PART I - CHAPTER XXI.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　WHICH TREATS OF THE EXALTED ADVENTURE AND RICH PRIZE OF MAMBRINO'SHELMET, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO OUR INVINCIBLE KNIGHTIt now began to rain a little, and Sancho was for going into the fullingmills, but Don Quixote had taken such an abhorrence to them on account ofthe late joke that he would not enter them on any account; so turningaside to right they came upon another road, different from that whichthey had taken the night before. Shortly afterwards Don Quixote perceiveda man on horseback who wore on his head something that shone like gold,and the moment he saw him he turned to Sancho and said:"I think, Sancho, there is no proverb that is not true, all being maximsdrawn from experience itself, the mother of all the sciences, especiallythat one that says, 'Where one door shuts, another opens.' I say sobecause if last night fortune shut the door of the adventure we werelooking for against us, cheating us with the fulling mills, it now openswide another one for another better and more certain adventure, and if Ido not contrive to enter it, it will be my own fault, and I cannot lay itto my ignorance of fulling mills, or the darkness of the night. I saythis because, if I mistake not, there comes towards us one who wears onhis head the helmet of Mambrino, concerning which I took the oath thourememberest.""Mind what you say, your worship, and still more what you do," saidSancho, "for I don't want any more fulling mills to finish off fullingand knocking our senses out.""The devil take thee, man," said Don Quixote; "what has a helmet to dowith fulling mills?""I don't know," replied Sancho, "but, faith, if I might speak as I used,perhaps I could give such reasons that your worship would see you weremistaken in what you say.""How can I be mistaken in what I say, unbelieving traitor?" returned DonQuixote; "tell me, seest thou not yonder knight coming towards us on adappled grey steed, who has upon his head a helmet of gold?""What I see and make out," answered Sancho, "is only a man on a grey asslike my own, who has something that shines on his head.""Well, that is the helmet of Mambrino," said Don Quixote; "stand to oneside and leave me alone with him; thou shalt see how, without saying aword, to save time, I shall bring this adventure to an issue and possessmyself of the helmet I have so longed for.""I will take care to stand aside," said Sancho; "but God grant, I sayonce more, that it may be marjoram and not fulling mills.""I have told thee, brother, on no account to mention those fulling millsto me again," said Don Quixote, "or I vow--and I say no more-I'll fullthe soul out of you."Sancho held his peace in dread lest his master should carry out the vowhe had hurled like a bowl at him.The fact of the matter as regards the helmet, steed, and knight that DonQuixote saw, was this. In that neighbourhood there were two villages, oneof them so small that it had neither apothecary's shop nor barber, whichthe other that was close to it had, so the barber of the larger servedthe smaller, and in it there was a sick man who required to be bled andanother man who wanted to be shaved, and on this errand the barber wasgoing, carrying with him a brass basin; but as luck would have it, as hewas on the way it began to rain, and not to spoil his hat, which probablywas a new one, he put the basin on his head, and being clean it glitteredat half a league's distance. He rode upon a grey ass, as Sancho said, andthis was what made it seem to Don Quixote to be a dapple-grey steed and aknight and a golden helmet; for everything he saw he made to fall in withhis crazy chivalry and ill-errant notions; and when he saw the poorknight draw near, without entering into any parley with him, atRocinante's top speed he bore down upon him with the pike pointed low,fully determined to run him through and through, and as he reached him,without checking the fury of his charge, he cried to him:"Defend thyself, miserable being, or yield me of thine own accord thatwhich is so reasonably my due."The barber, who without any expectation or apprehension of it saw thisapparition coming down upon him, had no other way of saving himself fromthe stroke of the lance but to let himself fall off his ass; and nosooner had he touched the ground than he sprang up more nimbly than adeer and sped away across the plain faster than the wind.He left the basin on the ground, with which Don Quixote contentedhimself, saying that the pagan had shown his discretion and imitated thebeaver, which finding itself pressed by the hunters bites and cuts offwith its teeth that for which, by its natural instinct, it knows it ispursued.He told Sancho to pick up the helmet, and he taking it in his hands said:"By God the basin is a good one, and worth a real of eight if it is wortha maravedis," and handed it to his master, who immediately