The History of Don Quixote, Vol. II., Part 34 - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
DON QUIXOTE
Volume II.
Part 34.
by Miguel de Cervantes
Translated by John Ormsby
CHAPTER LIV.
WHICH DEALS WITH MATTERS RELATING TO THIS HISTORY AND NO OTHER
The duke and duchess resolved that the challenge Don Quixote had, for the
reason already mentioned, given their vassal, should be proceeded with;
and as the young man was in Flanders, whither he had fled to escape
having Dona Rodriguez for a mother-in-law, they arranged to substitute
for him a Gascon lacquey, named Tosilos, first of all carefully
instructing him in all he had to do. Two days later the duke told Don
Quixote that in four days from that time his opponent would present
himself on the field of battle armed as a knight, and would maintain that
the damsel lied by half a beard, nay a whole beard, if she affirmed that
he had given her a promise of marriage. Don Quixote was greatly pleased
at the news, and promised himself to do wonders in the lists, and
reckoned it rare good fortune that an opportunity should have offered for
letting his noble hosts see what the might of his strong arm was capable
of; and so in high spirits and satisfaction he awaited the expiration of
the four days, which measured by his impatience seemed spinning
themselves out into four hundred ages. Let us leave them to pass as we do
other things, and go and bear Sancho company, as mounted on Dapple, half
glad, half sad, he paced along on his road to join his master, in whose
society he was happier than in being governor of all the islands in the
world. Well then, it so happened that before he had gone a great way from
the island of his government (and whether it was island, city, town, or
village that he governed he never troubled himself to inquire) he saw
coming along the road he was travelling six pilgrims with staves,
foreigners of that sort that beg for alms singing; who as they drew near
arranged themselves in a line and lifting up their voices all together
began to sing in their own language something that Sancho could not with
the exception of one word which sounded plainly "alms," from which he
gathered that it was alms they asked for in their song; and being, as
Cide Hamete says, remarkably charitable, he took out of his alforias the
half loaf and half cheese he had been provided with, and gave them to
them, explaining to them by signs that he had nothing else to give them.
They received them very gladly, but exclaimed, "Geld! Geld!"
"I don't understand what you want of me, good people," said Sancho.
On this one of them took a purse out of his bosom and showed it to
Sancho, by which he comprehended they were asking for money, and putting
his thumb to his throat and spreading his hand upwards he gave them to
understand that he had not the sign of a coin about him, and urging
Dapple forward he broke through them. But as he was passing, one of them
who had been examining him very closely rushed towards him, and flinging
his arms round him exclaimed in a loud voice and good Spanish, "God bless
me! What's this I see? Is it possible that I hold in my arms my dear
friend, my good neighbour Sancho Panza? But there's no doubt about it,
for I'm not asleep, nor am I drunk just now."
Sancho was surprised to hear himself called by his name and find himself
embraced by a foreign pilgrim, and after regarding him steadily without
speaking he was still unable to recognise him; but the pilgrim perceiving
his perplexity cried, "What! and is it possible, Sancho Panza, that thou
dost not know thy neighbour Ricote, the Morisco shopkeeper of thy
village?"
Sancho upon this looking at him more carefully began to recall his
features, and at last recognised him perfectly, and without getting off
the ass threw his arms round his neck saying, "Who the devil could have
known thee, Ricote, in this mummer's dress thou art in? Tell me, who bas
frenchified thee, and how dost thou dare to return to Spain, where if
they catch thee and recognise thee it will go hard enough with thee?"
"If thou dost not betray me, Sancho," said the pilgrim, "I am safe; for
in this dress no one will recognise me; but let us turn aside out of the
road into that grove there where my comrades are going to eat and rest,
and thou shalt eat with them there, for they are very good fellows; I'll
have time enough to tell thee then all that has happened me since I left
our village in obedience to his Majesty's edict that threatened such
severities against the unfortunate people of my nation, as thou hast
heard."
Sancho complied, and Ricote having spoken to the other pilgrims they
withdrew to the grove they saw, turning a considerable distance out of
the road. They threw down their staves, took off their pilgrim's cloaks
and remained in their under-clothing; they were all good-looking young
fellows, except Ricote, who was a man somewhat advanced in years. They
carried alforjas all of them, and all apparently well filled, at least
with things provocative of thirst, such as would summon it from two
leagues off. They stretched themselves on the ground, and making a
tablecloth of the grass they spread upon it bread, salt, knives, walnut,
scraps of cheese, and well-picked ham-bones which if they were past
gnawing were not past sucking. They also put down a black dainty called,
they say, caviar, and made of the eggs of fish, a great thirst-wakener.
