DON QUIXOTE

 Volume II. 

 Part 40. 

 by Miguel de Cervantes

 Translated by John Ormsby

CHAPTER LXVII. 

OF THE RESOLUTION DON QUIXOTE FORMED TO TURN SHEPHERD AND TAKE TO A LIFEIN THE FIELDS WHILE THE YEAR FOR WHICH HE HAD GIVEN HIS WORD WAS RUNNINGITS COURSE; WITH OTHER EVENTS TRULY DELECTABLE AND HAPPY

If a multitude of reflections used to harass Don Quixote before he hadbeen overthrown, a great many more harassed him since his fall. He wasunder the shade of a tree, as has been said, and there, like flies onhoney, thoughts came crowding upon him and stinging him. Some of themturned upon the disenchantment of Dulcinea, others upon the life he wasabout to lead in his enforced retirement. Sancho came up and spoke inhigh praise of the generous disposition of the lacquey Tosilos. 

"Is it possible, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "that thou dost still thinkthat he yonder is a real lacquey? Apparently it has escaped thy memorythat thou hast seen Dulcinea turned and transformed into a peasant wench, and the Knight of the Mirrors into the bachelor Carrasco; all the work ofthe enchanters that persecute me. But tell me now, didst thou ask thisTosilos, as thou callest him, what has become of Altisidora, did she weepover my absence, or has she already consigned to oblivion the lovethoughts that used to afflict her when I was present?"

"The thoughts that I had, " said Sancho, "were not such as to leave timefor asking fool's questions. Body o' me, senor! is your worship in acondition now to inquire into other people's thoughts, above all lovethoughts?"

"Look ye, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, "there is a great difference betweenwhat is done out of love and what is done out of gratitude. A knight mayvery possibly be proof against love; but it is impossible, strictlyspeaking, for him to be ungrateful. Altisidora, to all appearance, lovedme truly; she gave me the three kerchiefs thou knowest of; she wept at mydeparture, she cursed me, she abused me, casting shame to the winds shebewailed herself in public; all signs that she adored me; for the wrathof lovers always ends in curses. I had no hopes to give her, nortreasures to offer her, for mine are given to Dulcinea, and the treasuresof knights-errant are like those of the fairies, ' illusory and deceptive;all I can give her is the place in my memory I keep for her, withoutprejudice, however, to that which I hold devoted to Dulcinea, whom thouart wronging by thy remissness in whipping thyself and scourging thatflesh--would that I saw it eaten by wolves--which would rather keepitself for the worms than for the relief of that poor lady. "

"Senor, " replied Sancho, "if the truth is to be told, I cannot persuademyself that the whipping of my backside has anything to do with thedisenchantment of the enchanted; it is like saying, 'If your head achesrub ointment on your knees;' at any rate I'll make bold to swear that inall the histories dealing with knight-errantry that your worship has readyou have never come across anybody disenchanted by whipping; but whetheror no I'll whip myself when I have a fancy for it, and the opportunityserves for scourging myself comfortably. "

"God grant it, " said Don Quixote; "and heaven give thee grace to take itto heart and own the obligation thou art under to help my lady, who isthine also, inasmuch as thou art mine. "

As they pursued their journey talking in this way they came to the verysame spot where they had been trampled on by the bulls. Don Quixoterecognised it, and said he to Sancho, "This is the meadow where we cameupon those gay shepherdesses and gallant shepherds who were trying torevive and imitate the pastoral Arcadia there, an idea as novel as it washappy, in emulation whereof, if so be thou dost approve of it, Sancho, Iwould have ourselves turn shepherds, at any rate for the time I have tolive in retirement. I will buy some ewes and everything else requisitefor the pastoral calling; and, I under the name of the shepherd Quixotizeand thou as the shepherd Panzino, we will roam the woods and groves andmeadows singing songs here, lamenting in elegies there, drinking of thecrystal waters of the springs or limpid brooks or flowing rivers. Theoaks will yield us their sweet fruit with bountiful hand, the trunks ofthe hard cork trees a seat, the willows shade, the roses perfume, thewidespread meadows carpets tinted with a thousand dyes; the clear pureair will give us breath, the moon and stars lighten the darkness of thenight for us, song shall be our delight, lamenting our joy, Apollo willsupply us with verses, and love with conceits whereby we shall makeourselves famed for ever, not only in this but in ages to come. "

"Egad, " said Sancho, "but that sort of life squares, nay corners, with mynotions; and what is more the bachelor Samson Carrasco and MasterNicholas the barber won't have well seen it before they'll want to followit and turn shepherds along with us; and God grant it may not come intothe curate's head to join the sheepfold too, he's so jovial and fond ofenjoying himself. "

"Thou art in the right of it, Sancho, " said Don Quixote; "and thebachelor Samson Carrasco, if he enters the pastoral fraternity, as nodoubt he will, may call himself the shepherd Samsonino, or perhaps theshepherd Carrascon; Nicholas the barber may call himself Niculoso, as oldBoscan formerly was called Nemoroso; as for the curate I don't know whatname we can fit to him unless it be something derived from his title, andwe call him the shepherd Curiambro. For the shepherdesses whose lovers weshall be, we can pick names as we would pears; and as my lady's name doesjust as well for a shepherdess's as for a princess's, I need not troublemyself to look for one that will suit her better; to thine, Sancho, thoucanst give what name thou wilt. "