put it on hishead, turning it round, now this way, now that, in search of fitment, andnot finding it he said, "Clearly the pagan to whose measure this famoushead-piece was first forged must have had a very large head; but theworst of it is half of it is wanting."When Sancho heard him call the basin a headpiece he was unable torestrain his laughter, but remembering his master's wrath he checkedhimself in the midst of it."What art thou laughing at, Sancho?" said Don Quixote."I am laughing," said he, "to think of the great head the pagan must havehad who owned this helmet, for it looks exactly like a regular barber'sbasin.""Dost thou know what I suspect, Sancho?" said Don Quixote; "that thiswonderful piece of this enchanted helmet must by some strange accidenthave come into the hands of some one who was unable to recognise orrealise its value, and who, not knowing what he did, and seeing it to beof the purest gold, must have melted down one half for the sake of whatit might be worth, and of the other made this which is like a barber'sbasin as thou sayest; but be it as it may, to me who recognise it, itstransformation makes no difference, for I will set it to rights at thefirst village where there is a blacksmith, and in such style that thathelmet the god of smithies forged for the god of battles shall notsurpass it or even come up to it; and in the meantime I will wear it aswell as I can, for something is better than nothing; all the more as itwill be quite enough to protect me from any chance blow of a stone.""That is," said Sancho, "if it is not shot with a sling as they were inthe battle of the two armies, when they signed the cross on yourworship's grinders and smashed the flask with that blessed draught thatmade me vomit my bowels up.""It does not grieve me much to have lost it," said Don Quixote, "for thouknowest, Sancho, that I have the receipt in my memory.""So have I," answered Sancho, "but if ever I make it, or try it again aslong as I live, may this be my last hour; moreover, I have no intentionof putting myself in the way of wanting it, for I mean, with all my fivesenses, to keep myself from being wounded or from wounding anyone: as tobeing blanketed again I say nothing, for it is hard to prevent mishaps ofthat sort, and if they come there is nothing for it but to squeeze ourshoulders together, hold our breath, shut our eyes, and let ourselves gowhere luck and the blanket may send us.""Thou art a bad Christian, Sancho," said Don Quixote on hearing this,"for once an injury has been done thee thou never forgettest it: but knowthat it is the part of noble and generous hearts not to attach importanceto trifles. What lame leg hast thou got by it, what broken rib, whatcracked head, that thou canst not forget that jest? For jest and sport itwas, properly regarded, and had I not seen it in that light I would havereturned and done more mischief in revenging thee than the Greeks did forthe rape of Helen, who, if she were alive now, or if my Dulcinea hadlived then, might depend upon it she would not be so famous for herbeauty as she is;" and here he heaved a sigh and sent it aloft; and saidSancho, "Let it pass for a jest as it cannot be revenged in earnest, butI know what sort of jest and earnest it was, and I know it will never berubbed out of my memory any more than off my shoulders. But putting thataside, will your worship tell me what are we to do with this dapple-greysteed that looks like a grey ass, which that Martino that your worshipoverthrew has left deserted here? for, from the way he took to his heelsand bolted, he is not likely ever to come back for it; and by my beardbut the grey is a good one.""I have never been in the habit," said Don Quixote, "of taking spoil ofthose whom I vanquish, nor is it the practice of chivalry to take awaytheir horses and leave them to go on foot, unless indeed it be that thevictor have lost his own in the combat, in which case it is lawful totake that of the vanquished as a thing won in lawful war; therefore,Sancho, leave this horse, or ass, or whatever thou wilt have it to be;for when its owner sees us gone hence he will come back for it.""God knows I should like to take it," returned Sancho, "or at least tochange it for my own, which does not seem to me as good a one: verily thelaws of chivalry are strict, since they cannot be stretched to let oneass be changed for another; I should like to know if I might at leastchange trappings.""On that head I am not quite certain," answered Don Quixote, "and thematter being doubtful, pending better information, I say thou mayestchange them, if so be thou hast urgent need of them.""So urgent is it," answered Sancho, "that if they were for my own personI could not want them more;" and forthwith, fortified by this licence, heeffected the mutatio capparum, rigging out his beast to the ninety-ninesand making quite another thing of it. This done, they broke their fast onthe