanimous vote ofall, and on the special advice of Carrasco, that Don Quixote should beallowed to go, as it seemed impossible to restrain him, and that Samsonshould sally forth to meet him as a knight-errant, and do battle withhim, for there would be no difficulty about a cause, and vanquish him, that being looked upon as an easy matter; and that it should be agreedand settled that the vanquished was to be at the mercy of the victor. Then, Don Quixote being vanquished, the bachelor knight was to commandhim to return to his village and his house, and not quit it for twoyears, or until he received further orders from him; all which it wasclear Don Quixote would unhesitatingly obey, rather than contravene orfail to observe the laws of chivalry; and during the period of hisseclusion he might perhaps forget his folly, or there might be anopportunity of discovering some ready remedy for his madness. Carrascoundertook the task, and Tom Cecial, a gossip and neighbour of SanchoPanza's, a lively, feather-headed fellow, offered himself as his squire. Carrasco armed himself in the fashion described, and Tom Cecial, that hemight not be known by his gossip when they met, fitted on over his ownnatural nose the false masquerade one that has been mentioned; and sothey followed the same route Don Quixote took, and almost came up withhim in time to be present at the adventure of the cart of Death andfinally encountered them in the grove, where all that the sagaciousreader has been reading about took place; and had it not been for theextraordinary fancies of Don Quixote, and his conviction that thebachelor was not the bachelor, senor bachelor would have beenincapacitated for ever from taking his degree of licentiate, all throughnot finding nests where he thought to find birds. 

Tom Cecial, seeing how ill they had succeeded, and what a sorry end theirexpedition had come to, said to the bachelor, "Sure enough, Senor SamsonCarrasco, we are served right; it is easy enough to plan and set about anenterprise, but it is often a difficult matter to come well out of it. Don Quixote a madman, and we sane; he goes off laughing, safe, and sound, and you are left sore and sorry! I'd like to know now which is themadder, he who is so because he cannot help it, or he who is so of hisown choice?"

To which Samson replied, "The difference between the two sorts of madmenis, that he who is so will he nil he, will be one always, while he who isso of his own accord can leave off being one whenever he likes. "

"In that case, " said Tom Cecial, "I was a madman of my own accord when Ivolunteered to become your squire, and, of my own accord, I'll leave offbeing one and go home. "

"That's your affair, " returned Samson, "but to suppose that I am goinghome until I have given Don Quixote a thrashing is absurd; and it is notany wish that he may recover his senses that will make me hunt him outnow, but a wish for the sore pain I am in with my ribs won't let meentertain more charitable thoughts. "

Thus discoursing, the pair proceeded until they reached a town where itwas their good luck to find a bone-setter, with whose help theunfortunate Samson was cured. Tom Cecial left him and went home, while hestayed behind meditating vengeance; and the history will return to himagain at the proper time, so as not to omit making merry with Don Quixotenow. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH A DISCREET GENTLEMAN OF LA MANCHA

Don Quixote pursued his journey in the high spirits, satisfaction, andself-complacency already described, fancying himself the most valorousknight-errant of the age in the world because of his late victory. Allthe adventures that could befall him from that time forth he regarded asalready done and brought to a happy issue; he made light of enchantmentsand enchanters; he thought no more of the countless drubbings that hadbeen administered to him in the course of his knight-errantry, nor of thevolley of stones that had levelled half his teeth, nor of the ingratitudeof the galley slaves, nor of the audacity of the Yanguesans and theshower of stakes that fell upon him; in short, he said to himself thatcould he discover any means, mode, or way of disenchanting his ladyDulcinea, he would not envy the highest fortune that the most fortunateknight-errant of yore ever reached or could reach. 

He was going along entirely absorbed in these fancies, when Sancho saidto him, "Isn't it odd, senor, that I have still before my eyes thatmonstrous enormous nose of my gossip, Tom Cecial?"

"And dost thou, then, believe, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that theKnight of the Mirrors was the bachelor Carrasco, and his squire TomCecial thy gossip?"

"I don't know what to say to that, " replied Sancho; "all I know is thatthe tokens he gave me about my own house, wife and children, nobody elsebut himself could have given me; and the face, once the nose was off, wasthe very face of Tom Cecial, as I have seen it many a time in my town andnext door to my own house; and the sound of the voice was just the same. "

"Let us reason the matter, Sancho, " said Don Quixote. "Come now, by whatprocess of thinking can it be supposed that the bachelor Samson Carrascowould come as a knight-errant, in arms offensive and defensive, to fightwith me? Have I ever been by any chance his enemy? Have I ever given himany occasion to owe me a grudge? Am I his rival, or does he profess arms, that he should envy the fame I have acquired in them?"

"Well, but what are we to say, senor, " returned Sancho, "about thatknight, whoever he is, being so like the bachelor Carrasco, and hissquire so like my gossip, Tom Cecial? And if that be enchantment, as yourworship says, was there no other pair in the world for them to take thelikeness of?"

"It is all, " said Don Quixote, "a scheme and plot of the malignantmagicians that persecute me, who, foreseeing that I was to be victoriousin the conflict, arranged that the vanquished knight should display thecountenance of my friend the bachelor, in order that the friendship Ibear him should interpose to stay the edge of my sword and might of myarm, and temper the just wrath of my heart; so that he who sought to takemy life by fraud and falsehood should save his own. And to prove it, thouknowest already, Sancho, by experience which cannot lie or deceive, howeasy it is for enchanters to change one countenance into another, turningfair into foul, and foul into fair; for it is not two days since thousawest with thine own eyes the beauty and elegance of the peerlessDulcinea in all its perfection and natural harmony, while I saw her inthe repulsive and mean form of a coarse country wench, with cataracts inher eyes and a foul smell in her mouth; and when the perverse enchanterventured to effect so wicked a transformation, it is no wonder if heeffected that of Samson Carrasco and thy gossip in order to snatch theglory of victory out of my grasp. For all that, however, I consolemyself, because, after all, in whatever shape he may have been, I havevictorious over my enemy. "

"God knows what's the truth of it all, " said Sancho; and knowing as hedid that the transformation of Dulcinea had been a device and impositionof his own, his master's illusions were not satisfactory to him; but hedid not like to reply lest he should say something that might disclosehis trickery. 

As they were engaged in this conversation they were overtaken by a manwho was following the same road behind them, mounted on a very handsomeflea-bitten mare, and dressed in a gaban of fine green cloth, with tawnyvelvet facings, and a montera of the same velvet. The trappings of themare were of the field and jineta fashion, and of mulberry colour andgreen. He carried a Moorish cutlass hanging from a broad green and goldbaldric; the buskins were of the same make as the baldric; the spurs werenot gilt, but lacquered green, and so brightly polished that, matching asthey did the rest of his apparel, they looked better than if they hadbeen of pure gold. 

