The History of Don Quixote, Volume II., Complete - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45
The marshal of the field was lost in astonishment at the words of
Tosilos; and as he was one of those who were privy to the arrangement of
the affair he knew not what to say in reply. Don Quixote pulled up in mid
career when he saw that his enemy was not coming on to the attack. The
duke could not make out the reason why the battle did not go on; but the
marshal of the field hastened to him to let him know what Tosilos said,
and he was amazed and extremely angry at it. In the meantime Tosilos
advanced to where Dona Rodriguez sat and said in a loud voice, "Senora, I
am willing to marry your daughter, and I have no wish to obtain by strife
and fighting what I can obtain in peace and without any risk to my life."
The valiant Don Quixote heard him, and said, "As that is the case I am
released and absolved from my promise; let them marry by all means, and
as 'God our Lord has given her, may Saint Peter add his blessing.'"
The duke had now descended to the courtyard of the castle, and going up
to Tosilos he said to him, "Is it true, sir knight, that you yield
yourself vanquished, and that moved by scruples of conscience you wish to
marry this damsel?"
"It is, senor," replied Tosilos.
"And he does well," said Sancho, "for what thou hast to give to the
mouse, give to the cat, and it will save thee all trouble."
Tosilos meanwhile was trying to unlace his helmet, and he begged them to
come to his help at once, as his power of breathing was failing him, and
he could not remain so long shut up in that confined space. They removed
it in all haste, and his lacquey features were revealed to public gaze.
At this sight Dona Rodriguez and her daughter raised a mighty outcry,
exclaiming, "This is a trick! This is a trick! They have put Tosilos, my
lord the duke's lacquey, upon us in place of the real husband. The
justice of God and the king against such trickery, not to say roguery!"
"Do not distress yourselves, ladies," said Don Quixote; "for this is no
trickery or roguery; or if it is, it is not the duke who is at the bottom
of it, but those wicked enchanters who persecute me, and who, jealous of
my reaping the glory of this victory, have turned your husband's features
into those of this person, who you say is a lacquey of the duke's; take
my advice, and notwithstanding the malice of my enemies marry him, for
beyond a doubt he is the one you wish for a husband."
When the duke heard this all his anger was near vanishing in a fit of
laughter, and he said, "The things that happen to Senor Don Quixote are
so extraordinary that I am ready to believe this lacquey of mine is not
one; but let us adopt this plan and device; let us put off the marriage
for, say, a fortnight, and let us keep this person about whom we are
uncertain in close confinement, and perhaps in the course of that time he
may return to his original shape; for the spite which the enchanters
entertain against Senor Don Quixote cannot last so long, especially as it
is of so little advantage to them to practise these deceptions and
transformations."
"Oh, senor," said Sancho, "those scoundrels are well used to changing
whatever concerns my master from one thing into another. A knight that he
overcame some time back, called the Knight of the Mirrors, they turned
into the shape of the bachelor Samson Carrasco of our town and a great
friend of ours; and my lady Dulcinea del Toboso they have turned into a
common country wench; so I suspect this lacquey will have to live and die
a lacquey all the days of his life."
Here the Rodriguez's daughter exclaimed, "Let him be who he may, this man
that claims me for a wife; I am thankful to him for the same, for I had
rather be the lawful wife of a lacquey than the cheated mistress of a
gentleman; though he who played me false is nothing of the kind."
To be brief, all the talk and all that had happened ended in Tosilos
being shut up until it was seen how his transformation turned out. All
hailed Don Quixote as victor, but the greater number were vexed and
disappointed at finding that the combatants they had been so anxiously
waiting for had not battered one another to pieces, just as the boys are
disappointed when the man they are waiting to see hanged does not come
out, because the prosecution or the court has pardoned him. The people
dispersed, the duke and Don Quixote returned to the castle, they locked
up Tosilos, Dona Rodriguez and her daughter remained perfectly contented
when they saw that any way the affair must end in marriage, and Tosilos
wanted nothing else.
CHAPTER LVII.
WHICH TREATS OF HOW DON QUIXOTE TOOK LEAVE OF THE DUKE, AND OF WHAT
FOLLOWED WITH THE WITTY AND IMPUDENT ALTISIDORA, ONE OF THE DUCHESS'S
DAMSELS
Don Quixote now felt it right to quit a life of such idleness as he was
leading in the castle; for he fancied that he was making himself sorely
missed by suffering himself to remain shut up and inactive amid the
countless luxuries and enjoyments his hosts lavished upon him as a
knight, and he felt too that he would have to render a strict account to
heaven of that indolence and seclusion; and so one day he asked the duke
and duchess to grant him permission to take his departure. They gave it,
showing at the same time that they were very sorry he was leaving them.
