PART I - CHAPTER IX.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　IN WHICH IS CONCLUDED AND FINISHED THE TERRIFIC BATTLE BETWEEN THEGALLANT BISCAYAN AND THE VALIANT MANCHEGANIn the First Part of this history we left the valiant Biscayan and therenowned Don Quixote with drawn swords uplifted, ready to deliver twosuch furious slashing blows that if they had fallen full and fair theywould at least have split and cleft them asunder from top to toe and laidthem open like a pomegranate; and at this so critical point thedelightful history came to a stop and stood cut short without anyintimation from the author where what was missing was to be found.This distressed me greatly, because the pleasure derived from having readsuch a small portion turned to vexation at the thought of the poor chancethat presented itself of finding the large part that, so it seemed to me,was missing of such an interesting tale. It appeared to me to be a thingimpossible and contrary to all precedent that so good a knight shouldhave been without some sage to undertake the task of writing hismarvellous achievements; a thing that was never wanting to any of thoseknights-errant who, they say, went after adventures; for every one ofthem had one or two sages as if made on purpose, who not only recordedtheir deeds but described their most trifling thoughts and follies,however secret they might be; and such a good knight could not have beenso unfortunate as not to have what Platir and others like him had inabundance. And so I could not bring myself to believe that such a gallanttale had been left maimed and mutilated, and I laid the blame on Time,the devourer and destroyer of all things, that had either concealed orconsumed it.On the other hand, it struck me that, inasmuch as among his books therehad been found such modern ones as "The Enlightenment of Jealousy" andthe "Nymphs and Shepherds of Henares," his story must likewise be modern,and that though it might not be written, it might exist in the memory ofthe people of his village and of those in the neighbourhood. Thisreflection kept me perplexed and longing to know really and truly thewhole life and wondrous deeds of our famous Spaniard, Don Quixote of LaMancha, light and mirror of Manchegan chivalry, and the first that in ourage and in these so evil days devoted himself to the labour and exerciseof the arms of knight-errantry, righting wrongs, succouring widows, andprotecting damsels of that sort that used to ride about, whip in hand, ontheir palfreys, with all their virginity about them, from mountain tomountain and valley to valley--for, if it were not for some ruffian, orboor with a hood and hatchet, or monstrous giant, that forced them, therewere in days of yore damsels that at the end of eighty years, in allwhich time they had never slept a day under a roof, went to their gravesas much maids as the mothers that bore them. I say, then, that in theseand other respects our gallant Don Quixote is worthy of everlasting andnotable praise, nor should it be withheld even from me for the labour andpains spent in searching for the conclusion of this delightful history;though I know well that if Heaven, chance and good fortune had not helpedme, the world would have remained deprived of an entertainment andpleasure that for a couple of hours or so may well occupy him who shallread it attentively. The discovery of it occurred in this way.One day, as I was in the Alcana of Toledo, a boy came up to sell somepamphlets and old papers to a silk mercer, and, as I am fond of readingeven the very scraps of paper in the streets, led by this natural bent ofmine I took up one of the pamphlets the boy had for sale, and saw that itwas in characters which I recognised as Arabic, and as I was unable toread them though I could recognise them, I looked about to see if therewere any Spanish-speaking Morisco at hand to read them for me; nor wasthere any great difficulty in finding such an interpreter, for even had Isought one for an older and better language I should have found him. Inshort, chance provided me with one, who when I told him what I wanted andput the book into his hands, opened it in the middle and after reading alittle in it began to laugh. I asked him what he was laughing at, and hereplied that it was at something the book had written in the margin byway of 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 del Toboso sooften mentioned in this history, had, they say, the best hand of anywoman in all La Mancha for salting pigs.'"When I heard Dulcinea del Toboso named, I was struck with surprise andamazement, for it occurred to me at once that these pamphlets containedthe history of Don Quixote. With this idea I pressed him to read thebeginning, and doing so, turning the Arabic offhand into Castilian, hetold me it meant, "History of Don Quixote of La Mancha, written by CideHamete Benengeli, an Arab historian." It required great caution to hidethe joy I felt when the title of the book reached my ears, and snatchingit from the silk mercer, I bought all the papers and pamphlets from theboy for half a real; and if he had had his wits about him and had knownhow eager I was for them, he might have safely calculated on making morethan six reals by the bargain. I withdrew at once with the Morisco intothe cloister of the cathedral, and begged him to turn all these pamphletsthat related to Don Quixote into the Castilian tongue, without omittingor adding anything to them, offering him whatever payment he pleased. Hewas satisfied with two arrobas of raisins and two bushels of wheat, andpromised to translate them faithfully