Nor was there any lack of olives, dry, it is true, and without any
seasoning, but for all that toothsome and pleasant. But what made the
best show in the field of the banquet was half a dozen botas of wine, for
each of them produced his own from his alforjas; even the good Ricote,
who from a Morisco had transformed himself into a German or Dutchman,
took out his, which in size might have vied with the five others. They
then began to eat with very great relish and very leisurely, making the
most of each morsel--very small ones of everything--they took up on the
point of the knife; and then all at the same moment raised their arms and
botas aloft, the mouths placed in their mouths, and all eyes fixed on
heaven just as if they were taking aim at it; and in this attitude they
remained ever so long, wagging their heads from side to side as if in
acknowledgment of the pleasure they were enjoying while they decanted the
bowels of the bottles into their own stomachs.
Sancho beheld all, "and nothing gave him pain;" so far from that, acting
on the proverb he knew so well, "when thou art at Rome do as thou seest,"
he asked Ricote for his bota and took aim like the rest of them, and with
not less enjoyment. Four times did the botas bear being uplifted, but the
fifth it was all in vain, for they were drier and more sapless than a
rush by that time, which made the jollity that had been kept up so far
begin to flag.
Every now and then some one of them would grasp Sancho's right hand in
his own saying, "Espanoli y Tudesqui tuto uno: bon compano;" and Sancho
would answer, "Bon compano, jur a Di!" and then go off into a fit of
laughter that lasted an hour, without a thought for the moment of
anything that had befallen him in his government; for cares have very
little sway over us while we are eating and drinking. At length, the wine
having come to an end with them, drowsiness began to come over them, and
they dropped asleep on their very table and tablecloth. Ricote and Sancho
alone remained awake, for they had eaten more and drunk less, and Ricote
drawing Sancho aside, they seated themselves at the foot of a beech,
leaving the pilgrims buried in sweet sleep; and without once falling into
his own Morisco tongue Ricote spoke as follows in pure Castilian:
"Thou knowest well, neighbour and friend Sancho Panza, how the
proclamation or edict his Majesty commanded to be issued against those of
my nation filled us all with terror and dismay; me at least it did,
insomuch that I think before the time granted us for quitting Spain was
out, the full force of the penalty had already fallen upon me and upon my
children. I decided, then, and I think wisely (just like one who knows
that at a certain date the house he lives in will be taken from him, and
looks out beforehand for another to change into), I decided, I say, to
leave the town myself, alone and without my family, and go to seek out
some place to remove them to comfortably and not in the hurried way in
which the others took their departure; for I saw very plainly, and so did
all the older men among us, that the proclamations were not mere threats,
as some said, but positive enactments which would be enforced at the
appointed time; and what made me believe this was what I knew of the base
and extravagant designs which our people harboured, designs of such a
nature that I think it was a divine inspiration that moved his Majesty to
carry out a resolution so spirited; not that we were all guilty, for some
there were true and steadfast Christians; but they were so few that they
could make no head against those who were not; and it was not prudent to
cherish a viper in the bosom by having enemies in the house. In short it
was with just cause that we were visited with the penalty of banishment,
a mild and lenient one in the eyes of some, but to us the most terrible
that could be inflicted upon us. Wherever we are we weep for Spain; for
after all we were born there and it is our natural fatherland. Nowhere do
we find the reception our unhappy condition needs; and in Barbary and all
the parts of Africa where we counted upon being received, succoured, and
welcomed, it is there they insult and ill-treat us most. We knew not our
good fortune until we lost it; and such is the longing we almost all of
us have to return to Spain, that most of those who like myself know the
language, and there are many who do, come back to it and leave their
wives and children forsaken yonder, so great is their love for it; and
now I know by experience the meaning of the saying, sweet is the love of
one's country.
