The History of Don Quixote, Volume II., Complete - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
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Profuse and hearty were the expressions of gratitude with which the
captains thanked Roque for his courtesy and generosity; for such they
regarded his leaving them their own money. Senora Dona Guiomar de
Quinones wanted to throw herself out of the coach to kiss the feet and
hands of the great Roque, but he would not suffer it on any account; so
far from that, he begged her pardon for the wrong he had done her under
pressure of the inexorable necessities of his unfortunate calling. The
regent's lady ordered one of her servants to give the eighty crowns that
had been assessed as her share at once, for the captains had already paid
down their sixty. The pilgrims were about to give up the whole of their
little hoard, but Roque bade them keep quiet, and turning to his men he
said, "Of these crowns two fall to each man and twenty remain over; let
ten be given to these pilgrims, and the other ten to this worthy squire
that he may be able to speak favourably of this adventure;" and then
having writing materials, with which he always went provided, brought to
him, he gave them in writing a safe-conduct to the leaders of his bands;
and bidding them farewell let them go free and filled with admiration at
his magnanimity, his generous disposition, and his unusual conduct, and
inclined to regard him as an Alexander the Great rather than a notorious
robber.
One of the squires observed in his mixture of Gascon and Catalan, "This
captain of ours would make a better friar than highwayman; if he wants to
be so generous another time, let it be with his own property and not
ours."
The unlucky wight did not speak so low but that Roque overheard him, and
drawing his sword almost split his head in two, saying, "That is the way
I punish impudent saucy fellows." They were all taken aback, and not one
of them dared to utter a word, such deference did they pay him. Roque
then withdrew to one side and wrote a letter to a friend of his at
Barcelona, telling him that the famous Don Quixote of La Mancha, the
knight-errant of whom there was so much talk, was with him, and was, he
assured him, the drollest and wisest man in the world; and that in four
days from that date, that is to say, on Saint John the Baptist's Day, he
was going to deposit him in full armour mounted on his horse Rocinante,
together with his squire Sancho on an ass, in the middle of the strand of
the city; and bidding him give notice of this to his friends the Niarros,
that they might divert themselves with him. He wished, he said, his
enemies the Cadells could be deprived of this pleasure; but that was
impossible, because the crazes and shrewd sayings of Don Quixote and the
humours of his squire Sancho Panza could not help giving general pleasure
to all the world. He despatched the letter by one of his squires, who,
exchanging the costume of a highwayman for that of a peasant, made his
way into Barcelona and gave it to the person to whom it was directed.
CHAPTER LXI.
OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON ENTERING BARCELONA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER
MATTERS THAT PARTAKE OF THE TRUE RATHER THAN OF THE INGENIOUS
Don Quixote passed three days and three nights with Roque, and had he
passed three hundred years he would have found enough to observe and
wonder at in his mode of life. At daybreak they were in one spot, at
dinner-time in another; sometimes they fled without knowing from whom, at
other times they lay in wait, not knowing for what. They slept standing,
breaking their slumbers to shift from place to place. There was nothing
but sending out spies and scouts, posting sentinels and blowing the
matches of harquebusses, though they carried but few, for almost all used
flintlocks. Roque passed his nights in some place or other apart from his
men, that they might not know where he was, for the many proclamations
the viceroy of Barcelona had issued against his life kept him in fear and
uneasiness, and he did not venture to trust anyone, afraid that even his
own men would kill him or deliver him up to the authorities; of a truth,
a weary miserable life! At length, by unfrequented roads, short cuts, and
secret paths, Roque, Don Quixote, and Sancho, together with six squires,
set out for Barcelona. They reached the strand on Saint John's Eve during
the night; and Roque, after embracing Don Quixote and Sancho (to whom he
presented the ten crowns he had promised but had not until then given),
left them with many expressions of good-will on both sides.
Roque went back, while Don Quixote remained on horseback, just as he was,
waiting for day, and it was not long before the countenance of the fair
Aurora began to show itself at the balconies of the east, gladdening the
grass and flowers, if not the ear, though to gladden that too there came
at the same moment a sound of clarions and drums, and a din of bells, and
a tramp, tramp, and cries of "Clear the way there!" of some runners, that
seemed to issue from the city.
