he had read in his books, as he fancied this to be cut out on purpose for him to achieve, with a graceful deportment and intrepid air he settled himself firmly in his stirrups, grasped his lance, covered his breast with his target, and, posting himself in the midst of the highway, awaited the approach of those whom he already judged to be knights-errant; and when they were come so near as to be seen and heard, he raised his voice, and, with an arrogant tone, cried out, "Let the whole world stand, if the whole world does not confess, that there is not in the whole world a damsel more beautiful than the Empress of La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso!" The merchants stopped at the sound of these words, and also to behold the strange figure of him who pronounced them and both by the one and the other they perceived the madness of the speaker; but they were disposed to stay and see what this confession meant which he required; and therefore one of them, who was somewhat of a wag, but withal very discreet, said to him, 66 contented and pleased. Nay, I verily believe we are so far inclined to your side, that, although her picture should represent her squinting with one eye, and distilling vermilion and brimstone from the other, notwithstanding all this, to oblige you, we will say whatever you please in her favor." There distils not, base scoundrels!" answered Don Quixote, burning with rage, there distils not from her what you say, but rather ambergris and civet among cotton; neither doth she squint, nor is she hunchbacked, but as straight as a spindle of Guadarrama ;* but you shall pay for the horrid blasphemy you have uttered against so transcendent a beauty!" So saying, with his lance couched he ran at him who had spoken, with so much fury and rage that, if good fortune had not so ordered that Rozinante stumbled and fell in the midst of his career, it had gone hard with the rash merchant. Rozinante fell, and his master lay rolling about the field for some time, endeavoring to rise, but in vain, so encumbered was he with his lance, target, spurs, and helmet, added to the weight of his antiquated armor. And while he was thus struggling to get up he continued calling out, "Fly not, ye dastardly rabble! stay, ye race of slaves! for it is through my horse's fault, and not my own, that I lie here extended." A muleteer of the company, not over good-natured, hearing the arrogant language of the poor fallen gentleman, could not bear it without returning him an answer on his ribs; and coming to him, he took the lance, which, having broken to pieces, he applied one of the splinters with so much agility upon Don Quixote, that, in spite of his armor, he was threshed like wheat. His masters called out, desiring him to forbear; but the lad was provoked, and would not quit the game until he had quite spent the remainder of his choler; and, seizing the other pieces of the lance, he completely demolished them upon the unfortunate knight; who, notwithstanding the tempest of blows that rained upon him, never shut his mouth, incessantly threatening heaven and earth, and those who to him appeared to be assassins. At length the fellow was tired, and the merchants Signor cavalier, we do not know who this good lady you mention may be let us but see her, and if she be really so beautiful as you intimate, we will, with all our hearts, and without any constraint, make the confession you demand of us. "Should I show her to you," replied Don Quixote, "where would be the merit of confessing a truth so manifest? It is essential that without seeing her you believe, confess, affirm, swear, and maintain it; and if not, I challenge you all to battle, proud and monstrous as you are; and, whether you come on one by one (as the law of chivalry requires), or all together, as is the custom and wicked practice of those of your stamp, here I wait for you, confiding in the justice of my cause. "Signor cavalier," replied the merchant, replied the merchant, "I beseech your worship, in the name of all the princes here present, that we may not lay a burden upon our consciences by confessing a thing we never saw or heard, and especially being so much to the prejudice of the empresses and queens of Alcarria and Estremadura, that your worship would be pleased to show us some picture of this lady, though no bigger than the barleycorn, for we shall guess at the clew by the thread; and therewith we shall rest satisfied and safe, and your worship it stands the Escurial.-JARVIS. *A small town nine leagues from Madrid, situated at the foot of a mountain, the rocks of which are so perpendicular that they are called "the Spindles." Near 66 departed, sufficiently furnished with matter | the dust from his face; upon which he of discourse concerning the poor belabored recognized him, and exclaimed, Ah, knight, who, when he found himself alone, Signor Don Quixana" (for so he was again endeavored to rise; but, if he could called before he lost his senses, and was not do it when sound and well, how should transformed from a sober gentleman to a he in so bruised and battered a condition? knight-errant), "how came your worship Yet he was consoled in looking upon this in this condition?" But still he answered as a misfortune peculiar to knights-errant, out of his romance to whatever question and imputing the blame to his horse; he was asked. although to raise himself up was impossible, his whole body was so horribly bruised. WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE NARRATION OF OUR KNIGHT'S