The duchess gave his wife's letters to Sancho Panza, who shed tears over
them, saying, "Who would have thought that such grand hopes as the news
of my government bred in my wife Teresa Panza's breast would end in my
going back now to the vagabond adventures of my master Don Quixote of La
Mancha? Still I'm glad to see my Teresa behaved as she ought in sending
the acorns, for if she had not sent them I'd have been sorry, and she'd
have shown herself ungrateful. It is a comfort to me that they can't call
that present a bribe; for I had got the government already when she sent
them, and it's but reasonable that those who have had a good turn done
them should show their gratitude, if it's only with a trifle. After all I
went into the government naked, and I come out of it naked; so I can say
with a safe conscience--and that's no small matter--'naked I was born,
naked I find myself, I neither lose nor gain.'"
Thus did Sancho soliloquise on the day of their departure, as Don
Quixote, who had the night before taken leave of the duke and duchess,
coming out made his appearance at an early hour in full armour in the
courtyard of the castle. The whole household of the castle were watching
him from the corridors, and the duke and duchess, too, came out to see
him. Sancho was mounted on his Dapple, with his alforjas, valise, and
proven, supremely happy because the duke's majordomo, the same that had
acted the part of the Trifaldi, had given him a little purse with two
hundred gold crowns to meet the necessary expenses of the road, but of
this Don Quixote knew nothing as yet. While all were, as has been said,
observing him, suddenly from among the duennas and handmaidens the
impudent and witty Altisidora lifted up her voice and said in pathetic
tones:
Give ear, cruel knight;
Draw rein; where's the need
Of spurring the flanks
Of that ill-broken steed?
From what art thou flying?
No dragon I am,
Not even a sheep,
But a tender young lamb.
Thou hast jilted a maiden
As fair to behold
As nymph of Diana
Or Venus of old.
Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?
Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!
In thy claws, ruthless robber,
Thou bearest away
The heart of a meek
Loving maid for thy prey,
Three kerchiefs thou stealest,
And garters a pair,
From legs than the whitest
Of marble more fair;
And the sighs that pursue thee
Would burn to the ground
Two thousand Troy Towns,
If so many were found.
Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?
Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!
May no bowels of mercy
To Sancho be granted,
And thy Dulcinea
Be left still enchanted,
May thy falsehood to me
Find its punishment in her,
For in my land the just
Often pays for the sinner.
May thy grandest adventures
Discomfitures prove,
May thy joys be all dreams,
And forgotten thy love.
Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?
Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!
May thy name be abhorred
For thy conduct to ladies,
From London to England,
From Seville to Cadiz;
May thy cards be unlucky,
Thy hands contain ne'er a
King, seven, or ace
When thou playest primera;
When thy corns are cut
May it be to the quick;
When thy grinders are drawn
May the roots of them stick.
Bireno, AEneas, what worse shall I call thee?
Barabbas go with thee! All evil befall thee!
All the while the unhappy Altisidora was bewailing herself in the above
strain Don Quixote stood staring at her; and without uttering a word in
reply to her he turned round to Sancho and said, "Sancho my friend, I
conjure thee by the life of thy forefathers tell me the truth; say, hast
thou by any chance taken the three kerchiefs and the garters this
love-sick maid speaks of?"
To this Sancho made answer, "The three kerchiefs I have; but the garters,
as much as 'over the hills of Ubeda.'"
The duchess was amazed at Altisidora's assurance; she knew that she was
bold, lively, and impudent, but not so much so as to venture to make free
in this fashion; and not being prepared for the joke, her astonishment
was all the greater. The duke had a mind to keep up the sport, so he
said, "It does not seem to me well done in you, sir knight, that after
having received the hospitality that has been offered you in this very
castle, you should have ventured to carry off even three kerchiefs, not
to say my handmaid's garters. It shows a bad heart and does not tally
with your reputation. Restore her garters, or else I defy you to mortal
combat, for I am not afraid of rascally enchanters changing or altering
my features as they changed his who encountered you into those of my
lacquey, Tosilos."
