"Most certainly, senor," replied Sancho, "your worship shall befully obeyed in
this matter; all the more as of myself I am peacefuland no friend to mixing in strife
and quarrels: it is true that asregards the defence of my own person I shall not
give much heed tothose laws, for laws human and divine allow each one to defend
himselfagainst any assailant whatever."
"That I grant," said Don Quixote, "but in this matter of aiding meagainst knights
thou must put a restraint upon thy naturalimpetuosity."
"I will do so, I promise you," answered Sancho, "and will keepthis precept as
carefully as Sunday."
While they were thus talking there appeared on the road two friarsof the order
of St. Benedict, mounted on two dromedaries, for not lesstall were the two mules
they rode on. They wore travellingspectacles and carried sunshades; and behind them
came a coachattended by four or five persons on horseback and two muleteers onfoot.
In the coach there was, as afterwards appeared, a Biscay lady onher way to Seville,
where her husband was about to take passage forthe Indies with an appointment of
high honour. The friars, thoughgoing the same road, were not in her company; but
the moment DonQuixote perceived them he said to his squire, "Either I am mistaken,or
this is going to be the most famous adventure that has ever beenseen, for those
black bodies we see there must be, and doubtlessare, magicians who are carrying
off some stolen princess in thatcoach, and with all my might I must undo this wrong."
"This will be worse than the windmills," said Sancho. "Look,senor; those are
friars of St. Benedict, and the coach plainly belongsto some travellers: I tell
you to mind well what you are about anddon't let the devil mislead you."
"I have told thee already, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that onthe subject
of adventures thou knowest little. What I say is thetruth, as thou shalt see presently."
So saying, he advanced and posted himself in the middle of theroad along which
the friars were coming, and as soon as he thoughtthey had come near enough to hear
what he said, he cried aloud,"Devilish and unnatural beings, release instantly the
highbornprincesses whom you are carrying off by force in this coach, elseprepare
to meet a speedy death as the just punishment of your evildeeds."
The friars drew rein and stood wondering at the appearance of DonQuixote as well
as at his words, to which they replied, "SenorCaballero, we are not devilish or
unnatural, but two brothers of St.Benedict following our road, nor do we know whether
or not there areany captive princesses coming in this coach."
"No soft words with me, for I know you, lying rabble," said DonQuixote, and without
waiting for a reply he spurred Rocinante and withlevelled lance charged the first
friar with such fury anddetermination, that, if the friar had not flung himself
off themule, he would have brought him to the ground against his will, andsore wounded,
if not killed outright. The second brother, seeing howhis comrade was treated, drove
his heels into his castle of a mule andmade off across the country faster than the
wind.
Sancho Panza, when he saw the friar on the ground, dismountingbriskly from his
ass, rushed towards him and began to strip off hisgown. At that instant the friars
muleteers came up and asked what hewas stripping him for. Sancho answered them that
this fell to himlawfully as spoil of the battle which his lord Don Quixote had won.The
muleteers, who had no idea of a joke and did not understand allthis about battles
and spoils, seeing that Don Quixote was somedistance off talking to the travellers
in the coach, fell upon Sancho,knocked him down, and leaving hardly a hair in his
beard, belabouredhim with kicks and left him stretched breathless and senseless
onthe ground; and without any more delay helped the friar to mount, who,trembling,
terrified, and pale, as soon as he found himself in thesaddle, spurred after his
companion, who was standing at a distancelooking on, watching the result of the
onslaught; then, not caringto wait for the end of the affair just begun, they pursued
theirjourney making more crosses than if they had the devil after them.
Don Quixote was, as has been said, speaking to the lady in thecoach: "Your beauty,
lady mine," said he, "may now dispose of yourperson as may be most in accordance
with your pleasure, for thepride of your ravishers lies prostrate on the ground
through thisstrong arm of mine; and lest you should be pining to know the nameof
your deliverer, know that I am called Don Quixote of La Mancha,knight-errant and
adventurer, and captive to the peerless andbeautiful lady Dulcinea del Toboso: and
in return for the serviceyou have received of me I ask no more than that you should
return toEl Toboso, and on my behalf present yourself before that lady and tellher
what I have done to set you free."