remains of the spoils of war plundered from the sumpter mule, anddrank of the brook that flowed from the fulling mills, without casting alook in that direction, in such loathing did they hold them for the alarmthey had caused them; and, all anger and gloom removed, they mounted and,without taking any fixed road (not to fix upon any being the proper thingfor true knights-errant), they set out, guided by Rocinante's will, whichcarried along with it that of his master, not to say that of the ass,which always followed him wherever he led, lovingly and sociably;nevertheless they returned to the high road, and pursued it at a venturewithout any other aim.As they went along, then, in this way Sancho said to his master, "Senor,would your worship give me leave to speak a little to you? For since youlaid that hard injunction of silence on me several things have gone torot in my stomach, and I have now just one on the tip of my tongue that Idon't want to be spoiled.""Say, on, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and be brief in thy discourse, forthere is no pleasure in one that is long.""Well then, senor," returned Sancho, "I say that for some days past Ihave been considering how little is got or gained by going in search ofthese adventures that your worship seeks in these wilds and cross-roads,where, even if the most perilous are victoriously achieved, there is noone to see or know of them, and so they must be left untold for ever, tothe loss of your worship's object and the credit they deserve; thereforeit seems to me it would be better (saving your worship's better judgment)if we were to go and serve some emperor or other great prince who mayhave some war on hand, in whose service your worship may prove the worthof your person, your great might, and greater understanding, onperceiving which the lord in whose service we may be will perforce haveto reward us, each according to his merits; and there you will not be ata loss for some one to set down your achievements in writing so as topreserve their memory for ever. Of my own I say nothing, as they will notgo beyond squirely limits, though I make bold to say that, if it be thepractice in chivalry to write the achievements of squires, I think minemust not be left out.""Thou speakest not amiss, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "but before thatpoint is reached it is requisite to roam the world, as it were onprobation, seeking adventures, in order that, by achieving some, name andfame may be acquired, such that when he betakes himself to the court ofsome great monarch the knight may be already known by his deeds, and thatthe boys, the instant they see him enter the gate of the city, may allfollow him and surround him, crying, 'This is the Knight of the Sun'-orthe Serpent, or any other title under which he may have achieved greatdeeds. 'This,' they will say, 'is he who vanquished in single combat thegigantic Brocabruno of mighty strength; he who delivered the greatMameluke of Persia out of the long enchantment under which he had beenfor almost nine hundred years.' So from one to another they will goproclaiming his achievements; and presently at the tumult of the boys andthe others the king of that kingdom will appear at the windows of hisroyal palace, and as soon as he beholds the knight, recognising him byhis arms and the device on his shield, he will as a matter of course say,'What ho! Forth all ye, the knights of my court, to receive the flower ofchivalry who cometh hither!' At which command all will issue forth, andhe himself, advancing half-way down the stairs, will embrace him closely,and salute him, kissing him on the cheek, and will then lead him to thequeen's chamber, where the knight will find her with the princess herdaughter, who will be one of the most beautiful and accomplished damselsthat could with the utmost pains be discovered anywhere in the knownworld. Straightway it will come to pass that she will fix her eyes uponthe knight and he his upon her, and each will seem to the other somethingmore divine than human, and, without knowing how or why they will betaken and entangled in the inextricable toils of love, and sorelydistressed in their hearts not to see any way of making their pains andsufferings known by speech. Thence they will lead him, no doubt, to somerichly adorned chamber of the palace, where, having removed his armour,they will bring him a rich mantle of scarlet wherewith to robe himself,and if he looked noble in his armour he will look still more so in adoublet. When night comes he will sup with the king, queen, and princess;and all the time he will never take his eyes off her, stealing stealthyglances, unnoticed by those present, and she will do the same, and withequal cautiousness, being, as I have said, a damsel of great discretion.The tables being removed, suddenly through the door of the hall therewill enter a hideous and diminutive dwarf followed