At the news of Don Quixote's arrival Sancho Panza's wife camerunning, for she by this time knew that her husband had gone away withhim as his squire, and on seeing Sancho, the first thing she asked himwas if the ass was well. Sancho replied that he was, better than hismaster was.
"Thanks be to God," said she, "for being so good to me; but now tellme, my friend, what have you made by your squirings? What gown haveyou brought me back? What shoes for your children?"
"I bring nothing of that sort, wife," said Sancho; "though I bringother things of more consequence and value."
"I am very glad of that," returned his wife; "show me these thingsof more value and consequence, my friend; for I want to see them tocheer my heart that has been so sad and heavy all these ages thatyou have been away."
"I will show them to you at home, wife," said Sancho; "be contentfor the present; for if it please God that we should again go on ourtravels in search of adventures, you will soon see me a count, orgovernor of an island, and that not one of those everyday ones, butthe best that is to be had."
"Heaven grant it, husband," said she, "for indeed we have need ofit. But tell me, what's this about islands, for I don't understandit?"
"Honey is not for the mouth of the ass," returned Sancho; "all ingood time thou shalt see, wife- nay, thou wilt be surprised to hearthyself called 'your ladyship' by all thy vassals."
"What are you talking about, Sancho, with your ladyships, islands,and vassals?" returned Teresa Panza- for so Sancho's wife wascalled, though they were not relations, for in La Mancha it iscustomary for wives to take their husbands' surnames.
"Don't be in such a hurry to know all this, Teresa," said Sancho;"it is enough that I am telling you the truth, so shut your mouth. ButI may tell you this much by the way, that there is nothing in theworld more delightful than to be a person of consideration, squireto a knight-errant, and a seeker of adventures. To be sure most ofthose one finds do not end as pleasantly as one could wish, for out ofa hundred, ninety-nine will turn out cross and contrary. I know itby experience, for out of some I came blanketed, and out of othersbelaboured. Still, for all that, it is a fine thing to be on thelook-out for what may happen, crossing mountains, searching woods,climbing rocks, visiting castles, putting up at inns, all at freequarters, and devil take the maravedi to pay."
While this conversation passed between Sancho Panza and his wife,Don Quixote's housekeeper and niece took him in and undressed himand laid him in his old bed. He eyed them askance, and could notmake out where he was. The curate charged his niece to be very carefulto make her uncle comfortable and to keep a watch over him lest heshould make his escape from them again, telling her what they had beenobliged to do to bring him home. On this the pair once more liftedup their voices and renewed their maledictions upon the books ofchivalry, and implored heaven to plunge the authors of such lies andnonsense into the midst of the bottomless pit. They were, in short,kept in anxiety and dread lest their uncle and master should give themthe slip the moment he found himself somewhat better, and as theyfeared so it fell out.
But the author of this history, though he has devoted research andindustry to the discovery of the deeds achieved by Don Quixote inhis third sally, has been unable to obtain any informationrespecting them, at any rate derived from authentic documents;tradition has merely preserved in the memory of La Mancha the factthat Don Quixote, the third time he sallied forth from his home,betook himself to Saragossa, where he was present at some famousjousts which came off in that city, and that he had adventures thereworthy of his valour and high intelligence. Of his end and death hecould learn no particulars, nor would he have ascertained it orknown of it, if good fortune had not produced an old physician for himwho had in his possession a leaden box, which, according to hisaccount, had been discovered among the crumbling foundations of anancient hermitage that was being rebuilt; in which box were foundcertain parchment manuscripts in Gothic character, but in Castilianverse, containing many of his achievements, and setting forth thebeauty of Dulcinea, the form of Rocinante, the fidelity of SanchoPanza, and the burial of Don Quixote himself, together with sundryepitaphs and eulogies on his life and character; but all that could beread and deciphered were those which the trustworthy author of thisnew and unparalleled history here presents. And the said author asksof those that shall read it nothing in return for the vast toilwhich it has cost him in examining and searching the Mancheganarchives in order to bring it to light, save that they give him thesame credit that people of sense give to the books of chivalry thatpervade the world and are so popular; for with this he will considerhimself amply paid and fully satisfied, and will be encouraged to seekout and produce other histories, if not as truthful, at least equal ininvention and not less entertaining. The first words written on theparchment found in the leaden box were these:
THE ACADEMICIANS OF
ARGAMASILLA, A VILLAGE OF
LA MANCHA,
ON THE LIFE AND DEATH
OF DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA,
HOC SCRIPSERUNT
MONICONGO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
ON THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTE
EPITAPH
The scatterbrain that gave La Mancha more
Rich spoils than Jason's; who a point so keen
Had to his wit, and happier far had been
If his wit's weathercock a blunter bore;
The arm renowned far as Gaeta's shore,
Cathay, and all the lands that lie between;
The muse discreet and terrible in mien
As ever wrote on brass in days of yore;
He who surpassed the Amadises all,
And who as naught the Galaors accounted,
Supported by his love and gallantry:
Who made the Belianises sing small,
And sought renown on Rocinante mounted;
Here, underneath this cold stone, doth he lie.
PANIAGUADO,
ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
IN LAUDEM DULCINEAE DEL TOBOSO
SONNET
She, whose full features may be here descried,
High-bosomed, with a bearing of disdain,
Is Dulcinea, she for whom in vain
The great Don Quixote of La Mancha sighed.
For her, Toboso's queen, from side to side
He traversed the grim sierra, the champaign
Of Aranjuez, and Montiel's famous plain:
On Rocinante oft a weary ride.
Malignant planets, cruel destiny,
Pursued them both, the fair Manchegan dame,
And the unconquered star of chivalry.
Nor youth nor beauty saved her from the claim
Of death; he paid love's bitter penalty,
And left the marble to preserve his name.
CAPRICHOSO, A MOST ACUTE ACADEMICIAN
OF ARGAMASILLA, IN PRAISE OF ROCINANTE,
STEED OF DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA
SONNET
On that proud throne of diamantine sheen,
Which the blood-reeking feet of Mars degrade,
The mad Manchegan's banner now hath been
By him in all its bravery displayed.
There hath he hung his arms and trenchant blade
Wherewith, achieving deeds till now unseen,
He slays, lays low, cleaves, hews; but art hath made
A novel style for our new paladin.
If Amadis be the proud boast of Gaul,
If by his progeny the fame of Greece
Through all the regions of the earth be spread,
Great Quixote crowned in grim Bellona's hall
To-day exalts La Mancha over these,
And above Greece or Gaul she holds her head.
Nor ends his glory here, for his good steed
Doth Brillador and Bayard far exceed;
As mettled steeds compared with Rocinante,
The reputation they have won is scanty.
BURLADOR, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
ON SANCHO PANZA
SONNET
The worthy Sancho Panza here you see;
A great soul once was in that body small,
Nor was there squire upon this earthly ball
So plain and simple, or of guile so free.
Within an ace of being Count was he,
And would have been but for the spite and gall
Of this vile age, mean and illiberal,
That cannot even let a donkey be.
For mounted on an ass （excuse the word），
By Rocinante's side this gentle squire
Was wont his wandering master to attend.
Delusive hopes that lure the common herd
With promises of ease, the heart's desire,
In shadows, dreams, and smoke ye always end.
CACHIDIABLO,
ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
ON THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTE
EPITAPH
The knight lies here below,
Ill-errant and bruised sore,
Whom Rocinante bore
In his wanderings to and fro.
By the side of the knight is laid
Stolid man Sancho too,
Than whom a squire more true