DON QUIXOTE

 Volume II. 

 Part 42. 

 by Miguel de Cervantes

 Translated by John Ormsby

CHAPTER LXXIII. 

OF THE OMENS DON QUIXOTE HAD AS HE ENTERED HIS OWN VILLAGE, AND OTHERINCIDENTS THAT EMBELLISH AND GIVE A COLOUR TO THIS GREAT HISTORY

At the entrance of the village, so says Cide Hamete, Don Quixote saw twoboys quarrelling on the village threshing-floor one of whom said to theother, "Take it easy, Periquillo; thou shalt never see it again as longas thou livest. "

Don Quixote heard this, and said he to Sancho, "Dost thou not mark, friend, what that boy said, 'Thou shalt never see it again as long asthou livest'?"

"Well, " said Sancho, "what does it matter if the boy said so?"

"What!" said Don Quixote, "dost thou not see that, applied to the objectof my desires, the words mean that I am never to see Dulcinea more?"

Sancho was about to answer, when his attention was diverted by seeing ahare come flying across the plain pursued by several greyhounds andsportsmen. In its terror it ran to take shelter and hide itself underDapple. Sancho caught it alive and presented it to Don Quixote, who wassaying, "Malum signum, malum signum! a hare flies, greyhounds chase it, Dulcinea appears not. "

"Your worship's a strange man, " said Sancho; "let's take it for grantedthat this hare is Dulcinea, and these greyhounds chasing it the malignantenchanters who turned her into a country wench; she flies, and I catchher and put her into your worship's hands, and you hold her in your armsand cherish her; what bad sign is that, or what ill omen is there to befound here?"

The two boys who had been quarrelling came over to look at the hare, andSancho asked one of them what their quarrel was about. He was answered bythe one who had said, "Thou shalt never see it again as long as thoulivest, " that he had taken a cage full of crickets from the other boy, and did not mean to give it back to him as long as he lived. Sancho tookout four cuartos from his pocket and gave them to the boy for the cage, which he placed in Don Quixote's hands, saying, "There, senor! there arethe omens broken and destroyed, and they have no more to do with ouraffairs, to my thinking, fool as I am, than with last year's clouds; andif I remember rightly I have heard the curate of our village say that itdoes not become Christians or sensible people to give any heed to thesesilly things; and even you yourself said the same to me some time ago, telling me that all Christians who minded omens were fools; but there'sno need of making words about it; let us push on and go into ourvillage. "

The sportsmen came up and asked for their hare, which Don Quixote gavethem. They then went on, and upon the green at the entrance of the townthey came upon the curate and the bachelor Samson Carrasco busy withtheir breviaries. It should be mentioned that Sancho had thrown, by wayof a sumpter-cloth, over Dapple and over the bundle of armour, thebuckram robe painted with flames which they had put upon him at theduke's castle the night Altisidora came back to life. He had also fixedthe mitre on Dapple's head, the oddest transformation and decoration thatever ass in the world underwent. They were at once recognised by both thecurate and the bachelor, who came towards them with open arms. DonQuixote dismounted and received them with a close embrace; and the boys, who are lynxes that nothing escapes, spied out the ass's mitre and camerunning to see it, calling out to one another, "Come here, boys, and seeSancho Panza's ass figged out finer than Mingo, and Don Quixote's beastleaner than ever. "

So at length, with the boys capering round them, and accompanied by thecurate and the bachelor, they made their entrance into the town, andproceeded to Don Quixote's house, at the door of which they found hishousekeeper and niece, whom the news of his arrival had already reached. It had been brought to Teresa Panza, Sancho's wife, as well, and she withher hair all loose and half naked, dragging Sanchica her daughter by thehand, ran out to meet her husband; but seeing him coming in by no meansas good case as she thought a governor ought to be, she said to him, "Howis it you come this way, husband? It seems to me you come tramping andfootsore, and looking more like a disorderly vagabond than a governor. "

"Hold your tongue, Teresa, " said Sancho; "often 'where there are pegsthere are no flitches;' let's go into the house and there you'll hearstrange things. I bring money, and that's the main thing, got by my ownindustry without wronging anybody. "

"You bring the money, my good husband, " said Teresa, "and no matterwhether it was got this way or that; for, however you may have got it, you'll not have brought any new practice into the world. "

Sanchica embraced her father and asked him if he brought her anything, for she had been looking out for him as for the showers of May; and shetaking hold of him by the girdle on one side, and his wife by the hand, while the daughter led Dapple, they made for their house, leaving DonQuixote in his, in the hands of his niece and housekeeper, and in thecompany of the curate and the bachelor. 