by a fair dame,between two giants, who comes with a certain adventure, the work of anancient sage; and he who shall achieve it shall be deemed the best knightin the world."The king will then command all those present to essay it, and none willbring it to an end and conclusion save the stranger knight, to the greatenhancement of his fame, whereat the princess will be overjoyed and willesteem herself happy and fortunate in having fixed and placed herthoughts so high. And the best of it is that this king, or prince, orwhatever he is, is engaged in a very bitter war with another as powerfulas himself, and the stranger knight, after having been some days at hiscourt, requests leave from him to go and serve him in the said war. Theking will grant it very readily, and the knight will courteously kiss hishands for the favour done to him; and that night he will take leave ofhis lady the princess at the grating of the chamber where she sleeps,which looks upon a garden, and at which he has already many timesconversed with her, the go-between and confidante in the matter being adamsel much trusted by the princess. He will sigh, she will swoon, thedamsel will fetch water, much distressed because morning approaches, andfor the honour of her lady he would not that they were discovered; atlast the princess will come to herself and will present her white handsthrough the grating to the knight, who will kiss them a thousand and athousand times, bathing them with his tears. It will be arranged betweenthem how they are to inform each other of their good or evil fortunes,and the princess will entreat him to make his absence as short aspossible, which he will promise to do with many oaths; once more hekisses her hands, and takes his leave in such grief that he is well-nighready to die. He betakes him thence to his chamber, flings himself on hisbed, cannot sleep for sorrow at parting, rises early in the morning, goesto take leave of the king, queen, and princess, and, as he takes hisleave of the pair, it is told him that the princess is indisposed andcannot receive a visit; the knight thinks it is from grief at hisdeparture, his heart is pierced, and he is hardly able to keep fromshowing his pain. The confidante is present, observes all, goes to tellher mistress, who listens with tears and says that one of her greatestdistresses is not knowing who this knight is, and whether he is of kinglylineage or not; the damsel assures her that so much courtesy, gentleness,and gallantry of bearing as her knight possesses could not exist in anysave one who was royal and illustrious; her anxiety is thus relieved, andshe strives to be of good cheer lest she should excite suspicion in herparents, and at the end of two days she appears in public. Meanwhile theknight has taken his departure; he fights in the war, conquers the king'senemy, wins many cities, triumphs in many battles, returns to the court,sees his lady where he was wont to see her, and it is agreed that heshall demand her in marriage of her parents as the reward of hisservices; the king is unwilling to give her, as he knows not who he is,but nevertheless, whether carried off or in whatever other way it may be,the princess comes to be his bride, and her father comes to regard it asvery good fortune; for it so happens that this knight is proved to be theson of a valiant king of some kingdom, I know not what, for I fancy it isnot likely to be on the map. The father dies, the princess inherits, andin two words the knight becomes king. And here comes in at once thebestowal of rewards upon his squire and all who have aided him in risingto so exalted a rank. He marries his squire to a damsel of theprincess's, who will be, no doubt, the one who was confidante in theiramour, and is daughter of a very great duke.""That's what I want, and no mistake about it!" said Sancho. "That's whatI'm waiting for; for all this, word for word, is in store for yourworship under the title of the Knight of the Rueful Countenance.""Thou needst not doubt it, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "for in the samemanner, and by the same steps as I have described here, knights-errantrise and have risen to be kings and emperors; all we want now is to findout what king, Christian or pagan, is at war and has a beautifuldaughter; but there will be time enough to think of that, for, as I havetold thee, fame must be won in other quarters before repairing to thecourt. There is another thing, too, that is wanting; for supposing wefind a king who is at war and has a beautiful daughter, and that I havewon incredible fame throughout the universe, I know not how it can bemade out that I am of royal lineage, or even second cousin to an emperor;for the king will not be willing to give me his daughter in marriageunless he is first thoroughly satisfied on this point, however much myfamous deeds may deserve it; so that by this deficiency I fear I shalllose what my