Thus talking they reached the foot of a high mountain which stoodlike an isolated peak among the others that surrounded it. Past itsbase there flowed a gentle brook, all around it spread a meadow sogreen and luxuriant that it was a delight to the eyes to look upon it,and forest trees in abundance, and shrubs and flowers, added to thecharms of the spot. Upon this place the Knight of the RuefulCountenance fixed his choice for the performance of his penance, andas he beheld it exclaimed in a loud voice as though he were out of hissenses:
"This is the place, oh, ye heavens, that I select and choose forbewailing the misfortune in which ye yourselves have plunged me:this is the spot where the overflowings of mine eyes shall swell thewaters of yon little brook, and my deep and endless sighs shall stirunceasingly the leaves of these mountain trees, in testimony and tokenof the pain my persecuted heart is suffering. Oh, ye rural deities,whoever ye be that haunt this lone spot, give ear to the complaintof a wretched lover whom long absence and brooding jealousy havedriven to bewail his fate among these wilds and complain of the hardheart of that fair and ungrateful one, the end and limit of allhuman beauty! Oh, ye wood nymphs and dryads, that dwell in thethickets of the forest, so may the nimble wanton satyrs by whom ye arevainly wooed never disturb your sweet repose, help me to lament myhard fate or at least weary not at listening to it! Oh, Dulcinea delToboso, day of my night, glory of my pain, guide of my path, star ofmy fortune, so may Heaven grant thee in full all thou seekest of it,bethink thee of the place and condition to which absence from thee hasbrought me, and make that return in kindness that is due to myfidelity! Oh, lonely trees, that from this day forward shall bear mecompany in my solitude, give me some sign by the gentle movement ofyour boughs that my presence is not distasteful to you! Oh, thou, mysquire, pleasant companion in my prosperous and adverse fortunes,fix well in thy memory what thou shalt see me do here, so that thoumayest relate and report it to the sole cause of all," and so sayinghe dismounted from Rocinante, and in an instant relieved him of saddleand bridle, and giving him a slap on the croup, said, "He gives theefreedom who is bereft of it himself, oh steed as excellent in deedas thou art unfortunate in thy lot; begone where thou wilt, for thoubearest written on thy forehead that neither Astolfo's hippogriff, northe famed Frontino that cost Bradamante so dear, could equal thee inspeed."
Seeing this Sancho said, "Good luck to him who has saved us thetrouble of stripping the pack-saddle off Dapple! By my faith hewould not have gone without a slap on the croup and something saidin his praise; though if he were here I would not let anyone striphim, for there would be no occasion, as he had nothing of the lover orvictim of despair about him, inasmuch as his master, which I was whileit was God's pleasure, was nothing of the sort; and indeed, Sir Knightof the Rueful Countenance, if my departure and your worship'smadness are to come off in earnest, it will be as well to saddleRocinante again in order that he may supply the want of Dapple,because it will save me time in going and returning: for if I go onfoot I don't know when I shall get there or when I shall get back,as I am, in truth, a bad walker."
"I declare, Sancho," returned Don Quixote, "it shall be as thouwilt, for thy plan does not seem to me a bad one, and three days hencethou wilt depart, for I wish thee to observe in the meantime what I doand say for her sake, that thou mayest be able to tell it."
"But what more have I to see besides what I have seen?" said Sancho.
"Much thou knowest about it!" said Don Quixote. "I have now got totear up my garments, to scatter about my armour, knock my head againstthese rocks, and more of the same sort of thing, which thou mustwitness."
"For the love of God," said Sancho, "be careful, your worship, howyou give yourself those knocks on the head, for you may come acrosssuch a rock, and in such a way, that the very first may put an endto the whole contrivance of this penance; and I should think, ifindeed knocks on the head seem necessary to you, and this businesscannot be done without them, you might be content -as the wholething is feigned, and counterfeit, and in joke- you might becontent, I say, with giving them to yourself in the water, oragainst something soft, like cotton; and leave it all to me; forI'll tell my lady that your worship knocked your head against apoint of rock harder than a diamond."
"I thank thee for thy good intentions, friend Sancho," answeredDon Quixote, "but I would have thee know that all these things I amdoing are not in joke, but very much in earnest, for anything elsewould be a transgression of the ordinances of chivalry, which forbidus to tell any lie whatever under the penalties due to apostasy; andto do one thing instead of another is just the same as lying; so myknocks on the head must be real, solid, and valid, without anythingsophisticated or fanciful about them, and it will be needful toleave me some lint to dress my wounds, since fortune has compelledus to do without the balsam we lost."