When the traveller came up with them he saluted them courteously, andspurring his mare was passing them without stopping, but Don Quixotecalled out to him, "Gallant sir, if so be your worship is going our road, and has no occasion for speed, it would be a pleasure to me if we were tojoin company. "

"In truth, " replied he on the mare, "I would not pass you so hastily butfor fear that horse might turn restive in the company of my mare. "

"You may safely hold in your mare, senor, " said Sancho in reply to this, "for our horse is the most virtuous and well-behaved horse in the world;he never does anything wrong on such occasions, and the only time hemisbehaved, my master and I suffered for it sevenfold; I say again yourworship may pull up if you like; for if she was offered to him betweentwo plates the horse would not hanker after her. "

The traveller drew rein, amazed at the trim and features of Don Quixote, who rode without his helmet, which Sancho carried like a valise in frontof Dapple's pack-saddle; and if the man in green examined Don Quixoteclosely, still more closely did Don Quixote examine the man in green, whostruck him as being a man of intelligence. In appearance he was aboutfifty years of age, with but few grey hairs, an aquiline cast offeatures, and an expression between grave and gay; and his dress andaccoutrements showed him to be a man of good condition. What he in greenthought of Don Quixote of La Mancha was that a man of that sort and shapehe had never yet seen; he marvelled at the length of his hair, his loftystature, the lankness and sallowness of his countenance, his armour, hisbearing and his gravity--a figure and picture such as had not been seenin those regions for many a long day. 

Don Quixote saw very plainly the attention with which the traveller wasregarding him, and read his curiosity in his astonishment; and courteousas he was and ready to please everybody, before the other could ask himany question he anticipated him by saying, "The appearance I present toyour worship being so strange and so out of the common, I should not besurprised if it filled you with wonder; but you will cease to wonder whenI tell you, as I do, that I am one of those knights who, as people say, go seeking adventures. I have left my home, I have mortgaged my estate, Ihave given up my comforts, and committed myself to the arms of Fortune, to bear me whithersoever she may please. My desire was to bring to lifeagain knight-errantry, now dead, and for some time past, stumbling here, falling there, now coming down headlong, now raising myself up again, Ihave carried out a great portion of my design, succouring widows, protecting maidens, and giving aid to wives, orphans, and minors, theproper and natural duty of knights-errant; and, therefore, because of mymany valiant and Christian achievements, I have been already found worthyto make my way in print to well-nigh all, or most, of the nations of theearth. Thirty thousand volumes of my history have been printed, and it ison the high-road to be printed thirty thousand thousands of times, ifheaven does not put a stop to it. In short, to sum up all in a few words, or in a single one, I may tell you I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called 'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance;' for thoughself-praise is degrading, I must perforce sound my own sometimes, that isto say, when there is no one at hand to do it for me. So that, gentlesir, neither this horse, nor this lance, nor this shield, nor thissquire, nor all these arms put together, nor the sallowness of mycountenance, nor my gaunt leanness, will henceforth astonish you, nowthat you know who I am and what profession I follow. "

With these words Don Quixote held his peace, and, from the time he tookto answer, the man in green seemed to be at a loss for a reply; after along pause, however, he said to him, "You were right when you sawcuriosity in my amazement, sir knight; but you have not succeeded inremoving the astonishment I feel at seeing you; for although you say, senor, that knowing who you are ought to remove it, it has not done so;on the contrary, now that I know, I am left more amazed and astonishedthan before. What! is it possible that there are knights-errant in theworld in these days, and histories of real chivalry printed? I cannotrealise the fact that there can be anyone on earth now-a-days who aidswidows, or protects maidens, or defends wives, or succours orphans; norshould I believe it had I not seen it in your worship with my own eyes. Blessed be heaven! for by means of this history of your noble and genuinechivalrous deeds, which you say has been printed, the countless storiesof fictitious knights-errant with which the world is filled, so much tothe injury of morality and the prejudice and discredit of good histories, will have been driven into oblivion. "

"There is a good deal to be said on that point, " said Don Quixote, "as towhether the histories of the knights-errant are fiction or not. "

"Why, is there anyone who doubts that those histories are false?" saidthe man in green. 

"I doubt it, " said Don Quixote, "but never mind that just now; if ourjourney lasts long enough, I trust in God I shall show your worship thatyou do wrong in going with the stream of those who regard it as a matterof certainty that they are not true. "

From this last observation of Don Quixote's, the traveller began to havea suspicion that he was some crazy being, and was waiting him to confirmit by something further; but before they could turn to any new subjectDon Quixote begged him to tell him who he was, since he himself hadrendered account of his station and life. To this, he in the green gabanreplied "I, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, am a gentleman bybirth, native of the village where, please God, we are going to dinetoday; I am more than fairly well off, and my name is Don Diego deMiranda. I pass my life with my wife, children, and friends; my pursuitsare hunting and fishing, but I keep neither hawks nor greyhounds, nothingbut a tame partridge or a bold ferret or two; I have six dozen or so ofbooks, some in our mother tongue, some Latin, some of them history, others devotional; those of chivalry have not as yet crossed thethreshold of my door; I am more given to turning over the profane thanthe devotional, so long as they are books of honest entertainment thatcharm by their style and attract and interest by the invention theydisplay, though of these there are very few in Spain. Sometimes I dinewith my neighbours and friends, and often invite them; my entertainmentsare neat and well served without stint of anything. I have no taste fortattle, nor do I allow tattling in my presence; I pry not into myneighbours' lives, nor have I lynx-eyes for what others do. I hear massevery day; I share my substance with the poor, making no display of goodworks, lest I let hypocrisy and vainglory, those enemies that subtly takepossession of the most watchful heart, find an entrance into mine. Istrive to make peace between those whom I know to be at variance; I amthe devoted servant of Our Lady, and my trust is ever in the infinitemercy of God our Lord. "

Sancho listened with the greatest attention to the account of thegentleman's life and occupation; and thinking it a good and a holy life, and that he who led it ought to work miracles, he threw himself offDapple, and running in haste seized his right stirrup and kissed his footagain and again with a devout heart and almost with tears. 

Seeing this the gentleman asked him, "What are you about, brother? Whatare these kisses for?"

"Let me kiss, " said Sancho, "for I think your worship is the first saintin the saddle I ever saw all the days of my life. "

"I am no saint, " replied the gentleman, "but a great sinner; but you are, brother, for you must be a good fellow, as your simplicity shows. "

Sancho went back and regained his pack-saddle, having extracted a laughfrom his master's profound melancholy, and excited fresh amazement in DonDiego. Don Quixote then asked him how many children he had, and observedthat one of the things wherein the ancient philosophers, who were withoutthe true knowledge of God, placed the summum bonum was in the gifts ofnature, in those of fortune, in having many friends, and many and goodchildren. 