The dawn made way for the sun that with a face broader than a buckler
began to rise slowly above the low line of the horizon; Don Quixote and
Sancho gazed all round them; they beheld the sea, a sight until then
unseen by them; it struck them as exceedingly spacious and broad, much
more so than the lakes of Ruidera which they had seen in La Mancha. They
saw the galleys along the beach, which, lowering their awnings, displayed
themselves decked with streamers and pennons that trembled in the breeze
and kissed and swept the water, while on board the bugles, trumpets, and
clarions were sounding and filling the air far and near with melodious
warlike notes. Then they began to move and execute a kind of skirmish
upon the calm water, while a vast number of horsemen on fine horses and
in showy liveries, issuing from the city, engaged on their side in a
somewhat similar movement. The soldiers on board the galleys kept up a
ceaseless fire, which they on the walls and forts of the city returned,
and the heavy cannon rent the air with the tremendous noise they made, to
which the gangway guns of the galleys replied. The bright sea, the
smiling earth, the clear air--though at times darkened by the smoke of
the guns--all seemed to fill the whole multitude with unexpected delight.
Sancho could not make out how it was that those great masses that moved
over the sea had so many feet.
And now the horsemen in livery came galloping up with shouts and
outlandish cries and cheers to where Don Quixote stood amazed and
wondering; and one of them, he to whom Roque had sent word, addressing
him exclaimed, "Welcome to our city, mirror, beacon, star and cynosure of
all knight-errantry in its widest extent! Welcome, I say, valiant Don
Quixote of La Mancha; not the false, the fictitious, the apocryphal, that
these latter days have offered us in lying histories, but the true, the
legitimate, the real one that Cide Hamete Benengeli, flower of
historians, has described to us!"
Don Quixote made no answer, nor did the horsemen wait for one, but
wheeling again with all their followers, they began curvetting round Don
Quixote, who, turning to Sancho, said, "These gentlemen have plainly
recognised us; I will wager they have read our history, and even that
newly printed one by the Aragonese."
The cavalier who had addressed Don Quixote again approached him and said,
"Come with us, Senor Don Quixote, for we are all of us your servants and
great friends of Roque Guinart's;" to which Don Quixote returned, "If
courtesy breeds courtesy, yours, sir knight, is daughter or very nearly
akin to the great Roque's; carry me where you please; I will have no will
but yours, especially if you deign to employ it in your service."
The cavalier replied with words no less polite, and then, all closing in
around him, they set out with him for the city, to the music of the
clarions and the drums. As they were entering it, the wicked one, who is
the author of all mischief, and the boys who are wickeder than the wicked
one, contrived that a couple of these audacious irrepressible urchins
should force their way through the crowd, and lifting up, one of them
Dapple's tail and the other Rocinante's, insert a bunch of furze under
each. The poor beasts felt the strange spurs and added to their anguish
by pressing their tails tight, so much so that, cutting a multitude of
capers, they flung their masters to the ground. Don Quixote, covered with
shame and out of countenance, ran to pluck the plume from his poor jade's
tail, while Sancho did the same for Dapple. His conductors tried to
punish the audacity of the boys, but there was no possibility of doing
so, for they hid themselves among the hundreds of others that were
following them. Don Quixote and Sancho mounted once more, and with the
same music and acclamations reached their conductor's house, which was
large and stately, that of a rich gentleman, in short; and there for the
present we will leave them, for such is Cide Hamete's pleasure.
CHAPTER LXII.
WHICH DEALS WITH THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED HEAD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER
TRIVIAL MATTERS WHICH CANNOT BE LEFT UNTOLD
Don Quixote's host was one Don Antonio Moreno by name, a gentleman of
wealth and intelligence, and very fond of diverting himself in any fair
and good-natured way; and having Don Quixote in his house he set about
devising modes of making him exhibit his mad points in some harmless
fashion; for jests that give pain are no jests, and no sport is worth
anything if it hurts another. The first thing he did was to make Don
Quixote take off his armour, and lead him, in that tight chamois suit we
have already described and depicted more than once, out on a balcony
overhanging one of the chief streets of the city, in full view of the
crowd and of the boys, who gazed at him as they would at a monkey. The
cavaliers in livery careered before him again as though it were for him
alone, and not to enliven the festival of the day, that they wore it, and
Sancho was in high delight, for it seemed to him that, how he knew not,
he had fallen upon another Camacho's wedding, another house like Don
Diego de Miranda's, another castle like the duke's. Some of Don Antonio's
friends dined with him that day, and all showed honour to Don Quixote and
treated him as a knight-errant, and he becoming puffed up and exalted in
consequence could not contain himself for satisfaction. Such were the
drolleries of Sancho that all the servants of the house, and all who
heard him, were kept hanging upon his lips. While at table Don Antonio
said to him, "We hear, worthy Sancho, that you are so fond of manjar
blanco and forced-meat balls, that if you have any left, you keep them in
your bosom for the next day."