MISFORTUNE. Very full of pain, yet, soon as he was able to stir, Don Quixote had recourse to his usual remedy, which was, to recollect some incident in his books, and his frenzy instantly suggested to him that of Valdovinos and the Marquis of Mantua, when Carloto left him wounded on the mountain: a story familiar to children, not unknown to youth, commended and even credited by old men; yet no more true than the miracles of Mahomet. Now, this seemed to him exactly suited to his case; therefore he began to roll himself on the ground, and to repeat, in a faint voice, what they affirm was said by the wounded Knight of the wood: "Where art thou, mistress of my heart, In this manner he went on with the romance, until he came to those verses where it is said-"O noble Marquis of Mantua, my uncle and lord by blood!" Just at that instant it so happened that a peasant of his own village, a near neighbor, who had been carrying a load of wheat to the mill, passed by; and, seeing a man lying stretched on the earth, he came up, and asked him who he was, and what was the cause of his doleful lamentation? Don Quixote, firmly believing him to be the Marquis of Mantua, his uncle, returned him no answer, but proceeded with the romance, giving an account of his misfortune, and of the amours of the emperor's son, just as it is there recounted. The peasant was astonished at his extravagant discourse; and taking off his visor, now battered all to pieces, he wiped The good man, seeing this, contrived to take off the back and breastpiece of his armor, to examine if he had any wound; but he saw no blood nor sign of any hurt. He then endeavored to raise him from the ground, and with no little trouble, placed him upon his ass, as being the beast of easier carriage. He gathered together all the arms, not excepting the broken pieces of lance, and tied them upon Rozinante; then taking him by the bridle, and his ass by the halter, he went on towards his village, full of concern at the wild language of Don Quixote. No less thoughtful was the knight, who was so cruelly beaten and bruised that he could scarcely keep himself upon the ass, and ever and anon he sent forth groans that seemed to pierce the skies, insomuch that the peasant was again forced to ask what ailed him. And surely the devil alone could have furnished his memory with stories so applicable to what had befallen him; for at that instant, forgetting Valdovinos, he recollected the Moor Abindarraez, at the time when the Governor of Antequero, Roderigo of Narvaez, had taken him prisoner and conveyed him to his castle; so when the peasant asked him again how he was and what he felt, he answered him in the very same terms that were used by the prisoner Abindarraez to Roderigo of Narvaez, as he had read in the "Diana" of George Montemayor, applying it so aptly in his own case, that the peasant went on cursing himself to the devil, to hear such a monstrous heap of nonsense, which convinced him that his neighbor had run mad, and he therefore made what haste he could to reach the village, and thereby escape Don Quixote's long speeches; who, still continuing, said, Be it known to your worship, Signor Don Roderigo de Narvaez, that this beauteous Xarifa, whom I mentioned, is now the fair Dulcinea del Toboso, for whom I have done, do, and will do, the most famous exploits of chivalry that have been, are, or shall be seen in the world.” To this the peasant | answered, "Look_you, sir, as I am a sinner, I am not Don Roderigo de Narvaez, nor the Marquis of Mantua, but Pedro Alonzo, your neighbor; neither is your worship Valdovinos; nor Abindarraez, but the worthy gentleman, Signor Quixana." "I know who I am,' answered Don Quixote; "and I know, too, that I am not only capable of being those I have mentioned, but all the twelve peers of France, yea, and the nine worthies, since my exploits will far exceed all that they have jointly or separately achieved." With this and similar conversation, they reached the village about sunset; but the peasant waited until the night was a little advanced, that the poor battered gentleman might not be seen so scurvily mounted. When he thought it the proper time, he entered the village, and arrived at Don Quixote's house, which he found all in confusion. The priest and the barber of the place, who were Don Quixote's particular friends, happened to be there; and the housekeeper was saying to them aloud, "What do you think, Signor Licentiate Pero Perez" (for that was the priest's name), "of my master's misfortune? For neither he, nor his horse, nor the target, nor the lance, nor the armor, have been seen these six days past. Woe is me! I am verily persuaded, and it is certainly true as I was born to die, that these cursed books of knight-errantry, which he is often reading, have turned his brain; and, now I think of it, I have often heard him say, talking to himself, that he would turn knight-errant, and go about the world in quest of adventures. The devil and Barabbas take all such books, that have spoiled the finest understanding in all La Mancha!" The niece joined with her, adding, And you must know, Master Nicholas (for that was the barber's name), "that it has often happened that my honored uncle has continued poring on these wicked books of misadventures two whole days and nights; then, throwing the book out of his hand, he would draw his sword and strike against the walls; and when he was heartily tired, would say he had killed four giants as tall as so many steeples, and that the sweat, which his labor