"So near," answered the landlord, "that here they come."
Hearing this Dorothea covered her face, and Cardenio retreatedinto Don Quixote's room, and they hardly had time to do so beforethe whole party the host had described entered the inn, and the fourthat were on horseback, who were of highbred appearance and bearing,dismounted, and came forward to take down the woman who rode on theside-saddle, and one of them taking her in his arms placed her in achair that stood at the entrance of the room where Cardenio had hiddenhimself. All this time neither she nor they had removed their veils orspoken a word, only on sitting down on the chair the woman gave a deepsigh and let her arms fall like one that was ill and weak. Theattendants on foot then led the horses away to the stable. Observingthis the curate, curious to know who these people in such a dressand preserving such silence were, went to where the servants werestanding and put the question to one of them, who answered him.
"Faith, sir, I cannot tell you who they are, I only know they seemto be people of distinction, particularly he who advanced to takethe lady you saw in his arms; and I say so because all the rest showhim respect, and nothing is done except what he directs and orders."
"And the lady, who is she?" asked the curate.
"That I cannot tell you either," said the servant, "for I have notseen her face all the way: I have indeed heard her sigh many times andutter such groans that she seems to be giving up the ghost every time;but it is no wonder if we do not know more than we have told you, asmy comrade and I have only been in their company two days, forhaving met us on the road they begged and persuaded us to accompanythem to Andalusia, promising to pay us well."
"And have you heard any of them called by his name?" asked thecurate.
"No, indeed," replied the servant; "they all preserve a marvelloussilence on the road, for not a sound is to be heard among themexcept the poor lady's sighs and sobs, which make us pity her; andwe feel sure that wherever it is she is going, it is against her will,and as far as one can judge from her dress she is a nun or, what ismore likely, about to become one; and perhaps it is because taking thevows is not of her own free will, that she is so unhappy as sheseems to be."
"That may well be," said the curate, and leaving them he returned towhere Dorothea was, who, hearing the veiled lady sigh, moved bynatural compassion drew near to her and said, "What are yousuffering from, senora? If it be anything that women are accustomedand know how to relieve, I offer you my services with all my heart."
To this the unhappy lady made no reply; and though Dorothea repeatedher offers more earnestly she still kept silence, until thegentleman with the veil, who, the servant said, was obeyed by therest, approached and said to Dorothea, "Do not give yourself thetrouble, senora, of making any offers to that woman, for it is her wayto give no thanks for anything that is done for her; and do not try tomake her answer unless you want to hear some lie from her lips."
"I have never told a lie," was the immediate reply of her who hadbeen silent until now; "on the contrary, it is because I am sotruthful and so ignorant of lying devices that I am now in thismiserable condition; and this I call you yourself to witness, for itis my unstained truth that has made you false and a liar."
Cardenio heard these words clearly and distinctly, being quite closeto the speaker, for there was only the door of Don Quixote's roombetween them, and the instant he did so, uttering a loud exclamationhe cried, "Good God! what is this I hear? What voice is this thathas reached my ears?" Startled at the voice the lady turned herhead; and not seeing the speaker she stood up and attempted to enterthe room; observing which the gentleman held her back, preventingher from moving a step. In her agitation and sudden movement thesilk with which she had covered her face fell off and disclosed acountenance of incomparable and marvellous beauty, but pale andterrified; for she kept turning her eyes, everywhere she coulddirect her gaze, with an eagerness that made her look as if she hadlost her senses, and so marked that it excited the pity of Dorotheaand all who beheld her, though they knew not what caused it. Thegentleman grasped her firmly by the shoulders, and being so fullyoccupied with holding her back, he was unable to put a hand to hisveil which was falling off, as it did at length entirely, andDorothea, who was holding the lady in her arms, raising her eyes sawthat he who likewise held her was her husband, Don Fernando. Theinstant she recognised him, with a prolonged plaintive cry drawnfrom the depths of her heart, she fell backwards fainting, and but forthe barber being close by to catch her in his arms, she would havefallen completely to the ground. The curate at once hastened touncover her face and throw water on it, and as he did so Don Fernando,for he it was who held the other in his arms, recognised her and stoodas if death-stricken by the sight; not, however, relaxing his grasp ofLuscinda, for it was she that was struggling to release herself fromhis hold, having recognised Cardenio by his voice, as he hadrecognised her. Cardenio also heard Dorothea's cry as she fellfainting, and imagining that it came from his Luscinda burst forthin terror from the room, and the first thing he saw was Don Fernandowith Luscinda in his arms. Don Fernando, too, knew Cardenio at once;and all three, Luscinda, Cardenio, and Dorothea, stood in silentamazement scarcely knowing what had happened to them.