"No, senor, that's not true," said Sancho, "for I am more cleanly than
greedy, and my master Don Quixote here knows well that we two are used to
live for a week on a handful of acorns or nuts. To be sure, if it so
happens that they offer me a heifer, I run with a halter; I mean, I eat
what I'm given, and make use of opportunities as I find them; but whoever
says that I'm an out-of-the-way eater or not cleanly, let me tell him
that he is wrong; and I'd put it in a different way if I did not respect
the honourable beards that are at the table."
"Indeed," said Don Quixote, "Sancho's moderation and cleanliness in
eating might be inscribed and graved on plates of brass, to be kept in
eternal remembrance in ages to come. It is true that when he is hungry
there is a certain appearance of voracity about him, for he eats at a
great pace and chews with both jaws; but cleanliness he is always mindful
of; and when he was governor he learned how to eat daintily, so much so
that he eats grapes, and even pomegranate pips, with a fork."
"What!" said Don Antonio, "has Sancho been a governor?"
"Ay," said Sancho, "and of an island called Barataria. I governed it to
perfection for ten days; and lost my rest all the time; and learned to
look down upon all the governments in the world; I got out of it by
taking to flight, and fell into a pit where I gave myself up for dead,
and out of which I escaped alive by a miracle."
Don Quixote then gave them a minute account of the whole affair of
Sancho's government, with which he greatly amused his hearers.
On the cloth being removed Don Antonio, taking Don Quixote by the hand,
passed with him into a distant room in which there was nothing in the way
of furniture except a table, apparently of jasper, resting on a pedestal
of the same, upon which was set up, after the fashion of the busts of the
Roman emperors, a head which seemed to be of bronze. Don Antonio
traversed the whole apartment with Don Quixote and walked round the table
several times, and then said, "Now, Senor Don Quixote, that I am
satisfied that no one is listening to us, and that the door is shut, I
will tell you of one of the rarest adventures, or more properly speaking
strange things, that can be imagined, on condition that you will keep
what I say to you in the remotest recesses of secrecy."
"I swear it," said Don Quixote, "and for greater security I will put a
flag-stone over it; for I would have you know, Senor Don Antonio" (he had
by this time learned his name), "that you are addressing one who, though
he has ears to hear, has no tongue to speak; so that you may safely
transfer whatever you have in your bosom into mine, and rely upon it that
you have consigned it to the depths of silence."
"In reliance upon that promise," said Don Antonio, "I will astonish you
with what you shall see and hear, and relieve myself of some of the
vexation it gives me to have no one to whom I can confide my secrets, for
they are not of a sort to be entrusted to everybody."
Don Quixote was puzzled, wondering what could be the object of such
precautions; whereupon Don Antonio taking his hand passed it over the
bronze head and the whole table and the pedestal of jasper on which it
stood, and then said, "This head, Senor Don Quixote, has been made and
fabricated by one of the greatest magicians and wizards the world ever
saw, a Pole, I believe, by birth, and a pupil of the famous Escotillo of
whom such marvellous stories are told. He was here in my house, and for a
consideration of a thousand crowns that I gave him he constructed this
head, which has the property and virtue of answering whatever questions
are put to its ear. He observed the points of the compass, he traced
figures, he studied the stars, he watched favourable moments, and at
length brought it to the perfection we shall see to-morrow, for on
Fridays it is mute, and this being Friday we must wait till the next day.
In the interval your worship may consider what you would like to ask it;
and I know by experience that in all its answers it tells the truth."
Don Quixote was amazed at the virtue and property of the head, and was
inclined to disbelieve Don Antonio; but seeing what a short time he had
to wait to test the matter, he did not choose to say anything except that
he thanked him for having revealed to him so mighty a secret. They then
quitted the room, Don Antonio locked the door, and they repaired to the
chamber where the rest of the gentlemen were assembled. In the meantime
Sancho had recounted to them several of the adventures and accidents that
had happened his master.