"I, Senor Don Quixote, " answered the gentleman, "have one son, withoutwhom, perhaps, I should count myself happier than I am, not because he isa bad son, but because he is not so good as I could wish. He is eighteenyears of age; he has been for six at Salamanca studying Latin and Greek, and when I wished him to turn to the study of other sciences I found himso wrapped up in that of poetry (if that can be called a science) thatthere is no getting him to take kindly to the law, which I wished him tostudy, or to theology, the queen of them all. I would like him to be anhonour to his family, as we live in days when our kings liberally rewardlearning that is virtuous and worthy; for learning without virtue is apearl on a dunghill. He spends the whole day in settling whether Homerexpressed himself correctly or not in such and such a line of the Iliad, whether Martial was indecent or not in such and such an epigram, whethersuch and such lines of Virgil are to be understood in this way or inthat; in short, all his talk is of the works of these poets, and those ofHorace, Perseus, Juvenal, and Tibullus; for of the moderns in our ownlanguage he makes no great account; but with all his seeming indifferenceto Spanish poetry, just now his thoughts are absorbed in making a glosson four lines that have been sent him from Salamanca, which I suspect arefor some poetical tournament. "

To all this Don Quixote said in reply, "Children, senor, are portions oftheir parents' bowels, and therefore, be they good or bad, are to beloved as we love the souls that give us life; it is for the parents toguide them from infancy in the ways of virtue, propriety, and worthyChristian conduct, so that when grown up they may be the staff of theirparents' old age, and the glory of their posterity; and to force them tostudy this or that science I do not think wise, though it may be no harmto persuade them; and when there is no need to study for the sake of panelucrando, and it is the student's good fortune that heaven has given himparents who provide him with it, it would be my advice to them to let himpursue whatever science they may see him most inclined to; and thoughthat of poetry is less useful than pleasurable, it is not one of thosethat bring discredit upon the possessor. Poetry, gentle sir, is, as Itake it, like a tender young maiden of supreme beauty, to array, bedeck, and adorn whom is the task of several other maidens, who are all the restof the sciences; and she must avail herself of the help of all, and allderive their lustre from her. But this maiden will not bear to behandled, nor dragged through the streets, nor exposed either at thecorners of the market-places, or in the closets of palaces. She is theproduct of an Alchemy of such virtue that he who is able to practise it, will turn her into pure gold of inestimable worth. He that possesses hermust keep her within bounds, not permitting her to break out in ribaldsatires or soulless sonnets. She must on no account be offered for sale, unless, indeed, it be in heroic poems, moving tragedies, or sprightly andingenious comedies. She must not be touched by the buffoons, nor by theignorant vulgar, incapable of comprehending or appreciating her hiddentreasures. And do not suppose, senor, that I apply the term vulgar heremerely to plebeians and the lower orders; for everyone who is ignorant, be he lord or prince, may and should be included among the vulgar. He, then, who shall embrace and cultivate poetry under the conditions I havenamed, shall become famous, and his name honoured throughout all thecivilised nations of the earth. And with regard to what you say, senor, of your son having no great opinion of Spanish poetry, I am inclined tothink that he is not quite right there, and for this reason: the greatpoet Homer did not write in Latin, because he was a Greek, nor did Virgilwrite in Greek, because he was a Latin; in short, all the ancient poetswrote in the language they imbibed with their mother's milk, and neverwent in quest of foreign ones to express their sublime conceptions; andthat being so, the usage should in justice extend to all nations, and theGerman poet should not be undervalued because he writes in his ownlanguage, nor the Castilian, nor even the Biscayan, for writing in his. But your son, senor, I suspect, is not prejudiced against Spanish poetry, but against those poets who are mere Spanish verse writers, without anyknowledge of other languages or sciences to adorn and give life andvigour to their natural inspiration; and yet even in this he may bewrong; for, according to a true belief, a poet is born one; that is tosay, the poet by nature comes forth a poet from his mother's womb; andfollowing the bent that heaven has bestowed upon him, without the aid ofstudy or art, he produces things that show how truly he spoke who said, 'Est Deus in nobis, ' etc. At the same time, I say that the poet by naturewho calls in art to his aid will be a far better poet, and will surpasshim who tries to be one relying upon his knowledge of art alone. Thereason is, that art does not surpass nature, but only brings it toperfection; and thus, nature combined with art, and art with nature, willproduce a perfect poet. To bring my argument to a close, I would saythen, gentle sir, let your son go on as his star leads him, for being sostudious as he seems to be, and having already successfully surmountedthe first step of the sciences, which is that of the languages, withtheir help he will by his own exertions reach the summit of politeliterature, which so well becomes an independent gentleman, and adorns, honours, and distinguishes him, as much as the mitre does the bishop, orthe gown the learned counsellor. If your son write satires reflecting onthe honour of others, chide and correct him, and tear them up; but if hecompose discourses in which he rebukes vice in general, in the style ofHorace, and with elegance like his, commend him; for it is legitimate fora poet to write against envy and lash the envious in his verse, and theother vices too, provided he does not single out individuals; there are, however, poets who, for the sake of saying something spiteful, would runthe risk of being banished to the coast of Pontus. If the poet be pure inhis morals, he will be pure in his verses too; the pen is the tongue ofthe mind, and as the thought engendered there, so will be the things thatit writes down. And when kings and princes observe this marvellousscience of poetry in wise, virtuous, and thoughtful subjects, theyhonour, value, exalt them, and even crown them with the leaves of thattree which the thunderbolt strikes not, as if to show that they whosebrows are honoured and adorned with such a crown are not to be assailedby anyone. "

He of the green gaban was filled with astonishment at Don Quixote'sargument, so much so that he began to abandon the notion he had taken upabout his being crazy. But in the middle of the discourse, it being notvery much to his taste, Sancho had turned aside out of the road to beg alittle milk from some shepherds, who were milking their ewes hard by; andjust as the gentleman, highly pleased, was about to renew theconversation, Don Quixote, raising his head, perceived a cart coveredwith royal flags coming along the road they were travelling; andpersuaded that this must be some new adventure, he called aloud to Sanchoto come and bring him his helmet. Sancho, hearing himself called, quittedthe shepherds, and, prodding Dapple vigorously, came up to his master, towhom there fell a terrific and desperate adventure. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