"I left our village, as I said, and went to France, but though they gave
us a kind reception there I was anxious to see all I could. I crossed
into Italy, and reached Germany, and there it seemed to me we might live
with more freedom, as the inhabitants do not pay any attention to
trifling points; everyone lives as he likes, for in most parts they enjoy
liberty of conscience. I took a house in a town near Augsburg, and then
joined these pilgrims, who are in the habit of coming to Spain in great
numbers every year to visit the shrines there, which they look upon as
their Indies and a sure and certain source of gain. They travel nearly
all over it, and there is no town out of which they do not go full up of
meat and drink, as the saying is, and with a real, at least, in money,
and they come off at the end of their travels with more than a hundred
crowns saved, which, changed into gold, they smuggle out of the kingdom
either in the hollow of their staves or in the patches of their pilgrim's
cloaks or by some device of their own, and carry to their own country in
spite of the guards at the posts and passes where they are searched. Now
my purpose is, Sancho, to carry away the treasure that I left buried,
which, as it is outside the town, I shall be able to do without risk, and
to write, or cross over from Valencia, to my daughter and wife, who I
know are at Algiers, and find some means of bringing them to some French
port and thence to Germany, there to await what it may be God's will to
do with us; for, after all, Sancho, I know well that Ricota my daughter
and Francisca Ricota my wife are Catholic Christians, and though I am not
so much so, still I am more of a Christian than a Moor, and it is always
my prayer to God that he will open the eyes of my understanding and show
me how I am to serve him; but what amazes me and I cannot understand is
why my wife and daughter should have gone to Barbary rather than to
France, where they could live as Christians."
To this Sancho replied, "Remember, Ricote, that may not have been open to
them, for Juan Tiopieyo thy wife's brother took them, and being a true
Moor he went where he could go most easily; and another thing I can tell
thee, it is my belief thou art going in vain to look for what thou hast
left buried, for we heard they took from thy brother-in-law and thy wife
a great quantity of pearls and money in gold which they brought to be
passed."
"That may be," said Ricote; "but I know they did not touch my hoard, for
I did not tell them where it was, for fear of accidents; and so, if thou
wilt come with me, Sancho, and help me to take it away and conceal it, I
will give thee two hundred crowns wherewith thou mayest relieve thy
necessities, and, as thou knowest, I know they are many."
"I would do it," said Sancho; "but I am not at all covetous, for I gave
up an office this morning in which, if I was, I might have made the walls
of my house of gold and dined off silver plates before six months were
over; and so for this reason, and because I feel I would be guilty of
treason to my king if I helped his enemies, I would not go with thee if
instead of promising me two hundred crowns thou wert to give me four
hundred here in hand."
"And what office is this thou hast given up, Sancho?" asked Ricote.
"I have given up being governor of an island," said Sancho, "and such a
one, faith, as you won't find the like of easily."
"And where is this island?" said Ricote.
"Where?" said Sancho; "two leagues from here, and it is called the island
of Barataria."
"Nonsense! Sancho," said Ricote; "islands are away out in the sea; there
are no islands on the mainland."
"What? No islands!" said Sancho; "I tell thee, friend Ricote, I left it
this morning, and yesterday I was governing there as I pleased like a
sagittarius; but for all that I gave it up, for it seemed to me a
dangerous office, a governor's."
"And what hast thou gained by the government?" asked Ricote.
"I have gained," said Sancho, "the knowledge that I am no good for
governing, unless it is a drove of cattle, and that the riches that are
to be got by these governments are got at the cost of one's rest and
sleep, ay and even one's food; for in islands the governors must eat
little, especially if they have doctors to look after their health."
"I don't understand thee, Sancho," said Ricote; "but it seems to me all
nonsense thou art talking. Who would give thee islands to govern? Is
there any scarcity in the world of cleverer men than thou art for
governors? Hold thy peace, Sancho, and come back to thy senses, and
consider whether thou wilt come with me as I said to help me to take away
treasure I left buried (for indeed it may be called a treasure, it is so
large), and I will give thee wherewithal to keep thee, as I told thee."
"And I have told thee already, Ricote, that I will not," said Sancho;
"let it content thee that by me thou shalt not be betrayed, and go thy
way in God's name and let me go mine; for I know that well-gotten gain
may be lost, but ill-gotten gain is lost, itself and its owner likewise."
"I will not press thee, Sancho," said Ricote; "but tell me, wert thou in
our village when my wife and daughter and brother-in-law left it?"
