PART I - CHAPTER XVI.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　OF WHAT HAPPENED TO THE INGENIOUS GENTLEMAN IN THE INN WHICH HE TOOK TOBE A CASTLEThe innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote slung across the ass, asked Sancho whatwas amiss with him. Sancho answered that it was nothing, only that he hadfallen down from a rock and had his ribs a little bruised. The innkeeperhad a wife whose disposition was not such as those of her callingcommonly have, for she was by nature kind-hearted and felt for thesufferings of her neighbours, so she at once set about tending DonQuixote, and made her young daughter, a very comely girl, help her intaking care of her guest. There was besides in the inn, as servant, anAsturian lass with a broad face, flat poll, and snub nose, blind of oneeye and not very sound in the other. The elegance of her shape, to besure, made up for all her defects; she did not measure seven palms fromhead to foot, and her shoulders, which overweighted her somewhat, madeher contemplate the ground more than she liked. This graceful lass, then,helped the young girl, and the two made up a very bad bed for Don Quixotein a garret that showed evident signs of having formerly served for manyyears as a straw-loft, in which there was also quartered a carrier whosebed was placed a little beyond our Don Quixote's, and, though only madeof the pack-saddles and cloths of his mules, had much the advantage ofit, as Don Quixote's consisted simply of four rough boards on two notvery even trestles, a mattress, that for thinness might have passed for aquilt, full of pellets which, were they not seen through the rents to bewool, would to the touch have seemed pebbles in hardness, two sheets madeof buckler leather, and a coverlet the threads of which anyone that chosemight have counted without missing one in the reckoning.On this accursed bed Don Quixote stretched himself, and the hostess andher daughter soon covered him with plasters from top to toe, whileMaritornes--for that was the name of the Asturian--held the light forthem, and while plastering him, the hostess, observing how full of whealsDon Quixote was in some places, remarked that this had more the look ofblows than of a fall.It was not blows, Sancho said, but that the rock had many points andprojections, and that each of them had left its mark. "Pray, senora," headded, "manage to save some tow, as there will be no want of some one touse it, for my loins too are rather sore.""Then you must have fallen too," said the hostess."I did not fall," said Sancho Panza, "but from the shock I got at seeingmy master fall, my body aches so that I feel as if I had had a thousandthwacks.""That may well be," said the young girl, "for it has many a time happenedto me to dream that I was falling down from a tower and never coming tothe ground, and when I awoke from the dream to find myself as weak andshaken as if I had really fallen.""There is the point, senora," replied Sancho Panza, "that I withoutdreaming at all, but being more awake than I am now, find myself withscarcely less wheals than my master, Don Quixote.""How is the gentleman called?" asked Maritornes the Asturian."Don Quixote of La Mancha," answered Sancho Panza, "and he is aknight-adventurer, and one of the best and stoutest that have been seenin the world this long time past.""What is a knight-adventurer?" said the lass."Are you so new in the world as not to know?" answered Sancho Panza."Well, then, you must know, sister, that a knight-adventurer is a thingthat in two words is seen drubbed and emperor, that is to-day the mostmiserable and needy being in the world, and to-morrow will have two orthree crowns of kingdoms to give his squire.""Then how is it," said the hostess, "that belonging to so good a masteras this, you have not, to judge by appearances, even so much as acounty?""It is too soon yet," answered Sancho, "for we have only been a monthgoing in quest of adventures, and so far we have met with nothing thatcan be called one, for it will happen that when one thing is looked foranother thing is found; however, if my master Don Quixote gets well ofthis wound, or fall, and I am left none the worse of it, I would notchange my hopes for the best title in Spain."To all this conversation Don Quixote was listening very attentively, andsitting up in bed as well as he could, and taking the hostess by the handhe said to her, "Believe me, fair lady, you may call yourself fortunatein having in this castle of yours sheltered my person, which is such thatif I do not myself praise it, it is because of what is commonly said,that self-praise debaseth; but my squire will inform you who I am. I onlytell you that I shall preserve for ever inscribed on my memory theservice you have rendered me in order to tender you my gratitude whilelife shall last me; and would to Heaven love held me not so enthralledand subject to its laws and to the eyes of that fair ingrate whom I namebetween my teeth, but that those of this lovely damsel might be themasters of my liberty."The hostess, her daughter, and the worthy Maritornes listened inbewilderment to the words of the knight-errant; for they understood aboutas much of them as if he had been talking Greek, though they couldperceive they were all meant for expressions of good-will andblandishments; and not being accustomed to this kind of