"It was worse losing the ass," replied Sancho, "for with him lintand all were lost; but I beg of your worship not to remind me again ofthat accursed liquor, for my soul, not to say my stomach, turns athearing the very name of it; and I beg of you, too, to reckon aspast the three days you allowed me for seeing the mad things you do,for I take them as seen already and pronounced upon, and I will tellwonderful stories to my lady; so write the letter and send me off atonce, for I long to return and take your worship out of this purgatorywhere I am leaving you."
"Purgatory dost thou call it, Sancho?" said Don Quixote, "rathercall it hell, or even worse if there be anything worse."
"For one who is in hell," said Sancho, "nulla est retentio, as Ihave heard say."
"I do not understand what retentio means," said Don Quixote.
"Retentio," answered Sancho, "means that whoever is in hell nevercomes nor can come out of it, which will be the opposite case withyour worship or my legs will be idle, that is if I have spurs toenliven Rocinante: let me once get to El Toboso and into thepresence of my lady Dulcinea, and I will tell her such things of thefollies and madnesses （for it is all one） that your worship has doneand is still doing, that I will manage to make her softer than a glovethough I find her harder than a cork tree; and with her sweet andhoneyed answer I will come back through the air like a witch, and takeyour worship out of this purgatory that seems to be hell but is not,as there is hope of getting out of it; which, as I have said, those inhell have not, and I believe your worship will not say anything to thecontrary."
"That is true," said he of the Rueful Countenance, "but how shall wemanage to write the letter?"
"And the ass-colt order too," added Sancho.
"All shall be included," said Don Quixote; "and as there is nopaper, it would be well done to write it on the leaves of trees, asthe ancients did, or on tablets of wax; though that would be as hardto find just now as paper. But it has just occurred to me how it maybe conveniently and even more than conveniently written, and that isin the note-book that belonged to Cardenio, and thou wilt take care tohave it copied on paper, in a good hand, at the first village thoucomest to where there is a schoolmaster, or if not, any sacristan willcopy it; but see thou give it not to any notary to copy, for theywrite a law hand that Satan could not make out."
"But what is to be done about the signature?" said Sancho.
"The letters of Amadis were never signed," said Don Quixote.
"That is all very well," said Sancho, "but the order must needs besigned, and if it is copied they will say the signature is false,and I shall be left without ass-colts."
"The order shall go signed in the same book," said Don Quixote, "andon seeing it my niece will make no difficulty about obeying it; asto the loveletter thou canst put by way of signature, 'Yours tilldeath, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance.' And it will be nogreat matter if it is in some other person's hand, for as well as Irecollect Dulcinea can neither read nor write, nor in the whole courseof her life has she seen handwriting or letter of mine, for my loveand hers have been always platonic, not going beyond a modest look,and even that so seldom that I can safely swear I have not seen herfour times in all these twelve years I have been loving her morethan the light of these eyes that the earth will one day devour; andperhaps even of those four times she has not once perceived that I waslooking at her: such is the retirement and seclusion in which herfather Lorenzo Corchuelo and her mother Aldonza Nogales have broughther up."
"So, so!" said Sancho; "Lorenzo Corchuelo's daughter is the ladyDulcinea del Toboso, otherwise called Aldonza Lorenzo?"
"She it is," said Don Quixote, "and she it is that is worthy to belady of the whole universe."
"I know her well," said Sancho, "and let me tell you she can fling acrowbar as well as the lustiest lad in all the town. Giver of allgood! but she is a brave lass, and a right and stout one, and fit tobe helpmate to any knight-errant that is or is to be, who may make herhis lady: the whoreson wench, what sting she has and what a voice! Ican tell you one day she posted herself on the top of the belfry ofthe village to call some labourers of theirs that were in a ploughedfield of her father's, and though they were better than half aleague off they heard her as well as if they were at the foot of thetower; and the best of her is that she is not a bit prudish, for shehas plenty of affability, and jokes with everybody, and has a grin anda jest for everything. So, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, I sayyou not only may and ought to do mad freaks for her sake, but you havea good right to give way to despair and hang yourself; and no onewho knows of it but will say you did well, though the devil shouldtake you; and I wish I were on my road already, simply to see her, forit is many a day since I saw her, and she must be altered by thistime, for going about the fields always, and the sun and the air spoilwomen's looks greatly. But I must own the truth to your worship, SenorDon Quixote; until now I have been under a great mistake, for Ibelieved truly and honestly that the lady Dulcinea must be someprincess your worship was in love with, or some person great enough todeserve the rich presents you have sent her, such as the Biscayanand the galley slaves, and many more no doubt, for your worship musthave won many victories in the time when I was not yet your squire.But all things considered, what good can it do the lady AldonzaLorenzo, I mean the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, to have the vanquishedyour worship sends or will send coming to her and going down ontheir knees before her? Because may be when they came she'd behackling flax or threshing on the threshing floor, and they'd beashamed to see her, and she'd laugh, or resent the present."