"I was so," said Sancho; "and I can tell thee thy daughter left it
looking so lovely that all the village turned out to see her, and
everybody said she was the fairest creature in the world. She wept as she
went, and embraced all her friends and acquaintances and those who came
out to see her, and she begged them all to commend her to God and Our
Lady his mother, and this in such a touching way that it made me weep
myself, though I'm not much given to tears commonly; and, faith, many a
one would have liked to hide her, or go out and carry her off on the
road; but the fear of going against the king's command kept them back.
The one who showed himself most moved was Don Pedro Gregorio, the rich
young heir thou knowest of, and they say he was deep in love with her;
and since she left he has not been seen in our village again, and we all
suspect he has gone after her to steal her away, but so far nothing has
been heard of it."
"I always had a suspicion that gentleman had a passion for my daughter,"
said Ricote; "but as I felt sure of my Ricota's virtue it gave me no
uneasiness to know that he loved her; for thou must have heard it said,
Sancho, that the Morisco women seldom or never engage in amours with the
old Christians; and my daughter, who I fancy thought more of being a
Christian than of lovemaking, would not trouble herself about the
attentions of this heir."
"God grant it," said Sancho, "for it would be a bad business for both of
them; but now let me be off, friend Ricote, for I want to reach where my
master Don Quixote is to-night."
"God be with thee, brother Sancho," said Ricote; "my comrades are
beginning to stir, and it is time, too, for us to continue our journey;"
and then they both embraced, and Sancho mounted Dapple, and Ricote leant
upon his staff, and so they parted.
CHAPTER LV.
OF WHAT BEFELL SANCHO ON THE ROAD, AND OTHER THINGS THAT CANNOT BE
SURPASSED
The length of time he delayed with Ricote prevented Sancho from reaching
the duke's castle that day, though he was within half a league of it when
night, somewhat dark and cloudy, overtook him. This, however, as it was
summer time, did not give him much uneasiness, and he turned aside out of
the road intending to wait for morning; but his ill luck and hard fate so
willed it that as he was searching about for a place to make himself as
comfortable as possible, he and Dapple fell into a deep dark hole that
lay among some very old buildings. As he fell he commended himself with
all his heart to God, fancying he was not going to stop until he reached
the depths of the bottomless pit; but it did not turn out so, for at
little more than thrice a man's height Dapple touched bottom, and he
found himself sitting on him without having received any hurt or damage
whatever. He felt himself all over and held his breath to try whether he
was quite sound or had a hole made in him anywhere, and finding himself
all right and whole and in perfect health he was profuse in his thanks to
God our Lord for the mercy that had been shown him, for he made sure he
had been broken into a thousand pieces. He also felt along the sides of
the pit with his hands to see if it were possible to get out of it
without help, but he found they were quite smooth and afforded no hold
anywhere, at which he was greatly distressed, especially when he heard
how pathetically and dolefully Dapple was bemoaning himself, and no
wonder he complained, nor was it from ill-temper, for in truth he was not
in a very good case. "Alas," said Sancho, "what unexpected accidents
happen at every step to those who live in this miserable world! Who would
have said that one who saw himself yesterday sitting on a throne,
governor of an island, giving orders to his servants and his vassals,
would see himself to-day buried in a pit without a soul to help him, or
servant or vassal to come to his relief? Here must we perish with hunger,
my ass and myself, if indeed we don't die first, he of his bruises and
injuries, and I of grief and sorrow. At any rate I'll not be as lucky as
my master Don Quixote of La Mancha, when he went down into the cave of
that enchanted Montesinos, where he found people to make more of him than
if he had been in his own house; for it seems he came in for a table laid
out and a bed ready made. There he saw fair and pleasant visions, but
here I'll see, I imagine, toads and adders. Unlucky wretch that I am,
what an end my follies and fancies have come to! They'll take up my bones
out of this, when it is heaven's will that I'm found, picked clean, white
and polished, and my good Dapple's with them, and by that, perhaps, it
will be found out who we are, at least by such as have heard that Sancho
Panza never separated from his ass, nor his ass from Sancho Panza.