"I don't mean to give her any but Teresona, " said Sancho, "which will gowell with her stoutness and with her own right name, as she is calledTeresa; and then when I sing her praises in my verses I'll show howchaste my passion is, for I'm not going to look 'for better bread thanever came from wheat' in other men's houses. It won't do for the curateto have a shepherdess, for the sake of good example; and if the bachelorchooses to have one, that is his look-out. "

"God bless me, Sancho my friend!" said Don Quixote, "what a life we shalllead! What hautboys and Zamora bagpipes we shall hear, what tabors, timbrels, and rebecks! And then if among all these different sorts ofmusic that of the albogues is heard, almost all the pastoral instrumentswill be there. "

"What are albogues?" asked Sancho, "for I never in my life heard tell ofthem or saw them. "

"Albogues, " said Don Quixote, "are brass plates like candlesticks thatstruck against one another on the hollow side make a noise which, if notvery pleasing or harmonious, is not disagreeable and accords very wellwith the rude notes of the bagpipe and tabor. The word albogue isMorisco, as are all those in our Spanish tongue that begin with al; forexample, almohaza, almorzar, alhombra, alguacil, alhucema, almacen, alcancia, and others of the same sort, of which there are not many more;our language has only three that are Morisco and end in i, which areborcegui, zaquizami, and maravedi. Alheli and alfaqui are seen to beArabic, as well by the al at the beginning as by the they end with. Imention this incidentally, the chance allusion to albogues havingreminded me of it; and it will be of great assistance to us in theperfect practice of this calling that I am something of a poet, as thouknowest, and that besides the bachelor Samson Carrasco is an accomplishedone. Of the curate I say nothing; but I will wager he has some spice ofthe poet in him, and no doubt Master Nicholas too, for all barbers, ormost of them, are guitar players and stringers of verses. I will bewailmy separation; thou shalt glorify thyself as a constant lover; theshepherd Carrascon will figure as a rejected one, and the curateCuriambro as whatever may please him best; and so all will go as gaily asheart could wish. "

To this Sancho made answer, "I am so unlucky, senor, that I'm afraid theday will never come when I'll see myself at such a calling. O what neatspoons I'll make when I'm a shepherd! What messes, creams, garlands, pastoral odds and ends! And if they don't get me a name for wisdom, they'll not fail to get me one for ingenuity. My daughter Sanchica willbring us our dinner to the pasture. But stay-she's good-looking, andshepherds there are with more mischief than simplicity in them; I wouldnot have her 'come for wool and go back shorn;' love-making and lawlessdesires are just as common in the fields as in the cities, and inshepherds' shanties as in royal palaces; 'do away with the cause, you doaway with the sin;' 'if eyes don't see hearts don't break' and 'better aclear escape than good men's prayers. '"

"A truce to thy proverbs, Sancho, " exclaimed Don Quixote; "any one ofthose thou hast uttered would suffice to explain thy meaning; many a timehave I recommended thee not to be so lavish with proverbs and to exercisesome moderation in delivering them; but it seems to me it is only'preaching in the desert;' 'my mother beats me and I go on with mytricks. "

"It seems to me, " said Sancho, "that your worship is like the commonsaying, 'Said the frying-pan to the kettle, Get away, blackbreech. ' Youchide me for uttering proverbs, and you string them in couples yourself. "

"Observe, Sancho, " replied Don Quixote, "I bring in proverbs to thepurpose, and when I quote them they fit like a ring to the finger; thoubringest them in by the head and shoulders, in such a way that thou dostdrag them in, rather than introduce them; if I am not mistaken, I havetold thee already that proverbs are short maxims drawn from theexperience and observation of our wise men of old; but the proverb thatis not to the purpose is a piece of nonsense and not a maxim. But enoughof this; as nightfall is drawing on let us retire some little distancefrom the high road to pass the night; what is in store for us to-morrowGod knoweth. "

They turned aside, and supped late and poorly, very much against Sancho'swill, who turned over in his mind the hardships attendant uponknight-errantry in woods and forests, even though at times plentypresented itself in castles and houses, as at Don Diego de Miranda's, atthe wedding of Camacho the Rich, and at Don Antonio Moreno's; hereflected, however, that it could not be always day, nor always night;and so that night he passed in sleeping, and his master in waking. 

CHAPTER LXVIII. 

