DON QUIXOTE

 Volume II. 

 Part 36. 

 by Miguel de Cervantes

 Translated by John Ormsby

CHAPTER LX. 

OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TO BARCELONA

It was a fresh morning giving promise of a cool day as Don Quixotequitted the inn, first of all taking care to ascertain the most directroad to Barcelona without touching upon Saragossa; so anxious was he tomake out this new historian, who they said abused him so, to be a liar. Well, as it fell out, nothing worthy of being recorded happened him forsix days, at the end of which, having turned aside out of the road, hewas overtaken by night in a thicket of oak or cork trees; for on thispoint Cide Hamete is not as precise as he usually is on other matters. 

Master and man dismounted from their beasts, and as soon as they hadsettled themselves at the foot of the trees, Sancho, who had had a goodnoontide meal that day, let himself, without more ado, pass the gates ofsleep. But Don Quixote, whom his thoughts, far more than hunger, keptawake, could not close an eye, and roamed in fancy to and fro through allsorts of places. At one moment it seemed to him that he was in the caveof Montesinos and saw Dulcinea, transformed into a country wench, skipping and mounting upon her she-ass; again that the words of the sageMerlin were sounding in his ears, setting forth the conditions to beobserved and the exertions to be made for the disenchantment of Dulcinea. He lost all patience when he considered the laziness and want of charityof his squire Sancho; for to the best of his belief he had only givenhimself five lashes, a number paltry and disproportioned to the vastnumber required. At this thought he felt such vexation and anger that hereasoned the matter thus: "If Alexander the Great cut the Gordian knot, saying, 'To cut comes to the same thing as to untie, ' and yet did notfail to become lord paramount of all Asia, neither more nor less couldhappen now in Dulcinea's disenchantment if I scourge Sancho against hiswill; for, if it is the condition of the remedy that Sancho shall receivethree thousand and odd lashes, what does it matter to me whether heinflicts them himself, or some one else inflicts them, when the essentialpoint is that he receives them, let them come from whatever quarter theymay?"

With this idea he went over to Sancho, having first taken Rocinante'sreins and arranged them so as to be able to flog him with them, and beganto untie the points (the common belief is he had but one in front) bywhich his breeches were held up; but the instant he approached him Sanchowoke up in his full senses and cried out, "What is this? Who is touchingme and untrussing me?"

"It is I, " said Don Quixote, "and I come to make good thy shortcomingsand relieve my own distresses; I come to whip thee, Sancho, and wipe offsome portion of the debt thou hast undertaken. Dulcinea is perishing, thou art living on regardless, I am dying of hope deferred; thereforeuntruss thyself with a good will, for mine it is, here, in this retiredspot, to give thee at least two thousand lashes. "

"Not a bit of it, " said Sancho; "let your worship keep quiet, or else bythe living God the deaf shall hear us; the lashes I pledged myself tomust be voluntary and not forced upon me, and just now I have no fancy towhip myself; it is enough if I give you my word to flog and flap myselfwhen I have a mind. "

"It will not do to leave it to thy courtesy, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "for thou art hard of heart and, though a clown, tender of flesh;" and atthe same time he strove and struggled to untie him. 

Seeing this Sancho got up, and grappling with his master he gripped himwith all his might in his arms, giving him a trip with the heel stretchedhim on the ground on his back, and pressing his right knee on his chestheld his hands in his own so that he could neither move nor breathe. 

"How now, traitor!" exclaimed Don Quixote. "Dost thou revolt against thymaster and natural lord? Dost thou rise against him who gives thee hisbread?"

"I neither put down king, nor set up king, " said Sancho; "I only stand upfor myself who am my own lord; if your worship promises me to be quiet, and not to offer to whip me now, I'll let you go free and unhindered; ifnot--

Traitor and Dona Sancha's foe, Thou diest on the spot. "Don Quixote gave his promise, and swore by the life of his thoughts notto touch so much as a hair of his garments, and to leave him entirelyfree and to his own discretion to whip himself whenever he pleased. 

Sancho rose and removed some distance from the spot, but as he was aboutto place himself leaning against another tree he felt something touch hishead, and putting up his hands encountered somebody's two feet with shoesand stockings on them. He trembled with fear and made for another tree, where the very same thing happened to him, and he fell a-shouting, calling upon Don Quixote to come and protect him. Don Quixote did so, andasked him what had happened to him, and what he was afraid of. Sanchoreplied that all the trees were full of men's feet and legs. Don Quixotefelt them, and guessed at once what it was, and said to Sancho, "Thouhast nothing to be afraid of, for these feet and legs that thou feelestbut canst not see belong no doubt to some outlaws and freebooters thathave been hanged on these trees; for the authorities in these parts arewont to hang them up by twenties and thirties when they catch them;whereby I conjecture that I must be near Barcelona;" and it was, in fact, as he supposed; with the first light they looked up and saw that thefruit hanging on those trees were freebooters' bodies. 