Unlucky wretches, I say again, that our hard fate should not let us die
in our own country and among our own people, where if there was no help
for our misfortune, at any rate there would be some one to grieve for it
and to close our eyes as we passed away! O comrade and friend, how ill
have I repaid thy faithful services! Forgive me, and entreat Fortune, as
well as thou canst, to deliver us out of this miserable strait we are
both in; and I promise to put a crown of laurel on thy head, and make
thee look like a poet laureate, and give thee double feeds."
In this strain did Sancho bewail himself, and his ass listened to him,
but answered him never a word, such was the distress and anguish the poor
beast found himself in. At length, after a night spent in bitter moanings
and lamentations, day came, and by its light Sancho perceived that it was
wholly impossible to escape out of that pit without help, and he fell to
bemoaning his fate and uttering loud shouts to find out if there was
anyone within hearing; but all his shouting was only crying in the
wilderness, for there was not a soul anywhere in the neighbourhood to
hear him, and then at last he gave himself up for dead. Dapple was lying
on his back, and Sancho helped him to his feet, which he was scarcely
able to keep; and then taking a piece of bread out of his alforjas which
had shared their fortunes in the fall, he gave it to the ass, to whom it
was not unwelcome, saying to him as if he understood him, "With bread all
sorrows are less."
And now he perceived on one side of the pit a hole large enough to admit
a person if he stooped and squeezed himself into a small compass. Sancho
made for it, and entered it by creeping, and found it wide and spacious
on the inside, which he was able to see as a ray of sunlight that
penetrated what might be called the roof showed it all plainly. He
observed too that it opened and widened out into another spacious cavity;
seeing which he made his way back to where the ass was, and with a stone
began to pick away the clay from the hole until in a short time he had
made room for the beast to pass easily, and this accomplished, taking him
by the halter, he proceeded to traverse the cavern to see if there was
any outlet at the other end. He advanced, sometimes in the dark,
sometimes without light, but never without fear; "God Almighty help me!"
said he to himself; "this that is a misadventure to me would make a good
adventure for my master Don Quixote. He would have been sure to take
these depths and dungeons for flowery gardens or the palaces of Galiana,
and would have counted upon issuing out of this darkness and imprisonment
into some blooming meadow; but I, unlucky that I am, hopeless and
spiritless, expect at every step another pit deeper than the first to
open under my feet and swallow me up for good; 'welcome evil, if thou
comest alone.'"
In this way and with these reflections he seemed to himself to have
travelled rather more than half a league, when at last he perceived a dim
light that looked like daylight and found its way in on one side, showing
that this road, which appeared to him the road to the other world, led to
some opening.
Here Cide Hamete leaves him, and returns to Don Quixote, who in high
spirits and satisfaction was looking forward to the day fixed for the
battle he was to fight with him who had robbed Dona Rodriguez's daughter
of her honour, for whom he hoped to obtain satisfaction for the wrong and
injury shamefully done to her. It came to pass, then, that having sallied
forth one morning to practise and exercise himself in what he would have
to do in the encounter he expected to find himself engaged in the next
day, as he was putting Rocinante through his paces or pressing him to the
charge, he brought his feet so close to a pit that but for reining him in
tightly it would have been impossible for him to avoid falling into it.
He pulled him up, however, without a fall, and coming a little closer
examined the hole without dismounting; but as he was looking at it he
heard loud cries proceeding from it, and by listening attentively was
able to make out that he who uttered them was saying, "Ho, above there!
is there any Christian that hears me, or any charitable gentleman that
will take pity on a sinner buried alive, on an unfortunate disgoverned
governor?"
It struck Don Quixote that it was the voice of Sancho Panza he heard,
whereat he was taken aback and amazed, and raising his own voice as much
as he could, he cried out, "Who is below there? Who is that complaining?"
"Who should be here, or who should complain," was the answer, "but the
forlorn Sancho Panza, for his sins and for his ill-luck governor of the
island of Barataria, squire that was to the famous knight Don Quixote of
La Mancha?"
When Don Quixote heard this his amazement was redoubled and his
perturbation grew greater than ever, for it suggested itself to his mind
that Sancho must be dead, and that his soul was in torment down there;
and carried away by this idea he exclaimed, "I conjure thee by everything
that as a Catholic Christian I can conjure thee by, tell me who thou art;
and if thou art a soul in torment, tell me what thou wouldst have me do
for thee; for as my profession is to give aid and succour to those that
need it in this world, it will also extend to aiding and succouring the
distressed of the other, who cannot help themselves."