OF THE BRISTLY ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE

The night was somewhat dark, for though there was a moon in the sky itwas not in a quarter where she could be seen; for sometimes the ladyDiana goes on a stroll to the antipodes, and leaves the mountains allblack and the valleys in darkness. Don Quixote obeyed nature so far as tosleep his first sleep, but did not give way to the second, very differentfrom Sancho, who never had any second, because with him sleep lasted fromnight till morning, wherein he showed what a sound constitution and fewcares he had. Don Quixote's cares kept him restless, so much so that heawoke Sancho and said to him, "I am amazed, Sancho, at the unconcern ofthy temperament. I believe thou art made of marble or hard brass, incapable of any emotion or feeling whatever. I lie awake while thousleepest, I weep while thou singest, I am faint with fasting while thouart sluggish and torpid from pure repletion. It is the duty of goodservants to share the sufferings and feel the sorrows of their masters, if it be only for the sake of appearances. See the calmness of the night, the solitude of the spot, inviting us to break our slumbers by a vigil ofsome sort. Rise as thou livest, and retire a little distance, and with agood heart and cheerful courage give thyself three or four hundred lasheson account of Dulcinea's disenchantment score; and this I entreat ofthee, making it a request, for I have no desire to come to grips withthee a second time, as I know thou hast a heavy hand. As soon as thouhast laid them on we will pass the rest of the night, I singing myseparation, thou thy constancy, making a beginning at once with thepastoral life we are to follow at our village. "

"Senor, " replied Sancho, "I'm no monk to get up out of the middle of mysleep and scourge myself, nor does it seem to me that one can pass fromone extreme of the pain of whipping to the other of music. Will yourworship let me sleep, and not worry me about whipping myself? or you'llmake me swear never to touch a hair of my doublet, not to say my flesh. "

"O hard heart!" said Don Quixote, "O pitiless squire! O breadill-bestowed and favours ill-acknowledged, both those I have done theeand those I mean to do thee! Through me hast thou seen thyself agovernor, and through me thou seest thyself in immediate expectation ofbeing a count, or obtaining some other equivalent title, for I-posttenebras spero lucem. "

"I don't know what that is, " said Sancho; "all I know is that so long asI am asleep I have neither fear nor hope, trouble nor glory; and goodluck betide him that invented sleep, the cloak that covers over all aman's thoughts, the food that removes hunger, the drink that drives awaythirst, the fire that warms the cold, the cold that tempers the heat, and, to wind up with, the universal coin wherewith everything is bought, the weight and balance that makes the shepherd equal with the king andthe fool with the wise man. Sleep, I have heard say, has only one fault, that it is like death; for between a sleeping man and a dead man there isvery little difference. "

"Never have I heard thee speak so elegantly as now, Sancho, " said DonQuixote; "and here I begin to see the truth of the proverb thou dostsometimes quote, 'Not with whom thou art bred, but with whom thou artfed. '"

"Ha, by my life, master mine, " said Sancho, "it's not I that am stringingproverbs now, for they drop in pairs from your worship's mouth fasterthan from mine; only there is this difference between mine and yours, that yours are well-timed and mine are untimely; but anyhow, they are allproverbs. "

At this point they became aware of a harsh indistinct noise that seemedto spread through all the valleys around. Don Quixote stood up and laidhis hand upon his sword, and Sancho ensconced himself under Dapple andput the bundle of armour on one side of him and the ass's pack-saddle onthe other, in fear and trembling as great as Don Quixote's perturbation. Each instant the noise increased and came nearer to the two terrifiedmen, or at least to one, for as to the other, his courage is known toall. The fact of the matter was that some men were taking above sixhundred pigs to sell at a fair, and were on their way with them at thathour, and so great was the noise they made and their grunting andblowing, that they deafened the ears of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, andthey could not make out what it was. The wide-spread grunting drove cameon in a surging mass, and without showing any respect for Don Quixote'sdignity or Sancho's, passed right over the pair of them, demolishingSancho's entrenchments, and not only upsetting Don Quixote but sweepingRocinante off his feet into the bargain; and what with the trampling andthe grunting, and the pace at which the unclean beasts went, pack-saddle, armour, Dapple and Rocinante were left scattered on the ground and Sanchoand Don Quixote at their wits' end. 

Sancho got up as well as he could and begged his master to give him hissword, saying he wanted to kill half a dozen of those dirty unmannerlypigs, for he had by this time found out that that was what they were. 

"Let them be, my friend, " said Don Quixote; "this insult is the penaltyof my sin; and it is the righteous chastisement of heaven that jackalsshould devour a vanquished knight, and wasps sting him and pigs tramplehim under foot. "

"I suppose it is the chastisement of heaven, too, " said Sancho, "thatflies should prick the squires of vanquished knights, and lice eat them, and hunger assail them. If we squires were the sons of the knights weserve, or their very near relations, it would be no wonder if the penaltyof their misdeeds overtook us, even to the fourth generation. But whathave the Panzas to do with the Quixotes? Well, well, let's lie down againand sleep out what little of the night there's left, and God will send usdawn and we shall be all right. "

"Sleep thou, Sancho, " returned Don Quixote, "for thou wast born to sleepas I was born to watch; and during the time it now wants of dawn I willgive a loose rein to my thoughts, and seek a vent for them in a littlemadrigal which, unknown to thee, I composed in my head last night. "

"I should think, " said Sancho, "that the thoughts that allow one to makeverses cannot be of great consequence; let your worship string verses asmuch as you like and I'll sleep as much as I can;" and forthwith, takingthe space of ground he required, he muffled himself up and fell into asound sleep, undisturbed by bond, debt, or trouble of any sort. DonQuixote, propped up against the trunk of a beech or a cork tree--for CideHamete does not specify what kind of tree it was--sang in this strain tothe accompaniment of his own sighs:

 When in my mindI muse, O Love, upon thy cruelty, To death I flee, In hope therein the end of all to find. 