occasioned, was the blood of the wounds he had received in the fight; then, after drinking off a large pitcher of 66 cold water, he would be as quiet as ever, telling us that the water was a most precious liquor, brought him by the sage Esquife, a great enchanter, and his friend. But I take the blame of all this to myself, for not informing you, gentlemen, of my dear uncle's extravagances, that they might have been cured before they had gone so far, by burning all those cursed books, which as justly deserve to be committed to the flames as if they were heretical." "I say the same, quoth the priest ;" and, in faith, to-morrow shall not pass without holding a public inquisition upon them, and condemning them to the fire, that they may not occasion others to act as I fear my good friend has done.' แ 66 All this was overheard by Don Quixote and the peasant; and, as it confirmed the latter in the belief of his neighbor's infirmity, he began to cry aloud, "Open the doors, gentlemen, to Signor Valdovinos and the Marquis of Mantua, who comes dangerously wounded, and to Signor Abindarraez the Moor, whom the valorous Roderigo de Narvaez, Governor of Antequero, brings as his prisoner.] Hearing this, they all came out; and, immediately recognizing their friend, they ran to embrace him, although he had not yet alighted from the ass; for, indeed, it was not in his power. Forbear, all of you!" he cried, for I am sorely wounded, through my horse's fault; carry me to my bed; and, if it be possible, send for the sage Urganda, to search and heal my wounds.' Look ye!" said the housekeeper immediately, if my heart did not tell me truly on which leg my master halted. Get up-stairs in God's name; for without the help of the same Urganda we shall find a way to cure you ourselves. Cursed say I again, and a hundred times cursed, be those books of knight-errantry, that have brought your worship to this pass!" They carried him directly to his chamber, where, on searching for his wounds, they could discover none. He then told them, "he was only bruised by a great fall he got with his horse Rozinante, as he was fighting with ten of the most prodigious and audacious giants on the face of the earth.' "Ho, ho!" says the priest, "what! there are giants too in the dance? By my faith, I shall set fire to them all before to-morrow night." They asked Don Quixote a thousand questions, to which he would return no answer. He only desired that they would give him some food, and allow him to sleep, that being what he most required. Having done this, the priest inquired particularly of the countryman in what condition Don Quixote had been found. The countryman gave him an account of the whole, with the extravagances he had uttered, both at the time of finding him and during their journey home; which made the licentiate impatient to carry into execution what he had determined to do the following day; when, for that purpose calling upon his friend Master Nichofas the barber, they proceeded together to Don Quixote's house. Long and heavy was the sleep of Don Quixote; meanwhile, the priest having asked the niece for the key of the chamber containing the books, those authors of the mischief, which she delivered with a very good will, they entered, attended by the housekeeper, and found above a hundred large volumes, well bound, besides a great number of smaller size. No sooner did the housekeeper see them than she ran out of the room in great haste, and immediately returned with a pot of holy water and a bunch of hyssop, saying, Signor Licentiate, take this and sprinkle the room, lest some enchanter of the many that these books abound with should enchant us, as a punishment for our intention to banish them out of the world." The priest smiled at the housekeeper's simplicity, and ordered the barber to reach him the books one by one, that they might see what they treated of, as they might perhaps find some that deserved not to be chastised by fire. "No," said the niece, "there is no reason why any of them should be spared, for they have all been mischief-makers; so let them all be thrown out of the window into the courtyard, and, having made a pile of them, set fire to it; or else make a bonfire of them in the back yard, where the smoke will offend nobody." The housekeeper said the same, so eagerly did they both thirst for the death of those innocents. But the priest would not consent to it without first reading the titles at least. The same night the housekeeper set fire to and burnt all the books that were in the yard and in the house. Some must have perished that deserved to be treasured up in perpetual archives; but their destiny, or the indolence of the scrutineer forbade it; and in them was fulfilled the saying that "the just sometimes suffers for the unjust.' One of the remedies which the priest and the barber prescribed at that time for their friend's malady, was to wall up the chamber which had contained his books, hoping that, when the cause was removed, the effect might cease, and that they should pretend that an enchanter had carried room and all away. This was speedily executed; and two days after, when Don Quixote left his bed, the first thing that occurred to him was to visit his books; and not finding the room, he went up and down looking for it, when, coming to the former situation of the door, he felt with his hands and stared about on all sides without speaking a word for some time; at length he asked the housekeeper where the chamber was in which he kept his books. She, who was already well