PART I - CHAPTER XII.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　OF WHAT A GOATHERD RELATED TO THOSE WITH DON QUIXOTEJust then another young man, one of those who fetched their provisionsfrom the village, came up and said, "Do you know what is going on in thevillage, comrades?""How could we know it?" replied one of them."Well, then, you must know," continued the young man, "this morning thatfamous student-shepherd called Chrysostom died, and it is rumoured thathe died of love for that devil of a village girl the daughter ofGuillermo the Rich, she that wanders about the wolds here in the dress ofa shepherdess.""You mean Marcela?" said one."Her I mean," answered the goatherd; "and the best of it is, he hasdirected in his will that he is to be buried in the fields like a Moor,and at the foot of the rock where the Cork-tree spring is, because, asthe story goes (and they say he himself said so), that was the placewhere he first saw her. And he has also left other directions which theclergy of the village say should not and must not be obeyed because theysavour of paganism. To all which his great friend Ambrosio the student,he who, like him, also went dressed as a shepherd, replies thateverything must be done without any omission according to the directionsleft by Chrysostom, and about this the village is all in commotion;however, report says that, after all, what Ambrosio and all the shepherdshis friends desire will be done, and to-morrow they are coming to buryhim with great ceremony where I said. I am sure it will be somethingworth seeing; at least I will not fail to go and see it even if I knew Ishould not return to the village tomorrow.""We will do the same," answered the goatherds, "and cast lots to see whomust stay to mind the goats of all.""Thou sayest well, Pedro," said one, "though there will be no need oftaking that trouble, for I will stay behind for all; and don't suppose itis virtue or want of curiosity in me; it is that the splinter that raninto my foot the other day will not let me walk.""For all that, we thank thee," answered Pedro.Don Quixote asked Pedro to tell him who the dead man was and who theshepherdess, to which Pedro replied that all he knew was that the deadman was a wealthy gentleman belonging to a village in those mountains,who had been a student at Salamanca for many years, at the end of whichhe returned to his village with the reputation of being very learned anddeeply read. "Above all, they said, he was learned in the science of thestars and of what went on yonder in the heavens and the sun and the moon,for he told us of the cris of the sun and moon to exact time.""Eclipse it is called, friend, not cris, the darkening of those twoluminaries," said Don Quixote; but Pedro, not troubling himself withtrifles, went on with his story, saying, "Also he foretold when the yearwas going to be one of abundance or estility.""Sterility, you mean," said Don Quixote."Sterility or estility," answered Pedro, "it is all the same in the end.And I can tell you that by this his father and friends who believed himgrew very rich because they did as he advised them, bidding them 'sowbarley this year, not wheat; this year you may sow pulse and not barley;the next there will be a full oil crop, and the three following not adrop will be got.'""That science is called astrology," said Don Quixote."I do not know what it is called," replied Pedro, "but I know that heknew all this and more besides. But, to make an end, not many months hadpassed after he returned from Salamanca, when one day he appeared dressedas a shepherd with his crook and sheepskin, having put off the long gownhe wore as a scholar; and at the same time his great friend, Ambrosio byname, who had been his companion in his studies, took to the shepherd'sdress with him. I forgot to say that Chrysostom, who is dead, was a greatman for writing verses, so much so that he made carols for Christmas Eve,and plays for Corpus Christi, which the young men of our village acted,and all said they were excellent. When the villagers saw the two scholarsso unexpectedly appearing in shepherd's dress, they were lost in wonder,and could not guess what had led them to make so extraordinary a change.About this time the father of our Chrysostom died, and he was left heirto a large amount of property in chattels as well as in land, no smallnumber of cattle and sheep, and a large sum of money, of all of which theyoung man was left dissolute owner, and indeed he was deserving of itall, for he was a very good comrade, and kind-hearted, and a friend ofworthy folk, and had a countenance like a benediction. Presently it cameto be known that he had changed his dress with no other object than towander about these wastes after that shepherdess Marcela our ladmentioned a while ago, with whom the deceased Chrysostom had fallen inlove. And I must tell you now, for it is well you should know it, whothis girl is; perhaps, and even without any perhaps, you will not haveheard anything like it all the days of your life, though you should livemore years than sarna.""Say Sarra," said Don Quixote, unable to endure the goatherd's confusionof words."The sarna lives long enough," answered Pedro; "and if, senor, you mustgo finding fault with words at every step, we shall not make an end of itthis twelvemonth.""Pardon me, friend," said Don Quixote; "but, as there is such adifference between sarna and Sarra, I told you of it; however, you haveanswered very rightly, for sarna lives longer than Sarra: so continueyour story, and I will not object any more to anything.""I say then, my dear sir," said the goatherd, "that in our village therewas a farmer even richer than the father of Chrysostom, who was namedGuillermo, and upon whom God bestowed, over and above great wealth, adaughter at whose birth her mother died, the most respected woman therewas in this neighbourhood; I fancy I can see her now with thatcountenance which had the sun on one side and the moon on the other; andmoreover active, and kind to the poor, for which I trust that at thepresent moment her soul is in bliss with God in the other world. Herhusband Guillermo died of grief at the death of so good a wife, leavinghis daughter Marcela, a child and rich, to the care of an uncle of hers,a priest and prebendary in our village. The girl grew up with such beautythat it reminded us of her mother's, which was very great, and yet it wasthought that the daughter's