language, theystared at him and wondered to themselves, for he seemed to them a man ofa different sort from those they were used to, and thanking him inpothouse phrase for his civility they left him, while the Asturian gaveher attention to Sancho, who needed it no less than his master.The carrier had made an arrangement with her for recreation that night,and she had given him her word that when the guests were quiet and thefamily asleep she would come in search of him and meet his wishesunreservedly. And it is said of this good lass that she never madepromises of the kind without fulfilling them, even though she made themin a forest and without any witness present, for she plumed herselfgreatly on being a lady and held it no disgrace to be in such anemployment as servant in an inn, because, she said, misfortunes andill-luck had brought her to that position. The hard, narrow, wretched,rickety bed of Don Quixote stood first in the middle of this star-litstable, and close beside it Sancho made his, which merely consisted of arush mat and a blanket that looked as if it was of threadbare canvasrather than of wool. Next to these two beds was that of the carrier, madeup, as has been said, of the pack-saddles and all the trappings of thetwo best mules he had, though there were twelve of them, sleek, plump,and in prime condition, for he was one of the rich carriers of Arevalo,according to the author of this history, who particularly mentions thiscarrier because he knew him very well, and they even say was in somedegree a relation of his; besides which Cide Hamete Benengeli was ahistorian of great research and accuracy in all things, as is veryevident since he would not pass over in silence those that have beenalready mentioned, however trifling and insignificant they might be, anexample that might be followed by those grave historians who relatetransactions so curtly and briefly that we hardly get a taste of them,all the substance of the work being left in the inkstand fromcarelessness, perverseness, or ignorance. A thousand blessings on theauthor of "Tablante de Ricamonte" and that of the other book in which thedeeds of the Conde Tomillas are recounted; with what minuteness theydescribe everything!To proceed, then: after having paid a visit to his team and given themtheir second feed, the carrier stretched himself on his pack-saddles andlay waiting for his conscientious Maritornes. Sancho was by this timeplastered and had lain down, and though he strove to sleep the pain ofhis ribs would not let him, while Don Quixote with the pain of his hadhis eyes as wide open as a hare's.The inn was all in silence, and in the whole of it there was no lightexcept that given by a lantern that hung burning in the middle of thegateway. This strange stillness, and the thoughts, always present to ourknight's mind, of the incidents described at every turn in the books thatwere the cause of his misfortune, conjured up to his imagination asextraordinary a delusion as can well be conceived, which was that hefancied himself to have reached a famous castle (for, as has been said,all the inns he lodged in were castles to his eyes), and that thedaughter of the innkeeper was daughter of the lord of the castle, andthat she, won by his high-bred bearing, had fallen in love with him, andhad promised to come to his bed for a while that night without theknowledge of her parents; and holding all this fantasy that he hadconstructed as solid fact, he began to feel uneasy and to consider theperilous risk which his virtue was about to encounter, and he resolved inhis heart to commit no treason to his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, eventhough the queen Guinevere herself and the dame Quintanona should presentthemselves before him.While he was taken up with these vagaries, then, the time and thehour--an unlucky one for him--arrived for the Asturian to come, who inher smock, with bare feet and her hair gathered into a fustian coif, withnoiseless and cautious steps entered the chamber where the three werequartered, in quest of the carrier; but scarcely had she gained the doorwhen Don Quixote perceived her, and sitting up in his bed in spite of hisplasters and the pain of his ribs, he stretched out his arms to receivehis beauteous damsel. The Asturian, who went all doubled up and insilence with her hands before her feeling for her lover, encountered thearms of Don Quixote, who grasped her tightly by the wrist, and drawingher towards him, while she dared not utter a word, made her sit down onthe bed. He then felt her smock, and although it was of sackcloth itappeared to him to be of the finest and softest silk: on her wrists shewore some glass beads, but to him they had the sheen of precious Orientpearls: her hair, which in some measure resembled a horse's mane, herated as threads of the brightest gold of Araby, whose refulgence dimmedthe sun himself: her breath, which no doubt smelt of yesterday's stalesalad, seemed to him to diffuse a sweet aromatic fragrance from hermouth; and, in short, he drew her portrait in his imagination with thesame features and in the same style as that which he had seen in hisbooks of the other princesses who, smitten by love, came with all theadornments that are here set down, to see the sorely wounded knight; andso great was the poor gentleman's blindness that neither touch, norsmell, nor