WHEREIN IS SHOWN THE FURTHEST AND HIGHEST POINT WHICH THE UNEXAMPLEDCOURAGE OF DON QUIXOTE REACHED OR COULD REACH; TOGETHER WITH THE HAPPILYACHIEVED ADVENTURE OF THE LIONS

The history tells that when Don Quixote called out to Sancho to bring himhis helmet, Sancho was buying some curds the shepherds agreed to sellhim, and flurried by the great haste his master was in did not know whatto do with them or what to carry them in; so, not to lose them, for hehad already paid for them, he thought it best to throw them into hismaster's helmet, and acting on this bright idea he went to see what hismaster wanted with him. He, as he approached, exclaimed to him:

"Give me that helmet, my friend, for either I know little of adventures, or what I observe yonder is one that will, and does, call upon me to armmyself. "

He of the green gaban, on hearing this, looked in all directions, butcould perceive nothing, except a cart coming towards them with two orthree small flags, which led him to conclude it must be carrying treasureof the King's, and he said so to Don Quixote. He, however, would notbelieve him, being always persuaded and convinced that all that happenedto him must be adventures and still more adventures; so he replied to thegentleman, "He who is prepared has his battle half fought; nothing islost by my preparing myself, for I know by experience that I haveenemies, visible and invisible, and I know not when, or where, or at whatmoment, or in what shapes they will attack me;" and turning to Sancho hecalled for his helmet; and Sancho, as he had no time to take out thecurds, had to give it just as it was. Don Quixote took it, and withoutperceiving what was in it thrust it down in hot haste upon his head; butas the curds were pressed and squeezed the whey began to run all over hisface and beard, whereat he was so startled that he cried out to Sancho:

"Sancho, what's this? I think my head is softening, or my brains aremelting, or I am sweating from head to foot! If I am sweating it is notindeed from fear. I am convinced beyond a doubt that the adventure whichis about to befall me is a terrible one. Give me something to wipe myselfwith, if thou hast it, for this profuse sweat is blinding me. "

Sancho held his tongue, and gave him a cloth, and gave thanks to God atthe same time that his master had not found out what was the matter. DonQuixote then wiped himself, and took off his helmet to see what it wasthat made his head feel so cool, and seeing all that white mash insidehis helmet he put it to his nose, and as soon as he had smelt it heexclaimed:

"By the life of my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, but it is curds thou hastput here, thou treacherous, impudent, ill-mannered squire!"

To which, with great composure and pretended innocence, Sancho replied, "If they are curds let me have them, your worship, and I'll eat them; butlet the devil eat them, for it must have been he who put them there. Idare to dirty your helmet! You have guessed the offender finely! Faith, sir, by the light God gives me, it seems I must have enchanters too, thatpersecute me as a creature and limb of your worship, and they must haveput that nastiness there in order to provoke your patience to anger, andmake you baste my ribs as you are wont to do. Well, this time, indeed, they have missed their aim, for I trust to my master's good sense to seethat I have got no curds or milk, or anything of the sort; and that if Ihad it is in my stomach I would put it and not in the helmet. "

"May be so, " said Don Quixote. All this the gentleman was observing, andwith astonishment, more especially when, after having wiped himselfclean, his head, face, beard, and helmet, Don Quixote put it on, andsettling himself firmly in his stirrups, easing his sword in thescabbard, and grasping his lance, he cried, "Now, come who will, here amI, ready to try conclusions with Satan himself in person!"

By this time the cart with the flags had come up, unattended by anyoneexcept the carter on a mule, and a man sitting in front. Don Quixoteplanted himself before it and said, "Whither are you going, brothers?What cart is this? What have you got in it? What flags are those?"

To this the carter replied, "The cart is mine; what is in it is a pair ofwild caged lions, which the governor of Oran is sending to court as apresent to his Majesty; and the flags are our lord the King's, to showthat what is here is his property. "

"And are the lions large?" asked Don Quixote. 

"So large, " replied the man who sat at the door of the cart, "thatlarger, or as large, have never crossed from Africa to Spain; I am thekeeper, and I have brought over others, but never any like these. Theyare male and female; the male is in that first cage and the female in theone behind, and they are hungry now, for they have eaten nothing to-day, so let your worship stand aside, for we must make haste to the placewhere we are to feed them. "

Hereupon, smiling slightly, Don Quixote exclaimed, "Lion-whelps to me! tome whelps of lions, and at such a time! Then, by God! those gentlemen whosend them here shall see if I am a man to be frightened by lions. Getdown, my good fellow, and as you are the keeper open the cages, and turnme out those beasts, and in the midst of this plain I will let them knowwho Don Quixote of La Mancha is, in spite and in the teeth of theenchanters who send them to me. "

"So, so, " said the gentleman to himself at this; "our worthy knight hasshown of what sort he is; the curds, no doubt, have softened his skulland brought his brains to a head. "

At this instant Sancho came up to him, saying, "Senor, for God's sake dosomething to keep my master, Don Quixote, from tackling these lions; forif he does they'll tear us all to pieces here. "

"Is your master then so mad, " asked the gentleman, "that you believe andare afraid he will engage such fierce animals?"

"He is not mad, " said Sancho, "but he is venturesome. "

"I will prevent it, " said the gentleman; and going over to Don Quixote, who was insisting upon the keeper's opening the cages, he said to him, "Sir knight, knights-errant should attempt adventures which encourage thehope of a successful issue, not those which entirely withhold it; forvalour that trenches upon temerity savours rather of madness than ofcourage; moreover, these lions do not come to oppose you, nor do theydream of such a thing; they are going as presents to his Majesty, and itwill not be right to stop them or delay their journey. "

"Gentle sir, " replied Don Quixote, "you go and mind your tame partridgeand your bold ferret, and leave everyone to manage his own business; thisis mine, and I know whether these gentlemen the lions come to me or not;"and then turning to the keeper he exclaimed, "By all that's good, sirscoundrel, if you don't open the cages this very instant, I'll pin you tothe cart with this lance. "

The carter, seeing the determination of this apparition in armour, saidto him, "Please your worship, for charity's sake, senor, let me unyokethe mules and place myself in safety along with them before the lions areturned out; for if they kill them on me I am ruined for life, for all Ipossess is this cart and mules. "

"O man of little faith, " replied Don Quixote, "get down and unyoke; youwill soon see that you are exerting yourself for nothing, and that youmight have spared yourself the trouble. "

The carter got down and with all speed unyoked the mules, and the keepercalled out at the top of his voice, "I call all here to witness thatagainst my will and under compulsion I open the cages and let the lionsloose, and that I warn this gentleman that he will be accountable for allthe harm and mischief which these beasts may do, and for my salary anddues as well. You, gentlemen, place yourselves in safety before I open, for I know they will do me no harm. "

Once more the gentleman strove to persuade Don Quixote not to do such amad thing, as it was tempting God to engage in such a piece of folly. Tothis, Don Quixote replied that he knew what he was about. The gentlemanin return entreated him to reflect, for he knew he was under a delusion. 