arm has fairly earned. True it is I am a gentleman of knownhouse, of estate and property, and entitled to the five hundred sueldosmulct; and it may be that the sage who shall write my history will soclear up my ancestry and pedigree that I may find myself fifth or sixthin descent from a king; for I would have thee know, Sancho, that thereare two kinds of lineages in the world; some there be tracing andderiving their descent from kings and princes, whom time has reducedlittle by little until they end in a point like a pyramid upside down;and others who spring from the common herd and go on rising step by stepuntil they come to be great lords; so that the difference is that the onewere what they no longer are, and the others are what they formerly werenot. And I may be of such that after investigation my origin may provegreat and famous, with which the king, my father-in-law that is to be,ought to be satisfied; and should he not be, the princess will so love methat even though she well knew me to be the son of a water-carrier, shewill take me for her lord and husband in spite of her father; if not,then it comes to seizing her and carrying her off where I please; fortime or death will put an end to the wrath of her parents.""It comes to this, too," said Sancho, "what some naughty people say,'Never ask as a favour what thou canst take by force;' though it wouldfit better to say, 'A clear escape is better than good men's prayers.' Isay so because if my lord the king, your worship's father-in-law, willnot condescend to give you my lady the princess, there is nothing for itbut, as your worship says, to seize her and transport her. But themischief is that until peace is made and you come into the peacefulenjoyment of your kingdom, the poor squire is famishing as far as rewardsgo, unless it be that the confidante damsel that is to be his wife comeswith the princess, and that with her he tides over his bad luck untilHeaven otherwise orders things; for his master, I suppose, may as wellgive her to him at once for a lawful wife.""Nobody can object to that," said Don Quixote."Then since that may be," said Sancho, "there is nothing for it but tocommend ourselves to God, and let fortune take what course it will.""God guide it according to my wishes and thy wants," said Don Quixote,"and mean be he who thinks himself mean.""In God's name let him be so," said Sancho: "I am an old Christian, andto fit me for a count that's enough.""And more than enough for thee," said Don Quixote; "and even wert thounot, it would make no difference, because I being the king can easilygive thee nobility without purchase or service rendered by thee, for whenI make thee a count, then thou art at once a gentleman; and they may saywhat they will, but by my faith they will have to call thee 'yourlordship,' whether they like it or not.""Not a doubt of it; and I'll know how to support the tittle," saidSancho."Title thou shouldst say, not tittle," said his master."So be it," answered Sancho. "I say I will know how to behave, for oncein my life I was beadle of a brotherhood, and the beadle's gown sat sowell on me that all said I looked as if I was to be steward of the samebrotherhood. What will it be, then, when I put a duke's robe on my back,or dress myself in gold and pearls like a count? I believe they'll come ahundred leagues to see me.""Thou wilt look well," said Don Quixote, "but thou must shave thy beardoften, for thou hast it so thick and rough and unkempt, that if thou dostnot shave it every second day at least, they will see what thou art atthe distance of a musket shot.""What more will it be," said Sancho, "than having a barber, and keepinghim at wages in the house? and even if it be necessary, I will make himgo behind me like a nobleman's equerry.""Why, how dost thou know that noblemen have equerries behind them?" askedDon Quixote."I will tell you," answered Sancho. "Years ago I was for a month at thecapital and there I saw taking the air a very small gentleman who theysaid was a very great man, and a man following him on horseback in everyturn he took, just as if he was his tail. I asked why this man did notjoin the other man, instead of always going behind him; they answered methat he was his equerry, and that it was the custom with nobles to havesuch persons behind them, and ever since then I know it, for I have neverforgotten it.""Thou art right," said Don Quixote, "and in the same way thou mayestcarry thy barber with thee, for customs did not come into use alltogether, nor were they all invented at once, and thou mayest be thefirst count to have a barber to follow him; and, indeed, shaving one'sbeard is a greater trust than saddling one's horse.""Let the barber business be my look-out," said Sancho; "and yourworship's be it to strive to become a king, and make me a count.""So it shall be," answered Don Quixote, and raising his eyes he saw whatwill be told in the following chapter.