 But drawing nearThat welcome haven in my sea of woe, Such joy I know, That life revives, and still I linger here. 

 Thus life doth slay, And death again to life restoreth me; Strange destiny, That deals with life and death as with a play!

He accompanied each verse with many sighs and not a few tears, just likeone whose heart was pierced with grief at his defeat and his separationfrom Dulcinea. 

And now daylight came, and the sun smote Sancho on the eyes with hisbeams. He awoke, roused himself up, shook himself and stretched his lazylimbs, and seeing the havoc the pigs had made with his stores he cursedthe drove, and more besides. Then the pair resumed their journey, and asevening closed in they saw coming towards them some ten men on horsebackand four or five on foot. Don Quixote's heart beat quick and Sancho'squailed with fear, for the persons approaching them carried lances andbucklers, and were in very warlike guise. Don Quixote turned to Sanchoand said, "If I could make use of my weapons, and my promise had not tiedmy hands, I would count this host that comes against us but cakes andfancy bread; but perhaps it may prove something different from what weapprehend. " The men on horseback now came up, and raising their lancessurrounded Don Quixote in silence, and pointed them at his back andbreast, menacing him with death. One of those on foot, putting his fingerto his lips as a sign to him to be silent, seized Rocinante's bridle anddrew him out of the road, and the others driving Sancho and Dapple beforethem, and all maintaining a strange silence, followed in the steps of theone who led Don Quixote. The latter two or three times attempted to askwhere they were taking him to and what they wanted, but the instant hebegan to open his lips they threatened to close them with the points oftheir lances; and Sancho fared the same way, for the moment he seemedabout to speak one of those on foot punched him with a goad, and Dapplelikewise, as if he too wanted to talk. Night set in, they quickened theirpace, and the fears of the two prisoners grew greater, especially as theyheard themselves assailed with--"Get on, ye Troglodytes;" "Silence, yebarbarians;" "March, ye cannibals;" "No murmuring, ye Scythians;" "Don'topen your eyes, ye murderous Polyphemes, ye blood-thirsty lions, " andsuchlike names with which their captors harassed the ears of the wretchedmaster and man. Sancho went along saying to himself, "We, tortolites, barbers, animals! I don't like those names at all; 'it's in a bad windour corn is being winnowed;' 'misfortune comes upon us all at once likesticks on a dog, ' and God grant it may be no worse than them that thisunlucky adventure has in store for us. "

Don Quixote rode completely dazed, unable with the aid of all his wits tomake out what could be the meaning of these abusive names they calledthem, and the only conclusion he could arrive at was that there was nogood to be hoped for and much evil to be feared. And now, about an hourafter midnight, they reached a castle which Don Quixote saw at once wasthe duke's, where they had been but a short time before. "God bless me!"said he, as he recognised the mansion, "what does this mean? It is allcourtesy and politeness in this house; but with the vanquished good turnsinto evil, and evil into worse. "

They entered the chief court of the castle and found it prepared andfitted up in a style that added to their amazement and doubled theirfears, as will be seen in the following chapter. 

CHAPTER LXIX. 

OF THE STRANGEST AND MOST EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTEIN THE WHOLE COURSE OF THIS GREAT HISTORY

The horsemen dismounted, and, together with the men on foot, without amoment's delay taking up Sancho and Don Quixote bodily, they carried theminto the court, all round which near a hundred torches fixed in socketswere burning, besides above five hundred lamps in the corridors, so thatin spite of the night, which was somewhat dark, the want of daylightcould not be perceived. In the middle of the court was a catafalque, raised about two yards above the ground and covered completely by animmense canopy of black velvet, and on the steps all round it white waxtapers burned in more than a hundred silver candlesticks. Upon thecatafalque was seen the dead body of a damsel so lovely that by herbeauty she made death itself look beautiful. She lay with her headresting upon a cushion of brocade and crowned with a garland ofsweet-smelling flowers of divers sorts, her hands crossed upon her bosom, and between them a branch of yellow palm of victory. On one side of thecourt was erected a stage, where upon two chairs were seated two personswho from having crowns on their heads and sceptres in their handsappeared to be kings of some sort, whether real or mock ones. By the sideof this stage, which was reached by steps, were two other chairs on whichthe men carrying the prisoners seated Don Quixote and Sancho, all insilence, and by signs giving them to understand that they too were to besilent; which, however, they would have been without any signs, for theiramazement at all they saw held them tongue-tied. And now two persons ofdistinction, who were at once recognised by Don Quixote as his hosts theduke and duchess, ascended the stage attended by a numerous suite, andseated themselves on two gorgeous chairs close to the two kings, as theyseemed to be. Who would not have been amazed at this? Nor was this all, for Don Quixote had perceived that the dead body on the catafalque wasthat of the fair Altisidora. As the duke and duchess mounted the stageDon Quixote and Sancho rose and made them a profound obeisance, whichthey returned by bowing their heads slightly. At this moment an officialcrossed over, and approaching Sancho threw over him a robe of blackbuckram painted all over with flames of fire, and taking off his cap putupon his head a mitre such as those undergoing the sentence of the HolyOffice wear; and whispered in his ear that he must not open his lips, orthey would put a gag upon him, or take his life. Sancho surveyed himselffrom head to foot and saw himself all ablaze with flames; but as they didnot burn him, he did not care two farthings for them. He took off themitre and seeing painted with devils he put it on again, saying tohimself, "Well, so far those don't burn me nor do these carry me off. "Don Quixote surveyed him too, and though fear had got the better of hisfaculties, he could not help smiling to see the figure Sancho presented. And now from underneath the catafalque, so it seemed, there rose a lowsweet sound of flutes, which, coming unbroken by human voice (for theresilence itself kept silence), had a soft and languishing effect. Then, beside the pillow of what seemed to be the dead body, suddenly appeared afair youth in a Roman habit, who, to the accompaniment of a harp which hehimself played, sang in a sweet and clear voice these two stanzas:

While fair Altisidora, who the sport Of cold Don Quixote's cruelty hath been, Returns to life, and in this magic court The dames in sables come to grace the scene, And while her matrons all in seemly sort My lady robes in baize and bombazine, Her beauty and her sorrows will I singWith defter quill than touched the Thracian string. 

But not in life alone, methinks, to me Belongs the office; Lady, when my tongueIs cold in death, believe me, unto thee My voice shall raise its tributary song. My soul, from this strait prison-house set free, As o'er the Stygian lake it floats along, Thy praises singing still shall hold its way, And make the waters of oblivion stay. 

At this point one of the two that looked like kings exclaimed, "Enough, enough, divine singer! It would be an endless task to put before us nowthe death and the charms of the peerless Altisidora, not dead as theignorant world imagines, but living in the voice of fame and in thepenance which Sancho Panza, here present, has to undergo to restore herto the long-lost light. Do thou, therefore, O Rhadamanthus, who sittestin judgment with me in the murky caverns of Dis, as thou knowest all thatthe inscrutable fates have decreed touching the resuscitation of thisdamsel, announce and declare it at once, that the happiness we lookforward to from her restoration be no longer deferred. "

No sooner had Minos the fellow judge of Rhadamanthus said this, thanRhadamanthus rising up said:

"Ho, officials of this house, high and low, great and small, make hastehither one and all, and print on Sancho's face four-and-twenty smacks, and give him twelve pinches and six pin thrusts in the back and arms; forupon this ceremony depends the restoration of Altisidora. "

On hearing this Sancho broke silence and cried out, "By all that's good, I'll as soon let my face be smacked or handled as turn Moor. Body o' me!What has handling my face got to do with the resurrection of this damsel?'The old woman took kindly to the blits; they enchant Dulcinea, and whipme in order to disenchant her; Altisidora dies of ailments God waspleased to send her, and to bring her to life again they must give mefour-and-twenty smacks, and prick holes in my body with pins, and raiseweals on my arms with pinches! Try those jokes on a brother-in-law; 'I'man old dog, and "tus, tus" is no use with me. '"

"Thou shalt die, " said Rhadamanthus in a loud voice; "relent, thou tiger;humble thyself, proud Nimrod; suffer and be silent, for noimpossibilities are asked of thee; it is not for thee to inquire into thedifficulties in this matter; smacked thou must be, pricked thou shalt seethyself, and with pinches thou must be made to howl. Ho, I say, officials, obey my orders; or by the word of an honest man, ye shall seewhat ye were born for. "

At this some six duennas, advancing across the court, made theirappearance in procession, one after the other, four of them withspectacles, and all with their right hands uplifted, showing four fingersof wrist to make their hands look longer, as is the fashion now-a-days. No sooner had Sancho caught sight of them than, bellowing like a bull, heexclaimed, "I might let myself be handled by all the world; but allowduennas to touch me--not a bit of it! Scratch my face, as my master wasserved in this very castle; run me through the body with burnisheddaggers; pinch my arms with red-hot pincers; I'll bear all in patience toserve these gentlefolk; but I won't let duennas touch me, though thedevil should carry me off!"

Here Don Quixote, too, broke silence, saying to Sancho, "Have patience, my son, and gratify these noble persons, and give all thanks to heaventhat it has infused such virtue into thy person, that by its sufferingsthou canst disenchant the enchanted and restore to life the dead. "

The duennas were now close to Sancho, and he, having become moretractable and reasonable, settling himself well in his chair presentedhis face and beard to the first, who delivered him a smack very stoutlylaid on, and then made him a low curtsey. 

"Less politeness and less paint, senora duenna, " said Sancho; "by Godyour hands smell of vinegar-wash. "

In fine, all the duennas smacked him and several others of the householdpinched him; but what he could not stand was being pricked by the pins;and so, apparently out of patience, he started up out of his chair, andseizing a lighted torch that stood near him fell upon the duennas and thewhole set of his tormentors, exclaiming, "Begone, ye ministers of hell;I'm not made of brass not to feel such out-of-the-way tortures. "

At this instant Altisidora, who probably was tired of having been so longlying on her back, turned on her side; seeing which the bystanders criedout almost with one voice, "Altisidora is alive! Altisidora lives!"