And now day dawned; and if the dead freebooters had scared them, theirhearts were no less troubled by upwards of forty living ones, who all ofa sudden surrounded them, and in the Catalan tongue bade them stand andwait until their captain came up. Don Quixote was on foot with his horseunbridled and his lance leaning against a tree, and in short completelydefenceless; he thought it best therefore to fold his arms and bow hishead and reserve himself for a more favourable occasion and opportunity. The robbers made haste to search Dapple, and did not leave him a singlething of all he carried in the alforjas and in the valise; and lucky itwas for Sancho that the duke's crowns and those he brought from home werein a girdle that he wore round him; but for all that these good folkwould have stripped him, and even looked to see what he had hiddenbetween the skin and flesh, but for the arrival at that moment of theircaptain, who was about thirty-four years of age apparently, stronglybuilt, above the middle height, of stern aspect and swarthy complexion. He was mounted upon a powerful horse, and had on a coat of mail, withfour of the pistols they call petronels in that country at his waist. Hesaw that his squires (for so they call those who follow that trade) wereabout to rifle Sancho Panza, but he ordered them to desist and was atonce obeyed, so the girdle escaped. He wondered to see the lance leaningagainst the tree, the shield on the ground, and Don Quixote in armour anddejected, with the saddest and most melancholy face that sadness itselfcould produce; and going up to him he said, "Be not so cast down, goodman, for you have not fallen into the hands of any inhuman Busiris, butinto Roque Guinart's, which are more merciful than cruel. "

"The cause of my dejection, " returned Don Quixote, "is not that I havefallen into thy hands, O valiant Roque, whose fame is bounded by nolimits on earth, but that my carelessness should have been so great thatthy soldiers should have caught me unbridled, when it is my duty, according to the rule of knight-errantry which I profess, to be always onthe alert and at all times my own sentinel; for let me tell thee, greatRoque, had they found me on my horse, with my lance and shield, it wouldnot have been very easy for them to reduce me to submission, for I am DonQuixote of La Mancha, he who hath filled the whole world with hisachievements. "

Roque Guinart at once perceived that Don Quixote's weakness was more akinto madness than to swagger; and though he had sometimes heard him spokenof, he never regarded the things attributed to him as true, nor could hepersuade himself that such a humour could become dominant in the heart ofman; he was extremely glad, therefore, to meet him and test at closequarters what he had heard of him at a distance; so he said to him, "Despair not, valiant knight, nor regard as an untoward fate the positionin which thou findest thyself; it may be that by these slips thy crookedfortune will make itself straight; for heaven by strange circuitous ways, mysterious and incomprehensible to man, raises up the fallen and makesrich the poor. "

Don Quixote was about to thank him, when they heard behind them a noiseas of a troop of horses; there was, however, but one, riding on which ata furious pace came a youth, apparently about twenty years of age, cladin green damask edged with gold and breeches and a loose frock, with ahat looped up in the Walloon fashion, tight-fitting polished boots, giltspurs, dagger and sword, and in his hand a musketoon, and a pair ofpistols at his waist. 

Roque turned round at the noise and perceived this comely figure, whichdrawing near thus addressed him, "I came in quest of thee, valiant Roque, to find in thee if not a remedy at least relief in my misfortune; and notto keep thee in suspense, for I see thou dost not recognise me, I willtell thee who I am; I am Claudia Jeronima, the daughter of Simon Forte, thy good friend, and special enemy of Clauquel Torrellas, who is thinealso as being of the faction opposed to thee. Thou knowest that thisTorrellas has a son who is called, or at least was not two hours since, Don Vicente Torrellas. Well, to cut short the tale of my misfortune, Iwill tell thee in a few words what this youth has brought upon me. He sawme, he paid court to me, I listened to him, and, unknown to my father, Iloved him; for there is no woman, however secluded she may live or closeshe may be kept, who will not have opportunities and to spare forfollowing her headlong impulses. In a word, he pledged himself to bemine, and I promised to be his, without carrying matters any further. Yesterday I learned that, forgetful of his pledge to me, he was about tomarry another, and that he was to go this morning to plight his troth, intelligence which overwhelmed and exasperated me; my father not being athome I was able to adopt this costume you see, and urging my horse tospeed I overtook Don Vicente about a league from this, and withoutwaiting to utter reproaches or hear excuses I fired this musket at him, and these two pistols besides, and to the best of my belief I must havelodged more than two bullets in his body, opening doors to let my honourgo free, enveloped in his blood. I left him there in the hands of hisservants, who did not dare and were not able to interfere in his defence, and I come to seek from thee a safe-conduct into France, where I haverelatives with whom I can live; and also to implore thee to protect myfather, so that Don Vicente's numerous kinsmen may not venture to wreaktheir lawless vengeance upon him. "