Don Quixote at once, without any regard to time or season, withdrew inprivate with the bachelor and the curate, and in a few words told them ofhis defeat, and of the engagement he was under not to quit his villagefor a year, which he meant to keep to the letter without departing ahair's breadth from it, as became a knight-errant bound by scrupulousgood faith and the laws of knight-errantry; and of how he thought ofturning shepherd for that year, and taking his diversion in the solitudeof the fields, where he could with perfect freedom give range to histhoughts of love while he followed the virtuous pastoral calling; and hebesought them, if they had not a great deal to do and were not preventedby more important business, to consent to be his companions, for he wouldbuy sheep enough to qualify them for shepherds; and the most importantpoint of the whole affair, he could tell them, was settled, for he hadgiven them names that would fit them to a T. The curate asked what theywere. Don Quixote replied that he himself was to be called the shepherdQuixotize and the bachelor the shepherd Carrascon, and the curate theshepherd Curambro, and Sancho Panza the shepherd Pancino. 

Both were astounded at Don Quixote's new craze; however, lest he shouldonce more make off out of the village from them in pursuit of hischivalry, they trusting that in the course of the year he might be cured, fell in with his new project, applauded his crazy idea as a bright one, and offered to share the life with him. "And what's more, " said SamsonCarrasco, "I am, as all the world knows, a very famous poet, and I'll bealways making verses, pastoral, or courtly, or as it may come into myhead, to pass away our time in those secluded regions where we shall beroaming. But what is most needful, sirs, is that each of us should choosethe name of the shepherdess he means to glorify in his verses, and thatwe should not leave a tree, be it ever so hard, without writing up andcarving her name on it, as is the habit and custom of love-smittenshepherds. "

"That's the very thing, " said Don Quixote; "though I am relieved fromlooking for the name of an imaginary shepherdess, for there's thepeerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the glory of these brooksides, the ornamentof these meadows, the mainstay of beauty, the cream of all the graces, and, in a word, the being to whom all praise is appropriate, be it everso hyperbolical. "

"Very true, " said the curate; "but we the others must look about foraccommodating shepherdesses that will answer our purpose one way oranother. "

"And, " added Samson Carrasco, "if they fail us, we can call them by thenames of the ones in print that the world is filled with, Filidas, Amarilises, Dianas, Fleridas, Galateas, Belisardas; for as they sell themin the market-places we may fairly buy them and make them our own. If mylady, or I should say my shepherdess, happens to be called Ana, I'll singher praises under the name of Anarda, and if Francisca, I'll call herFrancenia, and if Lucia, Lucinda, for it all comes to the same thing; andSancho Panza, if he joins this fraternity, may glorify his wife TeresaPanza as Teresaina. "

Don Quixote laughed at the adaptation of the name, and the curatebestowed vast praise upon the worthy and honourable resolution he hadmade, and again offered to bear him company all the time that he couldspare from his imperative duties. And so they took their leave of him, recommending and beseeching him to take care of his health and treathimself to a suitable diet. 

It so happened his niece and the housekeeper overheard all the three ofthem said; and as soon as they were gone they both of them came in to DonQuixote, and said the niece, "What's this, uncle? Now that we werethinking you had come back to stay at home and lead a quiet respectablelife there, are you going to get into fresh entanglements, and turn'young shepherd, thou that comest here, young shepherd going there?' Nay!indeed 'the straw is too hard now to make pipes of. '"

"And, " added the housekeeper, "will your worship be able to bear, out inthe fields, the heats of summer, and the chills of winter, and thehowling of the wolves? Not you; for that's a life and a business forhardy men, bred and seasoned to such work almost from the time they werein swaddling-clothes. Why, to make choice of evils, it's better to be aknight-errant than a shepherd! Look here, senor; take my advice--and I'mnot giving it to you full of bread and wine, but fasting, and with fiftyyears upon my head--stay at home, look after your affairs, go often toconfession, be good to the poor, and upon my soul be it if any evil comesto you. "

"Hold your peace, my daughters, " said Don Quixote; "I know very well whatmy duty is; help me to bed, for I don't feel very well; and rest assuredthat, knight-errant now or wandering shepherd to be, I shall never failto have a care for your interests, as you will see in the end. " And thegood wenches (for that they undoubtedly were), the housekeeper and niece, helped him to bed, where they gave him something to eat and made him ascomfortable as possible. 

