So at length, with the boys capering round them, and accompaniedby the curate and the bachelor, they made their entrance into thetown, and proceeded to Don Quixote's house, at the door of whichthey found his housekeeper and niece, whom the news of his arrival hadalready reached. It had been brought to Teresa Panza, Sancho's wife,as well, and she with her hair all loose and half naked, draggingSanchica her daughter by the hand, ran out to meet her husband; butseeing him coming in by no means as good case as she thought agovernor ought to be, she said to him, "How is it you come this way,husband? It seems to me you come tramping and footsore, and lookingmore like a disorderly vagabond than a governor."

"Hold your tongue, Teresa," said Sancho; "often 'where there arepegs there are no flitches;' let's go into the house and thereyou'll hear strange things. I bring money, and that's the mainthing, got by my own industry without wronging anybody."

"You bring the money, my good husband," said Teresa, "and nomatter whether it was got this way or that; for, however you mayhave got it, you'll not have brought any new practice into the world."

Sanchica embraced her father and asked him if he brought heranything, for she had been looking out for him as for the showers ofMay; and she taking hold of him by the girdle on one side, and hiswife by the hand, while the daughter led Dapple, they made for theirhouse, leaving Don Quixote in his, in the hands of his niece andhousekeeper, and in the company of the curate and the bachelor.

Don Quixote at once, without any regard to time or season,withdrew in private with the bachelor and the curate, and in a fewwords told them of his defeat, and of the engagement he was undernot to quit his village for a year, which he meant to keep to theletter without departing a hair's breadth from it, as became aknight-errant bound by scrupulous good faith and the laws ofknight-errantry; and of how he thought of turning shepherd for thatyear, and taking his diversion in the solitude of the fields, where hecould with perfect freedom give range to his thoughts of love while hefollowed the virtuous pastoral calling; and he besought them, ifthey had not a great deal to do and were not prevented by moreimportant business, to consent to be his companions, for he wouldbuy sheep enough to qualify them for shepherds; and the most importantpoint of the whole affair, he could tell them, was settled, for he hadgiven them names that would fit them to a T. The curate asked whatthey were. Don Quixote replied that he himself was to be called theshepherd Quixotize and the bachelor the shepherd Carrascon, and thecurate the shepherd Curambro, and Sancho Panza the shepherd Pancino.

Both were astounded at Don Quixote's new craze; however, lest heshould once more make off out of the village from them in pursuit ofhis chivalry, they trusting that in the course of the year he might becured, fell in with his new project, applauded his crazy idea as abright one, and offered to share the life with him. "And what's more,"said Samson Carrasco, "I am, as all the world knows, a very famouspoet, and I'll be always making verses, pastoral, or courtly, or as itmay come into my head, to pass away our time in those secluded regionswhere we shall be roaming. But what is most needful, sirs, is thateach of us should choose the name of the shepherdess he means toglorify in his verses, and that we should not leave a tree, be it everso hard, without writing up and carving her name on it, as is thehabit and custom of love-smitten shepherds."

"That's the very thing," said Don Quixote; "though I am relievedfrom looking for the name of an imaginary shepherdess, for there's thepeerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the glory of these brooksides, theornament of these meadows, the mainstay of beauty, the cream of allthe graces, and, in a word, the being to whom all praise isappropriate, be it ever so hyperbolical."

"Very true," said the curate; "but we the others must look about foraccommodating shepherdesses that will answer our purpose one way oranother."

"And," added Samson Carrasco, "if they fail us, we can call themby the names of the ones in print that the world is filled with,Filidas, Amarilises, Dianas, Fleridas, Galateas, Belisardas; for asthey sell them in the market-places we may fairly buy them and makethem our own. If my lady, or I should say my shepherdess, happens tobe called Ana, I'll sing her praises under the name of Anarda, andif Francisca, I'll call her Francenia, and if Lucia, Lucinda, for itall comes to the same thing; and Sancho Panza, if he joins thisfraternity, may glorify his wife Teresa Panza as Teresaina."

Don Quixote laughed at the adaptation of the name, and the curatebestowed vast praise upon the worthy and honourable resolution hehad made, and again offered to bear him company all the time that hecould spare from his imperative duties. And so they took their leaveof him, recommending and beseeching him to take care of his health andtreat himself to a suitable diet.