Rhadamanthus bade Sancho put away his wrath, as the object they had inview was now attained. When Don Quixote saw Altisidora move, he went onhis knees to Sancho saying to him, "Now is the time, son of my bowels, not to call thee my squire, for thee to give thyself some of those lashesthou art bound to lay on for the disenchantment of Dulcinea. Now, I say, is the time when the virtue that is in thee is ripe, and endowed withefficacy to work the good that is looked for from thee. "

To which Sancho made answer, "That's trick upon trick, I think, and nothoney upon pancakes; a nice thing it would be for a whipping to come now, on the top of pinches, smacks, and pin-proddings! You had better take abig stone and tie it round my neck, and pitch me into a well; I shouldnot mind it much, if I'm to be always made the cow of the wedding for thecure of other people's ailments. Leave me alone; or else by God I'llfling the whole thing to the dogs, let come what may. "

Altisidora had by this time sat up on the catafalque, and as she did sothe clarions sounded, accompanied by the flutes, and the voices of allpresent exclaiming, "Long life to Altisidora! long life to Altisidora!"The duke and duchess and the kings Minos and Rhadamanthus stood up, andall, together with Don Quixote and Sancho, advanced to receive her andtake her down from the catafalque; and she, making as though she wererecovering from a swoon, bowed her head to the duke and duchess and tothe kings, and looking sideways at Don Quixote, said to him, "God forgivethee, insensible knight, for through thy cruelty I have been, to me itseems, more than a thousand years in the other world; and to thee, themost compassionate upon earth, I render thanks for the life I am now inpossession of. From this day forth, friend Sancho, count as thine sixsmocks of mine which I bestow upon thee, to make as many shirts forthyself, and if they are not all quite whole, at any rate they are allclean. "

Sancho kissed her hands in gratitude, kneeling, and with the mitre in hishand. The duke bade them take it from him, and give him back his cap anddoublet and remove the flaming robe. Sancho begged the duke to let themleave him the robe and mitre; as he wanted to take them home for a tokenand memento of that unexampled adventure. The duchess said they mustleave them with him; for he knew already what a great friend of his shewas. The duke then gave orders that the court should be cleared, and thatall should retire to their chambers, and that Don Quixote and Sanchoshould be conducted to their old quarters. 

CHAPTER LXX. 

WHICH FOLLOWS SIXTY-NINE AND DEALS WITH MATTERS INDISPENSABLE FOR THECLEAR COMPREHENSION OF THIS HISTORY

Sancho slept that night in a cot in the same chamber with Don Quixote, athing he would have gladly excused if he could for he knew very well thatwith questions and answers his master would not let him sleep, and he wasin no humour for talking much, as he still felt the pain of his latemartyrdom, which interfered with his freedom of speech; and it would havebeen more to his taste to sleep in a hovel alone, than in that luxuriouschamber in company. And so well founded did his apprehension prove, andso correct was his anticipation, that scarcely had his master got intobed when he said, "What dost thou think of tonight's adventure, Sancho?Great and mighty is the power of cold-hearted scorn, for thou with thineown eyes hast seen Altisidora slain, not by arrows, nor by the sword, norby any warlike weapon, nor by deadly poisons, but by the thought of thesternness and scorn with which I have always treated her. "

"She might have died and welcome, " said Sancho, "when she pleased and howshe pleased; and she might have left me alone, for I never made her fallin love or scorned her. I don't know nor can I imagine how the recoveryof Altisidora, a damsel more fanciful than wise, can have, as I have saidbefore, anything to do with the sufferings of Sancho Panza. Now I beginto see plainly and clearly that there are enchanters and enchanted peoplein the world; and may God deliver me from them, since I can't delivermyself; and so I beg of your worship to let me sleep and not ask me anymore questions, unless you want me to throw myself out of the window. "

"Sleep, Sancho my friend, " said Don Quixote, "if the pinprodding andpinches thou hast received and the smacks administered to thee will letthee. "

"No pain came up to the insult of the smacks, " said Sancho, "for thesimple reason that it was duennas, confound them, that gave them to me;but once more I entreat your worship to let me sleep, for sleep is relieffrom misery to those who are miserable when awake. "

"Be it so, and God be with thee, " said Don Quixote. 