Roque, filled with admiration at the gallant bearing, high spirit, comelyfigure, and adventure of the fair Claudia, said to her, "Come, senora, let us go and see if thy enemy is dead; and then we will consider whatwill be best for thee. " Don Quixote, who had been listening to whatClaudia said and Roque Guinart said in reply to her, exclaimed, "Nobodyneed trouble himself with the defence of this lady, for I take it uponmyself. Give me my horse and arms, and wait for me here; I will go inquest of this knight, and dead or alive I will make him keep his wordplighted to so great beauty. "

"Nobody need have any doubt about that, " said Sancho, "for my master hasa very happy knack of matchmaking; it's not many days since he forcedanother man to marry, who in the same way backed out of his promise toanother maiden; and if it had not been for his persecutors the enchanterschanging the man's proper shape into a lacquey's the said maiden wouldnot be one this minute. "

Roque, who was paying more attention to the fair Claudia's adventure thanto the words of master or man, did not hear them; and ordering hissquires to restore to Sancho everything they had stripped Dapple of, hedirected them to return to the place where they had been quartered duringthe night, and then set off with Claudia at full speed in search of thewounded or slain Don Vicente. They reached the spot where Claudia methim, but found nothing there save freshly spilt blood; looking all round, however, they descried some people on the slope of a hill above them, andconcluded, as indeed it proved to be, that it was Don Vicente, whomeither dead or alive his servants were removing to attend to his woundsor to bury him. They made haste to overtake them, which, as the partymoved slowly, they were able to do with ease. They found Don Vicente inthe arms of his servants, whom he was entreating in a broken feeble voiceto leave him there to die, as the pain of his wounds would not suffer himto go any farther. Claudia and Roque threw themselves off their horsesand advanced towards him; the servants were overawed by the appearance ofRoque, and Claudia was moved by the sight of Don Vicente, and going up tohim half tenderly half sternly, she seized his hand and said to him, "Hadst thou given me this according to our compact thou hadst never cometo this pass. "

The wounded gentleman opened his all but closed eyes, and recognisingClaudia said, "I see clearly, fair and mistaken lady, that it is thouthat hast slain me, a punishment not merited or deserved by my feelingstowards thee, for never did I mean to, nor could I, wrong thee in thoughtor deed. "

"It is not true, then, " said Claudia, "that thou wert going this morningto marry Leonora the daughter of the rich Balvastro?"

"Assuredly not, " replied Don Vicente; "my cruel fortune must have carriedthose tidings to thee to drive thee in thy jealousy to take my life; andto assure thyself of this, press my hands and take me for thy husband ifthou wilt; I have no better satisfaction to offer thee for the wrong thoufanciest thou hast received from me. "

Claudia wrung his hands, and her own heart was so wrung that she layfainting on the bleeding breast of Don Vicente, whom a death spasm seizedthe same instant. Roque was in perplexity and knew not what to do; theservants ran to fetch water to sprinkle their faces, and brought some andbathed them with it. Claudia recovered from her fainting fit, but not soDon Vicente from the paroxysm that had overtaken him, for his life hadcome to an end. On perceiving this, Claudia, when she had convincedherself that her beloved husband was no more, rent the air with her sighsand made the heavens ring with her lamentations; she tore her hair andscattered it to the winds, she beat her face with her hands and showedall the signs of grief and sorrow that could be conceived to come from anafflicted heart. "Cruel, reckless woman!" she cried, "how easily wertthou moved to carry out a thought so wicked! O furious force of jealousy, to what desperate lengths dost thou lead those that give thee lodging intheir bosoms! O husband, whose unhappy fate in being mine hath borne theefrom the marriage bed to the grave!"

So vehement and so piteous were the lamentations of Claudia that theydrew tears from Roque's eyes, unused as they were to shed them on anyoccasion. The servants wept, Claudia swooned away again and again, andthe whole place seemed a field of sorrow and an abode of misfortune. Inthe end Roque Guinart directed Don Vicente's servants to carry his bodyto his father's village, which was close by, for burial. Claudia told himshe meant to go to a monastery of which an aunt of hers was abbess, whereshe intended to pass her life with a better and everlasting spouse. Heapplauded her pious resolution, and offered to accompany herwhithersoever she wished, and to protect her father against the kinsmenof Don Vicente and all the world, should they seek to injure him. Claudiawould not on any account allow him to accompany her; and thanking him forhis offers as well as she could, took leave of him in tears. The servantsof Don Vicente carried away his body, and Roque returned to his comrades, and so ended the love of Claudia Jeronima; but what wonder, when it wasthe insuperable and cruel might of jealousy that wove the web of her sadstory?