CHAPTER LXXIV. 

OF HOW DON QUIXOTE FELL SICK, AND OF THE WILL HE MADE, AND HOW HE DIED

As nothing that is man's can last for ever, but all tends ever downwardsfrom its beginning to its end, and above all man's life, and as DonQuixote's enjoyed no special dispensation from heaven to stay its course, its end and close came when he least looked for it. For-whether it was ofthe dejection the thought of his defeat produced, or of heaven's willthat so ordered it--a fever settled upon him and kept him in his bed forsix days, during which he was often visited by his friends the curate, the bachelor, and the barber, while his good squire Sancho Panza neverquitted his bedside. They, persuaded that it was grief at finding himselfvanquished, and the object of his heart, the liberation anddisenchantment of Dulcinea, unattained, that kept him in this state, strove by all the means in their power to cheer him up; the bachelorbidding him take heart and get up to begin his pastoral life, for whichhe himself, he said, had already composed an eclogue that would take theshine out of all Sannazaro had ever written, and had bought with his ownmoney two famous dogs to guard the flock, one called Barcino and theother Butron, which a herdsman of Quintanar had sold him. 

But for all this Don Quixote could not shake off his sadness. His friendscalled in the doctor, who felt his pulse and was not very well satisfiedwith it, and said that in any case it would be well for him to attend tothe health of his soul, as that of his body was in a bad way. Don Quixoteheard this calmly; but not so his housekeeper, his niece, and his squire, who fell weeping bitterly, as if they had him lying dead before them. Thedoctor's opinion was that melancholy and depression were bringing him tohis end. Don Quixote begged them to leave him to himself, as he had awish to sleep a little. They obeyed, and he slept at one stretch, as thesaying is, more than six hours, so that the housekeeper and niece thoughthe was going to sleep for ever. But at the end of that time he woke up, and in a loud voice exclaimed, "Blessed be Almighty God, who has shown mesuch goodness. In truth his mercies are boundless, and the sins of mencan neither limit them nor keep them back!"

The niece listened with attention to her uncle's words, and they struckher as more coherent than what usually fell from him, at least during hisillness, so she asked, "What are you saying, senor? Has anything strangeoccurred? What mercies or what sins of men are you talking of?"

"The mercies, niece, " said Don Quixote, "are those that God has thismoment shown me, and with him, as I said, my sins are no impediment tothem. My reason is now free and clear, rid of the dark shadows ofignorance that my unhappy constant study of those detestable books ofchivalry cast over it. Now I see through their absurdities anddeceptions, and it only grieves me that this destruction of my illusionshas come so late that it leaves me no time to make some amends by readingother books that might be a light to my soul. Niece, I feel myself at thepoint of death, and I would fain meet it in such a way as to show that mylife has not been so ill that I should leave behind me the name of amadman; for though I have been one, I would not that the fact should bemade plainer at my death. Call in to me, my dear, my good friends thecurate, the bachelor Samson Carrasco, and Master Nicholas the barber, forI wish to confess and make my will. " But his niece was saved the troubleby the entrance of the three. The instant Don Quixote saw them heexclaimed, "Good news for you, good sirs, that I am no longer Don Quixoteof La Mancha, but Alonso Quixano, whose way of life won for him the nameof Good. Now am I the enemy of Amadis of Gaul and of the whole countlesstroop of his descendants; odious to me now are all the profane stories ofknight-errantry; now I perceive my folly, and the peril into whichreading them brought me; now, by God's mercy schooled into my rightsenses, I loathe them. "

When the three heard him speak in this way, they had no doubt whateverthat some new craze had taken possession of him; and said Samson, "What?Senor Don Quixote! Now that we have intelligence of the lady Dulcineabeing disenchanted, are you taking this line; now, just as we are on thepoint of becoming shepherds, to pass our lives singing, like princes, areyou thinking of turning hermit? Hush, for heaven's sake, be rational andlet's have no more nonsense. "