"God forbid," said Don Quixote, "that I should draw my sword against your
illustrious person from which I have received such great favours. The
kerchiefs I will restore, as Sancho says he has them; as to the garters
that is impossible, for I have not got them, neither has he; and if your
handmaiden here will look in her hiding-places, depend upon it she will
find them. I have never been a thief, my lord duke, nor do I mean to be
so long as I live, if God cease not to have me in his keeping. This
damsel by her own confession speaks as one in love, for which I am not to
blame, and therefore need not ask pardon, either of her or of your
excellence, whom I entreat to have a better opinion of me, and once more
to give me leave to pursue my journey."
"And may God so prosper it, Senor Don Quixote," said the duchess, "that
we may always hear good news of your exploits; God speed you; for the
longer you stay, the more you inflame the hearts of the damsels who
behold you; and as for this one of mine, I will so chastise her that she
will not transgress again, either with her eyes or with her words."
"One word and no more, O valiant Don Quixote, I ask you to hear," said
Altisidora, "and that is that I beg your pardon about the theft of the
garters; for by God and upon my soul I have got them on, and I have
fallen into the same blunder as he did who went looking for his ass being
all the while mounted on it."
"Didn't I say so?" said Sancho. "I'm a likely one to hide thefts! Why if
I wanted to deal in them, opportunities came ready enough to me in my
government."
Don Quixote bowed his head, and saluted the duke and duchess and all the
bystanders, and wheeling Rocinante round, Sancho following him on Dapple,
he rode out of the castle, shaping his course for Saragossa.
CHAPTER LVIII.
WHICH TELLS HOW ADVENTURES CAME CROWDING ON DON QUIXOTE IN SUCH NUMBERS
THAT THEY GAVE ONE ANOTHER NO BREATHING-TIME
When Don Quixote saw himself in open country, free, and relieved from the
attentions of Altisidora, he felt at his ease, and in fresh spirits to
take up the pursuit of chivalry once more; and turning to Sancho he said,
"Freedom, Sancho, is one of the most precious gifts that heaven has
bestowed upon men; no treasures that the earth holds buried or the sea
conceals can compare with it; for freedom, as for honour, life may and
should be ventured; and on the other hand, captivity is the greatest evil
that can fall to the lot of man. I say this, Sancho, because thou hast
seen the good cheer, the abundance we have enjoyed in this castle we are
leaving; well then, amid those dainty banquets and snow-cooled beverages
I felt as though I were undergoing the straits of hunger, because I did
not enjoy them with the same freedom as if they had been mine own; for
the sense of being under an obligation to return benefits and favours
received is a restraint that checks the independence of the spirit. Happy
he, to whom heaven has given a piece of bread for which he is not bound
to give thanks to any but heaven itself!"
"For all your worship says," said Sancho, "it is not becoming that there
should be no thanks on our part for two hundred gold crowns that the
duke's majordomo has given me in a little purse which I carry next my
heart, like a warming plaster or comforter, to meet any chance calls; for
we shan't always find castles where they'll entertain us; now and then we
may light upon roadside inns where they'll cudgel us."
In conversation of this sort the knight and squire errant were pursuing
their journey, when, after they had gone a little more than half a
league, they perceived some dozen men dressed like labourers stretched
upon their cloaks on the grass of a green meadow eating their dinner.
They had beside them what seemed to be white sheets concealing some
objects under them, standing upright or lying flat, and arranged at
intervals. Don Quixote approached the diners, and, saluting them
courteously first, he asked them what it was those cloths covered.
"Senor," answered one of the party, "under these cloths are some images
carved in relief intended for a retablo we are putting up in our village;
we carry them covered up that they may not be soiled, and on our
shoulders that they may not be broken."
"With your good leave," said Don Quixote, "I should like to see them; for
images that are carried so carefully no doubt must be fine ones."
"I should think they were!" said the other; "let the money they cost
speak for that; for as a matter of fact there is not one of them that
does not stand us in more than fifty ducats; and that your worship may
judge; wait a moment, and you shall see with your own eyes;" and getting
up from his dinner he went and uncovered the first image, which proved to
be one of Saint George on horseback with a serpent writhing at his feet
and the lance thrust down its throat with all that fierceness that is
usually depicted. The whole group was one blaze of gold, as the saying
is. On seeing it Don Quixote said, "That knight was one of the best
knights-errant the army of heaven ever owned; he was called Don Saint
George, and he was moreover a defender of maidens. Let us see this next
one."
The man uncovered it, and it was seen to be that of Saint Martin on his
horse, dividing his cloak with the beggar. The instant Don Quixote saw it
he said, "This knight too was one of the Christian adventurers, but I
believe he was generous rather than valiant, as thou mayest perceive,
Sancho, by his dividing his cloak with the beggar and giving him half of
it; no doubt it was winter at the time, for otherwise he would have given
him the whole of it, so charitable was he."
