"Indeed, Senor Don Quixote," said the barber, "I did not mean itin that way, 
and, so help me God, my intention was good, and yourworship ought not to be vexed."
"As to whether I ought to be vexed or not," returned Don Quixote, "Imyself am 
the best judge."
Hereupon the curate observed, "I have hardly said a word as yet; andI would gladly 
be relieved of a doubt, arising from what Don Quixotehas said, that worries and 
works my conscience."
"The senor curate has leave for more than that," returned DonQuixote, "so he 
may declare his doubt, for it is not pleasant tohave a doubt on one's conscience."
"Well then, with that permission," said the curate, "I say mydoubt is that, all 
I can do, I cannot persuade myself that the wholepack of knights-errant you, Senor 
Don Quixote, have mentioned, werereally and truly persons of flesh and blood, that 
ever lived in theworld; on the contrary, I suspect it to be all fiction, fable, 
andfalsehood, and dreams told by men awakened from sleep, or rather stillhalf asleep."
"That is another mistake," replied Don Quixote, "into which manyhave fallen who 
do not believe that there ever were such knights inthe world, and I have often, 
with divers people and on diversoccasions, tried to expose this almost universal 
error to the light oftruth. Sometimes I have not been successful in my purpose, 
sometimes Ihave, supporting it upon the shoulders of the truth; which truth is soclear 
that I can almost say I have with my own eyes seen Amadis ofGaul, who was a man 
of lofty stature, fair complexion, with a handsomethough black beard, of a countenance 
between gentle and stern inexpression, sparing of words, slow to anger, and quick 
to put itaway from him; and as I have depicted Amadis, so I could, I think,portray 
and describe all the knights-errant that are in all thehistories in the world; for 
by the perception I have that they werewhat their histories describe, and by the 
deeds they did and thedispositions they displayed, it is possible, with the aid 
of soundphilosophy, to deduce their features, complexion, and stature."
"How big, in your worship's opinion, may the giant Morgante havebeen, Senor Don 
Quixote?" asked the barber.
"With regard to giants," replied Don Quixote, "opinions differ as towhether there 
ever were any or not in the world; but the HolyScripture, which cannot err by a 
jot from the truth, shows us thatthere were, when it gives us the history of that 
big Philistine,Goliath, who was seven cubits and a half in height, which is a hugesize. 
Likewise, in the island of Sicily, there have been foundleg-bones and arm-bones 
so large that their size makes it plain thattheir owners were giants, and as tall 
as great towers; geometry putsthis fact beyond a doubt. But, for all that, I cannot 
speak withcertainty as to the size of Morgante, though I suspect he cannothave been 
very tall; and I am inclined to be of this opinion because Ifind in the history 
in which his deeds are particularly mentioned,that he frequently slept under a roof 
and as he found houses tocontain him, it is clear that his bulk could not have been 
anythingexcessive."
"That is true," said the curate, and yielding to the enjoyment ofhearing such 
nonsense, he asked him what was his notion of thefeatures of Reinaldos of Montalban, 
and Don Roland and the rest of theTwelve Peers of France, for they were all knights-errant.
"As for Reinaldos," replied Don Quixote, "I venture to say that hewas broad-faced, 
of ruddy complexion, with roguish and somewhatprominent eyes, excessively punctilious 
and touchy, and given to thesociety of thieves and scapegraces. With regard to Roland, 
orRotolando, or Orlando (for the histories call him by all these names),I am of 
opinion, and hold, that he was of middle height,broad-shouldered, rather bow-legged, 
swarthy-complexioned,red-bearded, with a hairy body and a severe expression of countenance,a 
man of few words, but very polite and well-bred."
"If Roland was not a more graceful person than your worship hasdescribed," said 
the curate, "it is no wonder that the fair LadyAngelica rejected him and left him 
for the gaiety, liveliness, andgrace of that budding-bearded little Moor to whom 
she surrenderedherself; and she showed her sense in falling in love with the gentlesoftness 
of Medoro rather than the roughness of Roland."
