With this reflection Sancho made his mind easy, counting thebusiness as good
as settled, and stayed there till the afternoon so asto make Don Quixote think he
had time enough to go to El Toboso andreturn; and things turned out so luckily for
him that as he got upto mount Dapple, he spied, coming from El Toboso towards the
spotwhere he stood, three peasant girls on three colts, or fillies- forthe author
does not make the point clear, though it is more likelythey were she-asses, the
usual mount with village girls; but as itis of no great consequence, we need not
stop to prove it.
To be brief, the instant Sancho saw the peasant girls, he returnedfull speed
to seek his master, and found him sighing and uttering athousand passionate lamentations.
When Don Quixote saw him heexclaimed, "What news, Sancho, my friend? Am I to mark
this day with awhite stone or a black?"
"Your worship," replied Sancho, "had better mark it with ruddle,like the inscriptions
on the walls of class rooms, that those whosee it may see it plain."
"Then thou bringest good news," said Don Quixote.
"So good," replied Sancho, "that your worship bas only to spurRocinante and get
out into the open field to see the lady Dulcinea delToboso, who, with two others,
damsels of hers, is coming to see yourworship."
"Holy God! what art thou saying, Sancho, my friend?" exclaimed DonQuixote. "Take
care thou art not deceiving me, or seeking by false joyto cheer my real sadness."
"What could I get by deceiving your worship," returned Sancho,"especially when
it will so soon be shown whether I tell the truthor not? Come, senor, push on, and
you will see the princess ourmistress coming, robed and adorned- in fact, like what
she is. Herdamsels and she are all one glow of gold, all bunches of pearls, alldiamonds,
all rubies, all cloth of brocade of more than ten borders;with their hair loose
on their shoulders like so many sunbeams playingwith the wind; and moreover, they
come mounted on three piebaldcackneys, the finest sight ever you saw."
"Hackneys, you mean, Sancho," said Don Quixote.
"There is not much difference between cackneys and hackneys," saidSancho; "but
no matter what they come on, there they are, the finestladies one could wish for,
especially my lady the princess Dulcinea,who staggers one's senses."
"Let us go, Sancho, my son," said Don Quixote, "and in guerdon ofthis news, as
unexpected as it is good, I bestow upon thee the bestspoil I shall win in the first
adventure I may have; or if that doesnot satisfy thee, I promise thee the foals
I shall have this year frommy three mares that thou knowest are in foal on our village
"I'll take the foals," said Sancho; "for it is not quite certainthat the spoils
of the first adventure will be good ones."
By this time they had cleared the wood, and saw the three villagelasses close
at hand. Don Quixote looked all along the road to ElToboso, and as he could see
nobody except the three peasant girls,he was completely puzzled, and asked Sancho
if it was outside the cityhe had left them.
"How outside the city?" returned Sancho. "Are your worship's eyes inthe back
of your head, that you can't see that they are these whoare coming here, shining
like the very sun at noonday?"
"I see nothing, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "but three countrygirls on three jackasses."
"Now, may God deliver me from the devil!" said Sancho, "and can itbe that your
worship takes three hackneys- or whatever they're called-as white as the driven
snow, for jackasses? By the Lord, I couldtear my beard if that was the case!"
"Well, I can only say, Sancho, my friend," said Don Quixote, "thatit is as plain
they are jackasses- or jennyasses- as that I am DonQuixote, and thou Sancho Panza:
at any rate, they seem to me to beso."
"Hush, senor," said Sancho, "don't talk that way, but open youreyes, and come
and pay your respects to the lady of your thoughts, whois close upon us now;" and
with these words he advanced to receive thethree village lasses, and dismounting
from Dapple, caught hold ofone of the asses of the three country girls by the halter,
anddropping on both knees on the ground, he said, "Queen and princess andduchess
of beauty, may it please your haughtiness and greatness toreceive into your favour
and good-will your captive knight whostands there turned into marble stone, and
quite stupefied andbenumbed at finding himself in your magnificent presence. I amSancho
Panza, his squire, and he the vagabond knight Don Quixote of LaMancha, otherwise
called 'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance.""
