The History of Don Quixote, Vol. II., Part 40 - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
But not in life alone, methinks, to me
Belongs the office; Lady, when my tongue
Is 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 now
the death and the charms of the peerless Altisidora, not dead as the
ignorant world imagines, but living in the voice of fame and in the
penance which Sancho Panza, here present, has to undergo to restore her
to the long-lost light. Do thou, therefore, O Rhadamanthus, who sittest
in judgment with me in the murky caverns of Dis, as thou knowest all that
the inscrutable fates have decreed touching the resuscitation of this
damsel, announce and declare it at once, that the happiness we look
forward to from her restoration be no longer deferred."
No sooner had Minos the fellow judge of Rhadamanthus said this, than
Rhadamanthus rising up said:
"Ho, officials of this house, high and low, great and small, make haste
hither 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; for
upon 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 whip
me in order to disenchant her; Altisidora dies of ailments God was
pleased to send her, and to bring her to life again they must give me
four-and-twenty smacks, and prick holes in my body with pins, and raise
weals on my arms with pinches! Try those jokes on a brother-in-law; 'I'm
an 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 no
impossibilities are asked of thee; it is not for thee to inquire into the
difficulties in this matter; smacked thou must be, pricked thou shalt see
thyself, 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 see
what ye were born for."
At this some six duennas, advancing across the court, made their
appearance in procession, one after the other, four of them with
spectacles, and all with their right hands uplifted, showing four fingers
of 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, he
exclaimed, "I might let myself be handled by all the world; but allow
duennas to touch me--not a bit of it! Scratch my face, as my master was
served in this very castle; run me through the body with burnished
daggers; pinch my arms with red-hot pincers; I'll bear all in patience to
serve these gentlefolk; but I won't let duennas touch me, though the
devil 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 heaven
that it has infused such virtue into thy person, that by its sufferings
thou canst disenchant the enchanted and restore to life the dead."
The duennas were now close to Sancho, and he, having become more
tractable and reasonable, settling himself well in his chair presented
his face and beard to the first, who delivered him a smack very stoutly
laid on, and then made him a low curtsey.
"Less politeness and less paint, senora duenna," said Sancho; "by God
your hands smell of vinegar-wash."
In fine, all the duennas smacked him and several others of the household
pinched 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, and
seizing a lighted torch that stood near him fell upon the duennas and the
whole 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 long
lying on her back, turned on her side; seeing which the bystanders cried
out almost with one voice, "Altisidora is alive! Altisidora lives!"
Rhadamanthus bade Sancho put away his wrath, as the object they had in
view was now attained. When Don Quixote saw Altisidora move, he went on
his 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 lashes
thou 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 with
efficacy to work the good that is looked for from thee."
To which Sancho made answer, "That's trick upon trick, I think, and not
honey 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 a
big stone and tie it round my neck, and pitch me into a well; I should
not mind it much, if I'm to be always made the cow of the wedding for the
cure of other people's ailments. Leave me alone; or else by God I'll
fling the whole thing to the dogs, let come what may."
Altisidora had by this time sat up on the catafalque, and as she did so
the clarions sounded, accompanied by the flutes, and the voices of all
present exclaiming, "Long life to Altisidora! long life to Altisidora!"
The duke and duchess and the kings Minos and Rhadamanthus stood up, and
all, together with Don Quixote and Sancho, advanced to receive her and
take her down from the catafalque; and she, making as though she were
recovering from a swoon, bowed her head to the duke and duchess and to
the kings, and looking sideways at Don Quixote, said to him, "God forgive
thee, insensible knight, for through thy cruelty I have been, to me it
seems, more than a thousand years in the other world; and to thee, the
most compassionate upon earth, I render thanks for the life I am now in
possession of. From this day forth, friend Sancho, count as thine six
smocks of mine which I bestow upon thee, to make as many shirts for
thyself, and if they are not all quite whole, at any rate they are all
clean."
