"God grant I may see thee dumb before I die, Sancho," said DonQuixote.
"At the rate we are going," said Sancho, "I'll be chewing claybefore your worship dies; and then, maybe, I'll be so dumb that I'llnot say a word until the end of the world, or, at least, till theday of judgment."
"Even should that happen, O Sancho," said Don Quixote, "thysilence will never come up to all thou hast talked, art talking, andwilt talk all thy life; moreover, it naturally stands to reason,that my death will come before thine; so I never expect to see theedumb, not even when thou art drinking or sleeping, and that is theutmost I can say."
"In good faith, senor," replied Sancho, "there's no trusting thatfleshless one, I mean Death, who devours the lamb as soon as thesheep, and, as I have heard our curate say, treads with equal footupon the lofty towers of kings and the lowly huts of the poor. Thatlady is more mighty than dainty, she is no way squeamish, shedevours all and is ready for all, and fills her alforjas with peopleof all sorts, ages, and ranks. She is no reaper that sleeps out thenoontide; at all times she is reaping and cutting down, as well thedry grass as the green; she never seems to chew, but bolts andswallows all that is put before her, for she has a canine appetitethat is never satisfied; and though she has no belly, she shows shehas a dropsy and is athirst to drink the lives of all that live, asone would drink a jug of cold water."
"Say no more, Sancho," said Don Quixote at this; "don't try tobetter it, and risk a fall; for in truth what thou hast said aboutdeath in thy rustic phrase is what a good preacher might have said.I tell thee, Sancho, if thou hadst discretion equal to thy mother wit,thou mightst take a pulpit in hand, and go about the world preachingfine sermons." "He preaches well who lives well," said Sancho, "andI know no more theology than that."
"Nor needst thou," said Don Quixote, "but I cannot conceive ormake out how it is that, the fear of God being the beginning ofwisdom, thou, who art more afraid of a lizard than of him, knowestso much."
"Pass judgment on your chivalries, senor," returned Sancho, "anddon't set yourself up to judge of other men's fears or braveries,for I am as good a fearer of God as my neighbours; but leave me todespatch these skimmings, for all the rest is only idle talk that weshall be called to account for in the other world;" and so saying,he began a fresh attack on the bucket, with such a hearty appetitethat he aroused Don Quixote's, who no doubt would have helped himhad he not been prevented by what must be told farther on.
CHAPTER XXI
IN WHICH CAMACHO'S WEDDING IS CONTINUED, WITH OTHER DELIGHTFULINCIDENTS
WHILE Don Quixote and Sancho were engaged in the discussion setforth the last chapter, they heard loud shouts and a great noise,which were uttered and made by the men on the mares as they went atfull gallop, shouting, to receive the bride and bridegroom, who wereapproaching with musical instruments and pageantry of all sorts aroundthem, and accompanied by the priest and the relatives of both, and allthe most distinguished people of the surrounding villages. When Sanchosaw the bride, he exclaimed, "By my faith, she is not dressed like acountry girl, but like some fine court lady; egad, as well as I canmake out, the patena she wears rich coral, and her green Cuencastuff is thirty-pile velvet; and then the white linen trimming- bymy oath, but it's satin! Look at her hands- jet rings on them! May Inever have luck if they're not gold rings, and real gold, and set withpearls as white as a curdled milk, and every one of them worth aneye of one's head! Whoreson baggage, what hair she has! if it's nota wig, I never saw longer or fairer all the days of my life. See howbravely she bears herself- and her shape! Wouldn't you say she waslike a walking palm tree loaded with clusters of dates? for thetrinkets she has hanging from her hair and neck look just like them. Iswear in my heart she is a brave lass, and fit 'to pass over the banksof Flanders.'"
Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's boorish eulogies and thought that,saving his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he had never seen a morebeautiful woman. The fair Quiteria appeared somewhat pale, whichwas, no doubt, because of the bad night brides always pass dressingthemselves out for their wedding on the morrow. They advancedtowards a theatre that stood on one side of the meadow decked withcarpets and boughs, where they were to plight their troth, and fromwhich they were to behold the dances and plays; but at the moment oftheir arrival at the spot they heard a loud outcry behind them, anda voice exclaiming, "Wait a little, ye, as inconsiderate as ye arehasty!" At these words all turned round, and perceived that thespeaker was a man clad in what seemed to be a loose black coatgarnished with crimson patches like flames. He was crowned （as waspresently seen） with a crown of gloomy cypress, and in his hand heheld a long staff. As he approached he was recognised by everyone asthe gay Basilio, and all waited anxiously to see what would come ofhis words, in dread of some catastrophe in consequence of hisappearance at such a moment. He came up at last weary andbreathless, and planting himself in front of the bridal pair, drovehis staff, which had a steel spike at the end, into the ground, and,with a pale face and eyes fixed on Quiteria, he thus addressed herin a hoarse, trembling voice:
"Well dost thou know, ungrateful Quiteria, that according to theholy law we acknowledge, so long as live thou canst take no husband;nor art thou ignorant either that, in my hopes that time and my ownexertions would improve my fortunes, I have never failed to observethe respect due to thy honour; but thou, casting behind thee allthou owest to my true love, wouldst surrender what is mine toanother whose wealth serves to bring him not only good fortune butsupreme happiness; and now to complete it （not that I think hedeserves it, but inasmuch as heaven is pleased to bestow it upon him），I will, with my own hands, do away with the obstacle that mayinterfere with it, and remove myself from between you. Long live therich Camacho! many a happy year may he live with the ungratefulQuiteria! and let the poor Basilio die, Basilio whose povertyclipped the wings of his happiness, and brought him to the grave!"
And so saying, he seized the staff he had driven into the ground,and leaving one half of it fixed there, showed it to be a sheaththat concealed a tolerably long rapier; and, what may he called itshilt being planted in the ground, he swiftly, coolly, and deliberatelythrew himself upon it, and in an instant the bloody point and half thesteel blade appeared at his back, the unhappy man falling to the earthbathed in his blood, and transfixed by his own weapon.
His friends at once ran to his aid, filled with grief at hismisery and sad fate, and Don Quixote, dismounting from Rocinante,hastened to support him, and took him in his arms, and found he hadnot yet ceased to breathe. They were about to draw out the rapier, butthe priest who was standing by objected to its being withdrawnbefore he had confessed him, as the instant of its withdrawal would bethat of this death. Basilio, however, reviving slightly, said in aweak voice, as though in pain, "If thou wouldst consent, cruelQuiteria, to give me thy hand as my bride in this last fatal moment, Imight still hope that my rashness would find pardon, as by its means Iattained the bliss of being thine."
Hearing this the priest bade him think of the welfare of his soulrather than of the cravings of the body, and in all earnestnessimplore God's pardon for his sins and for his rash resolve; to whichBasilio replied that he was determined not to confess unlessQuiteria first gave him her hand in marriage, for that happiness wouldcompose his mind and give him courage to make his confession.
Don Quixote hearing the wounded man's entreaty, exclaimed aloud thatwhat Basilio asked was just and reasonable, and moreover a requestthat might be easily complied with; and that it would be as much toSenor Camacho's honour to receive the lady Quiteria as the widow ofthe brave Basilio as if he received her direct from her father.
"In this case," said he, "it will be only to say 'yes,' and noconsequences can follow the utterance of the word, for the nuptialcouch of this marriage must be the grave."
Camacho was listening to all this, perplexed and bewildered andnot knowing what to say or do; but so urgent were the entreaties ofBasilio's friends, imploring him to allow Quiteria to give him herhand, so that his soul, quitting this life in despair, should not belost, that they moved, nay, forced him, to say that if Quiteria werewilling to give it he was satisfied, as it was only putting off thefulfillment of his wishes for a moment. At once all assailedQuiteria and pressed her, some with prayers, and others with tears,and others with persuasive arguments, to give her hand to poorBasilio; but she, harder than marble and more unmoved than any statue,seemed unable or unwilling to utter a word, nor would she have givenany reply had not the priest bade her decide quickly what she meant todo, as Basilio now had his soul at his teeth, and there was no timefor hesitation.
On this the fair Quiteria, to all appearance distressed, grieved,and repentant, advanced without a word to where Basilio lay, hiseyes already turned in his head, his breathing short and painful,murmuring the name of Quiteria between his teeth, and apparently aboutto die like a heathen and not like a Christian. Quiteria approachedhim, and kneeling, demanded his hand by signs without speaking.Basilio opened his eyes and gazing fixedly at her, said, "OQuiteria, why hast thou turned compassionate at a moment when thycompassion will serve as a dagger to rob me of life, for I have notnow the strength left either to bear the happiness thou givest me inaccepting me as thine, or to suppress the pain that is rapidly drawingthe dread shadow of death over my eyes? What I entreat of thee, O thoufatal star to me, is that the hand thou demandest of me and wouldstgive me, be not given out of complaisance or to deceive me afresh, butthat thou confess and declare that without any constraint upon thywill thou givest it to me as to thy lawful husband; for it is not meetthat thou shouldst trifle with me at such a moment as this, or haverecourse to falsehoods with one who has dealt so truly by thee."