"Well, senor, " answered Don Quixote, "if you do not like to be aspectator of this tragedy, as in your opinion it will be, spur yourflea-bitten mare, and place yourself in safety. "

Hearing this, Sancho with tears in his eyes entreated him to give up anenterprise compared with which the one of the windmills, and the awfulone of the fulling mills, and, in fact, all the feats he had attempted inthe whole course of his life, were cakes and fancy bread. "Look ye, senor, " said Sancho, "there's no enchantment here, nor anything of thesort, for between the bars and chinks of the cage I have seen the paw ofa real lion, and judging by that I reckon the lion such a paw couldbelong to must be bigger than a mountain. "

"Fear at any rate, " replied Don Quixote, "will make him look bigger tothee than half the world. Retire, Sancho, and leave me; and if I die herethou knowest our old compact; thou wilt repair to Dulcinea--I say nomore. " To these he added some further words that banished all hope of hisgiving up his insane project. He of the green gaban would have offeredresistance, but he found himself ill-matched as to arms, and did notthink it prudent to come to blows with a madman, for such Don Quixote nowshowed himself to be in every respect; and the latter, renewing hiscommands to the keeper and repeating his threats, gave warning to thegentleman to spur his mare, Sancho his Dapple, and the carter his mules, all striving to get away from the cart as far as they could before thelions broke loose. Sancho was weeping over his master's death, for thistime he firmly believed it was in store for him from the claws of thelions; and he cursed his fate and called it an unlucky hour when hethought of taking service with him again; but with all his tears andlamentations he did not forget to thrash Dapple so as to put a good spacebetween himself and the cart. The keeper, seeing that the fugitives werenow some distance off, once more entreated and warned him as before; buthe replied that he heard him, and that he need not trouble himself withany further warnings or entreaties, as they would be fruitless, and badehim make haste. 

During the delay that occurred while the keeper was opening the firstcage, Don Quixote was considering whether it would not be well to dobattle on foot, instead of on horseback, and finally resolved to fight onfoot, fearing that Rocinante might take fright at the sight of the lions;he therefore sprang off his horse, flung his lance aside, braced hisbuckler on his arm, and drawing his sword, advanced slowly withmarvellous intrepidity and resolute courage, to plant himself in front ofthe cart, commending himself with all his heart to God and to his ladyDulcinea. 

It is to be observed, that on coming to this passage, the author of thisveracious history breaks out into exclamations. "O doughty Don Quixote!high-mettled past extolling! Mirror, wherein all the heroes of the worldmay see themselves! Second modern Don Manuel de Leon, once the glory andhonour of Spanish knighthood! In what words shall I describe this dreadexploit, by what language shall I make it credible to ages to come, whateulogies are there unmeet for thee, though they be hyperboles piled onhyperboles! On foot, alone, undaunted, high-souled, with but a simplesword, and that no trenchant blade of the Perrillo brand, a shield, butno bright polished steel one, there stoodst thou, biding and awaiting thetwo fiercest lions that Africa's forests ever bred! Thy own deeds be thypraise, valiant Manchegan, and here I leave them as they stand, wantingthe words wherewith to glorify them!"

Here the author's outburst came to an end, and he proceeded to take upthe thread of his story, saying that the keeper, seeing that Don Quixotehad taken up his position, and that it was impossible for him to avoidletting out the male without incurring the enmity of the fiery and daringknight, flung open the doors of the first cage, containing, as has beensaid, the lion, which was now seen to be of enormous size, and grim andhideous mien. The first thing he did was to turn round in the cage inwhich he lay, and protrude his claws, and stretch himself thoroughly; henext opened his mouth, and yawned very leisurely, and with near twopalms' length of tongue that he had thrust forth, he licked the dust outof his eyes and washed his face; having done this, he put his head out ofthe cage and looked all round with eyes like glowing coals, a spectacleand demeanour to strike terror into temerity itself. Don Quixote merelyobserved him steadily, longing for him to leap from the cart and come toclose quarters with him, when he hoped to hew him in pieces. 

So far did his unparalleled madness go; but the noble lion, morecourteous than arrogant, not troubling himself about silly bravado, afterhaving looked all round, as has been said, turned about and presented hishind-quarters to Don Quixote, and very coolly and tranquilly lay downagain in the cage. Seeing this, Don Quixote ordered the keeper to take astick to him and provoke him to make him come out. 

"That I won't, " said the keeper; "for if I anger him, the first he'lltear in pieces will be myself. Be satisfied, sir knight, with what youhave done, which leaves nothing more to be said on the score of courage, and do not seek to tempt fortune a second time. The lion has the dooropen; he is free to come out or not to come out; but as he has not comeout so far, he will not come out to-day. Your worship's great courage hasbeen fully manifested already; no brave champion, so it strikes me, isbound to do more than challenge his enemy and wait for him on the field;if his adversary does not come, on him lies the disgrace, and he whowaits for him carries off the crown of victory. "

"That is true, " said Don Quixote; "close the door, my friend, and let mehave, in the best form thou canst, what thou hast seen me do, by way ofcertificate; to wit, that thou didst open for the lion, that I waited forhim, that he did not come out, that I still waited for him, and thatstill he did not come out, and lay down again. I am not bound to do more;enchantments avaunt, and God uphold the right, the truth, and truechivalry! Close the door as I bade thee, while I make signals to thefugitives that have left us, that they may learn this exploit from thylips. "

The keeper obeyed, and Don Quixote, fixing on the point of his lance thecloth he had wiped his face with after the deluge of curds, proceeded torecall the others, who still continued to fly, looking back at everystep, all in a body, the gentleman bringing up the rear. Sancho, however, happening to observe the signal of the white cloth, exclaimed, "May Idie, if my master has not overcome the wild beasts, for he is calling tous. "

They all stopped, and perceived that it was Don Quixote who was makingsignals, and shaking off their fears to some extent, they approachedslowly until they were near enough to hear distinctly Don Quixote's voicecalling to them. They returned at length to the cart, and as they cameup, Don Quixote said to the carter, "Put your mules to once more, brother, and continue your journey; and do thou, Sancho, give him twogold crowns for himself and the keeper, to compensate for the delay theyhave incurred through me. "

"That will I give with all my heart, " said Sancho; "but what has becomeof the lions? Are they dead or alive?"