"It was not that, most likely," said Sancho, "but that he held with the
proverb that says, 'For giving and keeping there's need of brains.'"
Don Quixote laughed, and asked them to take off the next cloth,
underneath which was seen the image of the patron saint of the Spains
seated on horseback, his sword stained with blood, trampling on Moors and
treading heads underfoot; and on seeing it Don Quixote exclaimed, "Ay,
this is a knight, and of the squadrons of Christ! This one is called Don
Saint James the Moorslayer, one of the bravest saints and knights the
world ever had or heaven has now."
They then raised another cloth which it appeared covered Saint Paul
falling from his horse, with all the details that are usually given in
representations of his conversion. When Don Quixote saw it, rendered in
such lifelike style that one would have said Christ was speaking and Paul
answering, "This," he said, "was in his time the greatest enemy that the
Church of God our Lord had, and the greatest champion it will ever have;
a knight-errant in life, a steadfast saint in death, an untiring labourer
in the Lord's vineyard, a teacher of the Gentiles, whose school was
heaven, and whose instructor and master was Jesus Christ himself."
There were no more images, so Don Quixote bade them cover them up again,
and said to those who had brought them, "I take it as a happy omen,
brothers, to have seen what I have; for these saints and knights were of
the same profession as myself, which is the calling of arms; only there
is this difference between them and me, that they were saints, and fought
with divine weapons, and I am a sinner and fight with human ones. They
won heaven by force of arms, for heaven suffereth violence; and I, so
far, know not what I have won by dint of my sufferings; but if my
Dulcinea del Toboso were to be released from hers, perhaps with mended
fortunes and a mind restored to itself I might direct my steps in a
better path than I am following at present."
"May God hear and sin be deaf," said Sancho to this.
The men were filled with wonder, as well at the figure as at the words of
Don Quixote, though they did not understand one half of what he meant by
them. They finished their dinner, took their images on their backs, and
bidding farewell to Don Quixote resumed their journey.
Sancho was amazed afresh at the extent of his master's knowledge, as much
as if he had never known him, for it seemed to him that there was no
story or event in the world that he had not at his fingers' ends and
fixed in his memory, and he said to him, "In truth, master mine, if this
that has happened to us to-day is to be called an adventure, it has been
one of the sweetest and pleasantest that have befallen us in the whole
course of our travels; we have come out of it unbelaboured and
undismayed, neither have we drawn sword nor have we smitten the earth
with our bodies, nor have we been left famishing; blessed be God that he
has let me see such a thing with my own eyes!"
"Thou sayest well, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "but remember all times are
not alike nor do they always run the same way; and these things the
vulgar commonly call omens, which are not based upon any natural reason,
will by him who is wise be esteemed and reckoned happy accidents merely.
One of these believers in omens will get up of a morning, leave his
house, and meet a friar of the order of the blessed Saint Francis, and,
as if he had met a griffin, he will turn about and go home. With another
Mendoza the salt is spilt on his table, and gloom is spilt over his
heart, as if nature was obliged to give warning of coming misfortunes by
means of such trivial things as these. The wise man and the Christian
should not trifle with what it may please heaven to do. Scipio on coming
to Africa stumbled as he leaped on shore; his soldiers took it as a bad
omen; but he, clasping the soil with his arms, exclaimed, 'Thou canst not
escape me, Africa, for I hold thee tight between my arms.' Thus, Sancho,
meeting those images has been to me a most happy occurrence."
"I can well believe it," said Sancho; "but I wish your worship would tell
me what is the reason that the Spaniards, when they are about to give
battle, in calling on that Saint James the Moorslayer, say 'Santiago and
close Spain!' Is Spain, then, open, so that it is needful to close it; or
what is the meaning of this form?"
"Thou art very simple, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "God, look you, gave
that great knight of the Red Cross to Spain as her patron saint and
protector, especially in those hard struggles the Spaniards had with the
Moors; and therefore they invoke and call upon him as their defender in
all their battles; and in these he has been many a time seen beating
down, trampling under foot, destroying and slaughtering the Hagarene
squadrons in the sight of all; of which fact I could give thee many
examples recorded in truthful Spanish histories."
Sancho changed the subject, and said to his master, "I marvel, senor, at
the boldness of Altisidora, the duchess's handmaid; he whom they call
Love must have cruelly pierced and wounded her; they say he is a little
blind urchin who, though blear-eyed, or more properly speaking sightless,
if he aims at a heart, be it ever so small, hits it and pierces it
through and through with his arrows. I have heard it said too that the
arrows of Love are blunted and robbed of their points by maidenly modesty
and reserve; but with this Altisidora it seems they are sharpened rather
than blunted."