They fell asleep, both of them, and Cide Hamete, the author of this greathistory, took this opportunity to record and relate what it was thatinduced the duke and duchess to get up the elaborate plot that has beendescribed. The bachelor Samson Carrasco, he says, not forgetting how heas the Knight of the Mirrors had been vanquished and overthrown by DonQuixote, which defeat and overthrow upset all his plans, resolved to tryhis hand again, hoping for better luck than he had before; and so, havinglearned where Don Quixote was from the page who brought the letter andpresent to Sancho's wife, Teresa Panza, he got himself new armour andanother horse, and put a white moon upon his shield, and to carry hisarms he had a mule led by a peasant, not by Tom Cecial his former squirefor fear he should be recognised by Sancho or Don Quixote. He came to theduke's castle, and the duke informed him of the road and route DonQuixote had taken with the intention of being present at the jousts atSaragossa. He told him, too, of the jokes he had practised upon him, andof the device for the disenchantment of Dulcinea at the expense ofSancho's backside; and finally he gave him an account of the trick Sanchohad played upon his master, making him believe that Dulcinea wasenchanted and turned into a country wench; and of how the duchess, hiswife, had persuaded Sancho that it was he himself who was deceived, inasmuch as Dulcinea was really enchanted; at which the bachelor laughednot a little, and marvelled as well at the sharpness and simplicity ofSancho as at the length to which Don Quixote's madness went. The dukebegged of him if he found him (whether he overcame him or not) to returnthat way and let him know the result. This the bachelor did; he set outin quest of Don Quixote, and not finding him at Saragossa, he went on, and how he fared has been already told. He returned to the duke's castleand told him all, what the conditions of the combat were, and how DonQuixote was now, like a loyal knight-errant, returning to keep hispromise of retiring to his village for a year, by which time, said thebachelor, he might perhaps be cured of his madness; for that was theobject that had led him to adopt these disguises, as it was a sad thingfor a gentleman of such good parts as Don Quixote to be a madman. And sohe took his leave of the duke, and went home to his village to wait therefor Don Quixote, who was coming after him. Thereupon the duke seized theopportunity of practising this mystification upon him; so much did heenjoy everything connected with Sancho and Don Quixote. He had the roadsabout the castle far and near, everywhere he thought Don Quixote waslikely to pass on his return, occupied by large numbers of his servantson foot and on horseback, who were to bring him to the castle, by fairmeans or foul, if they met him. They did meet him, and sent word to theduke, who, having already settled what was to be done, as soon as heheard of his arrival, ordered the torches and lamps in the court to belit and Altisidora to be placed on the catafalque with all the pomp andceremony that has been described, the whole affair being so well arrangedand acted that it differed but little from reality. And Cide Hamete says, moreover, that for his part he considers the concocters of the joke ascrazy as the victims of it, and that the duke and duchess were not twofingers' breadth removed from being something like fools themselves whenthey took such pains to make game of a pair of fools. 

As for the latter, one was sleeping soundly and the other lying awakeoccupied with his desultory thoughts, when daylight came to them bringingwith it the desire to rise; for the lazy down was never a delight to DonQuixote, victor or vanquished. Altisidora, come back from death to lifeas Don Quixote fancied, following up the freak of her lord and lady, entered the chamber, crowned with the garland she had worn on thecatafalque and in a robe of white taffeta embroidered with gold flowers, her hair flowing loose over her shoulders, and leaning upon a staff offine black ebony. Don Quixote, disconcerted and in confusion at herappearance, huddled himself up and well-nigh covered himself altogetherwith the sheets and counterpane of the bed, tongue-tied, and unable tooffer her any civility. Altisidora seated herself on a chair at the headof the bed, and, after a deep sigh, said to him in a feeble, soft voice, "When women of rank and modest maidens trample honour under foot, andgive a loose to the tongue that breaks through every impediment, publishing abroad the inmost secrets of their hearts, they are reduced tosore extremities. Such a one am I, Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, crushed, conquered, love-smitten, but yet patient under suffering andvirtuous, and so much so that my heart broke with grief and I lost mylife. For the last two days I have been dead, slain by the thought of thecruelty with which thou hast treated me, obdurate knight, O harder thou than marble to my plaint;

or at least believed to be dead by all who saw me; and had it not beenthat Love, taking pity on me, let my recovery rest upon the sufferings ofthis good squire, there I should have remained in the other world. "

"Love might very well have let it rest upon the sufferings of my ass, andI should have been obliged to him, " said Sancho. "But tell me, senora--and may heaven send you a tenderer lover than my master-what didyou see in the other world? What goes on in hell? For of course that'swhere one who dies in despair is bound for. "

"To tell you the truth, " said Altisidora, "I cannot have died outright, for I did not go into hell; had I gone in, it is very certain I shouldnever have come out again, do what I might. The truth is, I came to thegate, where some dozen or so of devils were playing tennis, all inbreeches and doublets, with falling collars trimmed with Flemishbonelace, and ruffles of the same that served them for wristbands, withfour fingers' breadth of the arms exposed to make their hands looklonger; in their hands they held rackets of fire; but what amazed mestill more was that books, apparently full of wind and rubbish, servedthem for tennis balls, a strange and marvellous thing; this, however, didnot astonish me so much as to observe that, although with players it isusual for the winners to be glad and the losers sorry, there in that gameall were growling, all were snarling, and all were cursing one another. ""That's no wonder, " said Sancho; "for devils, whether playing or not, cannever be content, win or lose. "

"Very likely, " said Altisidora; "but there is another thing thatsurprises me too, I mean surprised me then, and that was that no balloutlasted the first throw or was of any use a second time; and it waswonderful the constant succession there was of books, new and old. To oneof them, a brand-new, well-bound one, they gave such a stroke that theyknocked the guts out of it and scattered the leaves about. 'Look whatbook that is, ' said one devil to another, and the other replied, 'It isthe "Second Part of the History of Don Quixote of La Mancha, " not by CideHamete, the original author, but by an Aragonese who by his own accountis of Tordesillas. ' 'Out of this with it, ' said the first, 'and into thedepths of hell with it out of my sight. ' 'Is it so bad?' said the other. 'So bad is it, ' said the first, 'that if I had set myself deliberately tomake a worse, I could not have done it. ' They then went on with theirgame, knocking other books about; and I, having heard them mention thename of Don Quixote whom I love and adore so, took care to retain thisvision in my memory. "