"That Angelica, senor curate," returned Don Quixote, "was a giddydamsel, flighty 
and somewhat wanton, and she left the world as full ofher vagaries as of the fame 
of her beauty. She treated with scorn athousand gentlemen, men of valour and wisdom, 
and took up with asmooth-faced sprig of a page, without fortune or fame, except 
suchreputation for gratitude as the affection he bore his friend got forhim. The 
great poet who sang her beauty, the famous Ariosto, notcaring to sing her adventures 
after her contemptible surrender(which probably were not over and above creditable), 
dropped her wherehe says:
How she received the sceptre of Cathay,Some bard of defter quill may sing some 
day;
and this was no doubt a kind of prophecy, for poets are also calledvates, that 
is to say diviners; and its truth was made plain; forsince then a famous Andalusian 
poet has lamented and sung her tears,and another famous and rare poet, a Castilian, 
has sung her beauty."
"Tell me, Senor Don Quixote," said the barber here, "among all thosewho praised 
her, has there been no poet to write a satire on this LadyAngelica?"
"I can well believe," replied Don Quixote, "that if Sacripante orRoland had been 
poets they would have given the damsel a trimming; forit is naturally the way with 
poets who have been scorned andrejected by their ladies, whether fictitious or not, 
in short by thosewhom they select as the ladies of their thoughts, to avenge themselvesin 
satires and libels- a vengeance, to be sure, unworthy of generoushearts; but up 
to the present I have not heard of any defamatory verseagainst the Lady Angelica, 
who turned the world upside down."
"Strange," said the curate; but at this moment they heard thehousekeeper and 
the niece, who had previously withdrawn from theconversation, exclaiming aloud in 
the courtyard, and at the noise theyall ran out.
CHAPTER II
WHICH TREATS OF THE NOTABLE ALTERCATION WHICH SANCHO PANZA HADWITH DON QUIXOTE'S 
NIECE, AND HOUSEKEEPER, TOGETHER WITH OTHER DROLLMATTERS
The history relates that the outcry Don Quixote, the curate, and thebarber heard 
came from the niece and the housekeeper exclaiming toSancho, who was striving to 
force his way in to see Don Quixotewhile they held the door against him, "What does 
the vagabond wantin this house? Be off to your own, brother, for it is you, and 
noone else, that delude my master, and lead him astray, and take himtramping about 
the country."
To which Sancho replied, "Devil's own housekeeper! it is I who amdeluded, and 
led astray, and taken tramping about the country, and notthy master! He has carried 
me all over the world, and you are mightilymistaken. He enticed me away from home 
by a trick, promising me anisland, which I am still waiting for."
"May evil islands choke thee, thou detestable Sancho," said theniece; "What are 
islands? Is it something to eat, glutton andgormandiser that thou art?"
"It is not something to eat," replied Sancho, "but something togovern and rule, 
and better than four cities or four judgeships atcourt."
"For all that," said the housekeeper, "you don't enter here, you bagof mischief 
and sack of knavery; go govern your house and dig yourseed-patch, and give over 
looking for islands or shylands."
The curate and the barber listened with great amusement to the wordsof the three; 
but Don Quixote, uneasy lest Sancho should blab andblurt out a whole heap of mischievous 
stupidities, and touch uponpoints that might not be altogether to his credit, called 
to him andmade the other two hold their tongues and let him come in. Sanchoentered, 
and the curate and the barber took their leave of DonQuixote, of whose recovery 
they despaired when they saw how weddedhe was to his crazy ideas, and how saturated 
with the nonsense ofhis unlucky chivalry; and said the curate to the barber, "You 
willsee, gossip, that when we are least thinking of it, our gentleman willbe off 
once more for another flight."
"I have no doubt of it," returned the barber; "but I do not wonderso much at 
the madness of the knight as at the simplicity of thesquire, who has such a firm 
belief in all that about the island,that I suppose all the exposures that could 
be imagined would notget it out of his head."
"God help them," said the curate; "and let us be on the look-outto see what comes 
of all these absurdities of the knight and squire,for it seems as if they had both 
been cast in the same mould, andthe madness of the master without the simplicity 
of the man wouldnot be worth a farthing."
"That is true," said the barber, "and I should like very much toknow what the 
pair are talking about at this moment."
"I promise you," said the curate, "the niece or the housekeeper willtell us by-and-by, 
for they are not the ones to forget to listen."
Meanwhile Don Quixote shut himself up in his room with Sancho, andwhen they were 
alone he said to him, "It grieves me greatly, Sancho,that thou shouldst have said, 
and sayest, that I took thee out ofthy cottage, when thou knowest I did not remain 
in my house. Wesallied forth together, we took the road together, we wanderedabroad 
together; we have had the same fortune and the same luck; ifthey blanketed thee 
once, they belaboured me a hundred times, and thatis the only advantage I have of 
thee."