Roque Guinart found his squires at the place to which he had orderedthem, and Don Quixote on Rocinante in the midst of them delivering aharangue to them in which he urged them to give up a mode of life so fullof peril, as well to the soul as to the body; but as most of them wereGascons, rough lawless fellows, his speech did not make much impressionon them. Roque on coming up asked Sancho if his men had returned andrestored to him the treasures and jewels they had stripped off Dapple. Sancho said they had, but that three kerchiefs that were worth threecities were missing. 

"What are you talking about, man?" said one of the bystanders; "I havegot them, and they are not worth three reals. "

"That is true, " said Don Quixote; "but my squire values them at the ratehe says, as having been given me by the person who gave them. "

Roque Guinart ordered them to be restored at once; and making his menfall in in line he directed all the clothing, jewellery, and money thatthey had taken since the last distribution to be produced; and making ahasty valuation, and reducing what could not be divided into money, hemade shares for the whole band so equitably and carefully, that in nocase did he exceed or fall short of strict distributive justice. 

When this had been done, and all left satisfied, Roque observed to DonQuixote, "If this scrupulous exactness were not observed with thesefellows there would be no living with them. "

Upon this Sancho remarked, "From what I have seen here, justice is such agood thing that there is no doing without it, even among the thievesthemselves. "

One of the squires heard this, and raising the butt-end of his harquebusswould no doubt have broken Sancho's head with it had not Roque Guinartcalled out to him to hold his hand. Sancho was frightened out of hiswits, and vowed not to open his lips so long as he was in the company ofthese people. 

At this instant one or two of those squires who were posted as sentinelson the roads, to watch who came along them and report what passed totheir chief, came up and said, "Senor, there is a great troop of peoplenot far off coming along the road to Barcelona. "

To which Roque replied, "Hast thou made out whether they are of the sortthat are after us, or of the sort we are after?"

"The sort we are after, " said the squire. 

"Well then, away with you all, " said Roque, "and bring them here to me atonce without letting one of them escape. "

They obeyed, and Don Quixote, Sancho, and Roque, left by themselves, waited to see what the squires brought, and while they were waiting Roquesaid to Don Quixote, "It must seem a strange sort of life to Senor DonQuixote, this of ours, strange adventures, strange incidents, and allfull of danger; and I do not wonder that it should seem so, for in truthI must own there is no mode of life more restless or anxious than ours. What led me into it was a certain thirst for vengeance, which is strongenough to disturb the quietest hearts. I am by nature tender-hearted andkindly, but, as I said, the desire to revenge myself for a wrong that wasdone me so overturns all my better impulses that I keep on in this way oflife in spite of what conscience tells me; and as one depth calls toanother, and one sin to another sin, revenges have linked themselvestogether, and I have taken upon myself not only my own but those ofothers: it pleases God, however, that, though I see myself in this mazeof entanglements, I do not lose all hope of escaping from it and reachinga safe port. "

Don Quixote was amazed to hear Roque utter such excellent and justsentiments, for he did not think that among those who followed suchtrades as robbing, murdering, and waylaying, there could be anyonecapable of a virtuous thought, and he said in reply, "Senor Roque, thebeginning of health lies in knowing the disease and in the sick man'swillingness to take the medicines which the physician prescribes; you aresick, you know what ails you, and heaven, or more properly speaking God, who is our physician, will administer medicines that will cure you, andcure gradually, and not of a sudden or by a miracle; besides, sinners ofdiscernment are nearer amendment than those who are fools; and as yourworship has shown good sense in your remarks, all you have to do is tokeep up a good heart and trust that the weakness of your conscience willbe strengthened. And if you have any desire to shorten the journey andput yourself easily in the way of salvation, come with me, and I willshow you how to become a knight-errant, a calling wherein so manyhardships and mishaps are encountered that if they be taken as penancesthey will lodge you in heaven in a trice. "

Roque laughed at Don Quixote's exhortation, and changing the conversationhe related the tragic affair of Claudia Jeronima, at which Sancho wasextremely grieved; for he had not found the young woman's beauty, boldness, and spirit at all amiss. 