One of the squires in attendance upon the coach, a Biscayan, waslistening to
all Don Quixote was saying, and, perceiving that he wouldnot allow the coach to
go on, but was saying it must return at once toEl Toboso, he made at him, and seizing
his lance addressed him inbad Castilian and worse Biscayan after his fashion, "Begone,caballero,
and ill go with thee; by the God that made me, unlessthou quittest coach, slayest
thee as art here a Biscayan."
Don Quixote understood him quite well, and answered him veryquietly, "If thou
wert a knight, as thou art none, I should havealready chastised thy folly and rashness,
miserable creature." Towhich the Biscayan returned, "I no gentleman! -I swear to
God thouliest as I am Christian: if thou droppest lance and drawest sword,soon shalt
thou see thou art carrying water to the cat: Biscayan onland, hidalgo at sea, hidalgo
at the devil, and look, if thou sayestotherwise thou liest."
"'"You will see presently," said Agrajes,'" replied Don Quixote; andthrowing
his lance on the ground he drew his sword, braced his buckleron his arm, and attacked
the Biscayan, bent upon taking his life.
The Biscayan, when he saw him coming on, though he wished todismount from his
mule, in which, being one of those sorry ones letout for hire, he had no confidence,
had no choice but to draw hissword; it was lucky for him, however, that he was near
the coach, fromwhich he was able to snatch a cushion that served him for a shield;and
they went at one another as if they had been two mortal enemies.The others strove
to make peace between them, but could not, for theBiscayan declared in his disjointed
phrase that if they did not lethim finish his battle he would kill his mistress
and everyone thatstrove to prevent him. The lady in the coach, amazed and terrifiedat
what she saw, ordered the coachman to draw aside a little, andset herself to watch
this severe struggle, in the course of whichthe Biscayan smote Don Quixote a mighty
stroke on the shoulder overthe top of his buckler, which, given to one without armour,
would havecleft him to the waist. Don Quixote, feeling the weight of thisprodigious
blow, cried aloud, saying, "O lady of my soul, Dulcinea,flower of beauty, come to
the aid of this your knight, who, infulfilling his obligations to your beauty, finds
himself in thisextreme peril." To say this, to lift his sword, to shelter himselfwell
behind his buckler, and to assail the Biscayan was the work of aninstant, determined
as he was to venture all upon a single blow. TheBiscayan, seeing him come on in
this way, was convinced of his courageby his spirited bearing, and resolved to follow
his example, so hewaited for him keeping well under cover of his cushion, being
unableto execute any sort of manoeuvre with his mule, which, dead tiredand never
meant for this kind of game, could not stir a step.
On, then, as aforesaid, came Don Quixote against the waryBiscayan, with uplifted
sword and a firm intention of splitting him inhalf, while on his side the Biscayan
waited for him sword in hand, andunder the protection of his cushion; and all present
stoodtrembling, waiting in suspense the result of blows such asthreatened to fall,
and the lady in the coach and the rest of herfollowing were making a thousand vows
and offerings to all theimages and shrines of Spain, that God might deliver her
squire and allof them from this great peril in which they found themselves. But
itspoils all, that at this point and crisis the author of the historyleaves this
battle impending, giving as excuse that he could findnothing more written about
these achievements of Don Quixote than whathas been already set forth. It is true
the second author of thiswork was unwilling to believe that a history so curious
could havebeen allowed to fall under the sentence of oblivion, or that thewits of
La Mancha could have been so undiscerning as not to preservein their archives or
registries some documents referring to thisfamous knight; and this being his persuasion,
he did not despair offinding the conclusion of this pleasant history, which, heavenfavouring
him, he did find in a way that shall be related in theSecond Part.
CHAPTER IX
IN WHICH IS CONCLUDED AND FINISHED THE TERRIFIC BATTLE BETWEEN THEGALLANT BISCAYAN
AND THE VALIANT MANCHEGAN
In the First Part of this history we left the valiant Biscayan andthe renowned
Don Quixote with drawn swords uplifted, ready todeliver two such furious slashing
blows that if they had fallen fulland fair they would at least have split and cleft
them asunder fromtop to toe and laid them open like a pomegranate; and at this socritical
point the delightful history came to a stop and stood cutshort without any intimation
from the author where what was missingwas to be found.
