THEIR dainty repast being finished, they saddled at once, andwithout any adventure worth mentioning they reached next day theinn, the object of Sancho Panza's fear and dread; but though hewould have rather not entered it, there was no help for it. Thelandlady, the landlord, their daughter, and Maritornes, when theysaw Don Quixote and Sancho coming, went out to welcome them with signsof hearty satisfaction, which Don Quixote received with dignity andgravity, and bade them make up a better bed for him than the lasttime: to which the landlady replied that if he paid better than he didthe last time she would give him one fit for a prince. Don Quixotesaid he would, so they made up a tolerable one for him in the samegarret as before; and he lay down at once, being sorely shaken andin want of sleep.
No sooner was the door shut upon him than the landlady made at thebarber, and seizing him by the beard, said:
"By my faith you are not going to make a beard of my tail anylonger; you must give me back tail, for it is a shame the way thatthing of my husband's goes tossing about on the floor; I mean the combthat I used to stick in my good tail."
But for all she tugged at it the barber would not give it up untilthe licentiate told him to let her have it, as there was now nofurther occasion for that stratagem, because he might declarehimself and appear in his own character, and tell Don Quixote thathe had fled to this inn when those thieves the galley slaves robbedhim; and should he ask for the princess's squire, they could tellhim that she had sent him on before her to give notice to the peopleof her kingdom that she was coming, and bringing with her thedeliverer of them all. On this the barber cheerfully restored the tailto the landlady, and at the same time they returned all theaccessories they had borrowed to effect Don Quixote's deliverance. Allthe people of the inn were struck with astonishment at the beauty ofDorothea, and even at the comely figure of the shepherd Cardenio.The curate made them get ready such fare as there was in the inn,and the landlord, in hope of better payment, served them up atolerably good dinner. All this time Don Quixote was asleep, andthey thought it best not to waken him, as sleeping would now do himmore good than eating.
While at dinner, the company consisting of the landlord, his wife,their daughter, Maritornes, and all the travellers, they discussed thestrange craze of Don Quixote and the manner in which he had beenfound; and the landlady told them what had taken place between him andthe carrier; and then, looking round to see if Sancho was there,when she saw he was not, she gave them the whole story of hisblanketing, which they received with no little amusement. But on thecurate observing that it was the books of chivalry which Don Quixotehad read that had turned his brain, the landlord said:
"I cannot understand how that can be, for in truth to my mindthere is no better reading in the world, and I have here two orthree of them, with other writings that are the very life, not only ofmyself but of plenty more; for when it is harvest-time, the reapersflock here on holidays, and there is always one among them who canread and who takes up one of these books, and we gather round him,thirty or more of us, and stay listening to him with a delight thatmakes our grey hairs grow young again. At least I can say for myselfthat when I hear of what furious and terrible blows the knightsdeliver, I am seized with the longing to do the same, and I would liketo be hearing about them night and day."
"And I just as much," said the landlady, "because I never have aquiet moment in my house except when you are listening to some onereading; for then you are so taken up that for the time being youforget to scold."
"That is true," said Maritornes; "and, faith, I relish hearing thesethings greatly too, for they are very pretty; especially when theydescribe some lady or another in the arms of her knight under theorange trees, and the duenna who is keeping watch for them half deadwith envy and fright; all this I say is as good as honey."
"And you, what do you think, young lady?" said the curate turning tothe landlord's daughter.
"I don't know indeed, senor," said she; "I listen too, and to tellthe truth, though I do not understand it, I like hearing it; but it isnot the blows that my father likes that I like, but the laments theknights utter when they are separated from their ladies; and indeedthey sometimes make me weep with the pity I feel for them."
"Then you would console them if it was for you they wept, younglady?" said Dorothea.