And now the squires despatched to make the prize came up, bringing withthem two gentlemen on horseback, two pilgrims on foot, and a coach fullof women with some six servants on foot and on horseback in attendance onthem, and a couple of muleteers whom the gentlemen had with them. Thesquires made a ring round them, both victors and vanquished maintainingprofound silence, waiting for the great Roque Guinart to speak. He askedthe gentlemen who they were, whither they were going, and what money theycarried with them; "Senor, " replied one of them, "we are two captains ofSpanish infantry; our companies are at Naples, and we are on our way toembark in four galleys which they say are at Barcelona under orders forSicily; and we have about two or three hundred crowns, with which we are, according to our notions, rich and contented, for a soldier's povertydoes not allow a more extensive hoard. "

Roque asked the pilgrims the same questions he had put to the captains, and was answered that they were going to take ship for Rome, and thatbetween them they might have about sixty reals. He asked also who was inthe coach, whither they were bound and what money they had, and one ofthe men on horseback replied, "The persons in the coach are my lady DonaGuiomar de Quinones, wife of the regent of the Vicaria at Naples, herlittle daughter, a handmaid and a duenna; we six servants are inattendance upon her, and the money amounts to six hundred crowns. "

"So then, " said Roque Guinart, "we have got here nine hundred crowns andsixty reals; my soldiers must number some sixty; see how much there fallsto each, for I am a bad arithmetician. " As soon as the robbers heard thisthey raised a shout of "Long life to Roque Guinart, in spite of thelladres that seek his ruin!"

The captains showed plainly the concern they felt, the regent's lady wasdowncast, and the pilgrims did not at all enjoy seeing their propertyconfiscated. Roque kept them in suspense in this way for a while; but hehad no desire to prolong their distress, which might be seen a bowshotoff, and turning to the captains he said, "Sirs, will your worships bepleased of your courtesy to lend me sixty crowns, and her ladyship theregent's wife eighty, to satisfy this band that follows me, for 'it is byhis singing the abbot gets his dinner;' and then you may at once proceedon your journey, free and unhindered, with a safe-conduct which I shallgive you, so that if you come across any other bands of mine that I havescattered in these parts, they may do you no harm; for I have nointention of doing injury to soldiers, or to any woman, especially one ofquality. "

Profuse and hearty were the expressions of gratitude with which thecaptains thanked Roque for his courtesy and generosity; for such theyregarded his leaving them their own money. Senora Dona Guiomar deQuinones wanted to throw herself out of the coach to kiss the feet andhands of the great Roque, but he would not suffer it on any account; sofar from that, he begged her pardon for the wrong he had done her underpressure of the inexorable necessities of his unfortunate calling. Theregent's lady ordered one of her servants to give the eighty crowns thathad been assessed as her share at once, for the captains had already paiddown their sixty. The pilgrims were about to give up the whole of theirlittle hoard, but Roque bade them keep quiet, and turning to his men hesaid, "Of these crowns two fall to each man and twenty remain over; letten be given to these pilgrims, and the other ten to this worthy squirethat he may be able to speak favourably of this adventure;" and thenhaving writing materials, with which he always went provided, brought tohim, he gave them in writing a safe-conduct to the leaders of his bands;and bidding them farewell let them go free and filled with admiration athis magnanimity, his generous disposition, and his unusual conduct, andinclined to regard him as an Alexander the Great rather than a notoriousrobber. 

One of the squires observed in his mixture of Gascon and Catalan, "Thiscaptain of ours would make a better friar than highwayman; if he wants tobe so generous another time, let it be with his own property and notours. "

The unlucky wight did not speak so low but that Roque overheard him, anddrawing his sword almost split his head in two, saying, "That is the wayI punish impudent saucy fellows. " They were all taken aback, and not oneof them dared to utter a word, such deference did they pay him. Roquethen withdrew to one side and wrote a letter to a friend of his atBarcelona, telling him that the famous Don Quixote of La Mancha, theknight-errant of whom there was so much talk, was with him, and was, heassured him, the drollest and wisest man in the world; and that in fourdays from that date, that is to say, on Saint John the Baptist's Day, hewas going to deposit him in full armour mounted on his horse Rocinante, together with his squire Sancho on an ass, in the middle of the strand ofthe city; and bidding him give notice of this to his friends the Niarros, that they might divert themselves with him. He wished, he said, hisenemies the Cadells could be deprived of this pleasure; but that wasimpossible, because the crazes and shrewd sayings of Don Quixote and thehumours of his squire Sancho Panza could not help giving general pleasureto all the world. He despatched the letter by one of his squires, who, exchanging the costume of a highwayman for that of a peasant, made hisway into Barcelona and gave it to the person to whom it was directed.