"Bear in mind, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that love is influenced by no
consideration, recognises no restraints of reason, and is of the same
nature as death, that assails alike the lofty palaces of kings and the
humble cabins of shepherds; and when it takes entire possession of a
heart, the first thing it does is to banish fear and shame from it; and
so without shame Altisidora declared her passion, which excited in my
mind embarrassment rather than commiseration."
"Notable cruelty!" exclaimed Sancho; "unheard-of ingratitude! I can only
say for myself that the very smallest loving word of hers would have
subdued me and made a slave of me. The devil! What a heart of marble,
what bowels of brass, what a soul of mortar! But I can't imagine what it
is that this damsel saw in your worship that could have conquered and
captivated her so. What gallant figure was it, what bold bearing, what
sprightly grace, what comeliness of feature, which of these things by
itself, or what all together, could have made her fall in love with you?
For indeed and in truth many a time I stop to look at your worship from
the sole of your foot to the topmost hair of your head, and I see more to
frighten one than to make one fall in love; moreover I have heard say
that beauty is the first and main thing that excites love, and as your
worship has none at all, I don't know what the poor creature fell in love
with."
"Recollect, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "there are two sorts of beauty,
one of the mind, the other of the body; that of the mind displays and
exhibits itself in intelligence, in modesty, in honourable conduct, in
generosity, in good breeding; and all these qualities are possible and
may exist in an ugly man; and when it is this sort of beauty and not that
of the body that is the attraction, love is apt to spring up suddenly and
violently. I, Sancho, perceive clearly enough that I am not beautiful,
but at the same time I know I am not hideous; and it is enough for an
honest man not to be a monster to be an object of love, if only he
possesses the endowments of mind I have mentioned."
While engaged in this discourse they were making their way through a wood
that lay beyond the road, when suddenly, without expecting anything of
the kind, Don Quixote found himself caught in some nets of green cord
stretched from one tree to another; and unable to conceive what it could
be, he said to Sancho, "Sancho, it strikes me this affair of these nets
will prove one of the strangest adventures imaginable. May I die if the
enchanters that persecute me are not trying to entangle me in them and
delay my journey, by way of revenge for my obduracy towards Altisidora.
Well then let me tell them that if these nets, instead of being green
cord, were made of the hardest diamonds, or stronger than that wherewith
the jealous god of blacksmiths enmeshed Venus and Mars, I would break
them as easily as if they were made of rushes or cotton threads." But
just as he was about to press forward and break through all, suddenly
from among some trees two shepherdesses of surpassing beauty presented
themselves to his sight--or at least damsels dressed like shepherdesses,
save that their jerkins and sayas were of fine brocade; that is to say,
the sayas were rich farthingales of gold embroidered tabby. Their hair,
that in its golden brightness vied with the beams of the sun itself, fell
loose upon their shoulders and was crowned with garlands twined with
green laurel and red everlasting; and their years to all appearance were
not under fifteen nor above eighteen.
Such was the spectacle that filled Sancho with amazement, fascinated Don
Quixote, made the sun halt in his course to behold them, and held all
four in a strange silence. One of the shepherdesses, at length, was the
first to speak and said to Don Quixote, "Hold, sir knight, and do not
break these nets; for they are not spread here to do you any harm, but
only for our amusement; and as I know you will ask why they have been put
up, and who we are, I will tell you in a few words. In a village some two
leagues from this, where there are many people of quality and rich
gentlefolk, it was agreed upon by a number of friends and relations to
come with their wives, sons and daughters, neighbours, friends and
kinsmen, and make holiday in this spot, which is one of the pleasantest
in the whole neighbourhood, setting up a new pastoral Arcadia among
ourselves, we maidens dressing ourselves as shepherdesses and the youths
as shepherds. We have prepared two eclogues, one by the famous poet
Garcilasso, the other by the most excellent Camoens, in its own
Portuguese tongue, but we have not as yet acted them. Yesterday was the
first day of our coming here; we have a few of what they say are called
field-tents pitched among the trees on the bank of an ample brook that
fertilises all these meadows; last night we spread these nets in the
trees here to snare the silly little birds that startled by the noise we
make may fly into them. If you please to be our guest, senor, you will be
welcomed heartily and courteously, for here just now neither care nor
sorrow shall enter."