"That is the truth," answered Don Quixote, "and there is no use introubling oneself about these matters of enchantment or being angry orvexed at them, for as they are invisible and visionary we shall findno one on whom to avenge ourselves, do what we may; rise, Sancho, ifthou canst, and call the alcaide of this fortress, and get him to giveme a little oil, wine, salt, and rosemary to make the salutiferousbalsam, for indeed I believe I have great need of it now, because I amlosing much blood from the wound that phantom gave me."
Sancho got up with pain enough in his bones, and went after theinnkeeper in the dark, and meeting the officer, who was looking to seewhat had become of his enemy, he said to him, "Senor, whoever you are,do us the favour and kindness to give us a little rosemary, oil, salt,and wine, for it is wanted to cure one of the best knights-errant onearth, who lies on yonder bed wounded by the hands of the enchantedMoor that is in this inn."
When the officer heard him talk in this way, he took him for a manout of his senses, and as day was now beginning to break, he openedthe inn gate, and calling the host, he told him what this good manwanted. The host furnished him with what he required, and Sanchobrought it to Don Quixote, who, with his hand to his head, wasbewailing the pain of the blow of the lamp, which had done him no moreharm than raising a couple of rather large lumps, and what hefancied blood was only the sweat that flowed from him in hissufferings during the late storm. To be brief, he took thematerials, of which he made a compound, mixing them all and boilingthem a good while until it seemed to him they had come toperfection. He then asked for some vial to pour it into, and asthere was not one in the inn, he decided on putting it into a tinoil-bottle or flask of which the host made him a free gift; and overthe flask he repeated more than eighty paternosters and as many moreave-marias, salves, and credos, accompanying each word with a cross byway of benediction, at all which there were present Sancho, theinnkeeper, and the cuadrillero; for the carrier was now peacefullyengaged in attending to the comfort of his mules.
This being accomplished, he felt anxious to make trial himself, onthe spot, of the virtue of this precious balsam, as he consideredit, and so he drank near a quart of what could not be put into theflask and remained in the pigskin in which it had been boiled; butscarcely had he done drinking when he began to vomit in such a waythat nothing was left in his stomach, and with the pangs and spasms ofvomiting he broke into a profuse sweat, on account of which he badethem cover him up and leave him alone. They did so, and he laysleeping more than three hours, at the end of which he awoke andfelt very great bodily relief and so much ease from his bruises thathe thought himself quite cured, and verily believed he had hit uponthe balsam of Fierabras; and that with this remedy he mightthenceforward, without any fear, face any kind of destruction, battle,or combat, however perilous it might be.
Sancho Panza, who also regarded the amendment of his master asmiraculous, begged him to give him what was left in the pigskin, whichwas no small quantity. Don Quixote consented, and he, taking it withboth hands, in good faith and with a better will, gulped down anddrained off very little less than his master. But the fact is, thatthe stomach of poor Sancho was of necessity not so delicate as that ofhis master, and so, before vomiting, he was seized with suchgripings and retchings, and such sweats and faintness, that verily andtruly be believed his last hour had come, and finding himself soracked and tormented he cursed the balsam and the thief that had givenit to him.
Don Quixote seeing him in this state said, "It is my belief, Sancho,that this mischief comes of thy not being dubbed a knight, for I ampersuaded this liquor cannot be good for those who are not so."
"If your worship knew that," returned Sancho- "woe betide me and allmy kindred!- why did you let me taste it?"
At this moment the draught took effect, and the poor squire began todischarge both ways at such a rate that the rush mat on which he hadthrown himself and the canvas blanket he had covering him were fit fornothing afterwards. He sweated and perspired with such paroxysms andconvulsions that not only he himself but all present thought his endhad come. This tempest and tribulation lasted about two hours, atthe end of which he was left, not like his master, but so weak andexhausted that he could not stand. Don Quixote, however, who, as hasbeen said, felt himself relieved and well, was eager to take hisdeparture at once in quest of adventures, as it seemed to him that allthe time he loitered there was a fraud upon the world and those init who stood in need of his help and protection, all the more whenhe had the security and confidence his balsam afforded him; and so,urged by this impulse, he saddled Rocinante himself and put thepack-saddle on his squire's beast, whom likewise he helped to dressand mount the ass; after which he mounted his horse and turning to acorner of the inn he laid hold of a pike that stood there, to servehim by way of a lance. All that were in the inn, who were more thantwenty persons, stood watching him; the innkeeper's daughter waslikewise observing him, and he too never took his eyes off her, andfrom time to time fetched a sigh that he seemed to pluck up from thedepths of his bowels; but they all thought it must be from the pain hefelt in his ribs; at any rate they who had seen him plastered thenight before thought so.