tutored what to answer, said to him, "What room, or what nothing, does your worship look for? There is neither room nor books in this house, for the devil himself has carried all away.' "It was not the devil," said the niece, "but an enchanter, who came one night upon a cloud, after the day of your departure, and, alighting from a serpent on which he rode, entered the room what he did there I know not; but, after some little time, out he came, flying through the rocf, and left the house full of smoke; and when we went to see what he had been doing, we saw neither books nor room; only we very well remember, both I and Mistress Housekeeper here, that when the wicked old thief went away he said, with a loud voice, that, from a secret enmity he bore to the owner of those books and of the room, he had done a mischief in this house which would soon be manifest: he told us also that he was called the sage Munniaton." "Freston he meant to say," quoth Don Quixote. "I know not," answered the housekeeper, "whether his name be Freston or Friton; all I know is that it ended in ton." "It doth so," replied Don Quixote. "He is a sage enchanter, a great enemy of mine, and bears me malice because, by his skill and learning, he knows that, in process of time, I shall engage in single combat with a knight whom he favors, and shall vanquish him, in spite of his protection. On this account, he endeavors as much as he can to molest me; but let him know from me he cannot withstand or avoid what is decreed by Heaven." "Who doubts of that?" said the niece; "but, dear uncle, what have you to do with these broils? Would it not be better to stay quietly at home, and not ramble about the world, seeking for better bread than wheaten, without considering that many go out for wool and return shorn?" "O niece," answered Don Quixote, "how little dost thou know of the matter! Before they shall shear me, I will pluck and tear off the beards of all those who dare think of touching the tip of a single hair of mine." Neither of them would make any further reply, for they saw his choler began to rise. Fifteen days he remained at home very tranquil, discovering no symptom of an inclination to repeat his late frolics, during which time much pleasant conversation passed between him and his two neighbors, the priest and the barber: he always affirming that the world stood in need of nothing so much as knights errant and the revival of chivalry. The priest sometimes contradicted him, and at other times acquiesced; for, had he not been thus cautious, there would have been no means left to bring him to reason. HE SECURES SANCHO PANZA AS SQUIRE. HIS squire to his neighbor. Don Quixote now set about raising money; and, by selling one thing, pawning another, and losing by all, he collected a tolerable sum. He fitted himself likewise with a buckler, which he borrowed of a friend, and, patching up his broken, helmet in the best manner he could, he acquainted his squire Sancho of the day and hour he intended to set out, that he might provide himself with what he thought would be most needful. Above all, he charged him not to forget a wallet, which Sancho assured him he would not neglect; he said also that he thought of taking an ass with him, as he had a very good one, and he was not used to travel much on foot. With regard to the ass, Don Quixote paused a little, endeavoring to recollect whether any knight-errant had ever carried a squire mounted on assback, but no instance of the kind occurred to his memory. However, he consented that he should take his ass, resolving to accommodate him more honorably, at the earliest opportunity, by dismounting the first discourteous knight he should meet. He provided himself also with shirts, and other things, conformably to the advice given him by the innkeeper. All this being accomplished, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, without taking leave, the one of his wife and children, or the other of his housekeeper and niece, one night sallied out of the village unperceived; and they travelled so hard that by break of day they believed themselves secure, even if search were made after them. Sancho Panza proIn the meantime, Don Quixote tam-ceeded upon his ass like a patriarch, with pered with a laborer, a neighbor of his his wallet and leathern bottle, and with a and an honest man (if such an epithet vehement desire to find himself governor can be given to one that is poor), but of the island which his master had shallow-brained; in short, he said so promised him. Don Quixote happened much, used so many arguments and made to take the same route as on his first so many promises, that the poor fellow expedition, over the plain of Montiel, resolved to sally out with him and serve which he passed with less inconvenience him in the capacity of a squire. Among than before; for it was early in the other things, Don Quixote told him that morning, and the rays of the sun, darthe ought to be very glad to accompanying on them horizontally, did not annoy him, for such an adventure might, some time or the other, occur that by one stroke an island might be won, where he might leave him governor. With this and other promises, Sancho Panza (for that was the laborer's name) left his wife and children and engaged himself as them. Sancho Panza now said to his master, "I beseech your worship, good Sir Knight-errant, not to forget your promise concerning that same island, for I shall know how to govern it, be it ever so large.' To which Don Quixote answered: "Thou must know, friend |