Sancho kissed her hands in gratitude, kneeling, and with the mitre in his
hand. The duke bade them take it from him, and give him back his cap and
doublet and remove the flaming robe. Sancho begged the duke to let them
leave him the robe and mitre; as he wanted to take them home for a token
and memento of that unexampled adventure. The duchess said they must
leave them with him; for he knew already what a great friend of his she
was. The duke then gave orders that the court should be cleared, and that
all should retire to their chambers, and that Don Quixote and Sancho
should be conducted to their old quarters.
CHAPTER LXX.
WHICH FOLLOWS SIXTY-NINE AND DEALS WITH MATTERS INDISPENSABLE FOR THE
CLEAR COMPREHENSION OF THIS HISTORY
Sancho slept that night in a cot in the same chamber with Don Quixote, a
thing he would have gladly excused if he could for he knew very well that
with questions and answers his master would not let him sleep, and he was
in no humour for talking much, as he still felt the pain of his late
martyrdom, which interfered with his freedom of speech; and it would have
been more to his taste to sleep in a hovel alone, than in that luxurious
chamber in company. And so well founded did his apprehension prove, and
so correct was his anticipation, that scarcely had his master got into
bed 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 thine
own eyes hast seen Altisidora slain, not by arrows, nor by the sword, nor
by any warlike weapon, nor by deadly poisons, but by the thought of the
sternness and scorn with which I have always treated her."
"She might have died and welcome," said Sancho, "when she pleased and how
she pleased; and she might have left me alone, for I never made her fall
in love or scorned her. I don't know nor can I imagine how the recovery
of Altisidora, a damsel more fanciful than wise, can have, as I have said
before, anything to do with the sufferings of Sancho Panza. Now I begin
to see plainly and clearly that there are enchanters and enchanted people
in the world; and may God deliver me from them, since I can't deliver
myself; and so I beg of your worship to let me sleep and not ask me any
more questions, unless you want me to throw myself out of the window."
"Sleep, Sancho my friend," said Don Quixote, "if the pinprodding and
pinches thou hast received and the smacks administered to thee will let
thee."
"No pain came up to the insult of the smacks," said Sancho, "for the
simple 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 relief
from 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 great
history, took this opportunity to record and relate what it was that
induced the duke and duchess to get up the elaborate plot that has been
described. The bachelor Samson Carrasco, he says, not forgetting how he
as the Knight of the Mirrors had been vanquished and overthrown by Don
Quixote, which defeat and overthrow upset all his plans, resolved to try
his hand again, hoping for better luck than he had before; and so, having
learned where Don Quixote was from the page who brought the letter and
present to Sancho's wife, Teresa Panza, he got himself new armour and
another horse, and put a white moon upon his shield, and to carry his
arms he had a mule led by a peasant, not by Tom Cecial his former squire
for fear he should be recognised by Sancho or Don Quixote. He came to the
duke's castle, and the duke informed him of the road and route Don
Quixote had taken with the intention of being present at the jousts at
Saragossa. He told him, too, of the jokes he had practised upon him, and
of the device for the disenchantment of Dulcinea at the expense of
Sancho's backside; and finally he gave him an account of the trick Sancho
had played upon his master, making him believe that Dulcinea was
enchanted and turned into a country wench; and of how the duchess, his
wife, had persuaded Sancho that it was he himself who was deceived,
inasmuch as Dulcinea was really enchanted; at which the bachelor laughed
not a little, and marvelled as well at the sharpness and simplicity of
Sancho as at the length to which Don Quixote's madness went. The duke
begged of him if he found him (whether he overcame him or not) to return
that way and let him know the result. This the bachelor did; he set out
in 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 castle
and told him all, what the conditions of the combat were, and how Don
Quixote was now, like a loyal knight-errant, returning to keep his
promise of retiring to his village for a year, by which time, said the
bachelor, he might perhaps be cured of his madness; for that was the
object that had led him to adopt these disguises, as it was a sad thing
for a gentleman of such good parts as Don Quixote to be a madman. And so
he took his leave of the duke, and went home to his village to wait there
for Don Quixote, who was coming after him. Thereupon the duke seized the
opportunity of practising this mystification upon him; so much did he
enjoy everything connected with Sancho and Don Quixote. He had the roads
about the castle far and near, everywhere he thought Don Quixote was
likely to pass on his return, occupied by large numbers of his servants
on foot and on horseback, who were to bring him to the castle, by fair
means or foul, if they met him. They did meet him, and sent word to the
duke, who, having already settled what was to be done, as soon as he
heard of his arrival, ordered the torches and lamps in the court to be
lit and Altisidora to be placed on the catafalque with all the pomp and
ceremony that has been described, the whole affair being so well arranged
and acted that it differed but little from reality. And Cide Hamete says,
moreover, that for his part he considers the concocters of the joke as
crazy as the victims of it, and that the duke and duchess were not two
fingers' breadth removed from being something like fools themselves when
they took such pains to make game of a pair of fools.