"All that nonsense, " said Don Quixote, "that until now has been a realityto my hurt, my death will, with heaven's help, turn to my good. I feel, sirs, that I am rapidly drawing near death; a truce to jesting; let mehave a confessor to confess me, and a notary to make my will; for inextremities like this, man must not trifle with his soul; and while thecurate is confessing me let some one, I beg, go for the notary. "

They looked at one another, wondering at Don Quixote's words; but, thoughuncertain, they were inclined to believe him, and one of the signs bywhich they came to the conclusion he was dying was this so sudden andcomplete return to his senses after having been mad; for to the wordsalready quoted he added much more, so well expressed, so devout, and sorational, as to banish all doubt and convince them that he was sound ofmind. The curate turned them all out, and left alone with him confessedhim. The bachelor went for the notary and returned shortly afterwardswith him and with Sancho, who, having already learned from the bachelorthe condition his master was in, and finding the housekeeper and nieceweeping, began to blubber and shed tears. 

The confession over, the curate came out saying, "Alonso Quixano the Goodis indeed dying, and is indeed in his right mind; we may now go in to himwhile he makes his will. "

This news gave a tremendous impulse to the brimming eyes of thehousekeeper, niece, and Sancho Panza his good squire, making the tearsburst from their eyes and a host of sighs from their hearts; for of atruth, as has been said more than once, whether as plain Alonso Quixanothe Good, or as Don Quixote of La Mancha, Don Quixote was always of agentle disposition and kindly in all his ways, and hence he was beloved, not only by those of his own house, but by all who knew him. 

The notary came in with the rest, and as soon as the preamble of the hadbeen set out and Don Quixote had commended his soul to God with all thedevout formalities that are usual, coming to the bequests, he said, "Item, it is my will that, touching certain moneys in the hands of SanchoPanza (whom in my madness I made my squire), inasmuch as between him andme there have been certain accounts and debits and credits, no claim bemade against him, nor any account demanded of him in respect of them; butthat if anything remain over and above, after he has paid himself what Iowe him, the balance, which will be but little, shall be his, and muchgood may it do him; and if, as when I was mad I had a share in giving himthe government of an island, so, now that I am in my senses, I could givehim that of a kingdom, it should be his, for the simplicity of hischaracter and the fidelity of his conduct deserve it. " And then, turningto Sancho, he said, "Forgive me, my friend, that I led thee to seem asmad as myself, making thee fall into the same error I myself fell into, that there were and still are knights-errant in the world. "

"Ah!" said Sancho weeping, "don't die, master, but take my advice andlive many years; for the foolishest thing a man can do in this life is tolet himself die without rhyme or reason, without anybody killing him, orany hands but melancholy's making an end of him. Come, don't be lazy, butget up from your bed and let us take to the fields in shepherd's trim aswe agreed. Perhaps behind some bush we shall find the lady Dulcineadisenchanted, as fine as fine can be. If it be that you are dying ofvexation at having been vanquished, lay the blame on me, and say you wereoverthrown because I had girthed Rocinante badly; besides you must haveseen in your books of chivalry that it is a common thing for knights toupset one another, and for him who is conquered to-day to be conquerortomorrow. "

"Very true, " said Samson, "and good Sancho Panza's view of these cases isquite right. "

"Sirs, not so fast, " said Don Quixote, "'in last year's nests there areno birds this year. ' I was mad, now I am in my senses; I was Don Quixoteof La Mancha, I am now, as I said, Alonso Quixano the Good; and may myrepentance and sincerity restore me to the esteem you used to have forme; and now let Master Notary proceed. 

"Item, I leave all my property absolutely to Antonia Quixana my niece, here present, after all has been deducted from the most available portionof it that may be required to satisfy the bequests I have made. And thefirst disbursement I desire to be made is the payment of the wages I owefor the time my housekeeper has served me, with twenty ducats, over andabove, for a gown. The curate and the bachelor Samson Carrasco, nowpresent, I appoint my executors. 