The keeper, then, in full detail, and bit by bit, described the end ofthe contest, exalting to the best of his power and ability the valour ofDon Quixote, at the sight of whom the lion quailed, and would not anddared not come out of the cage, although he had held the door open everso long; and showing how, in consequence of his having represented to theknight that it was tempting God to provoke the lion in order to force himout, which he wished to have done, he very reluctantly, and altogetheragainst his will, had allowed the door to be closed. 

"What dost thou think of this, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Are there anyenchantments that can prevail against true valour? The enchanters may beable to rob me of good fortune, but of fortitude and courage theycannot. "

Sancho paid the crowns, the carter put to, the keeper kissed DonQuixote's hands for the bounty bestowed upon him, and promised to give anaccount of the valiant exploit to the King himself, as soon as he saw himat court. 

"Then, " said Don Quixote, "if his Majesty should happen to ask whoperformed it, you must say THE KNIGHT OF THE LIONS; for it is my desirethat into this the name I have hitherto borne of Knight of the RuefulCountenance be from this time forward changed, altered, transformed, andturned; and in this I follow the ancient usage of knights-errant, whochanged their names when they pleased, or when it suited their purpose. "

The cart went its way, and Don Quixote, Sancho, and he of the green gabanwent theirs. All this time, Don Diego de Miranda had not spoken a word, being entirely taken up with observing and noting all that Don Quixotedid and said, and the opinion he formed was that he was a man of brainsgone mad, and a madman on the verge of rationality. The first part of hishistory had not yet reached him, for, had he read it, the amazement withwhich his words and deeds filled him would have vanished, as he wouldthen have understood the nature of his madness; but knowing nothing ofit, he took him to be rational one moment, and crazy the next, for whathe said was sensible, elegant, and well expressed, and what he did, absurd, rash, and foolish; and said he to himself, "What could be madderthan putting on a helmet full of curds, and then persuading oneself thatenchanters are softening one's skull; or what could be greater rashnessand folly than wanting to fight lions tooth and nail?"

Don Quixote roused him from these reflections and this soliloquy bysaying, "No doubt, Senor Don Diego de Miranda, you set me down in yourmind as a fool and a madman, and it would be no wonder if you did, for mydeeds do not argue anything else. But for all that, I would have you takenotice that I am neither so mad nor so foolish as I must have seemed toyou. A gallant knight shows to advantage bringing his lance to bearadroitly upon a fierce bull under the eyes of his sovereign, in the midstof a spacious plaza; a knight shows to advantage arrayed in glitteringarmour, pacing the lists before the ladies in some joyous tournament, andall those knights show to advantage that entertain, divert, and, if wemay say so, honour the courts of their princes by warlike exercises, orwhat resemble them; but to greater advantage than all these does aknight-errant show when he traverses deserts, solitudes, cross-roads, forests, and mountains, in quest of perilous adventures, bent on bringingthem to a happy and successful issue, all to win a glorious and lastingrenown. To greater advantage, I maintain, does the knight-errant showbringing aid to some widow in some lonely waste, than the court knightdallying with some city damsel. All knights have their own special partsto play; let the courtier devote himself to the ladies, let him addlustre to his sovereign's court by his liveries, let him entertain poorgentlemen with the sumptuous fare of his table, let him arrangejoustings, marshal tournaments, and prove himself noble, generous, andmagnificent, and above all a good Christian, and so doing he will fulfilthe duties that are especially his; but let the knight-errant explore thecorners of the earth and penetrate the most intricate labyrinths, at eachstep let him attempt impossibilities, on desolate heaths let him endurethe burning rays of the midsummer sun, and the bitter inclemency of thewinter winds and frosts; let no lions daunt him, no monsters terrify him, no dragons make him quail; for to seek these, to attack those, and tovanquish all, are in truth his main duties. I, then, as it has fallen tomy lot to be a member of knight-errantry, cannot avoid attempting allthat to me seems to come within the sphere of my duties; thus it was mybounden duty to attack those lions that I just now attacked, although Iknew it to be the height of rashness; for I know well what valour is, that it is a virtue that occupies a place between two vicious extremes, cowardice and temerity; but it will be a lesser evil for him who isvaliant to rise till he reaches the point of rashness, than to sink untilhe reaches the point of cowardice; for, as it is easier for the prodigalthan for the miser to become generous, so it is easier for a rash man toprove truly valiant than for a coward to rise to true valour; and believeme, Senor Don Diego, in attempting adventures it is better to lose by acard too many than by a card too few; for to hear it said, 'such a knightis rash and daring, ' sounds better than 'such a knight is timid andcowardly. '"

"I protest, Senor Don Quixote, " said Don Diego, "everything you have saidand done is proved correct by the test of reason itself; and I believe, if the laws and ordinances of knight-errantry should be lost, they mightbe found in your worship's breast as in their own proper depository andmuniment-house; but let us make haste, and reach my village, where youshall take rest after your late exertions; for if they have not been ofthe body they have been of the spirit, and these sometimes tend toproduce bodily fatigue. "

"I take the invitation as a great favour and honour, Senor Don Diego, "replied Don Quixote; and pressing forward at a better pace than before, at about two in the afternoon they reached the village and house of DonDiego, or, as Don Quixote called him, "The Knight of the Green Gaban. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE IN THE CASTLE OR HOUSE OF THE KNIGHT OF THEGREEN GABAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERS OUT OF THE COMMON

Don Quixote found Don Diego de Miranda's house built in village style, with his arms in rough stone over the street door; in the patio was thestore-room, and at the entrance the cellar, with plenty of wine-jarsstanding round, which, coming from El Toboso, brought back to his memoryhis enchanted and transformed Dulcinea; and with a sigh, and not thinkingof what he was saying, or in whose presence he was, he exclaimed--

 "O ye sweet treasures, to my sorrow found! Once sweet and welcome when 'twas heaven's good-will. 

 "O ye Tobosan jars, how ye bring back to my memory the sweet object of my bitter regrets!"

The student poet, Don Diego's son, who had come out with his mother toreceive him, heard this exclamation, and both mother and son were filledwith amazement at the extraordinary figure he presented; he, however, dismounting from Rocinante, advanced with great politeness to askpermission to kiss the lady's hand, while Don Diego said, "Senora, prayreceive with your wonted kindness Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, whomyou see before you, a knight-errant, and the bravest and wisest in theworld. "

The lady, whose name was Dona Christina, received him with every sign ofgood-will and great courtesy, and Don Quixote placed himself at herservice with an abundance of well-chosen and polished phrases. Almost thesame civilities were exchanged between him and the student, who listeningto Don Quixote, took him to be a sensible, clear-headed person. 