As for the latter, one was sleeping soundly and the other lying awake
occupied with his desultory thoughts, when daylight came to them bringing
with it the desire to rise; for the lazy down was never a delight to Don
Quixote, victor or vanquished. Altisidora, come back from death to life
as Don Quixote fancied, following up the freak of her lord and lady,
entered the chamber, crowned with the garland she had worn on the
catafalque and in a robe of white taffeta embroidered with gold flowers,
her hair flowing loose over her shoulders, and leaning upon a staff of
fine black ebony. Don Quixote, disconcerted and in confusion at her
appearance, huddled himself up and well-nigh covered himself altogether
with the sheets and counterpane of the bed, tongue-tied, and unable to
offer her any civility. Altisidora seated herself on a chair at the head
of 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, and
give a loose to the tongue that breaks through every impediment,
publishing abroad the inmost secrets of their hearts, they are reduced to
sore extremities. Such a one am I, Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha,
crushed, conquered, love-smitten, but yet patient under suffering and
virtuous, and so much so that my heart broke with grief and I lost my
life. For the last two days I have been dead, slain by the thought of the
cruelty 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 been
that Love, taking pity on me, let my recovery rest upon the sufferings of
this 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, and
I should have been obliged to him," said Sancho. "But tell me,
senora--and may heaven send you a tenderer lover than my master-what did
you see in the other world? What goes on in hell? For of course that's
where 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 should
never have come out again, do what I might. The truth is, I came to the
gate, where some dozen or so of devils were playing tennis, all in
breeches and doublets, with falling collars trimmed with Flemish
bonelace, and ruffles of the same that served them for wristbands, with
four fingers' breadth of the arms exposed to make their hands look
longer; in their hands they held rackets of fire; but what amazed me
still more was that books, apparently full of wind and rubbish, served
them for tennis balls, a strange and marvellous thing; this, however, did
not astonish me so much as to observe that, although with players it is
usual for the winners to be glad and the losers sorry, there in that game
all were growling, all were snarling, and all were cursing one another."
"That's no wonder," said Sancho; "for devils, whether playing or not, can
never be content, win or lose."
"Very likely," said Altisidora; "but there is another thing that
surprises me too, I mean surprised me then, and that was that no ball
outlasted the first throw or was of any use a second time; and it was
wonderful the constant succession there was of books, new and old. To one
of them, a brand-new, well-bound one, they gave such a stroke that they
knocked the guts out of it and scattered the leaves about. 'Look what
book that is,' said one devil to another, and the other replied, 'It is
the "Second Part of the History of Don Quixote of La Mancha," not by Cide
Hamete, the original author, but by an Aragonese who by his own account
is of Tordesillas.' 'Out of this with it,' said the first, 'and into the
depths 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 to
make a worse, I could not have done it.' They then went on with their
game, knocking other books about; and I, having heard them mention the
name of Don Quixote whom I love and adore so, took care to retain this
vision in my memory."