anything else about the good lass that would have made any buta carrier vomit, were enough to undeceive him; on the contrary, he waspersuaded he had the goddess of beauty in his arms, and holding herfirmly in his grasp he went on to say in low, tender voice:"Would that found myself, lovely and exalted lady, in a position to repaysuch a favour as that which you, by the sight of your great beauty, havegranted me; but fortune, which is never weary of persecuting the good,has chosen to place me upon this bed, where I lie so bruised and brokenthat though my inclination would gladly comply with yours it isimpossible; besides, to this impossibility another yet greater is to beadded, which is the faith that I have pledged to the peerless Dulcineadel Toboso, sole lady of my most secret thoughts; and were it not thatthis stood in the way I should not be so insensible a knight as to missthe happy opportunity which your great goodness has offered me."Maritornes was fretting and sweating at finding herself held so fast byDon Quixote, and not understanding or heeding the words he addressed toher, she strove without speaking to free herself. The worthy carrier,whose unholy thoughts kept him awake, was aware of his doxy the momentshe entered the door, and was listening attentively to all Don Quixotesaid; and jealous that the Asturian should have broken her word with himfor another, drew nearer to Don Quixote's bed and stood still to see whatwould come of this talk which he could not understand; but when heperceived the wench struggling to get free and Don Quixote striving tohold her, not relishing the joke he raised his arm and delivered such aterrible cuff on the lank jaws of the amorous knight that he bathed allhis mouth in blood, and not content with this he mounted on his ribs andwith his feet tramped all over them at a pace rather smarter than a trot.The bed which was somewhat crazy and not very firm on its feet, unable tosupport the additional weight of the carrier, came to the ground, and atthe mighty crash of this the innkeeper awoke and at once concluded thatit must be some brawl of Maritornes', because after calling loudly to herhe got no answer. With this suspicion he got up, and lighting a lamphastened to the quarter where he had heard the disturbance. The wench,seeing that her master was coming and knowing that his temper wasterrible, frightened and panic-stricken made for the bed of Sancho Panza,who still slept, and crouching upon it made a ball of herself.The innkeeper came in exclaiming, "Where art thou, strumpet? Of coursethis is some of thy work." At this Sancho awoke, and feeling this massalmost on top of him fancied he had the nightmare and began to distributefisticuffs all round, of which a certain share fell upon Maritornes, who,irritated by the pain and flinging modesty aside, paid back so many inreturn to Sancho that she woke him up in spite of himself. He then,finding himself so handled, by whom he knew not, raising himself up aswell as he could, grappled with Maritornes, and he and she between thembegan the bitterest and drollest scrimmage in the world. The carrier,however, perceiving by the light of the innkeeper candle how it faredwith his ladylove, quitting Don Quixote, ran to bring her the help sheneeded; and the innkeeper did the same but with a different intention,for his was to chastise the lass, as he believed that beyond a doubt shealone was the cause of all the harmony. And so, as the saying is, cat torat, rat to rope, rope to stick, the carrier pounded Sancho, Sancho thelass, she him, and the innkeeper her, and all worked away so briskly thatthey did not give themselves a moment's rest; and the best of it was thatthe innkeeper's lamp went out, and as they were left in the dark they alllaid on one upon the other in a mass so unmercifully that there was not asound spot left where a hand could light.It so happened that there was lodging that night in the inn a caudrilleroof what they call the Old Holy Brotherhood of Toledo, who, also hearingthe extraordinary noise of the conflict, seized his staff and the tincase with his warrants, and made his way in the dark into the roomcrying: "Hold! in the name of the Jurisdiction! Hold! in the name of theHoly Brotherhood!"The first that he came upon was the pummelled Don Quixote, who laystretched senseless on his back upon his broken-down bed, and, his handfalling on the beard as he felt about, he continued to cry, "Help for theJurisdiction!" but perceiving that he whom he had laid hold of did notmove or stir, he concluded that he was dead and that those in the roomwere his murderers, and with this suspicion he raised his voice stillhigher, calling out, "Shut the inn gate; see that no one goes out; theyhave killed a man here!" This cry startled them all, and each dropped thecontest at the point at which the voice reached him. The innkeeperretreated to his room, the carrier to his pack-saddles, the lass to hercrib; the unlucky Don Quixote and Sancho alone were unable to move fromwhere they were. The cuadrillero on this let go Don Quixote's beard, andwent out to look for a light to search for and apprehend the culprits;but not finding one, as the innkeeper had purposely extinguished thelantern on retreating to his room, he was compelled to have recourse tothe hearth, where after much time and trouble he lit another lamp.