and with all despatch; but to makethe matter easier, and not to let such a precious find out of my hands, Itook him to my house, where in little more than a month and a half hetranslated the whole just as it is set down here.In the first pamphlet the battle between Don Quixote and the Biscayan wasdrawn to the very life, they planted in the same attitude as the historydescribes, their swords raised, and the one protected by his buckler, theother by his cushion, and the Biscayan's mule so true to nature that itcould be seen to be a hired one a bowshot off. The Biscayan had aninscription under his feet which said, "Don Sancho de Azpeitia," which nodoubt must have been his name; and at the feet of Rocinante was anotherthat said, "Don Quixote." Rocinante was marvellously portrayed, so longand thin, so lank and lean, with so much backbone and so far gone inconsumption, that he showed plainly with what judgment and propriety thename of Rocinante had been bestowed upon him. Near him was Sancho Panzaholding the halter of his ass, at whose feet was another label that said,"Sancho Zancas," and according to the picture, he must have had a bigbelly, a short body, and long shanks, for which reason, no doubt, thenames of Panza and Zancas were given him, for by these two surnames thehistory several times calls him. Some other trifling particulars might bementioned, but they are all of slight importance and have nothing to dowith the true relation of the history; and no history can be bad so longas it is true.If against the present one any objection be raised on the score of itstruth, it can only be that its author was an Arab, as lying is a verycommon propensity with those of that nation; though, as they are suchenemies of ours, it is conceivable that there were omissions rather thanadditions made in the course of it. And this is my own opinion; for,where he could and should give freedom to his pen in praise of so worthya knight, he seems to me deliberately to pass it over in silence; whichis ill done and worse contrived, for it is the business and duty ofhistorians to be exact, truthful, and wholly free from passion, andneither interest nor fear, hatred nor love, should make them swerve fromthe path of truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, storehouse ofdeeds, witness for the past, example and counsel for the present, andwarning for the future. In this I know will be found all that can bedesired in the pleasantest, and if it be wanting in any good quality, Imaintain it is the fault of its hound of an author and not the fault ofthe subject. To be brief, its Second Part, according to the translation,began in this way:With trenchant swords upraised and poised on high, it seemed as thoughthe two valiant and wrathful combatants stood threatening heaven, andearth, and hell, with such resolution and determination did they bearthemselves. The fiery Biscayan was the first to strike a blow, which wasdelivered with such force and fury that had not the sword turned in itscourse, that single stroke would have sufficed to put an end to thebitter struggle and to all the adventures of our knight; but that goodfortune which reserved him for greater things, turned aside the sword ofhis adversary, so that although it smote him upon the left shoulder, itdid him no more harm than to strip all that side of its armour, carryingaway a great part of his helmet with half of his ear, all which withfearful ruin fell to the ground, leaving him in a sorry plight.Good God! Who is there that could properly describe the rage that filledthe heart of our Manchegan when he saw himself dealt with in thisfashion? All that can be said is, it was such that he again raisedhimself in his stirrups, and, grasping his sword more firmly with bothhands, he came down on the Biscayan with such fury, smiting him full overthe cushion and over the head, that--even so good a shield provinguseless--as if a mountain had fallen on him, he began to bleed from nose,mouth, and ears, reeling as if about to fall backwards from his mule, asno doubt he would have done had he not flung his arms about its neck; atthe same time, however, he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and thenunclasped his arms, and the mule, taking fright at the terrible blow,made off across the plain, and with a few plunges flung its master to theground. Don Quixote stood looking on very calmly, and, when he saw himfall, leaped from his horse and with great briskness ran to him, and,presenting the point of his sword to his eyes, bade him surrender, or hewould cut his head off. The Biscayan was so bewildered that he was unableto answer a word, and it would have gone hard with him, so blind was DonQuixote, had not the ladies in the coach, who had hitherto been watchingthe combat in great terror, hastened to where he stood and implored himwith earnest entreaties to grant them the great grace and favour ofsparing their squire's life; to which Don Quixote replied with muchgravity and dignity, "In truth, fair ladies, I am well content to do whatye ask of me; but it must be on one condition and understanding, which isthat this knight promise me to go to the village of El Toboso, and on mybehalf present himself before the peerless lady Dulcinea, that she dealwith him as shall be most pleasing to her."The terrified and disconsolate ladies, without discussing Don Quixote'sdemand or asking who Dulcinea might be, promised that their squire shoulddo all that had been commanded."Then, on the faith of that promise," said Don Quixote, "I shall do himno further harm, though he well deserves it of me."