"I don't know what I should do," said the girl; "I only know thatthere are some of those ladies so cruel that they call their knightstigers and lions and a thousand other foul names: and Jesus! I don'tknow what sort of folk they can be, so unfeeling and heartless, thatrather than bestow a glance upon a worthy man they leave him to die orgo mad. I don't know what is the good of such prudery; if it is forhonour's sake, why not marry them? That's all they want."
"Hush, child," said the landlady; "it seems to me thou knowest agreat deal about these things, and it is not fit for girls to knowor talk so much."
"As the gentleman asked me, I could not help answering him," saidthe girl.
"Well then," said the curate, "bring me these books, senor landlord,for I should like to see them."
"With all my heart," said he, and going into his own room he broughtout an old valise secured with a little chain, on opening which thecurate found in it three large books and some manuscripts written in avery good hand. The first that he opened he found to be "DonCirongilio of Thrace," and the second "Don Felixmarte of Hircania,"and the other the "History of the Great Captain Gonzalo Hernandez deCordova, with the Life of Diego Garcia de Paredes."
When the curate read the two first titles he looked over at thebarber and said, "We want my friend's housekeeper and niece here now."
"Nay," said the barber, "I can do just as well to carry them tothe yard or to the hearth, and there is a very good fire there."
"What! your worship would burn my books!" said the landlord.
"Only these two," said the curate, "Don Cirongilio, and Felixmarte."
"Are my books, then, heretics or phlegmaties that you want to burnthem?" said the landlord.
"Schismatics you mean, friend," said the barber, "not phlegmatics."
"That's it," said the landlord; "but if you want to burn any, let itbe that about the Great Captain and that Diego Garcia; for I wouldrather have a child of mine burnt than either of the others."
"Brother," said the curate, "those two books are made up of lies,and are full of folly and nonsense; but this of the Great Captain is atrue history, and contains the deeds of Gonzalo Hernandez ofCordova, who by his many and great achievements earned the title allover the world of the Great Captain, a famous and illustrious name,and deserved by him alone; and this Diego Garcia de Paredes was adistinguished knight of the city of Trujillo in Estremadura, a mostgallant soldier, and of such bodily strength that with one finger hestopped a mill-wheel in full motion; and posted with a two-handedsword at the foot of a bridge he kept the whole of an immense armyfrom passing over it, and achieved such other exploits that if,instead of his relating them himself with the modesty of a knightand of one writing his own history, some free and unbiassed writer hadrecorded them, they would have thrown into the shade all the deedsof the Hectors, Achilleses, and Rolands."
"Tell that to my father," said the landlord. "There's a thing tobe astonished at! Stopping a mill-wheel! By God your worship shouldread what I have read of Felixmarte of Hircania, how with one singlebackstroke he cleft five giants asunder through the middle as ifthey had been made of bean-pods like the little friars the childrenmake; and another time he attacked a very great and powerful army,in which there were more than a million six hundred thousand soldiers,all armed from head to foot, and he routed them all as if they hadbeen flocks of sheep. And then, what do you say to the good Cirongilioof Thrace, that was so stout and bold; as may be seen in the book,where it is related that as he was sailing along a river there came upout of the midst of the water against him a fiery serpent, and he,as soon as he saw it, flung himself upon it and got astride of itsscaly shoulders, and squeezed its throat with both hands with suchforce that the serpent, finding he was throttling it, had nothingfor it but to let itself sink to the bottom of the river, carryingwith it the knight who would not let go his hold; and when they gotdown there he found himself among palaces and gardens so pretty thatit was a wonder to see; and then the serpent changed itself into anold ancient man, who told him such things as were never heard. Holdyour peace, senor; for if you were to hear this you would go madwith delight. A couple of figs for your Great Captain and your DiegoGarcia!"
Hearing this Dorothea said in a whisper to Cardenio, "Our landlordis almost fit to play a second part to Don Quixote."
"I think so," said Cardenio, "for, as he shows, he accepts it as acertainty that everything those books relate took place exactly asit is written down; and the barefooted friars themselves would notpersuade him to the contrary."