As soon as they were both mounted, at the gate of the inn, he calledto the host and said in a very grave and measured voice, "Many andgreat are the favours, Senor Alcaide, that I have received in thiscastle of yours, and I remain under the deepest obligation to begrateful to you for them all the days of my life; if I can repaythem in avenging you of any arrogant foe who may have wronged you,know that my calling is no other than to aid the weak, to avenge thosewho suffer wrong, and to chastise perfidy. Search your memory, andif you find anything of this kind you need only tell me of it, and Ipromise you by the order of knighthood which I have received toprocure you satisfaction and reparation to the utmost of your desire."
The innkeeper replied to him with equal calmness, "Sir Knight, Ido not want your worship to avenge me of any wrong, because when anyis done me I can take what vengeance seems good to me; the onlything I want is that you pay me the score that you have run up inthe inn last night, as well for the straw and barley for your twobeasts, as for supper and beds."
"Then this is an inn?" said Don Quixote.
"And a very respectable one," said the innkeeper.
"I have been under a mistake all this time," answered Don Quixote,"for in truth I thought it was a castle, and not a bad one; butsince it appears that it is not a castle but an inn, all that can bedone now is that you should excuse the payment, for I cannotcontravene the rule of knights-errant, of whom I know as a fact （andup to the present I have read nothing to the contrary） that they neverpaid for lodging or anything else in the inn where they might be;for any hospitality that might be offered them is their due by law andright in return for the insufferable toil they endure in seekingadventures by night and by day, in summer and in winter, on foot andon horseback, in hunger and thirst, cold and heat, exposed to allthe inclemencies of heaven and all the hardships of earth."
"I have little to do with that," replied the innkeeper; "pay me whatyou owe me, and let us have no more talk of chivalry, for all I careabout is to get my money."
"You are a stupid, scurvy innkeeper," said Don Quixote, andputting spurs to Rocinante and bringing his pike to the slope herode out of the inn before anyone could stop him, and pushed on somedistance without looking to see if his squire was following him.
The innkeeper when he saw him go without paying him ran to getpayment of Sancho, who said that as his master would not pay neitherwould he, because, being as he was squire to a knight-errant, the samerule and reason held good for him as for his master with regard to notpaying anything in inns and hostelries. At this the innkeeper waxedvery wroth, and threatened if he did not pay to compel him in a waythat he would not like. To which Sancho made answer that by the law ofchivalry his master had received he would not pay a rap, though itcost him his life; for the excellent and ancient usage ofknights-errant was not going to be violated by him, nor should thesquires of such as were yet to come into the world ever complain ofhim or reproach him with breaking so just a privilege.
The ill-luck of the unfortunate Sancho so ordered it that amongthe company in the inn there were four woolcarders from Segovia, threeneedle-makers from the Colt of Cordova, and two lodgers from theFair of Seville, lively fellows, tender-hearted, fond of a joke, andplayful, who, almost as if instigated and moved by a common impulse,made up to Sancho and dismounted him from his ass, while one of themwent in for the blanket of the host's bed; but on flinging him into itthey looked up, and seeing that the ceiling was somewhat lower whatthey required for their work, they decided upon going out into theyard, which was bounded by the sky, and there, putting Sancho in themiddle of the blanket, they began to raise him high, making sport withhim as they would with a dog at Shrovetide.
The cries of the poor blanketed wretch were so loud that theyreached the ears of his master, who, halting to listen attentively,was persuaded that some new adventure was coming, until he clearlyperceived that it was his squire who uttered them. Wheeling about hecame up to the inn with a laborious gallop, and finding it shut wentround it to see if he could find some way of getting in; but as soonas he came to the wall of the yard, which was not very high, hediscovered the game that was being played with his squire. He sawhim rising and falling in the air with such grace and nimbleness that,had his rage allowed him, it is my belief he would have laughed. Hetried to climb from his horse on to the top of the wall, but he was sobruised and battered that he could not even dismount; and so fromthe back of his horse he began to utter such maledictions andobjurgations against those who were blanketing Sancho as it would beimpossible to write down accurately: they, however, did not stay theirlaughter or their work for this, nor did the flying Sancho cease hislamentations, mingled now with threats, now with entreaties but all tolittle purpose, or none at all, until from pure weariness they leftoff. They then brought him his ass, and mounting him on top of it theyput his jacket round him; and the compassionate Maritornes, seeing himso exhausted, thought fit to refresh him with a jug of water, and thatit might be all the cooler she fetched it from the well. Sancho tookit, and as he was raising it to his mouth he was stopped by thecries of his master exclaiming, "Sancho, my son, drink not water;drink it not, my son, for it will kill thee; see, here I have theblessed balsam （and he held up the flask of liquor）， and with drinkingtwo drops of it thou wilt certainly be restored."