That afternoon they took Don Quixote out for a stroll, not in his armour
but in street costume, with a surcoat of tawny cloth upon him, that at
that season would have made ice itself sweat. Orders were left with the
servants to entertain Sancho so as not to let him leave the house. Don
Quixote was mounted, not on Rocinante, but upon a tall mule of easy pace
and handsomely caparisoned. They put the surcoat on him, and on the back,
without his perceiving it, they stitched a parchment on which they wrote
in large letters, "This is Don Quixote of La Mancha." As they set out
upon their excursion the placard attracted the eyes of all who chanced to
see him, and as they read out, "This is Don Quixote of La Mancha," Don
Quixote was amazed to see how many people gazed at him, called him by his
name, and recognised him, and turning to Don Antonio, who rode at his
side, he observed to him, "Great are the privileges knight-errantry
involves, for it makes him who professes it known and famous in every
region of the earth; see, Don Antonio, even the very boys of this city
know me without ever having seen me."
"True, Senor Don Quixote," returned Don Antonio; "for as fire cannot be
hidden or kept secret, virtue cannot escape being recognised; and that
which is attained by the profession of arms shines distinguished above
all others."
It came to pass, however, that as Don Quixote was proceeding amid the
acclamations that have been described, a Castilian, reading the
inscription on his back, cried out in a loud voice, "The devil take thee
for a Don Quixote of La Mancha! What! art thou here, and not dead of the
countless drubbings that have fallen on thy ribs? Thou art mad; and if
thou wert so by thyself, and kept thyself within thy madness, it would
not be so bad; but thou hast the gift of making fools and blockheads of
all who have anything to do with thee or say to thee. Why, look at these
gentlemen bearing thee company! Get thee home, blockhead, and see after
thy affairs, and thy wife and children, and give over these fooleries
that are sapping thy brains and skimming away thy wits."
"Go your own way, brother," said Don Antonio, "and don't offer advice to
those who don't ask you for it. Senor Don Quixote is in his full senses,
and we who bear him company are not fools; virtue is to be honoured
wherever it may be found; go, and bad luck to you, and don't meddle where
you are not wanted."
"By God, your worship is right," replied the Castilian; "for to advise
this good man is to kick against the pricks; still for all that it fills
me with pity that the sound wit they say the blockhead has in everything
should dribble away by the channel of his knight-errantry; but may the
bad luck your worship talks of follow me and all my descendants, if, from
this day forth, though I should live longer than Methuselah, I ever give
advice to anybody even if he asks me for it."
The advice-giver took himself off, and they continued their stroll; but
so great was the press of the boys and people to read the placard, that
Don Antonio was forced to remove it as if he were taking off something
else.
Night came and they went home, and there was a ladies' dancing party, for
Don Antonio's wife, a lady of rank and gaiety, beauty and wit, had
invited some friends of hers to come and do honour to her guest and amuse
themselves with his strange delusions. Several of them came, they supped
sumptuously, the dance began at about ten o'clock. Among the ladies were
two of a mischievous and frolicsome turn, and, though perfectly modest,
somewhat free in playing tricks for harmless diversion sake. These two
were so indefatigable in taking Don Quixote out to dance that they tired
him down, not only in body but in spirit. It was a sight to see the
figure Don Quixote made, long, lank, lean, and yellow, his garments
clinging tight to him, ungainly, and above all anything but agile.
The gay ladies made secret love to him, and he on his part secretly
repelled them, but finding himself hard pressed by their blandishments he
lifted up his voice and exclaimed, "Fugite, partes adversae! Leave me in
peace, unwelcome overtures; avaunt, with your desires, ladies, for she
who is queen of mine, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, suffers none but
hers to lead me captive and subdue me;" and so saying he sat down on the
floor in the middle of the room, tired out and broken down by all this
exertion in the dance.
Don Antonio directed him to be taken up bodily and carried to bed, and
the first that laid hold of him was Sancho, saying as he did so, "In an
evil hour you took to dancing, master mine; do you fancy all mighty men
of valour are dancers, and all knights-errant given to capering? If you
do, I can tell you you are mistaken; there's many a man would rather
undertake to kill a giant than cut a caper. If it had been the shoe-fling
you were at I could take your place, for I can do the shoe-fling like a
gerfalcon; but I'm no good at dancing."