Don Quixote had by this time placed himself on his knees besideSancho, and, with
eyes starting out of his head and a puzzled gaze,was regarding her whom Sancho called
queen and lady; and as he couldsee nothing in her except a village lass, and not
a very well-favouredone, for she was platter-faced and snub-nosed, he was perplexed
andbewildered, and did not venture to open his lips. The country girls,at the same
time, were astonished to see these two men, so differentin appearance, on their
knees, preventing their companion from goingon. She, however, who had been stopped,
breaking silence, said angrilyand testily, "Get out of the way, bad luck to you,
and let us pass,for we are in a hurry."
To which Sancho returned, "Oh, princess and universal lady of ElToboso, is not
your magnanimous heart softened by seeing the pillarand prop of knight-errantry
on his knees before your sublimatedpresence?"
On hearing this, one of the others exclaimed, "Woa then! why, I'mrubbing thee
down, she-ass of my father-in-law! See how thelordlings come to make game of the
village girls now, as if we herecould not chaff as well as themselves. Go your own
way, and let usgo ours, and it will be better for you."
"Get up, Sancho," said Don Quixote at this; "I see that fortune,'with evil done
to me unsated still,' has taken possession of allthe roads by which any comfort
may reach 'this wretched soul' that Icarry in my flesh. And thou, highest perfection
of excellence that canbe desired, utmost limit of grace in human shape, sole relief
ofthis afflicted heart that adores thee, though the malign enchanterthat persecutes
me has brought clouds and cataracts on my eyes, and tothem, and them only, transformed
thy unparagoned beauty and changedthy features into those of a poor peasant girl,
if so be he has not atthe same time changed mine into those of some monster to render
themloathsome in thy sight, refuse not to look upon me with tenderness andlove;
seeing in this submission that I make on my knees to thytransformed beauty the humility
with which my soul adores thee."
"Hey-day! My grandfather!" cried the girl, "much I care for yourlove-making!
Get out of the way and let us pass, and we'll thank you."
Sancho stood aside and let her go, very well pleased to have gotso well out of
the hobble he was in. The instant the village lasswho had done duty for Dulcinea
found herself free, prodding her"cackney" with a spike she had at the end of a stick,
she set off atfull speed across the field. The she-ass, however, feeling the pointmore
acutely than usual, began cutting such capers, that it flungthe lady Dulcinea to
the ground; seeing which, Don Quixote ran toraise her up, and Sancho to fix and
girth the pack-saddle, whichalso had slipped under the ass's belly. The pack-saddle
being secured,as Don Quixote was about to lift up his enchanted mistress in his
armsand put her upon her beast, the lady, getting up from the ground,saved him the
trouble, for, going back a little, she took a short run,and putting both hands on
the croup of the ass she dropped into thesaddle more lightly than a falcon, and
sat astride like a man, whereatSancho said, "Rogue!" but our lady is lighter than
a lanner, and mightteach the cleverest Cordovan or Mexican how to mount; she clearedthe
back of the saddle in one jump, and without spurs she is makingthe hackney go like
a zebra; and her damsels are no way behind her,for they all fly like the wind;"
which was the truth, for as soon asthey saw Dulcinea mounted, they pushed on after
her, and sped awaywithout looking back, for more than half a league.
Don Quixote followed them with his eyes, and when they were nolonger in sight,
he turned to Sancho and said, "How now, Sancho?thou seest how I am hated by enchanters!
And see to what a lengththe malice and spite they bear me go, when they seek to
deprive meof the happiness it would give me to see my lady in her own properform.
The fact is I was born to be an example of misfortune, and thetarget and mark at
which the arrows of adversity are aimed anddirected. Observe too, Sancho, that these
traitors were not contentwith changing and transforming my Dulcinea, but they transformed
andchanged her into a shape as mean and ill-favoured as that of thevillage girl
yonder; and at the same time they robbed her of thatwhich is such a peculiar property
of ladies of distinction, that is tosay, the sweet fragrance that comes of being
always among perfumes andflowers. For I must tell thee, Sancho, that when I approached
to putDulcinea upon her hackney (as thou sayest it was, though to me itappeared
a she-ass), she gave me a whiff of raw garlic that made myhead reel, and poisoned
my very heart."
"O scum of the earth!" cried Sancho at this, "O miserable,spiteful enchanters!