Here the author describes minutely everything belonging to Don Diego'smansion, putting before us in his picture the whole contents of a richgentleman-farmer's house; but the translator of the history thought itbest to pass over these and other details of the same sort in silence, asthey are not in harmony with the main purpose of the story, the strongpoint of which is truth rather than dull digressions. 

They led Don Quixote into a room, and Sancho removed his armour, leavinghim in loose Walloon breeches and chamois-leather doublet, all stainedwith the rust of his armour; his collar was a falling one of scholasticcut, without starch or lace, his buskins buff-coloured, and his shoespolished. He wore his good sword, which hung in a baldric of sea-wolf'sskin, for he had suffered for many years, they say, from an ailment ofthe kidneys; and over all he threw a long cloak of good grey cloth. Butfirst of all, with five or six buckets of water (for as regard the numberof buckets there is some dispute), he washed his head and face, and stillthe water remained whey-coloured, thanks to Sancho's greediness andpurchase of those unlucky curds that turned his master so white. Thusarrayed, and with an easy, sprightly, and gallant air, Don Quixote passedout into another room, where the student was waiting to entertain himwhile the table was being laid; for on the arrival of so distinguished aguest, Dona Christina was anxious to show that she knew how and was ableto give a becoming reception to those who came to her house. 

While Don Quixote was taking off his armour, Don Lorenzo (for so DonDiego's son was called) took the opportunity to say to his father, "Whatare we to make of this gentleman you have brought home to us, sir? Forhis name, his appearance, and your describing him as a knight-errant havecompletely puzzled my mother and me. "

"I don't know what to say, my son, " replied. Don Diego; "all I can tellthee is that I have seen him act the acts of the greatest madman in theworld, and heard him make observations so sensible that they efface andundo all he does; do thou talk to him and feel the pulse of his wits, andas thou art shrewd, form the most reasonable conclusion thou canst as tohis wisdom or folly; though, to tell the truth, I am more inclined totake him to be mad than sane. "

With this Don Lorenzo went away to entertain Don Quixote as has beensaid, and in the course of the conversation that passed between them DonQuixote said to Don Lorenzo, "Your father, Senor Don Diego de Miranda, has told me of the rare abilities and subtle intellect you possess, and, above all, that you are a great poet. "

"A poet, it may be, " replied Don Lorenzo, "but a great one, by no means. It is true that I am somewhat given to poetry and to reading good poets, but not so much so as to justify the title of 'great' which my fathergives me. "

"I do not dislike that modesty, " said Don Quixote; "for there is no poetwho is not conceited and does not think he is the best poet in theworld. "

"There is no rule without an exception, " said Don Lorenzo; "there may besome who are poets and yet do not think they are. "

"Very few, " said Don Quixote; "but tell me, what verses are those whichyou have now in hand, and which your father tells me keep you somewhatrestless and absorbed? If it be some gloss, I know something aboutglosses, and I should like to hear them; and if they are for a poeticaltournament, contrive to carry off the second prize; for the first alwaysgoes by favour or personal standing, the second by simple justice; and sothe third comes to be the second, and the first, reckoning in this way, will be third, in the same way as licentiate degrees are conferred at theuniversities; but, for all that, the title of first is a greatdistinction. "

"So far, " said Don Lorenzo to himself, "I should not take you to be amadman; but let us go on. " So he said to him, "Your worship hasapparently attended the schools; what sciences have you studied?"

"That of knight-errantry, " said Don Quixote, "which is as good as that ofpoetry, and even a finger or two above it. "

"I do not know what science that is, " said Don Lorenzo, "and until now Ihave never heard of it. "

"It is a science, " said Don Quixote, "that comprehends in itself all ormost of the sciences in the world, for he who professes it must be ajurist, and must know the rules of justice, distributive and equitable, so as to give to each one what belongs to him and is due to him. He mustbe a theologian, so as to be able to give a clear and distinctive reasonfor the Christian faith he professes, wherever it may be asked of him. Hemust be a physician, and above all a herbalist, so as in wastes andsolitudes to know the herbs that have the property of healing wounds, fora knight-errant must not go looking for some one to cure him at everystep. He must be an astronomer, so as to know by the stars how many hoursof the night have passed, and what clime and quarter of the world he isin. He must know mathematics, for at every turn some occasion for themwill present itself to him; and, putting it aside that he must be adornedwith all the virtues, cardinal and theological, to come down to minorparticulars, he must, I say, be able to swim as well as Nicholas orNicolao the Fish could, as the story goes; he must know how to shoe ahorse, and repair his saddle and bridle; and, to return to highermatters, he must be faithful to God and to his lady; he must be pure inthought, decorous in words, generous in works, valiant in deeds, patientin suffering, compassionate towards the needy, and, lastly, an upholderof the truth though its defence should cost him his life. Of all thesequalities, great and small, is a true knight-errant made up; judge then, Senor Don Lorenzo, whether it be a contemptible science which the knightwho studies and professes it has to learn, and whether it may not comparewith the very loftiest that are taught in the schools. "

"If that be so, " replied Don Lorenzo, "this science, I protest, surpassesall. "

"How, if that be so?" said Don Quixote. 

"What I mean to say, " said Don Lorenzo, "is, that I doubt whether thereare now, or ever were, any knights-errant, and adorned with suchvirtues. "

"Many a time, " replied Don Quixote, "have I said what I now say oncemore, that the majority of the world are of opinion that there never wereany knights-errant in it; and as it is my opinion that, unless heaven bysome miracle brings home to them the truth that there were and are, allthe pains one takes will be in vain (as experience has often proved tome), I will not now stop to disabuse you of the error you share with themultitude. All I shall do is to pray to heaven to deliver you from it, and show you how beneficial and necessary knights-errant were in days ofyore, and how useful they would be in these days were they but in vogue;but now, for the sins of the people, sloth and indolence, gluttony andluxury are triumphant. "

"Our guest has broken out on our hands, " said Don Lorenzo to himself atthis point; "but, for all that, he is a glorious madman, and I should bea dull blockhead to doubt it. "

Here, being summoned to dinner, they brought their colloquy to a close. Don Diego asked his son what he had been able to make out as to the witsof their guest. To which he replied, "All the doctors and clever scribesin the world will not make sense of the scrawl of his madness; he is amadman full of streaks, full of lucid intervals. "

They went in to dinner, and the repast was such as Don Diego said on theroad he was in the habit of giving to his guests, neat, plentiful, andtasty; but what pleased Don Quixote most was the marvellous silence thatreigned throughout the house, for it was like a Carthusian monastery. 