would exceed it; and so when she reached theage of fourteen to fifteen years nobody beheld her but blessed God thathad made her so beautiful, and the greater number were in love with herpast redemption. Her uncle kept her in great seclusion and retirement,but for all that the fame of her great beauty spread so that, as well forit as for her great wealth, her uncle was asked, solicited, andimportuned, to give her in marriage not only by those of our town but ofthose many leagues round, and by the persons of highest quality in them.But he, being a good Christian man, though he desired to give her inmarriage at once, seeing her to be old enough, was unwilling to do sowithout her consent, not that he had any eye to the gain and profit whichthe custody of the girl's property brought him while he put off hermarriage; and, faith, this was said in praise of the good priest in morethan one set in the town. For I would have you know, Sir Errant, that inthese little villages everything is talked about and everything is carpedat, and rest assured, as I am, that the priest must be over and abovegood who forces his parishioners to speak well of him, especially invillages.""That is the truth," said Don Quixote; "but go on, for the story is verygood, and you, good Pedro, tell it with very good grace.""May that of the Lord not be wanting to me," said Pedro; "that is the oneto have. To proceed; you must know that though the uncle put before hisniece and described to her the qualities of each one in particular of themany who had asked her in marriage, begging her to marry and make achoice according to her own taste, she never gave any other answer thanthat she had no desire to marry just yet, and that being so young she didnot think herself fit to bear the burden of matrimony. At these, to allappearance, reasonable excuses that she made, her uncle ceased to urgeher, and waited till she was somewhat more advanced in age and could mateherself to her own liking. For, said he--and he said quite right--parentsare not to settle children in life against their will. But when one leastlooked for it, lo and behold! one day the demure Marcela makes herappearance turned shepherdess; and, in spite of her uncle and all thoseof the town that strove to dissuade her, took to going a-field with theother shepherd-lasses of the village, and tending her own flock. And so,since she appeared in public, and her beauty came to be seen openly, Icould not well tell you how many rich youths, gentlemen and peasants,have adopted the costume of Chrysostom, and go about these fields makinglove to her. One of these, as has been already said, was our deceasedfriend, of whom they say that he did not love but adore her. But you mustnot suppose, because Marcela chose a life of such liberty andindependence, and of so little or rather no retirement, that she hasgiven any occasion, or even the semblance of one, for disparagement ofher purity and modesty; on the contrary, such and so great is thevigilance with which she watches over her honour, that of all those thatcourt and woo her not one has boasted, or can with truth boast, that shehas given him any hope however small of obtaining his desire. Foralthough she does not avoid or shun the society and conversation of theshepherds, and treats them courteously and kindly, should any one of themcome to declare his intention to her, though it be one as proper and holyas that of matrimony, she flings him from her like a catapult. And withthis kind of disposition she does more harm in this country than if theplague had got into it, for her affability and her beauty draw on thehearts of those that associate with her to love her and to court her, buther scorn and her frankness bring them to the brink of despair; and sothey know not what to say save to proclaim her aloud cruel andhard-hearted, and other names of the same sort which well describe thenature of her character; and if you should remain here any time, senor,you would hear these hills and valleys resounding with the laments of therejected ones who pursue her. Not far from this there is a spot wherethere are a couple of dozen of tall beeches, and there is not one of thembut has carved and written on its smooth bark the name of Marcela, andabove some a crown carved on the same tree as though her lover would saymore plainly that Marcela wore and deserved that of all human beauty.Here one shepherd is sighing, there another is lamenting; there lovesongs are heard, here despairing elegies. One will pass all the hours ofthe night seated at the foot of some oak or rock, and there, withouthaving closed his weeping eyes, the sun finds him in the morning bemusedand bereft of sense; and another without relief or respite to his sighs,stretched on the burning sand in the full heat of the sultry summernoontide, makes his appeal to the compassionate heavens, and over one andthe other, over these and all, the beautiful Marcela triumphs free andcareless. And all of us that know her are waiting to see what her pridewill come to, and who is to be the happy man that will succeed in taminga nature so formidable and gaining possession of a beauty so supreme. Allthat I have told you being such well-established truth, I am persuadedthat what they say of the cause of Chrysostom's death, as our lad toldus, is the same. And so I advise you, senor, fail not to be presentto-morrow at his burial, which will be well worth seeing, for Chrysostomhad many friends, and it is not half a league from this place to where hedirected he should be buried.""I will make a point of it," said Don Quixote, "and I thank you for thepleasure you have given me by relating so interesting a tale.""Oh," said the goatherd, "I do not know even the half of what hashappened to the lovers of Marcela, but perhaps to-morrow we may fall inwith some shepherd on the road who can tell us; and now it will be wellfor you to go and sleep under cover, for the night air may hurt yourwound, though with the remedy I have applied to you there is no fear ofan untoward result."Sancho Panza, who was wishing the goatherd's loquacity at the devil, onhis part begged his master to go into Pedro's hut to sleep. He did so,and passed all the rest of the night in thinking of his lady Dulcinea, inimitation of the lovers of Marcela. Sancho Panza settled himself betweenRocinante and his ass, and slept, not like a lover who had beendiscarded, but like a man who had been soundly kicked.