This distressed me greatly, because the pleasure derived from havingread such
a small portion turned to vexation at the thought of thepoor chance that presented
itself of finding the large part that, soit seemed to me, was missing of such an
interesting tale. Itappeared to me to be a thing impossible and contrary to allprecedent
that so good a knight should have been without some sageto undertake the task of
writing his marvellous achievements; athing that was never wanting to any of those
knights-errant who,they say, went after adventures; for every one of them had one
ortwo sages as if made on purpose, who not only recorded their deeds butdescribed
their most trifling thoughts and follies, however secretthey might be; and such
a good knight could not have been sounfortunate as not to have what Platir and others
like him had inabundance. And so I could not bring myself to believe that such agallant
tale had been left maimed and mutilated, and I laid theblame on Time, the devourer
and destroyer of all things, that hadeither concealed or consumed it.
On the other hand, it struck me that, inasmuch as among his booksthere had been
found such modern ones as "The Enlightenment ofJealousy" and the "Nymphs and Shepherds
of Henares," his story mustlikewise be modern, and that though it might not be written,
itmight exist in the memory of the people of his village and of those inthe neighbourhood.
This reflection kept me perplexed and longing toknow really and truly the whole
life and wondrous deeds of ourfamous Spaniard, Don Quixote of La Mancha, light and
mirror ofManchegan chivalry, and the first that in our age and in these so evildays
devoted himself to the labour and exercise of the arms ofknight-errantry, righting
wrongs, succouring widows, and protectingdamsels of that sort that used to ride
about, whip in hand, on theirpalfreys, with all their virginity about them, from
mountain tomountain and valley to valley- for, if it were not for some ruffian,or
boor with a hood and hatchet, or monstrous giant, that forced them,there were in
days of yore damsels that at the end of eighty years, inall which time they had
never slept a day under a roof, went totheir graves as much maids as the mothers
that bore them. I say, then,that in these and other respects our gallant Don Quixote
is worthyof everlasting and notable praise, nor should it be withheld even fromme
for the labour and pains spent in searching for the conclusion ofthis delightful
history; though I know well that if Heaven, chance andgood fortune had not helped
me, the world would have remained deprivedof an entertainment and pleasure that
for a couple of hours or somay well occupy him who shall read it attentively. The
discovery of itoccurred in this way.
One day, as I was in the Alcana of Toledo, a boy came up to sellsome pamphlets
and old papers to a silk mercer, and, as I am fond ofreading even the very scraps
of paper in the streets, led by thisnatural bent of mine I took up one of the pamphlets
the boy had forsale, and saw that it was in characters which I recognised asArabic,
and as I was unable to read them though I could recognisethem, I looked about to
see if there were any Spanish-speaking Moriscoat hand to read them for me; nor was
there any great difficulty infinding such an interpreter, for even had I sought
one for an olderand better language I should have found him. In short, chance providedme
with one, who when I told him what I wanted and put the book intohis hands, opened
it in the middle and after reading a little in itbegan to laugh. I asked him what
he was laughing at, and he repliedthat it was at something the book had written
in the margin by wayof a note. I bade him tell it to me; and he still laughing said,
"Inthe margin, as I told you, this is written: 'This Dulcinea delToboso so often
mentioned in this history, had, they say, the besthand of any woman in all La Mancha
for salting pigs.'"
When I heard Dulcinea del Toboso named, I was struck with surpriseand amazement,
for it occurred to me at once that these pamphletscontained the history of Don Quixote.
With this idea I pressed himto read the beginning, and doing so, turning the Arabic
offhand intoCastilian, he told me it meant, "History of Don Quixote of LaMancha,
written by Cide Hamete Benengeli, an Arab historian." Itrequired great caution to
hide the joy I felt when the title of thebook reached my ears, and snatching it
from the silk mercer, Ibought all the papers and pamphlets from the boy for half
a real;and if he had had his wits about him and had known how eager I was forthem,
he might have safely calculated on making more than six reals bythe bargain. I withdrew
at once with the Morisco into the cloisterof the cathedral, and begged him to turn
all these pamphlets thatrelated to Don Quixote into the Castilian tongue, without
omittingor adding anything to them, offering him whatever payment hepleased. He
was satisfied with two arrobas of raisins and twobushels of wheat, and promised
to translate them faithfully and withall despatch; but to make the matter easier,
and not to let such aprecious find out of my hands, I took him to my house, where
in littlemore than a month and a half he translated the whole just as it is setdown
here.