It so happened his niece and the housekeeper overheard all the threeof them said; and as soon as they were gone they both of them camein to Don Quixote, and said the niece, "What's this, uncle? Now thatwe were thinking you had come back to stay at home and lead a quietrespectable life there, are you going to get into fresh entanglements,and turn 'young shepherd, thou that comest here, young shepherdgoing there?' Nay! indeed 'the straw is too hard now to make pipesof.'"

"And," added the housekeeper, "will your worship be able to bear,out in the fields, the heats of summer, and the chills of winter,and the howling of the wolves? Not you; for that's a life and abusiness for hardy men, bred and seasoned to such work almost from thetime they were in swaddling-clothes. Why, to make choice of evils,it's better to be a knight-errant than a shepherd! Look here, senor;take my advice- and I'm not giving it to you full of bread and wine,but fasting, and with fifty years upon my head- stay at home, lookafter your affairs, go often to confession, be good to the poor, andupon my soul be it if any evil comes to you."

"Hold your peace, my daughters," said Don Quixote; "I know very wellwhat my duty is; help me to bed, for I don't feel very well; andrest assured that, knight-errant now or wandering shepherd to be, Ishall never fail to have a care for your interests, as you will see inthe end." And the good wenches (for that they undoubtedly were), thehousekeeper and niece, helped him to bed, where they gave himsomething to eat and made him as comfortable as possible.

CHAPTER LXXIV

OF HOW DON QUIXOTE FELL SICK, AND OF THE WILL HE MADE, AND HOW HE DIED

As nothing that is man's can last for ever, but all tends everdownwards from its beginning to its end, and above all man's life, andas Don Quixote's enjoyed no special dispensation from heaven to stayits course, its end and close came when he least looked for it. For-whether it was of the dejection the thought of his defeat produced, orof heaven's will that so ordered it- a fever settled upon him and kepthim in his bed for six days, during which he was often visited byhis friends the curate, the bachelor, and the barber, while his goodsquire Sancho Panza never quitted his bedside. They, persuaded that itwas grief at finding himself vanquished, and the object of hisheart, the liberation and disenchantment of Dulcinea, unattained, thatkept him in this state, strove by all the means in their power tocheer him up; the bachelor bidding him take heart and get up tobegin his pastoral life, for which he himself, he said, had alreadycomposed an eclogue that would take the shine out of all Sannazaro hadever written, and had bought with his own money two famous dogs toguard the flock, one called Barcino and the other Butron, which aherdsman of Quintanar had sold him.

But for all this Don Quixote could not shake off his sadness. Hisfriends called in the doctor, who felt his pulse and was not very wellsatisfied with it, and said that in any case it would be well forhim to attend to the health of his soul, as that of his body was ina bad way. Don Quixote heard this calmly; but not so hishousekeeper, his niece, and his squire, who fell weeping bitterly,as if they had him lying dead before them. The doctor's opinion wasthat melancholy and depression were bringing him to his end. DonQuixote begged them to leave him to himself, as he had a wish to sleepa little. They obeyed, and he slept at one stretch, as the sayingis, more than six hours, so that the housekeeper and niece thoughthe was going to sleep for ever. But at the end of that time he wokeup, and in a loud voice exclaimed, "Blessed be Almighty God, who hasshown me such goodness. In truth his mercies are boundless, and thesins of men can neither limit them nor keep them back!"

The niece listened with attention to her uncle's words, and theystruck her as more coherent than what usually fell from him, atleast during his illness, so she asked, "What are you saying, senor?Has anything strange occurred? What mercies or what sins of men areyou talking of?"