"A vision it must have been, no doubt," said Don Quixote, "for there is
no other I in the world; this history has been going about here for some
time from hand to hand, but it does not stay long in any, for everybody
gives it a taste of his foot. I am not disturbed by hearing that I am
wandering in a fantastic shape in the darkness of the pit or in the
daylight above, for I am not the one that history treats of. If it should
be good, faithful, and true, it will have ages of life; but if it should
be 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 it
grieves me you should have set your affections upon me, as from mine they
can only receive gratitude, but no return. I was born to belong to
Dulcinea del Toboso, and the fates, if there are any, dedicated me to
her; and to suppose that any other beauty can take the place she occupies
in my heart is to suppose an impossibility. This frank declaration should
suffice to make you retire within the bounds of your modesty, for no one
can 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, more
obstinate and obdurate than a clown asked a favour when he has his mind
made up, if I fall upon you I'll tear your eyes out! Do you fancy, Don
Vanquished, Don Cudgelled, that I died for your sake? All that you have
seen to-night has been make-believe; I'm not the woman to let the black
of my nail suffer for such a camel, much less die!"
"That I can well believe," said Sancho; "for all that about lovers pining
to death is absurd; they may talk of it, but as for doing it-Judas may
believe that!"
While they were talking, the musician, singer, and poet, who had sung the
two stanzas given above came in, and making a profound obeisance to Don
Quixote said, "Will your worship, sir knight, reckon and retain me in the
number of your most faithful servants, for I have long been a great
admirer of yours, as well because of your fame as because of your
achievements?" "Will your worship tell me who you are," replied Don
Quixote, "so that my courtesy may be answerable to your deserts?" The
young man replied that he was the musician and songster of the night
before. "Of a truth," said Don Quixote, "your worship has a most
excellent voice; but what you sang did not seem to me very much to the
purpose; for what have Garcilasso's stanzas to do with the death of this
lady?"
"Don't be surprised at that," returned the musician; "for with the callow
poets of our day the way is for every one to write as he pleases and
pilfer where he chooses, whether it be germane to the matter or not, and
now-a-days there is no piece of silliness they can sing or write that is
not set down to poetic licence."
Don Quixote was about to reply, but was prevented by the duke and
duchess, who came in to see him, and with them there followed a long and
delightful conversation, in the course of which Sancho said so many droll
and saucy things that he left the duke and duchess wondering not only at
his simplicity but at his sharpness. Don Quixote begged their permission
to take his departure that same day, inasmuch as for a vanquished knight
like himself it was fitter he should live in a pig-sty than in a royal
palace. They gave it very readily, and the duchess asked him if
Altisidora was in his good graces.
He replied, "Senora, let me tell your ladyship that this damsel's ailment
comes entirely of idleness, and the cure for it is honest and constant
employment. She herself has told me that lace is worn in hell; and as she
must know how to make it, let it never be out of her hands; for when she
is occupied in shifting the bobbins to and fro, the image or images of
what she loves will not shift to and fro in her thoughts; this is the
truth, this is my opinion, and this is my advice."
"And mine," added Sancho; "for I never in all my life saw a lace-maker
that died for love; when damsels are at work their minds are more set on
finishing their tasks than on thinking of their loves. I speak from my
own experience; for when I'm digging I never think of my old woman; I
mean my Teresa Panza, whom I love better than my own eyelids." "You say
well, Sancho," said the duchess, "and I will take care that my Altisidora
employs herself henceforward in needlework of some sort; for she is
extremely expert at it." "There is no occasion to have recourse to that
remedy, senora," said Altisidora; "for the mere thought of the cruelty
with which this vagabond villain has treated me will suffice to blot him
out of my memory without any other device; with your highness's leave I
will retire, not to have before my eyes, I won't say his rueful
countenance, but his abominable, ugly looks." "That reminds me of the
common 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 as
oak; 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 and
dined with the duke and duchess, and set out the same evening.