O that I could see you all strung by the gills,like sardines on a twig! Ye know
a great deal, ye can do a great deal,and ye do a great deal more. It ought to have
been enough for you,ye scoundrels, to have changed the pearls of my lady's eyes
into oakgalls, and her hair of purest gold into the bristles of a red ox'stail,
and in short, all her features from fair to foul, withoutmeddling with her smell;
for by that we might somehow have found outwhat was hidden underneath that ugly
rind; though, to tell thetruth, I never perceived her ugliness, but only her beauty,
whichwas raised to the highest pitch of perfection by a mole she had on herright
lip, like a moustache, with seven or eight red hairs likethreads of gold, and more
than a palm long."
"From the correspondence which exists between those of the faceand those of the
body," said Don Quixote, "Dulcinea must haveanother mole resembling that on the
thick of the thigh on that side onwhich she has the one on her ace; but hairs of
the length thou hastmentioned are very long for moles."
"Well, all I can say is there they were as plain as could be,"replied Sancho.
"I believe it, my friend," returned Don Quixote; "for naturebestowed nothing
on Dulcinea that was not perfect and well-finished;and so, if she had a hundred
moles like the one thou hast described,in her they would not be moles, but moons
and shining stars. Buttell me, Sancho, that which seemed to me to be a pack-saddle
as thouwert fixing it, was it a flat-saddle or a side-saddle?"
"It was neither," replied Sancho, "but a jineta saddle, with a fieldcovering
worth half a kingdom, so rich is it."
"And that I could not see all this, Sancho!" said Don Quixote; "oncemore I say,
and will say a thousand times, I am the most unfortunateof men."
Sancho, the rogue, had enough to do to hide his laughter, at hearingthe simplicity
of the master he had so nicely befooled. At length,after a good deal more conversation
had passed between them, theyremounted their beasts, and followed the road to Saragossa,
which theyexpected to reach in time to take part in a certain grand festivalwhich
is held every year in that illustrious city; but before they gotthere things happened
to them, so many, so important, and sostrange, that they deserve to be recorded
and read, as will be seenfarther on.
CHAPTER XIOF THE STRANGE ADVENTURE WHICH THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE HAD WITHTHE
CAR OR CART OF "THE CORTES OF DEATH"
Dejected beyond measure did Don Quixote pursue his journey,turning over in his
mind the cruel trick the enchanters had played himin changing his lady Dulcinea
into the vile shape of the village lass,nor could he think of any way of restoring
her to her original form;and these reflections so absorbed him, that without being
aware ofit he let go Rocinante's bridle, and he, perceiving the liberty thatwas
granted him, stopped at every step to crop the fresh grass withwhich the plain abounded.
Sancho recalled him from his reverie. "Melancholy, senor," saidhe, "was made,
not for beasts, but for men; but if men give way toit overmuch they turn to beasts;
control yourself, your worship; beyourself again; gather up Rocinante's reins; cheer
up, rouseyourself and show that gallant spirit that knights-errant ought tohave.
What the devil is this? What weakness is this? Are we here or inFrance? The devil
fly away with all the Dulcineas in the world; forthe well-being of a single knight-errant
is of more consequence thanall the enchantments and transformations on earth."
"Hush, Sancho," said Don Quixote in a weak and faint voice, "hushand utter no
blasphemies against that enchanted lady; for I alone amto blame for her misfortune
and hard fate; her calamity has come ofthe hatred the wicked bear me."
"So say I," returned Sancho; "his heart rend in twain, I trow, whosaw her once,
to see her now."
"Thou mayest well say that, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "as thousawest her
in the full perfection of her beauty; for the enchantmentdoes not go so far as to
pervert thy vision or hide her lovelinessfrom thee; against me alone and against
my eyes is the strength of itsvenom directed. Nevertheless, there is one thing which
has occurred tome, and that is that thou didst ill describe her beauty to me, for,
aswell as I recollect, thou saidst that her eyes were pearls; but eyesthat are like
pearls are rather the eyes of a sea-bream than of alady, and I am persuaded that
Dulcinea's must be green emeralds,full and soft, with two rainbows for eyebrows;
take away thosepearls from her eyes and transfer them to her teeth; for beyond adoubt,
Sancho, thou hast taken the one for the other, the eyes for theteeth."