"A vision it must have been, no doubt, " said Don Quixote, "for there isno other I in the world; this history has been going about here for sometime from hand to hand, but it does not stay long in any, for everybodygives it a taste of his foot. I am not disturbed by hearing that I amwandering in a fantastic shape in the darkness of the pit or in thedaylight above, for I am not the one that history treats of. If it shouldbe good, faithful, and true, it will have ages of life; but if it shouldbe bad, from its birth to its burial will not be a very long journey. "

Altisidora was about to proceed with her complaint against Don Quixote, when he said to her, "I have several times told you, senora that itgrieves me you should have set your affections upon me, as from mine theycan only receive gratitude, but no return. I was born to belong toDulcinea del Toboso, and the fates, if there are any, dedicated me toher; and to suppose that any other beauty can take the place she occupiesin my heart is to suppose an impossibility. This frank declaration shouldsuffice to make you retire within the bounds of your modesty, for no onecan bind himself to do impossibilities. "

Hearing this, Altisidora, with a show of anger and agitation, exclaimed, "God's life! Don Stockfish, soul of a mortar, stone of a date, moreobstinate and obdurate than a clown asked a favour when he has his mindmade up, if I fall upon you I'll tear your eyes out! Do you fancy, DonVanquished, Don Cudgelled, that I died for your sake? All that you haveseen to-night has been make-believe; I'm not the woman to let the blackof my nail suffer for such a camel, much less die!"

"That I can well believe, " said Sancho; "for all that about lovers piningto death is absurd; they may talk of it, but as for doing it-Judas maybelieve that!"

While they were talking, the musician, singer, and poet, who had sung thetwo stanzas given above came in, and making a profound obeisance to DonQuixote said, "Will your worship, sir knight, reckon and retain me in thenumber of your most faithful servants, for I have long been a greatadmirer of yours, as well because of your fame as because of yourachievements?" "Will your worship tell me who you are, " replied DonQuixote, "so that my courtesy may be answerable to your deserts?" Theyoung man replied that he was the musician and songster of the nightbefore. "Of a truth, " said Don Quixote, "your worship has a mostexcellent voice; but what you sang did not seem to me very much to thepurpose; for what have Garcilasso's stanzas to do with the death of thislady?"

"Don't be surprised at that, " returned the musician; "for with the callowpoets of our day the way is for every one to write as he pleases andpilfer where he chooses, whether it be germane to the matter or not, andnow-a-days there is no piece of silliness they can sing or write that isnot set down to poetic licence. "

Don Quixote was about to reply, but was prevented by the duke andduchess, who came in to see him, and with them there followed a long anddelightful conversation, in the course of which Sancho said so many drolland saucy things that he left the duke and duchess wondering not only athis simplicity but at his sharpness. Don Quixote begged their permissionto take his departure that same day, inasmuch as for a vanquished knightlike himself it was fitter he should live in a pig-sty than in a royalpalace. They gave it very readily, and the duchess asked him ifAltisidora was in his good graces. 

He replied, "Senora, let me tell your ladyship that this damsel's ailmentcomes entirely of idleness, and the cure for it is honest and constantemployment. She herself has told me that lace is worn in hell; and as shemust know how to make it, let it never be out of her hands; for when sheis occupied in shifting the bobbins to and fro, the image or images ofwhat she loves will not shift to and fro in her thoughts; this is thetruth, this is my opinion, and this is my advice. "

"And mine, " added Sancho; "for I never in all my life saw a lace-makerthat died for love; when damsels are at work their minds are more set onfinishing their tasks than on thinking of their loves. I speak from myown experience; for when I'm digging I never think of my old woman; Imean my Teresa Panza, whom I love better than my own eyelids. " "You saywell, Sancho, " said the duchess, "and I will take care that my Altisidoraemploys herself henceforward in needlework of some sort; for she isextremely expert at it. " "There is no occasion to have recourse to thatremedy, senora, " said Altisidora; "for the mere thought of the crueltywith which this vagabond villain has treated me will suffice to blot himout of my memory without any other device; with your highness's leave Iwill retire, not to have before my eyes, I won't say his ruefulcountenance, but his abominable, ugly looks. " "That reminds me of thecommon saying, that 'he that rails is ready to forgive, '" said the duke. 

Altisidora then, pretending to wipe away her tears with a handkerchief, made an obeisance to her master and mistress and quitted the room. 

"Ill luck betide thee, poor damsel, " said Sancho, "ill luck betide thee!Thou hast fallen in with a soul as dry as a rush and a heart as hard asoak; had it been me, i'faith 'another cock would have crowed to thee. '"

So the conversation came to an end, and Don Quixote dressed himself anddined with the duke and duchess, and set out the same evening.