They gazed at one another without speaking, Dorothea at DonFernando, Don Fernando at Cardenio, Cardenio at Luscinda, and Luscindaat Cardenio. The first to break silence was Luscinda, who thusaddressed Don Fernando: "Leave me, Senor Don Fernando, for the sake ofwhat you owe to yourself; if no other reason will induce you, leave meto cling to the wall of which I am the ivy, to the support fromwhich neither your importunities, nor your threats, nor your promises,nor your gifts have been able to detach me. See how Heaven, by waysstrange and hidden from our sight, has brought me face to face with mytrue husband; and well you know by dear-bought experience that deathalone will be able to efface him from my memory. May this plaindeclaration, then, lead you, as you can do nothing else, to turnyour love into rage, your affection into resentment, and so to take mylife; for if I yield it up in the presence of my beloved husband Icount it well bestowed; it may be by my death he will be convincedthat I kept my faith to him to the last moment of life."
Meanwhile Dorothea had come to herself, and had heard Luscinda'swords, by means of which she divined who she was; but seeing thatDon Fernando did not yet release her or reply to her, summoning up herresolution as well as she could she rose and knelt at his feet, andwith a flood of bright and touching tears addressed him thus:
"If, my lord, the beams of that sun that thou holdest eclipsed inthine arms did not dazzle and rob thine eyes of sight thou wouldsthave seen by this time that she who kneels at thy feet is, so longas thou wilt have it so, the unhappy and unfortunate Dorothea. I amthat lowly peasant girl whom thou in thy goodness or for thypleasure wouldst raise high enough to call herself thine; I am she whoin the seclusion of innocence led a contented life until at thevoice of thy importunity, and thy true and tender passion, as itseemed, she opened the gates of her modesty and surrendered to theethe keys of her liberty; a gift received by thee but thanklessly, asis clearly shown by my forced retreat to the place where thou dostfind me, and by thy appearance under the circumstances in which Isee thee. Nevertheless, I would not have thee suppose that I have comehere driven by my shame; it is only grief and sorrow at seeingmyself forgotten by thee that have led me. It was thy will to makeme thine, and thou didst so follow thy will, that now, even thoughthou repentest, thou canst not help being mine. Bethink thee, my lord,the unsurpassable affection I bear thee may compensate for thebeauty and noble birth for which thou wouldst desert me. Thou canstnot be the fair Luscinda's because thou art mine, nor can she be thinebecause she is Cardenio's; and it will be easier, remember, to bendthy will to love one who adores thee, than to lead one to love theewho abhors thee now. Thou didst address thyself to my simplicity, thoudidst lay siege to my virtue, thou wert not ignorant of my station,well dost thou know how I yielded wholly to thy will; there is noground or reason for thee to plead deception, and if it be so, as itis, and if thou art a Christian as thou art a gentleman, why dost thouby such subterfuges put off making me as happy at last as thou didstat first? And if thou wilt not have me for what I am, thy true andlawful wife, at least take and accept me as thy slave, for so longas I am thine I will count myself happy and fortunate. Do not bydeserting me let my shame become the talk of the gossips in thestreets; make not the old age of my parents miserable; for the loyalservices they as faithful vassals have ever rendered thine are notdeserving of such a return; and if thou thinkest it will debase thyblood to mingle it with mine, reflect that there is little or nonobility in the world that has not travelled the same road, and thatin illustrious lineages it is not the woman's blood that is ofaccount; and, moreover, that true nobility consists in virtue, andif thou art wanting in that, refusing me what in justice thou owestme, then even I have higher claims to nobility than thine. To makean end, senor, these are my last words to thee: whether thou wilt,or wilt not, I am thy wife; witness thy words, which must not andought not to be false, if thou dost pride thyself on that for wantof which thou scornest me; witness the pledge which thou didst giveme, and witness Heaven, which thou thyself didst call to witness thepromise thou hadst made me; and if all this fail, thy own consciencewill not fail to lift up its silent voice in the midst of all thygaiety, and vindicate the truth of what I say and mar thy highestpleasure and enjoyment."