"The devil take me," said Sancho to himself at this, "but thismaster of mine is a tologian; or, if not, faith, he's as like one asone egg is like another."
Don Quixote stopped to take breath, and, observing that silencewas still preserved, had a mind to continue his discourse, and wouldhave done so had not Sancho interposed with his smartness; for he,seeing his master pause, took the lead, saying, "My lord Don Quixoteof La Mancha, who once was called the Knight of the RuefulCountenance, but now is called the Knight of the Lions, is a gentlemanof great discretion who knows Latin and his mother tongue like abachelor, and in everything that he deals with or advises proceedslike a good soldier, and has all the laws and ordinances of whatthey call combat at his fingers' ends; so you have nothing to do butto let yourselves be guided by what he says, and on my head be it ifit is wrong. Besides which, you have been told that it is folly totake offence at merely hearing a bray. I remember when I was a boy Ibrayed as often as I had a fancy, without anyone hindering me, andso elegantly and naturally that when I brayed all the asses in thetown would bray; but I was none the less for that the son of myparents who were greatly respected; and though I was envied because ofthe gift by more than one of the high and mighty ones of the town, Idid not care two farthings for it; and that you may see I am tellingthe truth, wait a bit and listen, for this art, like swimming, oncelearnt is never forgotten;" and then, taking hold of his nose, hebegan to bray so vigorously that all the valleys around rang again.
One of those, however, that stood near him, fancying he wasmocking them, lifted up a long staff he had in his hand and smotehim such a blow with it that Sancho dropped helpless to the ground.Don Quixote, seeing him so roughly handled, attacked the man who hadstruck him lance in hand, but so many thrust themselves between themthat he could not avenge him. Far from it, finding a shower ofstones rained upon him, and crossbows and muskets unnumberedlevelled at him, he wheeled Rocinante round and, as fast as his bestgallop could take him, fled from the midst of them, commending himselfto God with all his heart to deliver him out of this peril, in dreadevery step of some ball coming in at his back and coming out at hisbreast, and every minute drawing his breath to see whether it had gonefrom him. The members of the band, however, were satisfied with seeinghim take to flight, and did not fire on him. They put up Sancho,scarcely restored to his senses, on his ass, and let him go afterhis master; not that he was sufficiently in his wits to guide thebeast, but Dapple followed the footsteps of Rocinante, from whom hecould not remain a moment separated. Don Quixote having got some wayoff looked back, and seeing Sancho coming, waited for him, as heperceived that no one followed him. The men of the troop stood theirground till night, and as the enemy did not come out to battle, theyreturned to their town exulting; and had they been aware of theancient custom of the Greeks, they would have erected a trophy onthe spot.
CHAPTER XXVIII
OF MATTERS THAT BENENGELI SAYS HE WHO READS THEM WILL KNOW, IF HEREADS THEM WITH ATTENTION
WHEN the brave man flees, treachery is manifest and it is for wisemen to reserve themselves for better occasions. This proved to bethe case with Don Quixote, who, giving way before the fury of thetownsfolk and the hostile intentions of the angry troop, took toflight and, without a thought of Sancho or the danger in which hewas leaving him, retreated to such a distance as he thought made himsafe. Sancho, lying across his ass, followed him, as has been said,and at length came up, having by this time recovered his senses, andon joining him let himself drop off Dapple at Rocinante's feet,sore, bruised, and belaboured. Don Quixote dismounted to examine hiswounds, but finding him whole from head to foot, he said to him,angrily enough, "In an evil hour didst thou take to braying, Sancho!Where hast thou learned that it is well done to mention the rope inthe house of the man that has been hanged? To the music of brayswhat harmonies couldst thou expect to get but cudgels? Give thanksto God, Sancho, that they signed the cross on thee just now with astick, and did not mark thee per signum crucis with a cutlass."
"I'm not equal to answering," said Sancho, "for I feel as if I wasspeaking through my shoulders; let us mount and get away from this;I'll keep from braying, but not from saying that knights-errant flyand leave their good squires to be pounded like privet, or made mealof at the hands of their enemies."
