The History of Don Quixote, Vol. I., Part 12. - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
"And then, what do you say to the good Cirongilio of Thrace, that was so
stout and bold; as may be seen in the book, where it is related that as
he was sailing along a river there came up out of the midst of the water
against him a fiery serpent, and he, as soon as he saw it, flung himself
upon it and got astride of its scaly shoulders, and squeezed its throat
with both hands with such force that the serpent, finding he was
throttling it, had nothing for it but to let itself sink to the bottom of
the river, carrying with it the knight who would not let go his hold; and
when they got down there he found himself among palaces and gardens so
pretty that it was a wonder to see; and then the serpent changed itself
into an old ancient man, who told him such things as were never heard.
Hold your peace, senor; for if you were to hear this you would go mad
with delight. A couple of figs for your Great Captain and your Diego
Garcia!"
Hearing this Dorothea said in a whisper to Cardenio, "Our landlord is
almost fit to play a second part to Don Quixote."
"I think so," said Cardenio, "for, as he shows, he accepts it as a
certainty that everything those books relate took place exactly as it is
written down; and the barefooted friars themselves would not persuade him
to the contrary."
"But consider, brother," said the curate once more, "there never was any
Felixmarte of Hircania in the world, nor any Cirongilio of Thrace, or any
of the other knights of the same sort, that the books of chivalry talk
of; the whole thing is the fabrication and invention of idle wits,
devised by them for the purpose you describe of beguiling the time, as
your reapers do when they read; for I swear to you in all seriousness
there never were any such knights in the world, and no such exploits or
nonsense ever happened anywhere."
"Try that bone on another dog," said the landlord; "as if I did not know
how many make five, and where my shoe pinches me; don't think to feed me
with pap, for by God I am no fool. It is a good joke for your worship to
try and persuade me that everything these good books say is nonsense and
lies, and they printed by the license of the Lords of the Royal Council,
as if they were people who would allow such a lot of lies to be printed
all together, and so many battles and enchantments that they take away
one's senses."
"I have told you, friend," said the curate, "that this is done to divert
our idle thoughts; and as in well-ordered states games of chess, fives,
and billiards are allowed for the diversion of those who do not care, or
are not obliged, or are unable to work, so books of this kind are allowed
to be printed, on the supposition that, what indeed is the truth, there
can be nobody so ignorant as to take any of them for true stories; and if
it were permitted me now, and the present company desired it, I could say
something about the qualities books of chivalry should possess to be good
ones, that would be to the advantage and even to the taste of some; but I
hope the time will come when I can communicate my ideas to some one who
may be able to mend matters; and in the meantime, senor landlord, believe
what I have said, and take your books, and make up your mind about their
truth or falsehood, and much good may they do you; and God grant you may
not fall lame of the same foot your guest Don Quixote halts on."
"No fear of that," returned the landlord; "I shall not be so mad as to
make a knight-errant of myself; for I see well enough that things are not
now as they used to be in those days, when they say those famous knights
roamed about the world."
Sancho had made his appearance in the middle of this conversation, and he
was very much troubled and cast down by what he heard said about
knights-errant being now no longer in vogue, and all books of chivalry
being folly and lies; and he resolved in his heart to wait and see what
came of this journey of his master's, and if it did not turn out as
happily as his master expected, he determined to leave him and go back to
his wife and children and his ordinary labour.
The landlord was carrying away the valise and the books, but the curate
said to him, "Wait; I want to see what those papers are that are written
in such a good hand." The landlord taking them out handed them to him to
read, and he perceived they were a work of about eight sheets of
manuscript, with, in large letters at the beginning, the title of "Novel
of the Ill-advised Curiosity." The curate read three or four lines to
himself, and said, "I must say the title of this novel does not seem to
me a bad one, and I feel an inclination to read it all." To which the
landlord replied, "Then your reverence will do well to read it, for I can
tell you that some guests who have read it here have been much pleased
with it, and have begged it of me very earnestly; but I would not give
it, meaning to return it to the person who forgot the valise, books, and
papers here, for maybe he will return here some time or other; and though
I know I shall miss the books, faith I mean to return them; for though I
am an innkeeper, still I am a Christian."
"You are very right, friend," said the curate; "but for all that, if the
novel pleases me you must let me copy it."
"With all my heart," replied the host.
While they were talking Cardenio had taken up the novel and begun to read
it, and forming the same opinion of it as the curate, he begged him to
read it so that they might all hear it.
"I would read it," said the curate, "if the time would not be better
spent in sleeping."
"It will be rest enough for me," said Dorothea, "to while away the time
by listening to some tale, for my spirits are not yet tranquil enough to
let me sleep when it would be seasonable."
"Well then, in that case," said the curate, "I will read it, if it were
only out of curiosity; perhaps it may contain something pleasant."
Master Nicholas added his entreaties to the same effect, and Sancho too;
seeing which, and considering that he would give pleasure to all, and
receive it himself, the curate said, "Well then, attend to me everyone,
for the novel begins thus."