"The mercies, niece," said Don Quixote, "are those that God has thismoment shown me, and with him, as I said, my sins are no impediment tothem. My reason is now free and clear, rid of the dark shadows ofignorance that my unhappy constant study of those detestable booksof chivalry cast over it. Now I see through their absurdities anddeceptions, and it only grieves me that this destruction of myillusions has come so late that it leaves me no time to make someamends by reading other books that might be a light to my soul. Niece,I feel myself at the point of death, and I would fain meet it insuch a way as to show that my life has not been so ill that I shouldleave behind me the name of a madman; for though I have been one, Iwould not that the fact should be made plainer at my death. Call in tome, my dear, my good friends the curate, the bachelor Samson Carrasco,and Master Nicholas the barber, for I wish to confess and make mywill." But his niece was saved the trouble by the entrance of thethree. The instant Don Quixote saw them he exclaimed, "Good news foryou, good sirs, that I am no longer Don Quixote of La Mancha, butAlonso Quixano, whose way of life won for him the name of Good. Now amI the enemy of Amadis of Gaul and of the whole countless troop ofhis descendants; odious to me now are all the profane stories ofknight-errantry; now I perceive my folly, and the peril into whichreading them brought me; now, by God's mercy schooled into my rightsenses, I loathe them."

When the three heard him speak in this way, they had no doubtwhatever that some new craze had taken possession of him; and saidSamson, "What? Senor Don Quixote! Now that we have intelligence of thelady Dulcinea being disenchanted, are you taking this line; now,just as we are on the point of becoming shepherds, to pass our livessinging, like princes, are you thinking of turning hermit? Hush, forheaven's sake, be rational and let's have no more nonsense."

"All that nonsense," said Don Quixote, "that until now has been areality to my hurt, my death will, with heaven's help, turn to mygood. I feel, sirs, that I am rapidly drawing near death; a truce tojesting; let me have a confessor to confess me, and a notary to makemy will; for in extremities like this, man must not trifle with hissoul; and while the curate is confessing me let some one, I beg, gofor the notary."

They looked at one another, wondering at Don Quixote's words; but,though uncertain, they were inclined to believe him, and one of thesigns by which they came to the conclusion he was dying was this sosudden and complete return to his senses after having been mad; for tothe words already quoted he added much more, so well expressed, sodevout, and so rational, as to banish all doubt and convince them thathe was sound of mind. The curate turned them all out, and left alonewith him confessed him. The bachelor went for the notary andreturned shortly afterwards with him and with Sancho, who, havingalready learned from the bachelor the condition his master was in, andfinding the housekeeper and niece weeping, began to blubber and shedtears.

The confession over, the curate came out saying, "Alonso Quixano theGood is indeed dying, and is indeed in his right mind; we may now goin to him while he makes his will."

This news gave a tremendous impulse to the brimming eyes of thehousekeeper, niece, and Sancho Panza his good squire, making the tearsburst from their eyes and a host of sighs from their hearts; for ofa truth, as has been said more than once, whether as plain AlonsoQuixano the Good, or as Don Quixote of La Mancha, Don Quixote wasalways of a gentle disposition and kindly in all his ways, and hencehe was beloved, not only by those of his own house, but by all whoknew him.

The notary came in with the rest, and as soon as the preamble of thehad been set out and Don Quixote had commended his soul to God withall the devout formalities that are usual, coming to the bequests,he said, "Item, it is my will that, touching certain moneys in thehands of Sancho Panza (whom in my madness I made my squire),inasmuch as between him and me there have been certain accounts anddebits and credits, no claim be made against him, nor any accountdemanded of him in respect of them; but that if anything remain overand above, after he has paid himself what I owe him, the balance,which will be but little, shall be his, and much good may it do him;and if, as when I was mad I had a share in giving him the governmentof an island, so, now that I am in my senses, I could give him that ofa kingdom, it should be his, for the simplicity of his character andthe fidelity of his conduct deserve it." And then, turning toSancho, he said, "Forgive me, my friend, that I led thee to seem asmad as myself, making thee fall into the same error I myself fellinto, that there were and still are knights-errant in the world."

"Ah!" said Sancho weeping, "don't die, master, but take my adviceand live many years; for the foolishest thing a man can do in thislife is to let himself die without rhyme or reason, without anybodykilling him, or any hands but melancholy's making an end of him. Come,don't be lazy, but get up from your bed and let us take to thefields in shepherd's trim as we agreed. Perhaps behind some bush weshall find the lady Dulcinea disenchanted, as fine as fine can be.If it be that you are dying of vexation at having been vanquished, laythe blame on me, and say you were overthrown because I had girthedRocinante badly; besides you must have seen in your books ofchivalry that it is a common thing for knights to upset one another,and for him who is conquered to-day to be conqueror tomorrow."

Title: Don Quixote
Author: Miqeul de Cervantes
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