When the cloth had been removed, grace said and their hands washed, DonQuixote earnestly pressed Don Lorenzo to repeat to him his verses for thepoetical tournament, to which he replied, "Not to be like those poetswho, when they are asked to recite their verses, refuse, and when theyare not asked for them vomit them up, I will repeat my gloss, for which Ido not expect any prize, having composed it merely as an exercise ofingenuity. "

"A discerning friend of mine, " said Don Quixote, "was of opinion that noone ought to waste labour in glossing verses; and the reason he gave wasthat the gloss can never come up to the text, and that often or mostfrequently it wanders away from the meaning and purpose aimed at in theglossed lines; and besides, that the laws of the gloss were too strict, as they did not allow interrogations, nor 'said he, ' nor 'I say, ' norturning verbs into nouns, or altering the construction, not to speak ofother restrictions and limitations that fetter gloss-writers, as you nodoubt know. "

"Verily, Senor Don Quixote, " said Don Lorenzo, "I wish I could catch yourworship tripping at a stretch, but I cannot, for you slip through myfingers like an eel. "

"I don't understand what you say, or mean by slipping, " said Don Quixote. 

"I will explain myself another time, " said Don Lorenzo; "for the presentpray attend to the glossed verses and the gloss, which run thus:

Could 'was' become an 'is' for me, Then would I ask no more than this;Or could, for me, the time that isBecome the time that is to be!--

GLOSS

Dame Fortune once upon a day To me was bountiful and kind; But all things change; she changed her mind, And what she gave she took away. O Fortune, long I've sued to thee; The gifts thou gavest me restore, For, trust me, I would ask no more, Could 'was' become an 'is' for me. 

No other prize I seek to gain, No triumph, glory, or success, Only the long-lost happiness, The memory whereof is pain. One taste, methinks, of bygone bliss The heart-consuming fire might stay; And, so it come without delay, Then would I ask no more than this. 

I ask what cannot be, alas! That time should ever be, and then Come back to us, and be again, No power on earth can bring to pass;For fleet of foot is he, I wis, And idly, therefore, do we pray That what for aye hath left us mayBecome for us the time that is. 

Perplexed, uncertain, to remain 'Twixt hope and fear, is death, not life; 'Twere better, sure, to end the strife, And dying, seek release from pain. And yet, thought were the best for me. Anon the thought aside I fling, And to the present fondly cling, And dread the time that is to be. "

When Don Lorenzo had finished reciting his gloss, Don Quixote stood up, and in a loud voice, almost a shout, exclaimed as he grasped DonLorenzo's right hand in his, "By the highest heavens, noble youth, butyou are the best poet on earth, and deserve to be crowned with laurel, not by Cyprus or by Gaeta--as a certain poet, God forgive him, said--butby the Academies of Athens, if they still flourished, and by those thatflourish now, Paris, Bologna, Salamanca. Heaven grant that the judges whorob you of the first prize--that Phoebus may pierce them with his arrows, and the Muses never cross the thresholds of their doors. Repeat me someof your long-measure verses, senor, if you will be so good, for I wantthoroughly to feel the pulse of your rare genius. "

Is there any need to say that Don Lorenzo enjoyed hearing himself praisedby Don Quixote, albeit he looked upon him as a madman? power of flattery, how far-reaching art thou, and how wide are the bounds of thy pleasantjurisdiction! Don Lorenzo gave a proof of it, for he complied with DonQuixote's request and entreaty, and repeated to him this sonnet on thefable or story of Pyramus and Thisbe. 

SONNET

The lovely maid, she pierces now the wall; Heart-pierced by her young Pyramus doth lie; And Love spreads wing from Cyprus isle to fly, A chink to view so wondrous great and small. There silence speaketh, for no voice at all Can pass so strait a strait; but love will ply Where to all other power 'twere vain to try;For love will find a way whate'er befall. Impatient of delay, with reckless pace The rash maid wins the fatal spot where sheSinks not in lover's arms but death's embrace. So runs the strange tale, how the lovers twainOne sword, one sepulchre, one memory, Slays, and entombs, and brings to life again. 

"Blessed be God, " said Don Quixote when he had heard Don Lorenzo'ssonnet, "that among the hosts there are of irritable poets I have foundone consummate one, which, senor, the art of this sonnet proves to methat you are!"

For four days was Don Quixote most sumptuously entertained in Don Diego'shouse, at the end of which time he asked his permission to depart, telling him he thanked him for the kindness and hospitality he hadreceived in his house, but that, as it did not become knights-errant togive themselves up for long to idleness and luxury, he was anxious tofulfill the duties of his calling in seeking adventures, of which he wasinformed there was an abundance in that neighbourhood, where he hoped toemploy his time until the day came round for the jousts at Saragossa, forthat was his proper destination; and that, first of all, he meant toenter the cave of Montesinos, of which so many marvellous things werereported all through the country, and at the same time to investigate andexplore the origin and true source of the seven lakes commonly called thelakes of Ruidera. 

Don Diego and his son commended his laudable resolution, and bade himfurnish himself with all he wanted from their house and belongings, asthey would most gladly be of service to him; which, indeed, his personalworth and his honourable profession made incumbent upon them. 

The day of his departure came at length, as welcome to Don Quixote as itwas sad and sorrowful to Sancho Panza, who was very well satisfied withthe abundance of Don Diego's house, and objected to return to thestarvation of the woods and wilds and the short-commons of hisill-stocked alforjas; these, however, he filled and packed with what heconsidered needful. On taking leave, Don Quixote said to Don Lorenzo, "Iknow not whether I have told you already, but if I have I tell you oncemore, that if you wish to spare yourself fatigue and toil in reaching theinaccessible summit of the temple of fame, you have nothing to do but toturn aside out of the somewhat narrow path of poetry and take the stillnarrower one of knight-errantry, wide enough, however, to make you anemperor in the twinkling of an eye. "

In this speech Don Quixote wound up the evidence of his madness, butstill better in what he added when he said, "God knows, I would gladlytake Don Lorenzo with me to teach him how to spare the humble, andtrample the proud under foot, virtues that are part and parcel of theprofession I belong to; but since his tender age does not allow of it, nor his praiseworthy pursuits permit it, I will simply content myselfwith impressing it upon your worship that you will become famous as apoet if you are guided by the opinion of others rather than by your own;because no fathers or mothers ever think their own children ill-favoured, and this sort of deception prevails still more strongly in the case ofthe children of the brain. "

Both father and son were amazed afresh at the strange medley Don Quixotetalked, at one moment sense, at another nonsense, and at the pertinacityand persistence he displayed in going through thick and thin in quest ofhis unlucky adventures, which he made the end and aim of his desires. There was a renewal of offers of service and civilities, and then, withthe gracious permission of the lady of the castle, they took theirdeparture, Don Quixote on Rocinante, and Sancho on Dapple.