With these and other observations Sancho set the whole ball-room
laughing, and then put his master to bed, covering him up well so that he
might sweat out any chill caught after his dancing.
The next day Don Antonio thought he might as well make trial of the
enchanted head, and with Don Quixote, Sancho, and two others, friends of
his, besides the two ladies that had tired out Don Quixote at the ball,
who had remained for the night with Don Antonio's wife, he locked himself
up in the chamber where the head was. He explained to them the property
it possessed and entrusted the secret to them, telling them that now for
the first time he was going to try the virtue of the enchanted head; but
except Don Antonio's two friends no one else was privy to the mystery of
the enchantment, and if Don Antonio had not first revealed it to them
they would have been inevitably reduced to the same state of amazement as
the rest, so artfully and skilfully was it contrived.
The first to approach the ear of the head was Don Antonio himself, and in
a low voice but not so low as not to be audible to all, he said to it,
"Head, tell me by the virtue that lies in thee what am I at this moment
thinking of?"
The head, without any movement of the lips, answered in a clear and
distinct voice, so as to be heard by all, "I cannot judge of thoughts."
All were thunderstruck at this, and all the more so as they saw that
there was nobody anywhere near the table or in the whole room that could
have answered. "How many of us are here?" asked Don Antonio once more;
and it was answered him in the same way softly, "Thou and thy wife, with
two friends of thine and two of hers, and a famous knight called Don
Quixote of La Mancha, and a squire of his, Sancho Panza by name."
Now there was fresh astonishment; now everyone's hair was standing on end
with awe; and Don Antonio retiring from the head exclaimed, "This
suffices to show me that I have not been deceived by him who sold thee to
me, O sage head, talking head, answering head, wonderful head! Let some
one else go and put what question he likes to it."
And as women are commonly impulsive and inquisitive, the first to come
forward was one of the two friends of Don Antonio's wife, and her
question was, "Tell me, Head, what shall I do to be very beautiful?" and
the answer she got was, "Be very modest."
"I question thee no further," said the fair querist.
Her companion then came up and said, "I should like to know, Head,
whether my husband loves me or not;" the answer given to her was, "Think
how he uses thee, and thou mayest guess;" and the married lady went off
saying, "That answer did not need a question; for of course the treatment
one receives shows the disposition of him from whom it is received."
Then one of Don Antonio's two friends advanced and asked it, "Who am I?"
"Thou knowest," was the answer. "That is not what I ask thee," said the
gentleman, "but to tell me if thou knowest me." "Yes, I know thee, thou
art Don Pedro Noriz," was the reply.
"I do not seek to know more," said the gentleman, "for this is enough to
convince me, O Head, that thou knowest everything;" and as he retired the
other friend came forward and asked it, "Tell me, Head, what are the
wishes of my eldest son?"
"I have said already," was the answer, "that I cannot judge of wishes;
however, I can tell thee the wish of thy son is to bury thee."
"That's 'what I see with my eyes I point out with my finger,'" said the
gentleman, "so I ask no more."
Don Antonio's wife came up and said, "I know not what to ask thee, Head;
I would only seek to know of thee if I shall have many years of enjoyment
of my good husband;" and the answer she received was, "Thou shalt, for
his vigour and his temperate habits promise many years of life, which by
their intemperance others so often cut short."
Then Don Quixote came forward and said, "Tell me, thou that answerest,
was that which I describe as having happened to me in the cave of
Montesinos the truth or a dream? Will Sancho's whipping be accomplished
without fail? Will the disenchantment of Dulcinea be brought about?"
"As to the question of the cave," was the reply, "there is much to be
said; there is something of both in it. Sancho's whipping will proceed
leisurely. The disenchantment of Dulcinea will attain its due
consummation."
"I seek to know no more," said Don Quixote; "let me but see Dulcinea
disenchanted, and I will consider that all the good fortune I could wish
for has come upon me all at once."
The last questioner was Sancho, and his questions were, "Head, shall I by
any chance have another government? Shall I ever escape from the hard
life of a squire? Shall I get back to see my wife and children?" To which
the answer came, "Thou shalt govern in thy house; and if thou returnest
to it thou shalt see thy wife and children; and on ceasing to serve thou
shalt cease to be a squire."