"He does not fly who retires," returned Don Quixote; "for I wouldhave thee know, Sancho, that the valour which is not based upon afoundation of prudence is called rashness, and the exploits of therash man are to be attributed rather to good fortune than tocourage; and so I own that I retired, but not that I fled; and thereinI have followed the example of many valiant men who have reservedthemselves for better times; the histories are full of instances ofthis, but as it would not be any good to thee or pleasure to me, Iwill not recount them to thee now."
Sancho was by this time mounted with the help of Don Quixote, whothen himself mounted Rocinante, and at a leisurely pace they proceededto take shelter in a grove which was in sight about a quarter of aleague off. Every now and then Sancho gave vent to deep sighs anddismal groans, and on Don Quixote asking him what caused such acutesuffering, he replied that, from the end of his back-bone up to thenape of his neck, he was so sore that it nearly drove him out of hissenses.
"The cause of that soreness," said Don Quixote, "will be, nodoubt, that the staff wherewith they smote thee being a very long one,it caught thee all down the back, where all the parts that are soreare situated, and had it reached any further thou wouldst be sorerstill."
"By God," said Sancho, "your worship has relieved me of a greatdoubt, and cleared up the point for me in elegant style! Body o' me!is the cause of my soreness such a mystery that there's any need totell me I am sore everywhere the staff hit me? If it was my anklesthat pained me there might be something in going divining why theydid, but it is not much to divine that I'm sore where they thrashedme. By my faith, master mine, the ills of others hang by a hair; everyday I am discovering more and more how little I have to hope forfrom keeping company with your worship; for if this time you haveallowed me to be drubbed, the next time, or a hundred times more,we'll have the blanketings of the other day over again, and all theother pranks which, if they have fallen on my shoulders now, will bethrown in my teeth by-and-by. I would do a great deal better （if I wasnot an ignorant brute that will never do any good all my life）， Iwould do a great deal better, I say, to go home to my wife andchildren and support them and bring them up on what God may pleaseto give me, instead of following your worship along roads that leadnowhere and paths that are none at all, with little to drink andless to eat. And then when it comes to sleeping! Measure out sevenfeet on the earth, brother squire, and if that's not enough for you,take as many more, for you may have it all your own way and stretchyourself to your heart's content. Oh that I could see burnt and turnedto ashes the first man that meddled with knight-errantry or at anyrate the first who chose to be squire to such fools as all theknights-errant of past times must have been! Of those of the presentday I say nothing, because, as your worship is one of them, Irespect them, and because I know your worship knows a point morethan the devil in all you say and think."
"I would lay a good wager with you, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "thatnow that you are talking on without anyone to stop you, you don't feela pain in your whole body. Talk away, my son, say whatever comesinto your head or mouth, for so long as you feel no pain, theirritation your impertinences give me will he a pleasure to me; and ifyou are so anxious to go home to your wife and children, God forbidthat I should prevent you; you have money of mine; see how long itis since we left our village this third time, and how much you can andought to earn every month, and pay yourself out of your own hand."
"When I worked for Tom Carrasco, the father of the bachelor SamsonCarrasco that your worship knows," replied Sancho, "I used to earn twoducats a month besides my food; I can't tell what I can earn with yourworship, though I know a knight-errant's squire has harder times of itthan he who works for a farmer; for after all, we who work forfarmers, however much we toil all day, at the worst, at night, we haveour olla supper and sleep in a bed, which I have not slept in sinceI have been in your worship's service, if it wasn't the short timewe were in Don Diego de Miranda's house, and the feast I had withthe skimmings I took off Camacho's pots, and what I ate, drank, andslept in Basilio's house; all the rest of the time I have beensleeping on the hard ground under the open sky, exposed to what theycall the inclemencies of heaven, keeping life in me with scraps ofcheese and crusts of bread, and drinking water either from thebrooks or from the springs we come to on these by-paths we travel."
"I own, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that all thou sayest is true;how much, thinkest thou, ought I to give thee over and above whatTom Carrasco gave thee?"
"I think," said Sancho, "that if your worship was to add on tworeals a month I'd consider myself well paid; that is, as far as thewages of my labour go; but to make up to me for your worship'spledge and promise to me to give me the government of an island, itwould be fair to add six reals more, making thirty in all."