"That was only reasonable," replied Sancho, "for, by what yourworship says, misfortunes 
belong more properly to knights-errantthan to their squires."
"Thou art mistaken, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "according to themaxim quando 
caput dolet, &c."
"I don't understand any language but my own," said Sancho.
"I mean to say," said Don Quixote, "that when the head suffers allthe members 
suffer; and so, being thy lord and master, I am thyhead, and thou a part of me as 
thou art my servant; and thereforeany evil that affects or shall affect me should 
give thee pain, andwhat affects thee give pain to me."
"It should be so," said Sancho; "but when I was blanketed as amember, my head 
was on the other side of the wall, looking on whileI was flying through the air, 
and did not feel any pain whatever;and if the members are obliged to feel the suffering 
of the head, itshould be obliged to feel their sufferings."
"Dost thou mean to say now, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that I didnot feel when 
they were blanketing thee? If thou dost, thou must notsay so or think so, for I 
felt more pain then in spirit than thoudidst in body. But let us put that aside 
for the present, for we shallhave opportunities enough for considering and settling 
the point; tellme, Sancho my friend, what do they say about me in the village here?What 
do the common people think of me? What do the hidalgos? What dothe caballeros? What 
do they say of my valour; of my achievements;of my courtesy? How do they treat the 
task I have undertaken inreviving and restoring to the world the now forgotten order 
ofchivalry? In short, Sancho, I would have thee tell me all that hascome to thine 
ears on this subject; and thou art to tell me, withoutadding anything to the good 
or taking away anything from the bad;for it is the duty of loyal vassals to tell 
the truth to their lordsjust as it is and in its proper shape, not allowing flattery 
to add toit or any idle deference to lessen it. And I would have thee know,Sancho, 
that if the naked truth, undisguised by flattery, came tothe ears of princes, times 
would be different, and other ages would bereckoned iron ages more than ours, which 
I hold to be the golden ofthese latter days. Profit by this advice, Sancho, and 
report to meclearly and faithfully the truth of what thou knowest touching whatI 
have demanded of thee."
"That I will do with all my heart, master," replied Sancho,"provided your worship 
will not be vexed at what I say, as you wish meto say it out in all its nakedness, 
without putting any more clotheson it than it came to my knowledge in."
"I will not be vexed at all," returned Don Quixote; "thou mayestspeak freely, 
Sancho, and without any beating about the bush."
"Well then," said he, "first of all, I have to tell you that thecommon people 
consider your worship a mighty great madman, and me noless a fool. The hidalgos 
say that, not keeping within the bounds ofyour quality of gentleman, you have assumed 
the 'Don,' and made aknight of yourself at a jump, with four vine-stocks and a couple 
ofacres of land, and never a shirt to your back. The caballeros say theydo not want 
to have hidalgos setting up in opposition to them,particularly squire hidalgos who 
polish their own shoes and darn theirblack stockings with green silk."
"That," said Don Quixote, "does not apply to me, for I always gowell dressed 
and never patched; ragged I may be, but ragged morefrom the wear and tear of arms 
than of time."
"As to your worship's valour, courtesy, accomplishments, and task,there is a 
variety of opinions. Some say, 'mad but droll;' others,'valiant but unlucky;' others, 
'courteous but meddling,' and then theygo into such a number of things that they 
don't leave a whole boneeither in your worship or in myself."
"Recollect, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that wherever virtueexists in an eminent 
degree it is persecuted. Few or none of thefamous men that have lived escaped being 
calumniated by malice. JuliusCaesar, the boldest, wisest, and bravest of captains, 
was charged withbeing ambitious, and not particularly cleanly in his dress, or pure 
inhis morals. Of Alexander, whose deeds won him the name of Great,they say that 
he was somewhat of a drunkard. Of Hercules, him of themany labours, it is said that 
he was lewd and luxurious. Of DonGalaor, the brother of Amadis of Gaul, it was whispered 
that he wasover quarrelsome, and of his brother that he was lachrymose. Sothat, 
O Sancho, amongst all these calumnies against good men, mine maybe let pass, since 
they are no more than thou hast said."