"Item, it is my wish that if Antonia Quixana, my niece, desires to marry, she shall marry a man of whom it shall be first of all ascertained byinformation taken that he does not know what books of chivalry are; andif it should be proved that he does, and if, in spite of this, my nieceinsists upon marrying him, and does marry him, then that she shallforfeit the whole of what I have left her, which my executors shalldevote to works of charity as they please. 

"Item, I entreat the aforesaid gentlemen my executors, that, if any happychance should lead them to discover the author who is said to havewritten a history now going about under the title of 'Second Part of theAchievements of Don Quixote of La Mancha, ' they beg of him on my behalfas earnestly as they can to forgive me for having been, without intendingit, the cause of his writing so many and such monstrous absurdities as hehas written in it; for I am leaving the world with a feeling ofcompunction at having provoked him to write them. "

With this he closed his will, and a faintness coming over him hestretched himself out at full length on the bed. All were in a flutterand made haste to relieve him, and during the three days he lived afterthat on which he made his will he fainted away very often. The house wasall in confusion; but still the niece ate and the housekeeper drank andSancho Panza enjoyed himself; for inheriting property wipes out orsoftens down in the heir the feeling of grief the dead man might beexpected to leave behind him. 

At last Don Quixote's end came, after he had received all the sacraments, and had in full and forcible terms expressed his detestation of books ofchivalry. The notary was there at the time, and he said that in no bookof chivalry had he ever read of any knight-errant dying in his bed socalmly and so like a Christian as Don Quixote, who amid the tears andlamentations of all present yielded up his spirit, that is to say died. On perceiving it the curate begged the notary to bear witness that AlonsoQuixano the Good, commonly called Don Quixote of La Mancha, had passedaway from this present life, and died naturally; and said he desired thistestimony in order to remove the possibility of any other author saveCide Hamete Benengeli bringing him to life again falsely and makinginterminable stories out of his achievements. 

Such was the end of the Ingenious Gentleman of La Mancha, whose villageCide Hamete would not indicate precisely, in order to leave all the townsand villages of La Mancha to contend among themselves for the right toadopt him and claim him as a son, as the seven cities of Greece contendedfor Homer. The lamentations of Sancho and the niece and housekeeper areomitted here, as well as the new epitaphs upon his tomb; Samson Carrasco, however, put the following lines:

A doughty gentleman lies here;A stranger all his life to fear;Nor in his death could Death prevail, In that last hour, to make him quail. He for the world but little cared;And at his feats the world was scared;A crazy man his life he passed, But in his senses died at last. 

And said most sage Cide Hamete to his pen, "Rest here, hung up by thisbrass wire, upon this shelf, O my pen, whether of skilful make or clumsycut I know not; here shalt thou remain long ages hence, unlesspresumptuous or malignant story-tellers take thee down to profane thee. But ere they touch thee warn them, and, as best thou canst, say to them:

Hold off! ye weaklings; hold your hands! Adventure it let none, For this emprise, my lord the king, Was meant for me alone. 

For me alone was Don Quixote born, and I for him; it was his to act, mineto write; we two together make but one, notwithstanding and in spite ofthat pretended Tordesillesque writer who has ventured or would venturewith his great, coarse, ill-trimmed ostrich quill to write theachievements of my valiant knight;--no burden for his shoulders, norsubject for his frozen wit: whom, if perchance thou shouldst come to knowhim, thou shalt warn to leave at rest where they lie the weary moulderingbones of Don Quixote, and not to attempt to carry him off, in oppositionto all the privileges of death, to Old Castile, making him rise from thegrave where in reality and truth he lies stretched at full length, powerless to make any third expedition or new sally; for the two that hehas already made, so much to the enjoyment and approval of everybody towhom they have become known, in this as well as in foreign countries, arequite sufficient for the purpose of turning into ridicule the whole ofthose made by the whole set of the knights-errant; and so doing shaltthou discharge thy Christian calling, giving good counsel to one thatbears ill-will to thee. And I shall remain satisfied, and proud to havebeen the first who has ever enjoyed the fruit of his writings as fully ashe could desire; for my desire has been no other than to deliver over tothe detestation of mankind the false and foolish tales of the books ofchivalry, which, thanks to that of my true Don Quixote, are even nowtottering, and doubtless doomed to fall for ever. Farewell. "